by Annie Seaton
‘Sorry, Doc, but a city slicker like you wouldn’t have the faintest idea of where to go. Or what to do when you got there. If you go looking, I’ll come with you.’
*
‘I must have been asleep when you tied the little man up outside. I wasn’t expecting you to be out here so early.’ Wilma moved about the kitchen, her eyes darting to the window every few seconds. Her long white plait was almost to her knees and she was wearing a dress that looked as though it had been made from a hessian bag.
Concern filled Emma as Wilma pulled out a chair. Usually her skin was glowing and her eyes bright, but today her eyes were dull. Emma knew she was in her seventies but it was the first time Wilma had looked her age.
Emma sat at the table sipping tea from an old chipped mug. The smell of baking pervaded the small kitchen and she nodded when Wilma offered to make a sandwich. ‘Yes, please. How did you bake the bread? I didn’t see any smoke from your chimney earlier.’ She gestured to the combustion stove sitting cold and dark in the corner of the room.
‘I don’t want them to know I’m here so I resorted to the electric oven.’ Wilma shook her head.
‘Them? Who are you talking about? Why didn’t you call me if you were worried about something? It’s not good for your heart condition to get yourself so het up.’ Emma reached over and took Wilma’s hands in hers. Her dark skin was cold to the touch, and the veins were standing out on the backs of her hands. If anything she was even thinner than when she’d last seen her. ‘You sit there and I’ll make us both a sandwich.’
She pushed her chair back and opened the bread tin on the bench, inhaling the smell of fresh baked bread. ‘Yum.’
‘There’s some corned beef on the bottom shelf of the fridge.’ Wilma went to get up.
‘You stay there. I’ll get it. Any pickles?’ Emma tried to distract Wilma from the worry that gripped her.
The sandwiches made, she put them on a plate in the middle of the table and watched with concern when Wilma shook her head. ‘I’ll eat later.’
Emma sat down again and regarded Wilma.
‘So what’s going on? What are you scared of? You look ill.’
‘I’m all right. I’ve got my medication.’ She gestured to the box in the middle of the table.
‘But are you taking it?’
‘When I need to.’
Emma frowned. ‘You must take it all the time. I’ve already told you that.’
Wilma stared over Emma’s shoulder, her mouth set in a tight line.
‘I thought you’d gone away. You haven’t answered your phone either,’ Emma said.
‘The line’s been down since the storm a couple of weeks ago. It was fixed this morning just before you arrived.’
‘So what’s been happening?’
‘My snakes are gone. I got up one day last week and they were gone.’
Emma shivered. ‘I didn’t know you had snakes. Are you sure they just didn’t get out?’ She felt like lifting her feet up from the floor.
‘No, they were in glass cases, and the cases were smashed. I thought I heard something through the night but I didn’t get up to check.’
‘Who do you think took them?’
‘The only person I ever see out here is George Clarke. He wanders past regularly.’
‘It wouldn’t be George.’
‘No, you’re probably right. He’s only interested in his dope plants. He came snooping around one day and I threatened to set my dog on him.’
‘I didn’t know you had a dog.’
‘I don’t.’
The atmosphere lightened and Wilma smiled.
‘Have you told anyone about your snakes being taken? Called the police?’ Emma reached for a sandwich.
The old woman pursed her lips. ‘What good would that do? They’re gone. Besides I don’t have a permit to keep wildlife.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘As an indigenous person, I don’t believe I should have to have one. This is our land and if I want to be able to care for it and the creatures that live here, I shouldn’t need a piece of paper to help them when they’ve been injured.’
‘Calm down, Wilma.’ Emma put her hand on the older woman’s arm. ‘How many?’
‘Two of my taipans and my three lovely diamond pythons. I’ve had the old mother python for years. She was run over on the road out there when it was still a bush track.’ Her eyes shimmered with tears.
‘Taipans? You had taipans? My god, Wilma, do you know how dangerous they are?’
‘I’m careful. I know how to handle them, don’t you worry.’ She muttered under her breath. ‘With a bit of luck, they’ll bite whoever stole them. But at least they didn’t get the others.’
‘Others? You’ve got more?’
‘Yes. Just as well they didn’t think to come into the house.’
‘You have more snakes in your house?’ Emma squeaked. ‘Here in this house?’
A secretive smile crossed the old woman’s face. ‘In the spare bedroom.’
Emma lifted her legs and crossed them on the chair beneath her. Wilma patted her arm. ‘It’s all right. They can’t escape. They’re my beauties. Come and I’ll show you. I’m treating the prettiest orange-naped snake.’
‘No, thank you.’ Emma glanced at her watch. It was heading for mid-afternoon and she realised if she called into the rainforest centre, it could only be a quick visit. ‘I’m going to have to go. I promised George I’d collect him. Look, why don’t you come back with me? I’ve got a spare bed at my place.’
Wilma shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving my home. There’s no one to look after my animals.’
‘We’ll organise someone. Just until we sort out whatever’s happened here. And I’ll let the police know someone broke in here.’
‘Waste of time. They won’t be interested. And they don’t need to know I have more. That’s my business.’ Wilma’s voice was full of steely determination. ‘And I’m not going to run away like a scared old woman.’ She reached down behind the floral curtain across the cupboard beneath the sink. Emma drew in her breath as Wilma swung around. In her hands was a double-barrelled shotgun.
‘See, I can look after myself.’
*
Despite her best efforts, Emma couldn’t convince Wilma to come back across the river with her. She was a determined woman. One thing she had agreed to do was unload the shotgun and put the shells back under the sink.
‘Promise me you won’t load it again. Please.’
‘I’m not promising anything. I’ll protect what’s mine.’
‘And please take your medication.’ Emma touched the box of heart tablets on the table.
Wilma stood at the door as Emma crossed the yard to the locked gate.
‘Thanks, Emma. You’re a good woman.’
Emma lifted up Bowser and clutched him to her chest as she climbed the gate to the yard. ‘Over we go, Bowser.’ She turned around to wave but the door was already shut and the curtains pulled over the window. By the time she reached the next gate, it was almost four o’clock.
‘Damn, too late to call in and see Troy,’ she muttered under her breath. Where had this week gone? George would be giving them a hard time back at the hospital.
The dirt was loose beneath her boots as she went up the end of the dirt track to the road and she slipped, grabbing for a tree as she almost fell. She dropped Bowser’s lead and he took off ahead of her as he spotted her car. The low purr of an engine came up the hill and she yelled.
‘Stay. Sit.’ For a change he obeyed, and sat by the car as she scrambled up the last bit of the track. Emma grabbed his collar and waited as the vehicle approached.
She was surprised to see the police logo on the side of the white Pajero. Her surprise was tempered by wariness as the car came to a stop behind hers and the door opened and Craig climbed out.
‘Emma? What are you doing out here? Are you having car trouble?’
‘No. I’m fine thanks, Craig. I was just visiting a patient.’ Technically it was the tru
th.
He leaned down to pat Bowser before he stood and smiled at her. In his pressed police uniform it was hard to associate him with the drunk at the pub on Sunday night. Biting her lip, she wondered whether to share what Wilma had said with him. If there were criminals coming onto Wilma’s property and stealing her property, the police ought to know. And she thought of the plastic pipes that were sitting in the bottom of her backpack. She paused; the memory of Craig’s aggression still rankled.
And then Wilma’s worried face came back to her, and of more concern, the loaded shotgun.
‘So what are you doing on this track?’
‘I saw your car from the main road and I came to see who it was.’ Craig’s eyes were level with hers. ‘I’m on my way to the backpacker’s hostel at Cape Trib. A couple of blokes causing a bit of trouble.’
Emma frowned. She hadn’t realised that you could see where she was parked from the road.
‘So who’s your patient?’ Craig looked around and wiped his hands on the sides of his legs. She could have sworn he was nervous about something.
‘It’s Wilma Randall.’ She decided to trust him. ‘Look, can I ask you to be discrete? I’m not making a formal report or anything.’ Emma chewed on her lip, considering her words carefully. ‘She’s had a bit of trouble in there, but she didn’t want to say anything. Can I just ask you to keep a bit of an eye out without letting her know I said anything?’
‘What sort of trouble?’ Craig reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook.
‘Just some people hanging around.’ Emma shook her head. ‘She’s a tough old bird but it seemed to rattle her.’
‘Seem to be a few strangers hanging around at the moment. That’s why I’m up here. Listen. Sergeant Smith’s on duty at the station till six. If you have time on the way back, call in and have a word to him. I might be a while up here.’
‘Well thanks, anyway. I’d better get going.’
Craig’s face crinkled in a smile and he put the notebook back in his pocket. He took a deep breath and brushed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘Look, I really owe you an apology. For Sunday night. I was way out of line at the pub. And I’m really sorry.’
Emma lifted her head in surprise and stared at him looking for sincerity. This was a very different Craig to the abusive drunk of the other night. ‘Your behaviour was very . . . rude. To say the least. And uncalled for.’
‘It was. Look. I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment. We’re short staffed . . . and my wife’s moving up here.’ He had the grace to look sheepish.
‘I hope you’ve learned a lesson. Apology accepted. Just don’t come near me if you’re drinking.’
‘I won’t. If I’m back this way before dark I’ll go for a bit of a wander up there—’ he gestured with his head to the track leading up to Wilma’s place ‘—but I’d better get up to Cape Trib now. Don’t want them complaining that the police are slack.’
Emma lifted Bowser and put him back into the car. ‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’ She looked curiously at his left hand. ‘What did you do to your finger?’
He glanced down at his bandaged finger and grimaced. ‘Slammed it in the sliding door at the back of the station.’
‘Does it need looking at?’
‘No. I’ll live. Just a good bruise.’
Emma climbed into the car and waved at him as she put the car into gear and backed onto the road. She was uneasy as she headed back to town. Craig’s apology seemed genuine, but she still felt uneasy about him. His behaviour on Sunday had not been appropriate for someone upholding the law. Hopefully it was just a one-off. His wife was moving to town. Maybe he’d settle down once they were back together.
With a shrug, she flicked the headlights on.
Not my problem. Outside of a professional capacity, she’d stay well clear of him in the future. And she would make time to call in to the station before she saw George. It might cost her another apple turnover, but George would have to wait a little longer.
Chapter 13
Friday afternoon
Dalrymple Police Station
Emma parked the car outside the small police station located in the block behind the sports club. The sun had dropped behind the mountains in the west and a cool breeze had sprung up. She took a deep breath. Even though the sky was clear there was moisture in the air, and she hoped for a shower to cool things down. The gate creaked as she pushed it open and headed for the old brick building. The light was on but she couldn’t see anyone in the front office.
She waited at the counter for a moment and then pressed the buzzer. A door slammed inside the building and eventually Sergeant Smith ambled through the door.
‘Doctor Porter.’ The sergeant wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. She held his gaze steadily and resisted a shiver. Sergeant Smith was a most unfortunate looking man. A puffy red face, piggy-slitted eyes, and his sense of self-importance all contributed to the impression of a cartoon policeman. To top it off there was a wet food stain on the front of his shirt.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I was having my dinner. What can I do for you?’
‘I bumped into Craig Anderson out on the Cape Trib road and he suggested I come into the station.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘A couple of things actually.’ Emma swallowed and mentally apologised to George. ‘First off, I treated an assault victim at the hospital the other night and second, a patient of mine out in the forest is being harassed.’
‘And you’re reporting it on their behalf.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Can’t they come in themselves?’
‘No. Both of them are ill and George Clarke is still in hospital.’ Emma crossed her fingers behind her back. She wasn’t going to say that neither of them wanted the incidents to be reported. She wasn’t going to sit back and wait for something else to happen. She would never forgive herself.
‘Hmm. George Clarke always seems to be in trouble. Are you sure he was assaulted?’
‘Yes I am.’
‘Okay.’ He pulled a small black notebook from his back pocket and flipped it open.
‘Full name?’
‘Who?’ Emma frowned.
‘Yours,’ he said impatiently.
‘Emma Joan Porter.’
‘Address?’
‘Look, Sergeant, is this all necessary? I don’t have much time. I’ve got patients waiting for me at the hospital.’
His piggy eyes narrowed but his voice was full of self-importance. ‘Well, Doc. Do you what to make an official report or do you just want to tell me something?’
Emma tried not to grit her teeth. ‘I simply want to make you aware of a situation I’m concerned about. Both occurring on the same property a couple of days apart.’
‘Okay. Where are you talking about?’
‘Out Cooper Creek way. In the rainforest near Wilma Randall’s.’
The sergeant snapped his notebook shut. ‘So George got himself beat up. What happened to the old black woman?’ His voice was disrespectful and Emma glared at him. He turned around and looked at the television that she could see in the other room.
‘Someone has been interfering with her property, and trashed her shed.’
‘Okay, love. Leave it with me. Is there anything else?’
‘No.’ Emma’s voice was clipped and she turned to the door. ‘Thank you for your time.’
She walked back to the car and got her temper back under control as she drove around to the hospital. Wilma had been right. Going to the police had been a complete waste of time.
As Emma approached the upstairs ward, she could hear someone’s television blaring down the corridor. It covered the sound of her footsteps, and when she arrived in the doorway, she discovered that it also covered the sound of the conversation that George and Dr Langford were having. George was waving his one good hand around as he made his point.
‘I’m surprised that you let her leave Sydney. What did you do? Not treat her well or something?�
��
Jeremy was leaning forward in the plastic guest chair beside the bed. Emma narrowed her eyes and walked over. They both looked up at her.
‘Who is this “her” you are so concerned about, George?’
‘You. Jeremy here told me you already know each other. Where have you been?’ George scowled at her.
Emma pulled the other chair over and sat down. ‘He’s obviously better then.’ She directed her comment to Jeremy as she threw a glacial look his way.
George fixed his attention on the television and Jeremy leaned across and lowered his voice.
‘Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been worried about you and I’ve been practising a bit of your holistic medicine.’
‘Like what? Telling him about our past history?’
‘Calm down. What’s the big secret anyway? George is your friend and he’s concerned about you. Now he knows that I’ll be looking out for you too.’
‘And why does anyone need to be looking out for me?’ Emma was seething. It felt like she’d lost control of her life this week.
‘Calm down. He was worried about you.’ Jeremy reached over and took her hand and she stared down at his fingers for a moment before she pulled her hand away.
‘Why’s he worried? Because I’m a bit late?’
The smell of Jeremy’s aftershave wafted over as he leaned in even closer. ‘He heard—’
‘Well, blow me down.’ George’s voice interrupted Jeremy. ‘Put a lid on it, you lot.’
Emma looked up at the television as George turned the volume up. Her mouth dropped open as the newswoman’s voice described the chaos on the screen.
‘And in news just to hand—’
People were running across a large room, and some were already standing on the rows of chairs lining the large space. The camera panned across to a man lifting two small children onto the counter. Emma leaned forward as she saw the flight board lit up behind them.
‘That’s Cairns airport,’ she exclaimed.
‘Ssh,’ George hissed and turned the volume up as the commentary continued.
‘It is believed the snakes escaped from a suitcase as it was loaded onto the luggage conveyor belt at the check-in counter. One of the snakes, a large diamond python, has been detained by airport security, but it is believed that there are at least two more in the vicinity of the departure lounge.’