Return to Moondilla

by Tony Parsons

  Frances nodded. ‘I did. Your father took me out when I was pregnant, and I was violently ill. I thought I might lose you. It was out near the Islands and there was a big swell running. That experience put me off the water for some time, but not long ago I was taken for a lunch cruise up Middle Harbour, and I had no trouble whatsoever. This is such a quiet river that I think I’d be right as rain. Perhaps the next time I come down we’ll take Julie for a cruise and have lunch somewhere?’

  ‘That sounds great, Mum, though I’m quite happy with Flora. She’s plenty good enough for river fishing, and we can use Steve’s boat for outside trips.’

  ‘No, I insist—for my own comfort! And we can call it a birthday present.’

  Baxter sighed and gave her a fond smile. ‘All right, Mum. Thanks.’

  ‘You find the boat you like and let me know how much it is. I shall expect you to have it here next time I come down.’

  ‘When do you reckon that will be?’

  ‘Hopefully no more than a couple of months. In fact, how about I come down for your birthday? We’ll have a small party, although this house is hardly ideal for entertaining.’ She glanced around. ‘Honestly, though it’s much nicer than when we bought it, it is a tiny bit cramped, isn’t it?’

  Baxter felt a prickle of annoyance. ‘This house suits me fine, Mum. I didn’t pick it with entertaining in mind—I came here to write. And if it’s a fine night, you couldn’t ask for a better outdoors site. I’ve had lights installed and it’s a magical place.’

  ‘Yes, dear, I’m sure it is.’

  ‘They’re not cheap, you know,’ he put in, not wanting to rehash their discussions about the house.

  ‘What aren’t?’

  ‘New boats.’

  ‘The one I was on was very nice,’ Frances said. ‘It had a kitchen and a bedroom and a shower.’

  Baxter’s eyes widened. ‘Lord above! Were you on Packer’s yacht?’

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Just a nice comfortable little boat.’

  ‘I don’t need a boat like that. I’m not aiming to travel very far, or even stay out at night unless Steve and I go bream fishing.’

  ‘A boat with a kitchen and a bedroom could be very romantic,’ Frances said lightly. ‘I think it would offer definite possibilities.’

  The extent to which his mother was prepared to go to get him married now became very clear to him.

  ‘You shock me, Mum. You really do.’

  ‘Sometimes you need to push things along, darling.’

  ‘Not with Julie Rankin, you don’t. She’s very much her own person.’

  ‘Well, whatever happens, I think a new boat would be an excellent investment in your future. You seem to be keen on fishing, and a boat and fishing go together.’ She paused and raised one eyebrow. ‘But if you should invite someone to go out on a boat with you, it would be helpful to have congenial surroundings.’

  ‘I’ve always recognised that you were a good businesswoman, but not that you were such a schemer.’ Baxter chuckled. ‘Oh well, it’s your money. I’ll talk to Steve and see what he has to say about what boats are on the market.’

  ‘Thank you, Greg,’ Frances said, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

  Baxter shook his head. His mother was the living embodiment of the fact that you never knew how a woman would behave. Just when you thought you had her sorted out, she would do something entirely contrary to your expectations. It was best not to try and out-think a woman, Baxter felt, but instead hang loose and wait for developments.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  As soon as his mother’s car pulled out of his drive, Baxter walked inside and put in a call to Ian Latham: ‘Southern delivery for L.’

  A few minutes later, Latham rang back.

  ‘What’s the problem, Greg?’ the detective asked.

  ‘Chief’s behaving very strangely about my boat. He’s staring at her and growling, and he loves that boat. We go out on her all the time.’

  ‘He’s a terrific dog, champ, but maybe you’re taking him too seriously?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Chief has always been reliable—he definitely knows something’s not right. I think you ought to take a look.’

  ‘All right, I’ll have someone there inside the hour. And I probably don’t need to tell you this, but just in case—don’t go near your boat.’

  ‘No worries. I haven’t even gone up the jetty, in case of footprints.’

  ‘Good to hear. While I’ve got you on the line—I spoke to Dr Rankin, but it’s good to hear things from the horse’s mouth—how did your grilling go at the station?’

  ‘Tough for a while.’ Baxter gave Latham a brief rundown.

  ‘Don’t worry, Greg,’ the detective said, ‘it was a put-up job. The Sydney detectives didn’t suspect you for a single moment. We just have to be very careful because of you-know-who at the station. We’ve got one of our own in on the Drew case. We reckon that Campanelli or one of his men killed Drew, but if we arrest the kingpin for that we’ll blow the whole drug operation.’ He added, ‘I didn’t tell you that, so keep it to yourself.’

  ‘I’d like a few minutes alone with Campanelli,’ Baxter said fiercely.

  ‘We want him alive, not dead!’

  ‘What about half and half?’

  ‘Nix to that, champ,’ Latham said tightly. ‘Stay right away from Campanelli, or you might end up the next one sleeping with the fishes. We’ll nail him soon enough.’

  ‘You hope. What about Liz Drew? Julie says she’s terrified.’

  ‘I can understand how you feel. Just hang fire for a little while and we should be able to put Campanelli out of circulation for quite a few years.’

  ‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Baxter said, a chill in his voice. ‘People like him always appear to have an escape alley.’

  •

  Baxter didn’t have long to wait. A cream-coloured, half-cabin launch drifted in and tied up about fifty metres on the upriver side of Baxter’s jetty, and not long after its arrival Latham’s disreputable panel van pulled up beside the house.

  The detective walked down to wait with Baxter and Chief beside the jetty, while his colleague—a sharp-eyed, grizzled man named Mal, whom Latham described as a forensics expert—inspected first the jetty (‘No footprints!’) and then the Flora Jane.

  After only a few seconds, Mal climbed out and up onto the jetty. The grim smile on his face told Baxter that he’d been right to call Latham.

  ‘You should give your dog a feed of steak tonight,’ Mal said. ‘There’s a bomb inside the engine cover.’

  Shocked, Baxter shot Latham a look, and saw that the detective didn’t seem to share his surprise.

  Mal continued, ‘It’s wired up to explode when the ignition is turned on, and there’s enough explosive there to blow your boat to Kingdom Come. More than enough.’

  ‘Can you defuse it?’ Latham asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Mal said, looking offended. ‘And do you want to try for prints, Ian?’

  ‘I certainly do. We can’t pass up the chance to nail the bugger.’

  Mal nodded and headed to his launch, returning with a small case of tools. He called out to Latham, ‘You’ve been undercover too long, mate. Get that civvie and his pup out of here!’

  Latham and Baxter grinned at each other, then headed back to the house with Chief. They sat on the verandah, drinking coffee and watching Mal at work.

  Baxter spoke about his suspicions. ‘I reckon they wired my boat after they were told the police were letting me go. Sounds like inside information to me.’

  ‘Yep, sounds that way. They tried to make you the number one suspect, and when that failed, they opted for the bomb. They want access to this property and they know you’re out to make things as difficult for them as possible.’

  Baxter’s hands clenched, his knuckles white. ‘I can face anyone head-on, but this underworld stuff is tough. These fellows have no ethics—they’re just grubs.’


  Latham nodded grimly and sipped his coffee. ‘Tell me about it.’

  Emerging from the boat, Mal put his fists in the air and called out, ‘Victory!’

  ‘Glad you’re still in one piece,’ Latham called back. He and Baxter had a chuckle and the mood lightened a little. They went down to the jetty and stood yarning while Mal attached a towrope to Flora.

  ‘Until you blokes have sorted all of this out,’ Baxter said, ‘it looks like I’ll have to stay put here with Chief. They could plant a bomb in my car next.’

  ‘That might be the safest course for the time being,’ Latham agreed. ‘You and Chief ought to be able to handle anything here. Keep that old shotgun handy and your eyes skinned. And maybe you could arrange for someone to bring out your tucker.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Julie,’ Baxter said. ‘Assuming it’s all right for her to know the story?’

  ‘That’s fine—but she’s as far as it goes, all right?’

  Mal gave the signal that he was ready to head off, and they called out thanks before he zoomed upriver, Flora swinging back and forth a little in his wake.

  ‘We’ve got a shed in town,’ said Latham. ‘We’ll go over your boat there.’

  ‘For as long as it takes, Ian. And thanks.’

  ‘Be seeing you, champ. You did the right thing calling me.’

  When Latham had left, Baxter phoned Julie Rankin, who was quite agreeable to bringing out his meat and groceries when he told her about the bomb. In fact, she was uptight about it. He could hear she was genuinely concerned for his safety—and despite the real danger, it gave him a nice feeling to know that she was worried about him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Whether it was wet or fine, Baxter always took Chief for a final romp around the house before he went to bed. Baxter had wet-weather gear, of course, and Chief had a raincoat so that he didn’t bring too much wet into the house.

  It wasn’t raining this night. The moon was out, with the river a long stretch of polished silver. Somewhere far away, a mopoke was repeating its monotonous call.

  Baxter was strolling towards the big shrubs with Chief just behind him. Out of the silence, the dog growled.

  Baxter didn’t wait. He leapt sideways, performed a standing jump of three metres and followed it up with a lightning-fast somersault that brought him to his feet. Two men stepped out from behind a camellia, carrying what appeared to be iron bars.

  One glance was all it took for Baxter to weigh up the situation. An iron bar could break an arm or paralyse it, while a hit to the head could knock a man out—or kill a dog. One man with an iron bar was bad enough, but two was more than even Baxter and Chief could handle. The only solution was to separate the men so he could deal with them one at a time.

  Signalling Chief to stay still and silent, Baxter sprinted for the closest shed, guessing that one man would follow while the other ran to block him. Then he ducked beside the shed and put out a leg to trip his follower. He hit him once very hard, and the man went down and stayed down.

  Baxter picked up the man’s iron bar and turned as the other man came around the corner of the shed. He pulled up when he saw Baxter with the bar, the large German Shepherd running to stand beside him, and his partner flat out on the ground.

  ‘Put the bar down, buster, you’re out of your league,’ Baxter said harshly. ‘I learned this game from the people who invented it.’

  Chief gave a loud bark.

  The man backed away and, when he was clear of the shed, looked to the jetty.

  ‘Got someone there, have you?’ Baxter asked. ‘Who sent you . . . Campanelli?’

  There was a shot—very loud in the silence of the night—and the man staggered and then fell. The shot was followed by the sound of a boat engine starting up.

  ‘Watch him, Chief,’ Baxter commanded as he ran for the jetty. He could see the small boat out on the silver water, but not well enough to identify it.

  Baxter retraced his steps and stopped beside the badly wounded man. He tried to give him first aid, but it was clear he wouldn’t last long.

  ‘I don’t think much of the company you keep, buster,’ Baxter said. ‘You might not be up to much, but getting shot in the back is a poor way to die. Was it Campanelli?’

  ‘Camp—’ the man gurgled, and then he died.

  Baxter walked to where the other fellow was still out cold. He made him as comfortable as possible. ‘Keep watching him, Chief.’

  After phoning for an ambulance, Baxter put in a call for Latham. ‘Don’t touch anything, champ,’ the detective said. ‘I’ll have a team there as soon as possible.’

  Inside the hour there was a flotilla of vehicles at Riverview. Julie came with the ambulance in her capacity as medical examiner. She said that the downed man was in a coma and there was no telling how long he’d remain in this condition.

  ‘Are you all right, Greg?’ she asked, her forehead creased with concern.

  ‘Yes, they didn’t touch me. Once I’d split them up, I knew I could handle them.’

  ‘The big question is whether that shot was meant for your trespasser or for you,’ Latham said. ‘Maybe the Big Chief who runs this racket doesn’t like loose ends.’

  ‘All I got out of him was “Camp—”, and then he died.’

  ‘Better him than you.’ Latham’s smile was thin. ‘You’re going to cost me a lot of money, Greg. I’m going to mount a watch over you and this place—’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Baxter asked, while Julie exclaimed, ‘Good idea!’

  ‘—until we have Campanelli behind bars,’ Latham finished. ‘You and Chief clearly make a great team, but I’ve decided it would be irresponsible of me not to give you some back-up. I’ve asked my superiors and they’ve come up with the funds.’

  After providing his official statement and saying goodnight, Baxter started walking back to the house past Mal and a few other overall-clad forensics officers.

  ‘Anything worthwhile?’ he asked Mal.

  ‘Not much so far, but we haven’t checked the bars for fingerprints.’

  ‘You’ll find mine on one of them—I didn’t touch the other.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A concerned Liz Drew rang early the next morning—Julie had relayed some of the night’s proceedings.

  ‘I’m fine, Liz,’ he said. ‘Not a scratch on me.’

  ‘You’re amazing, in other words. Any other man would have fallen to pieces. But aren’t you still in danger?’

  Once Baxter had reassured Liz as much as he could, she asked, ‘Can I come out and see you, Greg? I want some advice and I trust you more than anyone else.’

  ‘All right, Liz. Come round now and we’ll have a cup of tea.’

  He could see that the day was going to be a non-event for his writing, because Julie had told him the night before that she’d be heading over for lunch. Two female visitors in one day—his mother would have been thrilled.

  •

  In her smart new blue jeans and a cream blouse, Liz looked terrific, but her eyes were tired. She’d been up to Riverview only once before—just quickly to pick up her car—and this time she gave both the property and Chief quite a few compliments.

  Baxter made a pot of tea and they sat out on the verandah in the usual spot.

  ‘I need to know whether you think I’m doing the right thing,’ she said nervously, tucking a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m planning to sell my house and go back to my property in Queensland.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ He was surprised by the surge of disappointment he felt at the idea of her leaving.

  ‘The thing is, I’ll never feel safe here while Campanelli is on the loose. He could send a couple of his men for me, and once I’m on his yacht anything could happen.’

  Her hands were shaking so much that she had to set down her tea.

  ‘Are you sleeping, Liz?’ Baxter asked.

  ‘Julie’s given me sl
eeping pills, but they’ve got their problems too. I don’t want to be too out to it, in case I don’t hear Campanelli’s men coming for me.’ She put her face in her hands. ‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing by selling up and running away?’

  ‘Please don’t think of it like that—it’s a sensible plan.’

  Liz reached out a trembling hand and he took it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘In the meantime,’ he said, ‘I’d get a security mob to fix up all your windows and doors, and maybe install an alarm. It might cost a few bob but it would give you great peace of mind.’

  ‘I’d thought of that—Jack left me a few thousand—but I don’t know who to trust around town. Except you and Julie, of course.’

  ‘I reckon Steve Lewis at Moondilla Motors could do it for you, or give you a recommendation. Julie and I trust him, so you can too.’

  Liz turned tear-filled eyes on Baxter, her hand still warm in his. ‘All right.’

  ‘Immediately, Liz.’

  Just then, Chief gave the bark that let his master know someone was coming up the drive. Baxter walked around and saw it was Julie, running a little early.

  •

  If Julie was piqued to find Liz with Baxter—and he hoped she was—she managed to hide it very well.

  For lunch he served the women corned beef, creamy mashed potatoes and salad, followed by rhubarb pie and cream. The three of them chatted about everything but the dire situation in Moondilla, with Julie and Baxter making a particular effort to keep the mood light. By the time Liz headed off, she seemed a lot more relaxed.

  Then Julie turned to Baxter, her eyes serious. ‘Greg . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You might consider going back to live with your mother in Sydney until Ian gets on top of this drug business.’

  Baxter tensed. ‘I’ve never run from anyone in my life.’

  Looking pained, Julie got up from the table and walked over to the window, staring out with her back to him. ‘You’re the only man I feel anything for, and I don’t want to lose you.’ He could tell how much it cost her to admit that.