Chapter 23. Bandervaal And Grace; and The Urge To Organise
The next morning Cadney and Frazier turned out of their swags in the pre-dawn twilight. After ablutions they rolled and stowed their bedding, then Cadney collected a handful of twigs and set about rekindling the fire. Frazier went off for more wood and returned with another armload. He dropped it near the campfire and put some sticks on the flames.
Just then sunlight flared on the distant Tarlton Ranges and Cadney climbed onto the Holden’s roof-rack to check on the detectives. The sparse scrub on the rise was enough to limit any long range view but from there he could see to the horizon all around.
Three plumes of dust were visible, all in the west, their tapered smudges clear in the low-angled sunlight. Two of them were in the extreme distance – big ones, most likely road trains, Cadney decided, hauling cattle through to the Roma Saleyards. The third was considerably closer.
“There’s a car on the road ten or twelve kilometres off,” he informed Frazier from his vantage point. A fresh balloon of dust rose above the tree line as he stood there watching, well forward of the first.
“It’s coming this way, too,” he added, “and if it’s them the buggers are flying! You’d better get down there I reckon or they’ll overshoot half way to the Queensland border.”
Frazier went to his wagon and started the engine. He let it run for a few seconds then swung the Toyota around and back-tracked toward the highway. Cadney filled their two billycans and set them by the fire, his for tea and Frazier’s for hot water, should the newcomers prefer coffee.
He was sure they would. After an overnight drive a decent mug of coffee was the perfect heart-starter, and Jackson Cadney was just the person to fix it, he assured himself.
Before raiding Frazier’s tucker box and car fridge for the breakfast makings he climbed onto the Holden again, to check that the vehicle didn’t keep going. It didn’t, and by the time Frazier arrived back at camp with the others in tow Cadney was ready to serve and pour – bacon and eggs on toast with tea or coffee.
The newcomers were Janine Grace and Draken Bandervaal, Ms Grace being the forensic specialist. After introductions and starings-in-amazement at the luminous yellow Holden the four proceeded with breakfast. Conversation remained limited, deliberately kept to such things as the weather, the alleged “highway” and Police Station gossip. Cadney mostly listened; it gave him an opportunity to appraise the new arrivals.
Bandervaal was a big man: white-blonde hair, fair skin, grey-blue eyes. His strengths would lie in size and intellect, Cadney decided. And despite a soft looking exterior he’d be as steady as a rock when the trouble started.
Janine Grace was almost the perfect opposite. She was dark-haired and petite, most likely of parents Aussie and Asian. And despite sleep deprivation and rumpled police overalls Cadney could see motivation and self-confidence in the way she presented herself. She’d enjoy her work, would be professional and efficient and would expect the same from others, he concluded. He tuned back into the conversation.
Bandervaal was saying how they’d departed Alice Springs an hour or so before midnight, then had taken turns behind the wheel while the other dozed. At the Marshall River rest area they’d pulled over to sleep in their seats; at first light they’d moved on until meeting up with Frazier.
When breakfast was finished Frazier retrieved his camera and the four set off walking to the spinifex patch. Along the way he gave the detectives an outline of the case so far, then handed over to Cadney.
Cadney told of his reasoning behind the search for tyre marks leaving the highway, then stopped at the edge of the rise to show them the tracks he’d followed. While they were there he pointed out the anomalous spinifex tussocks and explained their meaning.
Grace suggested he should lead them down. They’d stay outside the turning circle so as not to disturb anything, she said, and Cadney could describe what he was seeing and what he believed took place.
Once there Cadney indicated where the vehicle had come to a halt. Time and the wind had eroded any finer details, he explained, but events were still clear.
Two men were involved. The driver had gone to the door behind him and dragged something into the spinifex, while the other had gone to the rear door – presumably for a shovel. Both had subsequently walked back and forth to a second spinifex patch, which was where the extra tussocks had come from.
“How can you be certain they were both male?” asked Grace.
Cadney hesitated. “Well I mean, umm… You know, their boots mostly, but erm…”
She stared at him hard for a second. “They had a pee somewhere, didn’t they.”
“I er… Yeah. By the right hand wheel mark. The other one behind you in that scraggy little spinifex bush.”
The others turned to where he’d pointed and an awkward silence followed, each briefly picturing the scene feminine-gender. Then Grace turned back. “Well, that’s pretty conclusive,” she said, every bit the serious professional. The others’ expressions were, by way of diplomatic nicety, totally non-committal. After a moment she gave an impish smile and the four burst out laughing.
Once their mirth had settled Grace asked Cadney to check around for further evidence, then directed Frazier to photograph the scene before they disturbed anything. When he was done the detectives began dragging away the loose spinifexes, revealing a low, newish-looking mound. More pictures were taken and notes made, then Grace pulled on a glove, knelt down near one end of the mound and began scraping away the sand.
Bandervaal joined her at the other end, but his fair complexion was beginning to redden so she suggested he return to the campsite for the wagon and his wide-brimmed hat. On arriving back he parked about ten metres from where she was working, then donned the hat and resumed scraping sand from the other end of the mound.
Grace was working quickly. By then she’d exposed a blue checked-pattern shirt and was clearing around the head. Then Bandervaal came on some boots and a short time later the pair had the body fully exposed. It was lying face down, the back of the skull fractured, obviously by some sort of violent trauma.
Frazier was sure this was Sheldon but could only speculate on the circumstances bringing him here from Maskell’s workshop. The case was now CIB’s, of course, but it would be interesting to see how it developed. Hopefully they’d keep him informed.
Jack Cadney had already seen more than he wanted. He’d found nothing more and on returning to the crime scene had inadvertently forgotten to resume mouth-breathing. When the morning air moved gently he was enveloped in a mass of stomach-turning odour.
“I think I’ll go and clear up the dishes…” he said faintly as he wandered away. Halfway back to the campsite he donated his breakfast to a colony of meat ants.
Grace meanwhile had cleared the trouser pockets and was easing in her fingers to check for contents. One side held a handkerchief, the other a wallet and coins.
She opened the wallet and gave Frazier a quick, meaningful glance. “‘Raymond John Sheldon,’” she quoted from the driver’s licence without looking back at him. “It’s your missing Nissan driver all right.” Along with the licence and some banknotes were several credit cards bearing the same name.
Grace then asked Frazier to contact Alice Springs while she and Bandervaal went about recovering the body. And as Frazier walked back to his wagon the two went through the unpleasant business of transferring Sheldon’s corpse to a body bag and lifting it aboard.
Up at the camp Frazier found his fridge and tucker box by his Toyota, the breakfast things all washed and packed. Cadney was sitting on the Holden’s tailboard staring into the distance. When asked was he all right he waved without looking around.
Frazier picked up his sat phone and keyed the Alice Police Communications number, and a short time later was reporting to the officer at the desk. After he’d finished she informed him of a call received just fifteen minutes prior to his. A driller named Grundy had notified them of having found
a body at the Jervois Range mines. “According to him you’re aware of their location and he has ceased operations awaiting your arrival,” she said.
Frazier’s orders were to inform the detectives, then show them to the drill site and give assistance.
Just then Bandervaal and Grace drove up. Frazier signed off and replaced the phone, then walked over and briefed the two on the new development.
As he finished speaking the yellow Holden’s tailgate slammed shut. Then another door closed and he turned to look, but before he could ask what was happening its engine started and the car drove away.
Odd, Frazier thought – Cadney leaving without a word. Perhaps seeing Sheldon’s body had upset him. It didn’t matter though; he could show the detectives to the Drillstar rig himself easily enough.
Cadney had not quit, however. He’d overheard Frazier’s end of the conversation and could see no reason why all three vehicles should travel to Jervois. Instead he’d decided to go ahead and leave his car at the Lucy Creek turnoff. He’d not said anything because of still feeling queasy and not up to explaining.
At the road junction Cadney turned right and drove a few hundred metres toward the mines. On reaching where an ironwood tree leant out over the side drain he swung the car about and parked in its shade. By this time his stomach had settled and he felt somewhat better, so he leant on the Holden’s mudguard to await the others.
It didn’t take Frazier long to work out Cadney’s intentions and where he’d find the yellow car parked. Once there he stopped in the middle of the road and turned off the engine.
Cadney walked across as the detectives’ wagon pulled up behind. Frazier wound down the window and tossed him the keys.
“What are these for?” Cadney asked, catching them one handed.
“To open the cage,” came the reply. “The fridge and tuckerbox are in the front here. You can move ‘em and sit in the cab or you can ride back there yourself. It’s up to you.”
Cadney lobbed the keys back to him. “I won’t need them,” he said as he headed around to the passenger’s side. There he opened the door. “―because I’ll be bungin’ the buggers in the Holden.” The policeman glared at him for a second then unplugged the fridge; Cadney took it and disappeared behind the wagon.
“Putting ‘em there won’t do you any good,” Frazier shouted after him. “They’re empty, remember. You stripped ‘em bloody bare at breakfast time.”
Cadney rested his load on the Holden’s bonnet, went to the rear, dropped the tailgate, rearranged his tools and spare tyres and slid the car fridge into the space. “It’s for their own protection, Fraz,” he said as he headed back across the road for the tuckerbox. “They’ll be totally wrecked if I put ‘em in the cage.”
He disappeared from view again behind the wagon; a moment later he reappeared in the passenger’s doorway. “The way you drive they’d be crashing around all over the place.”
At Great Northern the drilling rig was standing idle, with only Grundy and the loader driver present. The driller was taking advantage of the unexpected stoppage time to do some repairs and maintenance, and when the police party arrived was half way up the steeply angled mast welding a cracked air hose bracket.
As the four disembarked he hung up his helmet and hand piece, then before climbing down noted their number. At the cabin of the eight wheeled rod truck he retrieved hard hats, yellow vests and safety glasses for everyone, then headed up to where they were waiting – a walking, mud-encrusted giant.
“You didn’t waste time getting here,” he said to Frazier on joining them, clearly astonished at the promptness of their arrival. “This would have to be the fastest response in the history of bush policing. We haven’t even started the engine maintenance. The engines are still too hot.”
“Just part of the service,” replied Frazier, who went on to explain briefly about the other job. “We were just finishing off when the order came to head over here,” he added.
Grundy handed Cadney the safety gear to distribute then shook hands with the detectives as Frazier introduced them. Bandervaal queried its necessity for their short visit, so the driller explained Drillstar’s worksite safety policy by way of an abbreviated induction. Grace arranged her vest, hardhat and safety glasses without comment then asked where the body was to be found.
Grundy bowed politely for effect, then extended his arm in the direction they should proceed. “We’d completed work on this section and were getting ready to move the rig to the next line,” he said as they set off. “I had the loader driver digging a drillwater pit there and to make the job easier had set him up to intersect an old prospecting trench. That’s when we found the body, when he dug into the old trench.”
The front end loader could be seen a hundred metres beyond the drilling rig, standing idle with its bucket on the ground, half full of rubble. On drawing closer they could see a desiccated boot, partially buried in the dirt. Fractured bones protruded from it. In the trench nearby were more bone fragments and another boot.
“When I came to check how the digging was going the hole was deep enough so I told the driver to finish off, and when he brought out the last scoopful the boot was on top. I thought it was just an old boot until I saw the bones.
“‘Lower the bucket without emptying it and turn off the engine,’ I told him, then I rang the Police in Alice Springs about it. We’d be shut down for two or three days I estimated, so I sent the other drill hand back to clean up the camp and started on the outstanding repairs and maintenance.”
Grace sent Frazier back to the police cars for his camera and her implements, then knelt down at the loader bucket and made a quick examination of the boot and fractured bones. The body had been there a considerable length of time, she announced as she stood up again. Decades even, though just how many she couldn’t say.
After Frazier had taken photographs Grace recovered the boot and its associated bone fragments and put them into plastic bags. She then asked if the bucketload could be spread out somewhere so Frazier and Cadney could inspect its contents for further evidence. Grundy directed the driver to a nearby area that was free of grass and said to reverse the machine as he tipped the bucketload onto it.
In the pit Grace retrieved the second boot and more bone fragments, then asked Grundy if a second hole could be excavated at right angles to the first, close alongside the older trench. It would make the body easier to expose, she explained, as the covering dirt could be pulled down into the new, deeper pit.
When the loader returned Grundy set the driver to work as requested, and fifteen minutes later the new trench was ready. The loader was parked nearby, then Grace climbed down and began scraping at the dirt with a gardening trowel.
Exposing the rest of the remains still required moving a large volume of earth and after watching for a few moments Grundy decided to take matters in hand. He went back to the rig for a pick and shovel then ordered Grace from the trench and stepped in himself. There he started pulling down dirt and rubble in bulk.
The others looked on in awe, marvelling at how much the big man could shift. Whenever the build-up became inconvenient underfoot he’d call for the loader driver to bring his machine and clean it out.
Each bucket load was taken to the clear area and spread thinly for Frazier and Cadney to check, but nothing else was else found.
When his excavating neared the remains Grundy stepped from the trench and handed the job back to Grace. And he was still breathing normally; he hadn’t even raised a sweat.
In the pit Grace continued her work, where it soon became evident that the body was lying on its side. Eventually she exposed the front of the skull and there discovered a very obvious cause of death.
“Interesting,” she muttered, examining the smashed-in forehead. “Two bodies in one day, death in both cases apparently caused by a blow to the head, one from the front and one from behind. —There’s no connection of course,” she added quickly. “It’s just coincidence.”
After
brushing away more dirt she looked again. “This is curious,” she continued. “The fracture here is a broad circular depression. The ‘blunt instrument’ in this case would appear to have been something roughly spherical.”
Frazier was called in to photograph the details; Bandervaal returned to the wagon and parked it close by. Grace then recovered the remaining bones and laid them out on an open body bag as best she could. Once the bag was sealed the detectives put it into the cage with the first body and gave Grundy the okay to resume drilling.
Cadney and Frazier gathered the safety gear and returned it to the cabin of the rod truck while Bandervaal and Grace were shaking Grundy’s hand and thanking him for his cooperation. By the time they’d returned the detectives were in their vehicle and ready to leave, and after giving a wave the two were on their way. Grundy then shook hands with Cadney and Frazier and Frazier thanked the driller for his cooperation.
“No trouble at all,” Grundy replied. “The shutdown was so brief it’s not even worth bothering the boss.” He gave the policeman a wicked grin. “I’ll tell you what, though. I’d give a month’s pay to be in McGonagall’s office when he checks the drill logs.
“‘Reason For Stoppage,’” he quoted from the yet to be written page: “‘Dead body in drillwater pit.
“‘Time Lost: Two hours.’ He’ll half dislocate his shoulder grabbing the sat phone. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on out there and who the hell was it?!!’ he’ll yell.
“And before I get a chance to answer he’ll demand to know why it took so long to get started again – as if the Police Station was just across the road and everything could be sorted out in ten minutes.
“I’ll tell him he’s lucky you happened to be so close – the miserable bastard.”
Just then the second drillhand arrived back from the camp in the service truck, Grundy having earlier radioed him about the resumption of work. He parked adjacent to the rig and began checking the engines and compressor.
The loader operator was already up the mast finishing Grundy’s welding job. On completing it he gave the driller a wave and came down. Grundy bade Cadney and the policeman cheerio and returned to the drill, there to begin his own pre-start-up routine. Five minutes later the big diesel engines roared into life.
Cadney and Frazier were across the Unka Creek by this time and well on the way to the Plenty Highway. On reaching the yellow Number One Holden they stopped and transferred Frazier’s tucker box and car fridge back to the police wagon. Then, once the Holden’s engine was started and running properly, the policeman continued on his way.
Overall Frazier felt a sense of relief. The case of Raymond John Sheldon was now in the hands of CIB Alice Springs, and as far as he was concerned they were welcome to it. Of one thing he was certain, though: Janine Grace would have an interesting job in front of her trying to identify the second body.
Whatever their work might reveal, Senior Constable Rick Frazier was homeward bound and looking forward to it – wife and family, feet up of an evening, chops on the barbie, a couple of coldies, a kiss and a cuddle…
Ahh yes, he thought contentedly. That’s what life’s all about. Little adventures like this were fine and he certainly enjoyed them, but a spell of quiet Station routine would go down well, especially having heard that the Senior Brass would be dropping by soon for a surprise inspection.
Jack Cadney was feeling better as well, but the only thing he was looking forward to was getting a bit of tucker back in his belly.
On reaching Bonya Community Cadney discovered his wife away and the house locked. He let himself in, put on the billy and set about making a large bully beef and tomato sauce sandwich. A short time later, nourishment and hot tea in hand, he retired to the outside table, there to relax and reflect on the last few days’ events.
Suddenly he remembered: today was Flying Doctor Day; Angelica would be busy at the Clinic. Liz Ward and the visiting medico and nurses would be running her off her feet.
HA! If he knew anything about anything it would be the other way around. Angelica would be everywhere, hustling patients, rounding up the oldies, organising mothers, soothing squalling babies, evicting stickybeak children from the clinic and trying to manage all the liaising and interpreting generally.
Oh yes, Mister Jackson Cadney knew his wife’s form all right. “Mixed blessing” was the term that sprang to mind. On run of the mill clinic mornings she’d be great, a pushy but dependable extra right-hand, but on Doctor’s Day she’d be trying to organise everything, the visiting medic included.
Jack Cadney had learned to live with it; he just went with the flow. For Nurse Elizabeth Ward a Doctor’s Day Angelica would be positively tidal.
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