Whistle Down The Wire

by Robert Engwerda

  ‘No, Lloyd, I’d been out there many times, day and night, trying to catch him. Not that it gave me any pleasure, but it’s amazing what motivation being owed money is.’

  ‘It obviously is for you, and has been for a while, probably going right back to at least 1941.’

  ‘Hey?’

  ‘1941, Bob, when you were in the Citizens Forces. When a bloke called Cameron Dunbar was shot. You’d remember that, for sure. And how could you forget it, when it was you who was said to have had a hand in it?’

  ‘Hang on, Lloyd, who said that? That’s going a bit too far. I never even heard of whoever you said it was.’

  ‘Cameron Dunbar. Elsa Kinross’s brother. Does that ring a bell?’

  ‘No, I can’t say it does.’

  I’ll take a stab at it, Cole thought. ‘Maybe you can remember the money Bill Kinross paid you for it, then, probably for keeping your mouth shut?’

  ‘No no no, Lloyd, you’ve got it all out of whack there,’ Fry said with a feeble grin.

  ‘Have I then?’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to say it, but yes.’

  ‘To be continued then, and I will continue that. Some new evidence has come up, namely a witness has come forward claiming that while Dunbar might have been accidentally shot, someone else – you or Kinross – hastened his end.’ Cole said, watching Fry’s jaw drop. ‘But let’s go back to Harry Colston for a second, the night he died. As you were going into Hilltop you met Van der Sloot and Barry Jennings leaving. Tell me what you saw?’

  ‘You’ve got that part right at least,’ Fry answered, but he was clearly rattled. ‘I was going to see Harry and caught the other two boys who were on their way out. We stopped and had a bit of a natter.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Barry said they’d gone to see Harry for a drink and they were just leaving, that the Colstons had left not long before, too.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it unusual that the Colstons had gone before their guests had?’

  Fry put his hand to his chin.

  ‘Come to think of it, Lloyd, you’re right. That would be a bit unusual, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘And you didn’t notice that Barry Jennings was driving Harry’s car?’

  ‘Lloyd, it was night. I saw the boys there and that was all I noticed. I couldn’t even tell you what car I drive.’

  ‘Did you see the Colstons at all that night?’

  ‘I saw nothing. I was told they’d gone, so I skedaddled as well. No point hanging around for someone who wasn’t there.’

  ‘You hadn’t told Barry Jennings to make a house call to the Colstons, to hurry him up to pay his debts because you weren’t getting anywhere with him?’

  ‘I’m too nice to people. People say it’s my one big failing.’

  ‘There might be more than one, Bob. But did you tell Jennings to do that?’

  ‘I might’ve, I can’t remember. But I didn’t know he was going there that night, honest. Just between you and me, Lloyd, he’s not the most trustworthy fellow. As a matter of fact …’

  ‘Drop it,’ Cole cut him off. ‘Did you pay Barry Jennings to get back the money Harry owed you or not?’

  ‘I did. But only as a percentage of what he’d get out of Harry in the first place. And the answer to your next question is, I didn’t end up giving Jennings anything because he couldn’t get anything out of Colston, not a brass razoo. If you ask me the man was totally skint.’

  ‘And what if I said to you, that the night you met Barry Jennings the Colstons were already dead and that Jennings had stuffed their bodies in the back of their car?’

  ‘Then I’d say, you could’ve knocked me down with a feather, Lloyd.’

  Cole thought of Jennings waiting at the station and said, ‘Think about what I’ve been saying, Bob. We’ll continue our little chat sometime soon. Very soon.’

  Fry took him to the door, scratching his head, murmuring, ‘What a tragedy. Shocking.’

  Cole paused briefly on the porch, watching the rain fall before running down the steps to his car.

  Soon, he thought, soon, as he turned over the car’s engine.

  At the station, Forrest pulled Van der Sloot’s statement out of the typewriter, Cole waiting as Forrest took it to be signed, after which the sergeant gave it back to him, smiling, ‘Nice work, boss.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  And even before Cole opened Jennings’ cell, his inmate snapped, ‘About bloody time you let me out.’

  ‘Except no one’s letting you out just yet. There’s a conversation we need to continue, Barry.’

  Jennings tried to break free of Cole’s grasp but Constable Whittaker was on hand to make sure that didn’t happen, and together they cuffed Jennings to ensure he didn’t play up before they dragged him to the interview room again, Jennings protesting all the while.

  ‘Just sit down and shut up,’ Cole told him. ‘No beating around the bush now, Barry.’ He put Van der Sloot’s statement down on the table between them. ‘See this? Your friend Jan has told us everything. From you hiring him to help dispose of the bodies at the railway line, to him turning up at the Colstons’ house, to you and him drinking with the Colstons, to you taking Harry out and killing him first, to you killing Dianne after that, to you dumping their bodies in the back of the Colstons’ car, to you driving them to where the train was coming, to you and Jan pushing the car down into the train’s path, to you paying Van der Sloot two thousand dollars and diddling him out of what he reckoned was his fair share.’ He pointed. ‘And here’s his signature as legal proof of what he’s said. I’ve also just come from speaking with Bob Fry, and he’s also backed up Van der Sloot’s story. He’s placed both you and Van der Sloot at the Colstons’ house that night. We also now know that you opened up a false bank account under the name of Douglas Balfour and withdrew money from that account, that money linked to Harry Colston. A teller at the State Bank is also ready to testify that the person who opened that account was you, the teller having positively identified you when you came into the station today.’ Cole picked up Van der Sloot’s statement and held it so Jennings could see what was on it. ‘What do you say to that, Barry?’

  Jennings scanned the statement and then slouched back on his seat.

  ‘I’d say then, that I’m pretty much fucked.’ He felt the side of his face. ‘But it wasn’t my idea, was it?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t your idea. I know that, too,’ Cole said. ‘But the fact remains, you killed two people and there’s no getting away from that. And then after you did kill them you went and left the little kid on his own.’

  ‘Someone would’ve come.’ He looked away. ‘Anyway, I’m stuffed now aren’t I?’

  ‘Most likely, yes, unless you can get a good talker to defend you in court. By the way, I gather it was you who fired that shot at my house?’

  But Jennings only smirked. ‘Me or someone else, who’s gonna know? And who cares?’

  ‘And how long had you been having an affair with Dianne Colston, Barry?’

  The smirk went, a nasty scowl in its place.

  ‘That’s none of your fuckun business, mate!’

  Chapter 39

  The following morning Cole alerted the Homicide Squad and knew his work was done in identifying those responsible for the Colstons’ deaths. As he sat at his desk, though, he also knew there was more unfinished business to be taken care of, business that was best completed before the Homicide Squad arrived.

  Cole gathered Sheridan and said, ‘I need to talk to Linda Fantasio. It’d be good if you could come with me.’

  ‘Of course I will, boss,’ she said.

  The worst of the weather had cleared, leaving only patches of grey cloud and bursts of sun casting a glistening sheen over the town.

  As they drove to Fantasio’s salon, Sheridan asked, ‘Do you want to say what
this is about?’

  ‘There’s something I want to tell her, and she should hear it from us first,’ Cole answered. ‘But I’m not quite sure how I’m going to say it.’

  Sheridan thought he looked exhausted. She knew about his wife living somewhere else, the running around he’d been doing questioning everyone, the organising of station personnel and rosters, the taking of statements, all the usual bits and pieces of station life that still had to be taken care of, too, the responsibility. But she also knew that would have been only the half of it for him, that when he never spoke about his personal life there would be that other half living restlessly in his head. And she knew because that was how it was for her, too. She recognised the weariness of living with all those things locked up inside.

  They pulled up in Main Street, parked and walked to the salon. Fantasio was working on a customer’s hair with one of the other hairdressers also busy with a client. A third woman was gazing listlessly about the salon, waiting her turn.

  A quick glance and the hairdresser knew they were there for something important.

  ‘Why don’t you wait for me at my place?’ she suggested, maintaining her professionally bright façade in front of customers. ‘I shouldn’t be a tick.’

  Cole and Sheridan left and drove to Fantasio’s house, staying in their car until she arrived about fifteen minutes later.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she apologised. ‘You can’t say anything private in a salon.’

  They went inside and sat down in the lounge room. Fantasio sat on the couch, smoothing her skirt under her.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘The Homicide Squad are arriving from Melbourne soon,’ he answered. ‘Once they look over the evidence we’ve gathered they’re certain to charge Barry Jennings with the murders of your brother and his wife. Another man is likely to be charged with being an accessory to murder, among other things. By this afternoon it’ll be all over town, so I thought you should hear it from us first.’

  For a moment she sat in stunned silence, letting it sink in.

  ‘Jennings,’ she said bitterly. ‘After Harry gave him work on the farm, too. That’s gratitude for you, isn’t it? He tries to help someone out and that’s what he gets in return. I suppose he was stealing and he was found out, is that why he killed my brother?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Cole said, shooting a glance at Sheridan. ‘I think it was more complicated than that. Much more complicated, in fact, and maybe even more terrible.’

  He wondered how to go on, and in that pause Sheridan tried stringing together some consoling words, but they didn’t come out the way she wanted either.

  ‘What was it then?’ Fantasio asked, her back stiffened and her knuckles pressing into the couch.

  ‘Your brother,’ Cole continued. ‘From what I’ve understood, it seems to me that Harry paid Jennings and the other man to do it.’

  ‘To do what?’

  Cole looked straight at her.

  ‘To kill him.’

  ‘What? Harry paid someone to kill him? Why on earth would he do that? You’re kidding me.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I think there might have been lots of reasons, Mrs Fantasio. Harry was way out of his depth with Hilltop. He’d been living in the shadow of his father and since his father’s death everything had gone downhill for him. He had a wife who lived extravagantly without putting in the hard yards for it, and to be truthful, Harry was that way inclined, too. His debts were mounting. He was paying Jennings for the milking and he’d already sold off a prime piece of the farm in trying to stay afloat. But his gambling had a tight hold on him and he was regularly owing a SP bookmaker in town loads of money. At the time of his death we know that this bookmaker was putting the squeeze on Harry trying to get some of it back. So too the tax department and the bank. Everyone wanted a piece of him.’ Cole drew breath. ‘There were other things, too. Not necessarily things I have concrete proof of, but which I think were contributing factors in his death. But I don’t need to go on if you don’t want to listen to it.’

  Linda Fantasio was hunched over now, sobbing.

  ‘I want to hear it,’ she cried. ‘It’s bad enough as it is, how could it get any worse?’

  Cole glanced at Sheridan and then said, ‘Just tell me if you want me to stop.’

  Without speaking, she waved him on as Sheridan moved to sit beside her on the couch.

  ‘We believe your brother had suspicions about his boy’s parentage, after Dianne attacked him with it one night when they were both drunk. I think you know that already. And I think his suspicions were probably well founded. The night Harry died, that night I met you at Hilltop, I had a look through Dianne’s chest of drawers. In there was a photograph of a cricket team, which struck me as an odd thing to keep among her underwear and singlets. Of course Harry was part of that team, too, but I don’t think he was the reason she kept that photo. I think George’s father was in that photo, too. Barry Jennings.’

  ‘Oh God,’ she cried.

  ‘Harry took Jennings on to help him on the farm without realising he was, or had been, in a relationship with Dianne Bramley. When Harry had that row with Dianne the night she told him he wasn’t George’s father, he probably kept thinking about it, and thinking about it long after Dianne claimed that wasn’t what she meant. Who knows, Jennings could have been continuing his affair with Dianne right up to the night she died. And perhaps Harry knew that, too. Otherwise, why would he have excluded both Dianne and George from his will? But unfortunately for Harry, when he had previously asked Jennings to witness his will it was odds on Jennings then told Dianne about its contents, causing her to draw up her own, fake will. Maybe her father had a big part in that, maybe he didn’t. We still need to find out.’

  ‘But Jennings killed Dianne, too. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’

  ‘He definitely did. And perhaps Dianne brought herself undone too, by telling Jennings he was George’s father when he already had a wife and kids of his own to support. Maybe that was his motivation for what he did. With Dianne out of the way there would be no one left to upset his family’s applecart. It was the deal he’d struck with Harry anyway, whether there was anyone to enforce it afterwards or not once Harry was dead.’ Fantasio’s head was buried now, Sheridan drawing an arm around her. ‘There was perhaps another factor as well. You suspected Dianne of involvement in your father’s death. Maybe Harry did, too. And who knows, perhaps he thought Dianne was biding her time to do the same with him.’ Cole paused, before deciding to go on. ‘Harry was in financial ruin. His son wasn’t his. He suspected his wife of killing his father and plotting against him. Probably he thought, with good reason, that Dianne was behind the ruin of Hilltop, and that it was time to put an end to it.’

  ‘And to himself,’ Fantasio lifted her head and said.

  ‘Yes,’ Cole said softly. ‘Shortly before he died, Harry paid a large sum into a bank account we now know was operated by Jennings. I believe that money was payment for what Jennings was about to do. But Harry still cared enough about the rest of his family that he wanted his death to look like an accident. The train was probably his idea. But when he was working all that out, in his mind he was giving the farm back to you and his brothers.’

  ‘Where were they killed? Not in front of George for God’s sake?’

  ‘No. We’re pretty sure that happened outside the house, out of sight. Another thing I noticed the night of Harry’s death, was that the rubbish bin at Hilltop was full of empty bottles. There were also four glasses in water in the sink. I thought then there might have been four people in the house the night he died: Harry, Dianne, but I didn’t know then who the other two might have been. They were drinking together before …’

  ‘That’s enough. I’ve heard enough now,’ Fantasio wept. ‘What did I do to help him? My own brother? I let him down so badly. I never knew just how much trouble he
was in, how horrible it must have been for him with that woman. That he’d do this. … I let him down.’

  ‘You can’t be blamed for what Harry did,’ Sheridan consoled her. ‘He was responsible for himself, you weren’t.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Fantasio’s muffled voice came, her face in her arm. ‘He was like a child really. Dad knew it. I knew it. My other brothers didn’t want to know.’

  ‘The burden fell on you when you already had enough on your plate,’ Cole said. ‘You couldn’t be expected to oversee everything Harry did.’

  ‘He’s right, Linda,’ Sheridan said. ‘You’re the only one who’s come out to try and sort out Harry’s mess. And it was Harry’s mess, not yours.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I do.’

  When Fantasio had collected herself, she said, ‘No one needs to know that, do they, about Jennings and George? I mean, do you really think he was the father?’

  ‘There’s no reason for Chris or I to say anything about it, when the fact is we just don’t know, and never will with any degree of certainty,’ Cole said. ‘Jennings might mention it when the homicide boys question him, but I’d be inclined to think he won’t. I don’t think he’ll want to complicate things. Whoever his lawyer is, he’ll be pushing for a reduced sentence because of Harry’s involvement, and focus on that, but a death is still a death.’

  ‘I’d hate George to grow up having that stigma attached to him. Better that he thinks Harry was his father.’

  ‘We agree with you,’ Sheridan said.

  Cole regarded Fantasio a moment. ‘You’ve done the best you could with all of this,’ he said. ‘And that’s all anyone can expect. And now you’re looking after George I can see he’s in good hands. It doesn’t matter who his natural father was, or what fighting went on over him. He’s just a little boy who needs some looking after now, and you’ll be better placed than anyone to give it to him. So don’t be too hard on yourself about anything that’s happened. What you’re doing now is no small thing.’

  After a while, Cole gently removed himself from them, leaving Sheridan to stay behind.