Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  ‘Good, I’ll phone Hamish shortly.’

  ~ * ~

  After Emily alerted the authorities, Harrison’s Caravan Park was abuzz with police converging on the site belonging to Ruth Evans. The usual curiosity show had commenced, attracted by the sound of blaring sirens and the cavalcade of cars that had come to a halt in front of C3. The onlookers muttered amongst themselves as the police erected their customary crime scene tape. Looking rather dignified, Detective Forbes, accompanied by his able assistant Paul Marsh, crossed the police line to commence their examination.

  The sight of Ruth Evans lying in a pool of blood and the deplorable state of the van indicated her death was of a violent nature. Forbes, in particular, had witnessed similar malicious onslaughts but he still found it difficult to handle these scenes. Marsh reached for his camera and took some photographs, being careful not to disturb any evidence.

  Forbes appeared preoccupied as he continued to study the state of the van. Then he spotted the crude lettering on the floor. He stood silently, staring at the obscure message. It didn’t make a great deal of sense. He briefly looked upon Ruth Evans’s face, her eyes still open and bulging. The grotesque sight made him turn away.

  ‘What do you make of this?’ he finally asked Marsh.

  Marsh stepped forth and studied the writing from a crouched position.

  ‘Not sure. If it was intended to be one word then it’s incomplete. Otherwise we need to break it down into multiple words.’

  ‘Yes, that makes sense.’

  Both men continued to stare at the crude writing, trying to make sense of the message that Ruth Evans so desperately tried to complete. Reaching for his notebook, Forbes jotted down some notes.

  PI 16th Greek letter, symbol ration of circumference

  PIE pastry filling

  PIED dapple, clouded

  P symbol phosphorus

  II crude PI symbol, Roman 2

  ‘Despite all this, the message is still meaningless,’ said Marsh. ‘Exactly. Therefore you need to study the message in a broader sense. Perhaps it was intended to be conveyed in one or two words only. If you look at the last letter it appears to be a poor attempt at a straight line and I wouldn’t read too much into the spacing between letters. We’re dealing with a dying woman and in one last attempt she tried in vain to leave a clue. Although she has consistently applied the use of capital letters, the writing lacks certain neatness as to be expected, which also explains the irregular spacing.’

  ‘We could run these letters by head office and see if they can come up with something,’ Marsh suggested.

  ‘Yes, I’d thought of that. Anyway, enough of this. We’ll concentrate on a more detailed analysis later. Speaking of head office, get them on the phone and arrange for a forensic team to be sent here immediately,’ ordered Forbes.

  Careful not to touch anything, the two men continued to survey the scene, writing notes and taking further photographs.

  ‘Okay,’ said Forbes. ‘Enough done here until forensics arrives. See if you can find Tom or Emily Harrison and the person who discovered the body. I’ll have a word with them outside.’

  Standing on the verandah waiting for their arrival, he was astounded by the amount of people who had congregated to watch proceedings. Bloody ridiculous, he thought. This lot has nothing better to do with their lives than witness the misfortunes of others. He spotted Marsh coming forward with two women.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Harrison, thank you for alerting the police. How unfortunate your park is now subject to a second investigation.’

  How Emily loathed the pompous officer with his impudent satire. Ignoring the sarcasm she responded, ‘Detective Sergeant Forbes, this is Marge Samson who discovered the murder.’

  ‘Mrs Samson, this is hardly the place to conduct our enquiries with all these people watching our every move. I suggest you accompany us to the station where we can have some privacy. Would you please follow me to the car?’

  ‘Certainly,’ replied Marge obligingly.

  ‘By the way, Mrs Harrison, where’s your husband?’

  ‘What, you haven’t seen him? He left here around fifteen minutes ago with the intention of calling in to see you. There was mention of Helen O’Neill being driven home on their way to the station, so perhaps you crossed paths in coming here.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps.’

  Before leaving with Marsh and Marge Samson, Forbes instructed Chris Martino to secure the crime scene and commence a log pending forensic examination.

  ~ * ~

  I had filled Emily’s petrol tank the previous day and judged there was sufficient fuel to reach our destination and possibly enough for the return trip. Now approaching the outskirts of Pedley, I couldn’t help but feel guilty at leaving Emily behind to face a barrage of police questions. I looked across at Brigit, who now appeared more at ease away from the confines of the van.

  Driving along this open road on a winter’s morning was just what the doctor ordered - crisp country air with a hint of warmth penetrating through the car windows. The trip would take around two hours so I suggested some rest for Brigit. We could talk later.

  ~ * ~

  I had been driving for nearly an hour when Brigit was awoken by the noise of a passing transport.

  ‘Ah, you’re back from the land of the sleeping,’ I said. ‘That hour’s rest will do you the world of good. I suggest we stop for a bite of lunch and freshen up at the next roadhouse.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. I’m starting to feel a bit peckish.’

  It took a further ten minutes before the sight of a Shell station came into view. Pulling into the car park, I noticed a cafe on the premises offering a variety of junk food. An outdoor sign advertised a range of fried chicken, beef and fish, including the usual hamburger and meat pie selections. I had hoped for something a bit more nourishing.

  Over lunch Brigit quizzed me about our destination in the hills.

  ‘Tom, tell me about Hamish O’Connor and where it is you’re taking me.’

  ‘Well, Hamish and I went through school together so I guess we’ve known each other for around thirty years now. We’ve been mates all this time and we try to catch up at least once a year. There would be more visits if it weren’t for distance and my work commitments. Incidentally, I phoned him while you were resting and he was thrilled to hear of our visit. I explained your situation and he just laughed, saying if the syndicate ever gets a sniff of his property, the shotguns and two Doberman dogs would be enough to scare them off. I tried to explain to him that all of this was unnecessary, but he just seemed to relish the thought.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Tom. Dobermans terrify me!’

  ‘The dogs are only dangerous if you’re threatening or if you arrive without Hamish’s consent. You’ll be fine. Knowing these two, they’ll lick you to death.’ I chuckled.

  ‘Do they have names?’

  ‘Yes, Cain and Abel, which is quite appropriate. Cain can be the troublesome one from time to time, but don’t be deterred. You’ll find them friendly.’

  ‘Tell me a bit more about Hamish.’

  ‘His family migrated from Ireland when he was twelve or thirteen years old and, would you believe, there’s still a hint of Irish accent. The guy’s quite a character and full of life. You can’t help but like our Hamish O’Connor.’

  ‘Well, we have something in common, your Hamish and me, since my heritage is Ireland as well. What about this place of his in the hills?’

  ‘He purchased around eighty hectares of land about fifteen years ago and built a log cabin which overlooks most of his property. It’s rugged but beautiful country and he runs some cattle and sheep to assist him financially. The guy never married, although he was engaged once. She called it off, I recall. It broke his heart and he decided long ago he was destined for bachelorhood. He’s had the odd fling here and there but nothing serious. I think he enjoys his independence too much these days.’

  ‘Pity to be let down that way,’ offered Brigit.


  ‘I almost forgot! I need to phone Em and Forbes and let them know of our change in plans.’

  I decided to contact Emily first. Not surprisingly, all I got was her voicemail. Typical Em, I thought. Why have a mobile if you don’t use it? I left a message explaining the reason for our sudden trip to Peterswood. I said we would return home in two or three days and I would phone again from Hamish’s place. I then attempted our landline, but I was out of range. Similarly, I couldn’t communicate with the Pedley Police Station. I decided to try again later.

  We finished our lunch and made our way back to the car. I decided to top up with petrol given the fuel pump was so convenient. Ashworth - a small town of around five hundred people - was probably now half an hour away and from there a twenty-minute run would take us to Hamish O’Connor and his two companions Cain and Abel.

  ~ * ~

  Tom and Brigit were not aware that they had been followed from a distance by the ever-persistent Toyota Land Cruiser. Although outwitted last night, the regional head’s perseverance had paid off when it was suspected that Brigit was still at the park. The instructions had been issued to monitor all vehicles leaving the caravan park. Negligence comes with a price, and as a consequence the syndicate was now back in the hunt.

  The boss had ordered Charlie and one of his henchmen to follow the car through to its destination and upon arrival they were to advise of the location. There was to be no contact made during the trip and they were to keep their distance. They were to return with Brigit unharmed and were told not to fail a second time. Trailing some thirty seconds behind, Charlie and his lackey had spotted Tom’s turn into the station. They parked discreetly nearby and waited for the car’s reappearance.

  Now back on the road and cruising at one hundred, Tom and Brigit were still unaware of the trailing 4WD.

  ~ * ~

  M

  rs Samson, I think you’ll find my office far more appropriate to discuss this morning’s tragedy Now, from the beginning, would you please tell me what happened?’ Somewhat nervous and dejected about the whole troublesome matter, Marge Samson faced Forbes and commenced her account of the incident.

  ‘It was around seven o’clock when I arrived at Ruth’s place. We had decided to meet early for breakfast and then do some shopping downtown. The first thing I noticed that struck me odd was seeing the annex door open, because Ruth was the type to keep things secure. As I entered the annex the place continued to be out of character. It wasn’t its usual tidy condition.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’ asked Forbes.

  ‘Well, there was some furniture tipped over and a number of small items scattered across the floor. I knew straightaway that something was wrong.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’

  ‘I called out to her but there was no response. Climbing the steps leading into the van ... the immediate impact is something I’ll never forget. There was poor Ruth lying on the floor in a terrible state. The sight of blood splattered everywhere made me feel quite ill. I couldn’t deal with the sight so I went and sat outside, thinking I was going to be sick. I can’t remember much after that because I was in shock, except that Emily Harrison came to comfort me sometime later.’

  ‘Mrs Samson, how did you come to know Ruth Evans?’

  ‘We met around ten years ago at the Pedley Jazz and Blues Festival and struck up a friendship which we’ve kept ever since. We both have a love of music and this particular weekend became our annual event to enjoy the local and interstate talent. Ruth loved the place. She told me that one day she would leave the city and settle down here. She often visited throughout the year and always called in to see me.’ Marge now became emotional, realising there would be no more festivals to share together. The morning’s drama was beginning to sink in.

  The detective, sympathising with her trauma, paused for a moment and then asked, ‘I gather you’ve lived in Pedley for sometime now?’

  ‘Yes, nearly twenty years and always ...’ Marge stopped short when the persistent ring from Forbes’s mobile phone began its annoying intrusion.

  ‘Forbes speaking.’

  ‘Detective, this is Helen O’Neill. I need to speak to you regarding my daughter Brigit. Would it be convenient to come to the police station now?’

  ‘Certainly Mrs O’Neill, we’ll see you shortly.’

  Before he could resume his discussion with Marge Samson, Darren Burke entered the office to advise him that forensics had arrived at the caravan park.

  ‘Mrs Samson,’ Forbes said to Marge, ‘I’m sorry, but that will have to do for now. We’ll contact you again when required, but for now I’ll arrange for someone to drive you home. Thank you for your time today.’

  ~ * ~

  Within ten minutes Helen O’Neill had arrived at the station and Marsh brought her into Forbes’ office.

  Forbes came straight to the point. ‘Mrs O’Neill, we’ve been very concerned about your recent whereabouts, and indeed Brigit’s for that matter.’

  ‘I have a great deal to tell you, particularly with what’s happened over the past couple of days.’

  ‘Very well, from the beginning please.’

  Helen explained that the drama had started the night Tom Harrison called to inform them that Brigit’s life was possibly in danger and that they should leave the house as a precaution. The threat would come from a local drug syndicate, he said. She reiterated the events at the house and how they were forced to flee in Tom’s car to escape their abduction, in addition to the chase and eventual assault. She then briefed the detective about Brigit distributing marijuana amongst the younger fraternity.

  ‘I thought as much. She denied having any involvement with drugs,’ interrupted Forbes. ‘Could you identify either of these two men?’

  ‘No.’ Helen continued, stating that Tom eventually drove them to his caravan park to the safety of the numerous van sites. She explained the transfer from B8 to C7, the presence of the organisation and the forced entry into their first site, most likely the result of information from an informant.

  ‘The murder of Ruth Evans was the last straw, so Tom decided it would be best if he brought Brigit here,’ she continued.

  ‘Did he now. But Mrs O’Neill, we haven’t seen Mr Harrison or Brigit-’

  ‘What! They were to come here after they dropped me off. Something must be wrong.’

  ‘And that’s what I’m afraid of. We received a message from emergency regarding their chase through the streets, supposedly by this same drug syndicate. A patrol car was sent out to investigate but they reported no sighting.’

  ‘Oh no ... but you’ve got to find them!’

  Ignoring her emotional outburst, Forbes continued with his grilling. ‘Was there mention of some other place they may go to?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Given the circumstances, why weren’t the police alerted?’

  ‘But you were alerted by the emergency service, didn’t you say?’

  ‘Mrs O’Neill, I’m referring to last night.’

  ‘Our priority last night was to remain hidden, with every intention of contacting the police this morning.’

  ‘That is an unacceptable excuse, ma’am.’

  ‘We survived -’

  ‘Yes, you may have, but others weren’t so fortunate. Consider yourself lucky to be alive,’ said an annoyed Forbes.

  ‘Detective, you’ve overlooked one thing. If it weren’t for Tom it’s highly probable Brigit would now be in the hands of the syndicate, or worse still, murdered.’

  ‘On the assumption they’re still on the run and that Harrison takes Brigit to some unknown destination, he may have made a fatal error of judgment. At some point Brigit must surface. She can’t be hidden indefinitely. This organisation will lay in wait and seize the opportunity when it presents itself. At this point in time the police don’t know of this destination and that worries me. I believe the time has come to have another word with Emily Harrison. She may be able to shed some light on th
is.’

  ‘I still maintain every effort was made to arrive at the station. I can only conclude these people prevented this from happening,’ Helen insisted.

  ‘Mrs O’Neill, don’t get me wrong. I commend Harrison for his protection and bravery, but unfortunately he’s not looking at the bigger picture. He may have already and unknowingly given opportunity to the syndicate ahead of the police. He’s been very foolish with this shortsighted decision.’

  ‘Your comments are both premature and rather harsh to say the least. Tom and Brigit may have had no choice but to take the safest option available. As I said before, perhaps they couldn’t reach the police station or even return to the caravan park for very good reason. Detective Forbes, I’m more concerned for their wellbeing than what they should or should not have done. I have also come here today to ask for your protection. Having experienced their malicious attacks, it’s a very difficult time for me at the moment.’