by Ashley Capes
“Thank you.” She glanced at him. He drove with his eyes on the road, hands at the perfect ‘ten’ and ‘two’ positions on the wheel. “What did you want to ask?”
“Do you think Ben Drummond killed his friends?”
Not the question she’d expected... “Why?”
He sighed again, weariness clear. “I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s probably easier to show you.”
The Drummond property was damaged but not in ruin. Burnt grass crossed the fences and one entire side of the house was blackened. Somehow, the owl had survived. A police cruiser waited in the driveway and McConnell parked beside it.
“He’ll be round back.”
More blackened earth in the backyard, shrubs burnt down to charcoal.
Gerry rose from a hole in the earth, resting a hand on a shovel. Smudged with ash and trails of sweat, his face brightened when he saw her. “Lisa!”
Her heart gave a little flip at the sight of him and before she knew what she was doing, she ran over and he crushed her into his chest then set her down. “You’re all right.”
“You too.” She smiled up at him.
“All right, children,” McConnell said. “Let’s see to business, you can have a proper reunion later.”
Lisa flushed, then looked away. Why was she blushing? Shit, it was like high school all of a sudden. There was no reason to blush, was there? She was just relieved to actually see him, to know he was okay. She’d known him since school. And maybe she hadn’t been able to figure it out for herself right away – but she was safe with him. There were no hidden motives with Gerry. No games. He was who he appeared to be.
Which was a wonderful thing.
But right now was the wrong time for all that. Help McConnell then check on Dad. Figure out exactly what she was feeling later.
“We found these.” Gerry gestured to the ground beside the hole, where a set of claws rested. Covered in soil, they looked to have been hacked off. He stepped aside. Beyond him, dozens more holes. And more claws, of varying sizes. Bones too. She moved forward. Kangaroo. Kangaroo. Wallaby. Goanna – even Koala. Each next to a hole. “Some were buried quite shallow. Others we found half-melted in the garden, as if they’d been stashed,” Gerry continued.
“What do you think?” McConnell asked.
She frowned. Why? Wait – the boneyard. That had to be it. Many of the bodies had been missing claws. Even one of the roos dumped in her yard was missing one. But why had Ben needed them? Why did he make his own boneyard here? Some of the bones looked pretty old. “I think it doesn’t make sense,” she said.
The Detective nodded. “It would seem that not only is your ex a prolific shooter, but he is also quite disturbed. In any event, it would match your statement about what Mr Lindgren said to you, about Ben being crazy. It would also be consistent with the wounds on most of the bodies. We’ll be testing the claws we recover to that end. It’s likely he’d been using them to conceal his activities.”
“Consistent except for Fathead,” Lisa said. She nearly kicked herself with her wet boots. Don’t cast doubt, let McConnell go down that path. No matter that what he’d find would be a lie – it was probably the best way to resolve things in a manner that would make sense. From a law-enforcement standpoint, anyway.
And it just might keep her out of jail.
“Maybe it was somehow more personal with James. I doubt we’ll know unless Mr Drummond turns up. We’ve received word from his parents – they are overseas.” He walked the lines of bones, scribbling on his pad. “And they haven’t heard from him and are understandably upset. I’d like to have your thoughts on that. You had frequent contact with him of late.”
Thank God Jennifer and Paul were alive. “Last I saw him was when I came here to warn him. About the murders.”
“And?”
“He didn’t care. He wasn’t worried at all. Can’t we test that skin?”
“Once things calm down,” McConnell said. “And he indicated nothing to you about his intentions?”
She shrugged. “He boasted about a rifle. He probably went hunting again and got caught in the fire.” Not exactly a lie.
McConnell noted her answer in his pad. “Could be.”
“I could believe he got caught up there somewhere,” Gerry said, turning a half-circle to gaze at the blackened bush. The scent of char was still thick in the air.
“Probably right,” McConnell said. He exhaled heavily then flipped his book closed. “We might head to Yarsdale then. Gerry, keep cataloguing these.”
“Will do.” Gerry looked to Lisa. “Tell me how your dad is going?”
She smiled. “I will.”
Back on the road, McConnell tried the radio but reception was still uneven. He turned it down. “Do you have a place to stay? I drove by Chambers Street looking for you.”
“Dad’s.”
He cleared his throat. “Glad to hear his place survived.”
“How is your mum?”
“Safe, luckily.”
“Good.”
They spoke little on the rest of the journey, until the Yarsdale hospital appeared, unscathed atop the hill. Most of the town was free of fire-damage. Smoke still hung in the air like half-visible poison, hanging over the lawns beneath the hospital and in the car park.
“Outlying homes were lost here but it’s nothing like Lidelson,” Detective McConnell said as he walked her to the sliding doors.
“Unlucky,” she murmured. His words were like faint radio signals.
They headed down the clean corridors and at a small cafeteria, McConnell stopped. “I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he said.
She nodded and walked on.
At the station a tiny nurse took her to see him. “He’s pretty good today. Pretty annoyed at all the ‘fuss’ as he called it.”
Lisa smiled at the nurse as the woman left then took a breath. She pulled open the curtain and there he was, pacing beside his bed, staring up at the television mounted to the roof. Good colour in his cheeks and he was moving pretty well. He’d even shaved and, it seemed, someone had found him some English Leather. Sunlight lanced in from between the curtains, splashing across the bed.
She nearly cried out ‘Dad’ but his eyes stopped her.
Her heart twisted.
Not again.
“Hello, Mr Thomas.” She summoned a smile from a happier time – whenever that had been.
“Hello?” He squinted at her. “Do we know each other?”
“Yes, I’ve...visited before,” she said.
“I see.” He grinned. “So, you swam here, did ya?”
She had to smile back, even though it hurt. That humour was all Dad – part of him was still there. “I fell in a river.”
“Sounds like a good story – why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I’d love to but it’s a long one. And the nurse didn’t want me here long after the evacuation.”
He snorted. “What a lot of rubbish that was. Nothing happened!”
“Well, what if I made a start today and came back tomorrow?”
“Good idea – and a lovely young woman like you, be a nice change from all the grumpy nurses.”
“They don’t seem that bad.”
“You don’t have to put up with them,” he whispered – quite loudly.
Lisa laughed and sat next to the bed. Something dug into her leg, through the jeans, and she pulled free two halves of her big paintbrush. How had it survived everything?
Her dad smacked his head. “I remember.”
She straightened. “You do?”
“You visited before. We talked about painting.”
“We did.” Better than nothing. And he was still smiling. Not the absent-minded smile she’d grown accustomed to or the uncertain smile when he couldn’t remember something. “I brought
it for you, actually. In case they might let you do some painting?”
“Well, isn’t that thoughtful. Thank you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you bring two halves of a canvas too?”
He drew another laugh from her. This was the dad she remembered; if only he’d remember her. “I guess it snapped when I fell in the river.”
“Well, not to worry. Look.” He gestured to his bedside table and a sketchpad atop it. “I sketched one of my dreams, you know. They gave me some pencils.”
Lisa opened the pad.
A beautiful white kangaroo stood on the page. It loomed out of darkness where her father had used the lead to smudge shadows. Her fur was drawn in thin strokes, light enough to suggest the ruffling of a faint breeze. Her tail curled into the dark; she was poised at the point of flight, as if she might leap off the page at any moment. Yet the brightness of the roo’s eyes could not entirely conceal a sadness and another figure lurked in the shadow – more impression than form, eyes narrowed, jaw agape. The red roo.
Lisa shivered.
A hand covered her own. “So, let’s start this tale of yours,” Dad said. “How did you fall in then?”
She smiled through the tears.
Acknowledgements
As ever, I want to start by thanking my wife Brooke, who urges me to do better and who saves all my first drafts from being trainwrecks!
I need to express thanks also to Wildlife Victoria, the awesome volunteers at my local CFA station and VicRoads. As with my last work, I want to credit them with the accuracies and take responsibility myself for any faults in the research. Certainly thank you to the Alchemists (CJ, Tess & Rebekah) whose input is inexhaustible and to the many readers and writers who also helped me: Aderyn, Kerry, Lynn, Gary, AJ, HL, and Eliza, but also Catherine and Jen too, thank you each!
Once again, endless gratitude is due to Amanda J Spedding for taking the story beyond what I thought possible and also to David Schembri for patience and assistance when it came to formatting the ebook.
A special thanks also to Louis at Indigo Forest Designs for such a brilliant cover and for stepping in at short notice!
Ashley
About Ashley
Ashley is a poet, novelist and teacher living in Australia. Aside from reading and writing, he loves volleyball, Studio Ghibli and Magnum PI, easily one of the greatest television shows ever made.
You can find him online at Twitter or on his fiction blog, City of Masks and at ashleycapes for poetry. As if that’s not enough, you can also sign up to his newsletter for competitions, giveaways and sneak peeks of forthcoming titles!
Also by Ashley Capes
Fiction
The Fairy Wren
A Whisper of Leaves
The Bone Mask Trilogy
1. City of Masks
2. The Lost Mask
3. Greatmask (forthcoming)
Poetry
7 Years
old stone: haiku, senryu & haibun
between giants
orion tips the saucepan
stepping over seasons
pollen and the storm