‘Tell me about it!’ Dave kept his tone conversational so as not to lose the headway he felt he was beginning to make. ‘When I was in the Stock Squad we’d be travelling all round, but it was on the outskirts of Perth that we had huge amounts of trouble. Often the farmers would keep their guns at the local cop shop—not something we’d normally do, but it was easier. Because every time they needed their guns, they’d have to come and get them, so we’d know they were going to be shooting. Then when the calls came in from the public we could tell them straightaway there wasn’t anything to worry about.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘Where’d you guys get your cabinets from?’
It was Geoff who replied first. ‘Just ordered mine from the local farm-merch store.’
‘Yeah, reckon that’s where I got mine from, too,’ Leigh said. ‘I know I looked at one from a specialised dealer, but they weren’t really any different to the ones I could get locally. All about shopping local and keeping businesses afloat. When those laws came in,’ he continued, ‘we had cops swarming through our houses to make sure the gun safes were installed properly, in the places where they were supposed to be. Did you do that over there?’
Dave nodded as he took his foot off the accelerator and flicked his blinker on to turn into Booleroo Centre. ‘Yeah, we didn’t check everyone—that wouldn’t have been feasible. But we certainly checked quite a few. Probably enough for the word to get around that we were doing it and to make sure you were putting them in the way you should.’
He pulled up at the council offices. ‘So where do you fellas keep yours?’
‘Got mine bolted into the cement floor right at the back of the shed,’ said Geoff. ‘Can’t see it and you wouldn’t know it was there unless you were looking for it.’
Leigh opened the door before answering. ‘Keep mine in the walk-in robe at my house.’
‘Both good spots,’ Dave said, nodding his approval. ‘Had any of you been drinking before you left?’
That caused both men to stop.
It was Geoff who spoke.
‘Yeah. We’d all had a couple of tinnies before we went out.’
‘Actually, I’d only had one because I’d been at the council meeting,’ Leigh clarified.
‘Okay. Now, two more things before you go. Who had the guns there that night and who knew you were going out?’
Geoff opened his door and got out, as if he was in a hurry not to have to think about it anymore. ‘Dunno who knew.’
‘Well, Fiona would have, but Charlie was the only one of all of us who had a wife. Guess it depends on who we told during the day. It was five months ago,’ Leigh reminded Dave.
Dave let the pointed comment go over his head. ‘And the guns?’
‘Me and Charlie,’ Leigh said. ‘Eddie was holding the spotlight so he couldn’t shoot as well as do that.’
‘I’m really grateful for your time and walking through the scene with me,’ Dave said to both men, holding out his hand to them, one at a time. ‘And again, I’m sorry we have to bring it up again. There will be a few more things I have to clarify in the next few days.’ He paused. ‘I also need to take your fingerprints.’
‘What? Why?’ Geoff looked shocked. ‘Hang on! What’s going on here?’
‘Nothing is going on.’ Dave spoke in a calming tone. ‘This is all routine. Happens at every accidental death scene we go to. However, the police work in this instance has been lacking. You should all have been fingerprinted at the time.’
The men looked at each other silently. Geoff nodded. ‘Are you gonna do it now?’
‘I’ve got a fingerprint kit in the back.’ Dave got it out and walked around to the bonnet, ignoring the way Leigh kept looking at his watch. Carefully, he rolled each finger of both men on the ink pad before completing the rest of the procedure. Dave packed up the kit while Geoff wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. Leigh walked away to where a parking bay declared ‘Mayor’ and pulled back the tarp covering the tray of a ute. He fished around until he brought out a rag and wiped his hands.
Dave glanced over and quickly scribbled down the numberplate. He’d have to try to get Geoff’s too. Wouldn’t hurt to run a plate check on all four men, dead or otherwise. Earlier he had picked up Geoff from the council offices, so he assumed his ute was parked on the street nearby.
Leigh scratched at his beard and looked thoughtful. ‘Are you going to have to talk to Fiona about all this?’
Dave nodded. ‘Unavoidable.’
‘Do you really have to? Hasn’t she suffered enough?’
‘You’ve all suffered enough,’ Dave said kindly. ‘All in different ways.’
Geoff kicked at the ground. ‘I need to be going,’ he said as he turned and walked away, then suddenly stopped and turned back to Dave. ‘I understand why you have to do this. Be kind to Fee.’
Dave nodded and again thanked him for his time.
Leigh stood there, his hands in his pockets, his deep-blue eyes staring unblinkingly at Dave. ‘Do you have to?’ he pleaded again. ‘She’s just getting back on her feet. It’ll open everything up again for her. You never know, the stress might hurt the baby.’
‘I’m not going to be putting her through the wringer. Just a few questions. I’ll be as quick and considerate as I can be,’ Dave assured him.
Leigh shook his head, his cheeks flushed. ‘This is wrong.’ He raised his eyebrows in disdain as he spoke. ‘And being in my position, I can do something about it.’
Dave tried hard to hide a scowl. It wasn’t often that people got under his skin, but the way Leigh was keeping on about it was unnecessary, especially when he didn’t know the full facts. Pushbacks by those involved were expected. But Leigh, in his position, should perhaps understand a little better.
‘Look, mate. The fact is it needs to be done. This isn’t about budget cuts or anything. It’s a simple case of not having the information we require to close the case. Cooperating with us is the quickest way to put it behind you.’
The tension between the two men was palpable. Leigh gave a harsh laugh. ‘Sorry, mate. You have to do your job. I get that.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not worried about myself. I’m strong enough to be able to deal with it. Unlike Geoff—you can see for yourself how upset he is. Fee is a different story. She’s pretending everything is fine. Running on autopilot. It concerns me that this might push her over the edge.’
‘Everyone worries about their friends,’ Dave agreed. ‘I would, too. I’m sure you feel the need to look out for her.’
‘I do. Charlie was my best mate. If I don’t look out for her, who will?’
Chapter 18
He saw her sitting in the middle of the free-standing bar, staring into a glass of spirits. Next to it were two empty ones. She was tapping her fingers in an agitated way, but her eyes were sad.
She looked perfect.
He took a long slug of his beer and glanced around over the rim of his glass. The pub was almost empty and it was close to closing time. He got up from his table in a dark corner and walked purposefully to the bar and ordered another beer. He took it over to where she was sitting and slid onto the stool next to her.
Ignoring him, she turned slightly away and took a sip.
Not good. She wanted to be left alone.
He sighed. ‘You, too, huh?’
‘What do you mean?’
Her voice was low and husky and sent thrills through him.
‘Looking at you, you’ve either been stood up or broken up with.’
Although he was staring at the bar mat, he could sense her twisting back towards him, just a little. He hid a smile. This always got to them.
‘What makes you say that?’ she slurred.
He shrugged. ‘Been there. Know what it looks like. Know what it feels like.’
‘And which are you tonight?’
‘Stood up.’ But I plan to fix that with you, he thought, the familiar urges beginning to ripple through him. ‘Which are you?’
She didn’t answer. Instead,
she drained her glass and signalled for another one. While she was looking in her handbag for her purse, he saw his opportunity and leaned over.
He placed his hand lightly on her arm to still her. ‘I’ll get it,’ he offered.
This time she looked at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were stained red from the alcohol.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded, removed his hand and ordered for her. Bringing the drink back to the bar, he put his elbows up on the wood and rested his chin on his hands, not saying anything, trying to work out what to do next.
In the end he held up his beer to her. ‘Cheers.’
‘Yeah, cheers,’ she muttered.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Bernie.’
He glanced into the mirror behind the bar, looking for anyone who might see what he was about to do. Slowly his hand inched towards her handbag.
‘You didn’t tell me whether you’d been stood up or broken up with. I’m guessing broken up.’ His hand made contact.
‘Maybe.’
He gave the bag a little push and it spilled over onto the floor.
‘Shit!’ she said, leaning down instantly.
He swiftly leaned over and put a tablet into her drink before bending down to help her.
‘Bugger,’ was all he said as he handed her a hairbrush and a tube of lipstick.
‘Just my luck tonight.’ She bundled everything back in and straightened up, putting her handbag over her shoulder so it couldn’t happen again.
To his delight, she took a sip of her drink. Under the bar, he rubbed his hands together. Wouldn’t be long now.
‘Want to tell me about it, Bernie?’ he asked, infusing his voice with sympathy. Instead of listening, he watched for the signs. Further slurring of her voice, the slowing down. His drug of choice in this situation was ecstasy—although it was supposed to speed up the central nervous system, in his experience it made the girls become very affectionate and pliable.
He loved it when the drug kicked in.
‘He’s an arsehole,’ she said.
‘They all are, darlin’.’
Bernie looked up at him. ‘I bet you’re not. You’re too cute.’
‘Well, thank you. But what did he do to you?’
Her face fell. ‘We’ve been together eighteen months and I found out today he’s married. I never knew. We’d planned all …’ She licked her lips and he could see it was time to get her out of here.
‘… we’d planned all sorts of things.’
‘You’re looking a bit the worse for wear, there. Want me to get you a taxi?’ He stood up and put his arm around her, helping her to slide off the stool without falling.
Bernie started to laugh and wound her arms around his neck. ‘So gentlemanly,’ she cooed.
He gripped her tightly around the waist and smiled down at her. ‘I always try my best.’ He tugged down the hat he was wearing to make sure his face couldn’t be seen by any CCTV cameras, then helped her towards the door.
Getting her out onto the street was the easy part, but by the time they made the first corner she was hanging all over him and almost unable to walk. That just made him angry.
Still, it wasn’t far to go. His car was parked down the next side street.
He pushed her into the passenger seat and tugged her seat-belt over her shoulder in a futile attempt to keep her safe, but nothing was going to keep her safe tonight. Not while she was with him.
After a short drive his car disappeared into an underground car park beneath a house. He jabbed a button and the doors slid silently down, hiding his car from the world. He got out and looked at his sleeping passenger. He’d prefer her to be awake, just so she could fight back a bit. Resistance turned him on.
Looking over his shoulder, he checked that the doors were shut before he yanked open the passenger door and slapped her across the face.
‘Wake up, bitch,’ he growled.
Groaning, Bernie tried to open her eyes—but they flickered and then shut again. ‘Lazy whore!’ he snarled at her as he pulled her from the car, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground. He could feel himself getting hard and it took all of his self-restraint not to stroke himself. He knew if he did, that would be the end. He would have to masturbate; he didn’t want that tonight. He wanted to hurt her, make sure she still felt him tomorrow.
Struggling with her dead weight, he hauled her onto a car trolley and began wheeling her into the house, to a room he kept just for nights like this.
Chapter 19
Fiona lay in her bed staring out at the night sky. The stars were bright and twinkling, with the occasional cloud floating quietly across them. It was so still. Usually she could hear the gum leaves tapping on the roof as a slight breeze tickled through them, but tonight there was nothing.
Well, she’d heard a fox bark earlier and that had set off Meita’s barking. It had scared her for a moment, thinking it was the wild dog back again, but she’d got a grip on herself very quickly. A fox’s and a dog’s bark were completely different.
Fiona knew she couldn’t let her thoughts run away with her or she’d become fretful. She was also safe in the knowledge her house was locked up tight, thanks to Rob.
He’d been lovely when he came to put the locks in. They’d laughed and joked. Reminisced about Charlie.
After Jo had left, he’d asked questions about the farm and she’d discovered he loved talking about farming as much as she did, so she’d invited him to stay for tea—putting the locks on had taken longer than they’d thought, and it was the best way for her to thank him.
Tonight, though, there weren’t any strange noises or creaking. Just a deep sense of loneliness echoing through her. What she would give to roll over and feel Charlie’s warm body next to hers. To hear his sleepy mumbles and quiet snores.
She sighed and got up, padding over to the window. She could see the outline of the sheds and yards, and further down the hill, the two silos glinted in the slither of moonlight that was trying to lighten the countryside.
If she stared hard enough, she could see the outline of a few sheep moving along the fence and the rest of the mob sitting down.
Fiona rested her head against the cold window and blew on it, watching the warmth of her breath fog it up. She drew a heart in it, then added Charlie’s name. Blowing some more and adding her own name, seeing them linked together, made her smile. She waited until the outlines faded before leaving the window and checking the time.
With any luck, Will would be online and she could have a talk; well, a write. Was that a something? she wondered. A write. She couldn’t talk. Maybe it was a write/talk or a wralk? Because he sounded as if he were talking when he wrote something to her. She could hear his voice in her head.
Jo would find that funny. A wralk. She’d have to remember to tell her.
Switching on the office light, she drew the bar heater up close and turned it on, waiting for the element to heat up. One of the things she missed since Charlie had died was the nightly wood fire. As much as she loved the cheeriness of the dancing flames, getting the wood had become an issue. Even though Rob had brought extra wood, it was beginning to run low again.
Now Fiona only lit a fire when she couldn’t stand the coldness of the house. Mostly, at night or after work, she would turn on this two-bar heater and curl up on the couch underneath a blanket.
Charlie would have said it was ‘farting against thunder’ or ‘would have a snowflake’s chance in hell’ of heating this large monstrosity of a house. He would have been right.
After she wiggled the mouse, the screen jumped to life and she was staring at a picture that Charlie had taken two years before. It was of Fiona—she hadn’t known he’d taken it. She’d been drafting sucker lambs from their mums, the look on her face pure concentration, but even she, who hated looking in the mirror, had to admit there was a certain glow to her face she’d never seen before. It was happiness, Charlie had said, when he’d shown her. ‘You look
the most beautiful I’ve ever seen you here.’
‘Oh fuck off,’ Fiona said angrily, out loud. She went to the photo section and scrolled through, looking for something that didn’t make her emotional. Something that wasn’t Charlie, wasn’t her, wasn’t about their life together.
But she couldn’t find a single photo that didn’t have a memory attached to it. Finally, she opened the folder of stock photos, and changed the screen to a simple blue. There. That would fix it; she wouldn’t have to look at that again.
Her computer made a soft ding; a signal that there was a Facebook comment.
Going to the page she saw that Will had left her a message.
You’re quiet. What’s going on? Any more ghostly visitors???
That’s not the sort of question I need right now, she typed quickly.
Ohhhh, you’re scared already, aren’t you?? Fraidy cat, fraidy cat.
That made her smile, even though she didn’t want to.
Who me? I’m the brave one. It was always you who was scared of the dark.
That’s why I live in New York. It’s always light, thanks to the bright stars of Hollywood.
Pretty dark here, she wrote, with another glance out the window. The stars are the brightest I’ve seen for ages. Maybe because there isn’t any cloud around tonight, but I think the cold makes the sky clearer for some reason. She hit enter and blew on her fingers, trying to warm them up so she could type faster.
Different worlds, sis.
You think?
So how are you? The vibe I’m getting across the interwebz is not good.
Fiona thought for a moment, wondering how best to respond. She wanted to tell him everything, because she could write it down. She didn’t have to verbalise it, something she was having trouble with. If she talked about it she had to relive it again and again.
I had a detective come out to look at the accident site again—the shooting site, I mean.
Oh?
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