Crossings

by Ashley Capes

“It seems so – but how do you know that?” McConnell asked.

  She gestured to her lip. “They did this to me before heading this way.”

  McConnell slipped pen and paper into his jacket then put hands on his hips. “Miss Thomas...” He shook his head. “I think we better head back to the station and have a talk. Sergeant, keep an eye on the scene. Call Officer Johns and tell her once she’s done with the notification to get up here.” He waved to the paramedics. “Take him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Follow in your car, will you?” McConnell said.

  She nodded, heading back to the Holden and climbing in. She met Gerry’s eyes through the windscreen. He offered a small smile and she tried to return it.

  Chapter 13.

  Lisa sat at a picnic table behind the station, the shade of an old elm protecting her from the sun. Detective McConnell sighed as he sat across from her. “How are you feeling?”

  She raised a hand to her cheek. “It still hurts to talk but I’ve had worse.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” He took out a cigarette and lit it. A slight breeze tugged at the smoke as he exhaled. She nearly asked for one but decided against it. His Smartphone rested between them, the red light of a voice recorder app on. “So take me back to five years ago.”

  “Wait – you don’t think I killed Fathead, do you?”

  He huffed. “I can’t really tell until you answer me, but no. I don’t. If it had been your ex that turned up dead, then maybe I’d take a look that way. But right now, I just need all the facts.”

  “And you want to start with why Ben attacked me and Robert?”

  “Robert?”

  “We volunteer for Lidelson Wildlife.”

  “I’ll need to speak to him too. I assume you can give me his details?”

  She nodded.

  “All right, back to Ben then. Before the attack – I take it you left him.”

  “Eventually,” she said. “We’d been together since high school...”

  He waited.

  Lisa looked away as her cheeks grew warm. She clenched her teeth. No. Ben was the one who should have been ashamed. So it took a long time to figure it out? At least she did. Not everyone could say that.

  She looked back to the Detective but there was no judgment in his eyes. He simply waited. “It took me a long time to realise he couldn’t stop. It was hard to believe he’d changed, by the end, you know? That it wasn’t temporary.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’ve probably heard a lot of stories like this. I feel like a bloody stereotype.”

  “I’ve heard a few but that doesn’t mean yours isn’t important – keep going.”

  She took a stray leaf and tore it in half. Reliving her own stupidity wasn’t all that fun but she didn’t really have a choice. McConnell had to know what was really going on, shit, maybe he could even help. “Before the real drinking started it was just the weekends. He’d have a big one with his friends, usually after footy. And so did everyone else. It was normal. We were pretty happy I guess. I thought I was lucky – he was good looking and he used to be spontaneous.”

  “When did it change?”

  “He hurt his knee and he couldn’t play footy anymore, so he started drinking a lot. Bigger weekends. I couldn’t really keep up so we stopped going out together. Then it was weeknights too.”

  “And that’s when he first hit you, after the injury?”

  “No. He got into real estate. Seemed to fit; he could always talk a lot of crap. We started plans to build a house and things turned around for a bit. We had another good year.”

  “Something changed again?”

  “He was still drinking a fair bit but it wasn’t until after our finances fell through. We’d already spent a lot of money on the land...it doesn’t matter. But that night, after seeing the bank, he got wasted and I told him he was drinking too much and he changed. A bloody Jekyll and Hyde moment; he hit me. That simple.” And that easy. It was easy to imagine she could still feel the bump on the back of her head, from where she’d crashed into the table.

  “But he apologised the next day. It seemed genuine?”

  “Yeah,” she said. He knew the patterns, did Detective McConnell. “Didn’t happen again for a long time.”

  He nodded. “What did you do the second time?”

  “Stayed with a friend.”

  “You didn’t report it, didn’t tell anyone?”

  She shook her head. “I told myself the same bullshit; it’s temporary, it’s just a rough spot, things will get better. Five years ago I decided they never would, and threw him out...”

  McConnell waited.

  “He’d killed Maggie, my cat. I came home and she was lying in the driveway, her body...broken. He said he was drunk. Angry after one of our fights. Said it was an accident but he wasn’t that drunk. He never liked her.” Lisa made a fist on the table. “Later I changed the locks and dumped his stuff. Told him I never wanted to see him again – I was holding a meat cleaver, so he listened.”

  McConnell patted her hand. “Good girl. Why did he come back?”

  “He’s buying a house. I don’t know, I thought he might want to try get back together but I told him no.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Anger, drink. And...he got really calm one time too – that was worse, you know? Then he broke into my house and left a letter. I didn’t read it.”

  “You reported this?”

  “To Gerry.”

  “Good. What about last night?”

  “We got a call at the Rescue Centre; someone had hit a roo and didn’t know how to help the joey.”

  “So you and Robert left at what time?” He took out his pad. “Habit,” he said when she glanced at the Smartphone.

  “Probably half past nine. When we got there, there was only the purple van with its lights on and a big grey on the ground before it. He’d been shot.”

  McConnell checked on his phone a moment. “And the driver?”

  “Steve Lindgren. Robert and I asked him what was going on and Fathead...James came out of the dark and attacked Robert with a bat. Ben grabbed me from behind. I knew he was drunk because I could smell the beer on his breath. He hit me a few times. He said he did it because I smashed the windows on his new place.”

  “I see.” He made a few notes. “And you did this after the letter you mentioned?”

  “I’d had enough by then, Detective.” She flicked the remainder of the leaf aside. “He’s been harassing me since he came back. Leaving animal entrails on my front step, the break in, things like that.”

  “And you reported this behaviour? You’re certain it’s him?”

  “Well I can’t prove any of it. But he used to go shooting, when we were together.”

  “And he brought animals home back then?”

  “No. I didn’t like him doing it. I refused to let him have any trophies. We used to fight about it actually. It got worse when I decided to volunteer; he thought it was a waste of time.”

  “But you don’t have anything solid to say it was him.”

  “No. But I spoke to Gerry and he agreed to give Ben a warning. I think that’s part of the problem actually.” She paused. Was she about to land Gerry in hot water? Couldn’t be helped. And he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. “I asked Gerry to warn off Ben when he first approached me last week.”

  “Go on.”

  “The animal stuff started then and the break-in followed. Ben reported me for smashing his windows and now he’s angry because Gerry hasn’t charged me yet.”

  “Sergeant Hansen hasn’t charged you?”

  “My dad had just been admitted to hospital – he’s still there now. Gerry wanted to give me a break.”

  “I see. Is your father all right
?”

  “He fell down some steps. He might have Alzheimer’s.” There. She’d admitted it aloud. And to a stranger.

  His expression softened. “That’s difficult for anyone to cope with; you must be under a lot of stress. I hope he’s all right.”

  “Thanks.” She met his eyes. “Will Gerry face some sort of...disciplinary measures because of this?”

  The detective rubbed at his moustache. “That’s not up to me truthfully. Let’s go back to Ben. What happened after he hit you?”

  “Well, I think it was Fathead that told him to stop but Ben wasn’t finished. He showed me more dead roos and said if I told the police, he’d keep killing them. They drove off after that – they were probably all drunk.”

  “All right, thank you.” More scribbling. “What did you do next? How did you get home?”

  “Robert drove us. We went to see Gerry. He told us to report it but I decided to sleep on it. Robert wanted to, he was angry, but...I don’t want Ben to kill more animals. He’s gone crazy, there were roos and a fox. There was even a snake.”

  His pen stopped. “A red-belly?”

  “It could have been – I thought it was a black snake but I wasn’t seeing too clearly at the time. Why?”

  “And what happened to the animals?”

  “We loaded them up and Robert said he’d take them...” She trailed off with a frown. “He wouldn’t do that, Detective.”

  “Don’t worry, he’ll have a chance to speak to me.”

  “He was with me, at Gerry’s.”

  “We don’t have a complete timeline for the accident yet. He might have taken the snake back and came across Mr Rogers after dropping you off. If he was furious enough, he might have strangled Mr Rogers and used the snake as a bizarre decoy. Or – more likely, as a message. You both care about animals, and in light of Ben’s threats, it might not be farfetched at all.”

  “I don’t think Robert bit James, Detective McConnell.” It was hard to keep sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Nor I.” McConnell remained calm.

  “Shouldn’t you be speaking with Ben and Steve instead?”

  “Absolutely. But I need to hear what Robert has to say as well.” He switched off the phone’s recorder. “And no doubt we’ll have to speak again soon. Why don’t you go and have something to eat and check on your dad. You’ve been through a lot.”

  He was right but she wasn’t having lunch yet – she needed to talk to Robert. She stood and the detective walked her through the station, passing Gerry’s empty desk with its big St Kilda banner.

  Detective McConnell handed her a card with his name and number. “If you need to call. And I don’t think I need to say it, but I will anyway; make sure you keep away from your ex.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 14.

  Lisa burst into the grain store, grasping at the door as it flew open. She slowed when the customers turned to stare; a farmer and his son, standing beside the chook pellets. She queued up at the counter, waiting behind a woman who was fumbling with her change.

  Where was he? Robert was supposed to be at work. Maybe he was in the office or the storeroom. She tapped her foot as she waited. She had to tell him to expect a visit from the detective, but more than that – she had to ask about the snake. Had it been the same snake? Couldn’t have been. Impossible.

  The woman before her was still struggling with her coins. Lisa smothered a sigh.

  The girl at the register called for Robert – the teen must have noticed Lisa’s sigh. She gave a rueful smile of thanks and moved along the counter. The door jingled behind her as she waited and she nearly turned to frown at whoever it was. She didn’t need a store full of strangers while talking to Robert.

  He stepped out of the back room and smiled. “Hey, how are you today?” His own cheek bore a swollen bruise in a mixture of blue and sick-yellow.

  “Tired I guess.” She paused, glancing at the shop floor. The farmer and his son had reached the counter. “I have to speak with you.”

  “In private?”

  “Yeah. How about the back?”

  He shook his head. “We’re doing stock-take, it’s all hands on deck. Hold on.” Robert moved to the door and flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ and nodded to the farmer as the man left. He smiled at the boy, who had the pellet bag on his shoulder and was huffing with the effort.

  “Kelli, can you give the others a hand for a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  Once she was gone, Robert leant on the counter. “What’s happening? It’s not Ben is it?”

  “No.”

  “Have you decided to report him?”

  She raised a hand. “Wait, Robert. Something’s happened. The police are going to ask you questions about Fathead. He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “He crashed the van last night. I was just there with the police and they think you might have gone back there to strangle him.”

  “Jesus, why?”

  “Because you were angry and because there was a red-bellied-blacksnake tied around his throat. Same as the snake Ben killed, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah but that’s crazy.” Shock covered his face. “And we were together last night, with Gerry. You told them that, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. But they mean after.” She lowered her voice; she’d nearly been yelling. “What did you do with the bodies?”

  “I buried the fox and the snake behind the Centre. I was too tired to dig more holes and I didn’t want to wake up Anthony, so I left the kangaroos in the ute. They’re wrapped in a tarp in the shade. I’m going back at lunch; they probably smell already.”

  “And you’re sure the snake was a red-belly, not a black snake?”

  “Red-belly – but don’t worry, if the police want to see it I’ll just dig it up,” he said.

  “It would be good if you could.” Shoes squeaked as someone moved from the aisles. Detective McConnell. His approach was not hurried, one hand in his jacket pocket, not a single hair out of place on his head. “I’m Detective Andrew McConnell and I’d like to hear your account of last night too, Mr Helmers.”

  “Let me get someone to mind the counter,” Robert said after a moment of confusion, slipping out the back.

  Lisa glared at the detective. Was all his understanding before just an act? “You knew I’d come here – you wanted to eavesdrop.”

  “I would have found him anyway and it sounds like your friend has nothing to worry about.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m coming.”

  “Please do.”

  *

  At the rear of the wildlife centre, Robert stood back from the hole – the contents mottled by shade cast from the gum trees. The rich scent of hewn earth filled the air. “See?”

  “All right, there’s the fox – where’s the snake?” McConnell asked.

  Lisa peered into the hole. Only the small orange body of the fox was visible, smattered with soil, its black legs like big struck matches. No other black animals were inside and none with red underbellies.

  Robert shifted the fox. “It’s under the...”

  There was only more brown earth.

  “Mr Helmers, are you certain this is the correct hole?”

  “I only dug one.” His eyes were wide and he scraped through the dirt. “This is bullshit, I buried it last night.”

  “Mr Helmers, I’d like for you to accompany me to the station for questioning at this point.”

  Robert dropped the shovel. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Tell me about it at the station.”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Lisa said. “Anyone could have taken the snake from the grave.”

  “Did you end up checking on your dad?” McConnell asked. He gestured for Robert to accompany him in his silver sedan – sleek and so
mehow dishonest.

  Lisa exhaled heavily. She hadn’t yet. “Do you need anything, Robert?”

  “Just let Kelli and the others know,” he said. His face was set.

  She nodded and strode to the Holden. Inside, she pulled her phone and jabbed at the number for Yarsdale Hospital. The woman on the front desk transferred her to the nurse’s station, which at least had good news. He could head home today.

  They put her through to her father.

  “Dad, it’s me. I’m coming to get you now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘I’m coming to bring you home.’ Can you hear me okay?”

  “Who is this?” His voice was uncertain.

  Her heart flipped. “Dad, it’s me, Lisa.”

  “Lisa?” A long pause. “All right. I’ll see you soon,” he said, and hung up.

  What? A lump formed in her throat.

  Lisa tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and punched the horn, grinding her fist into the wheel. The horn blared and she let it scream a little longer, before falling back with a sob.

  Chapter 15.

  Even when she got Dad home that evening, she didn’t think he truly recognised her. But he seemed to respond to his possessions. The couch, his radio and the hat hanging off the kitchen chair, even his shoes, which he’d examined while standing in the hall.

  She flicked the TV on and helped him into his chair; he was still a little unsteady on his feet, though he wore a somewhat smaller bandage now.

  “How about I get something started for tea? Spaghetti bolognaise?” she called from the kitchen.

  “That’s all right...dear.” He said. “I’ll be fine.”

  The hesitation in his voice.

  She stopped, hand hovering over a saucepan, shoulders slumped. He still had no idea who she was. The car ride was the same and when he’d stared blankly at her in the hospital...She squeezed the pot’s handle. Was he going to remember? Was it already too late for medication? Tomorrow’s appointment with Dr Albert couldn’t come soon enough.

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  Quiet from the lounge – just the steady prattle of the evening news. She set the pot on the stove and took red mince-meat from the freezer, chucked it on a plate and hit ‘defrost’ on the microwave. While the mic hummed, she slipped into the study and searched the cupboards. It took a little while, but she soon returned with an old, leather-bound photo album.