‘I saw him leaving with Maisie around eleven and I’m sure she’ll be able to fill you in on what he got up to overnight, probably in very great detail if you want to hear it.’
Berlin decided that explained the anger in Corrigan’s eyes.
‘Tell Lily I hope she feels better soon.’ He walked out to the car park where the Austin was idling, thin white smoke from its exhaust drifting across the loose gravel. The interior was cramped compared to the big Dodge and Berlin and Rebecca were sitting almost thigh to thigh, which he decided was not a bad thing.
Rebecca was a good driver and managed to coax some decent acceleration out of the underpowered vehicle. She put the car into top gear when they got some speed, taking her hand off the gearstick to put it on Berlin’s knee.
‘You certainly know how to show a girl a good time, Charlie,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m sorry, I hope it wasn’t too awful for you.’
‘You mean the sex or the dead body?’
Berlin laughed. ‘You’re a strange one, Rebecca.’
‘I’m not the one who thought the perfect end to a perfect evening was a decapitated corpse.’
Several large trucks were parked outside Dempster’s, and when Berlin saw the size of the breakfasts he understood why. They found a booth and sat opposite each other, knees touching. A young waitress brought tea unasked and took their orders.
‘So, what are you starting right after breakfast, Charlie?’
‘They’ve given me the Lee girl’s murder as well as the robberies.’
Their food arrived at the same time as the junior constable.
‘You had breakfast yet, Roberts?’
The boy shook his head. ‘I’ve got full board so I usually get porridge and toast and a boiled egg. Missed out this morning since I was out early.’
‘The dog get yours?’
‘I suppose so. My landlady really didn’t appreciate them coming to get me in the middle of the night.’
‘I’ll bet the Lee girl’s parents didn’t appreciate the early-morning knock on their door either. Order yourself something to eat, my shout.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
Roberts had a long conversation with the girl behind the counter and Berlin wondered if he was ordering everything on the menu. When the lad came back Berlin could see he was trying to decide if he should sit next to Rebecca. She shifted a little closer to the wall and Roberts slid in beside her.
‘Nan, the girl behind the counter there, was just asking if the rumours were true, Mr Berlin – that the motorcycle gang had moved up to murder.’
Berlin splashed tomato sauce over his charred sausages. ‘News travels fast.’
‘It’s a very small town. She says people have been coming in since they opened talking about the Lee girl, saying the killers are returned men out to get their own back – you know, getting revenge for their mates who got killed up north. Any truth in that, you think?’
‘We can’t rule anything out at this stage. Right now I think we should concentrate on the girl. Can you lean on Doctor Morris for the autopsy report?’
‘I’ll get on to it.’
‘And we also need to find out what that salesman Brian got up to last night. Apparently Maisie should be able to fill you in.’
Rebecca looked at Berlin over the top of her teacup. ‘And that’s not exactly headline news.’
‘We don’t need all the lurid details of her night with Brian, Roberts, even if she wants to supply them. Just what time he came and when he went.’ Berlin glanced across at Rebecca. ‘What I meant was, I want the time of his arrival and the time of his departure.’
She held up her right hand, palm outward. ‘Hey, I wasn’t going to say a word.’
‘Good job, too.’ He smiled and turned back to Roberts. ‘And we also need to find out what Cec Champion was up to last night.’
Berlin and Rebecca finished their breakfasts just as Roberts’ heaped plate arrived. It looked like the constable had ordered everything on the menu.
Rebecca whistled. ‘That’s some breakfast, Bob. I’ll scoot out and let you get comfortable. I think you might be needing a bit of elbow room.’ He stood up and she slid out of the booth.
‘I’m off to get your photographs processed, Charlie. Maybe we can catch up later.’
Berlin nodded. Roberts was watching them both. Had Roberts found Rebecca in his room? Or maybe Vern had said something. He stood up when Rebecca had gone.
‘I’ll pay the bill and then I’m going to talk to the Lees. When you finish up here, wait for me in the car.’
‘We going anywhere in particular?’
‘I thought we might take a run out to Bandiana and see if Whitmore’s dug up anything on Blue and his mates and then maybe head out to Bonegilla and have another chat with them. You said they’ve been up to some mischief with the local girls in the past.’
Roberts had a fork full of toast and egg and sausage halfway to his mouth. He stopped. ‘Just us?’
‘We’ll be right, mate. I only want to ask a few questions.’
‘Okay, if you say so.’
The constable went back to his breakfast with a lot more enthusiasm than Berlin had for his next task.
FORTY-ONE
Lee’s Grocery & General Supplies was located near the big two-storey timber signal box that controlled the trains to Albury and operated the heavy railway gates. A simple corrugated-iron awning shaded the single-storey shopfront and its wooden verandah. Brightly painted tin signs for Arnott’s biscuits, Kinkara tea and Persil washing powder decorated the building. The double front doors were wide open.
Inside was a jumble of mops and brooms, wooden shelving laden with tins and boxes stretching up to the ceiling, and flypaper hanging from the overhead light fittings. An Asian man stood behind the counter, next to the scales. He was wearing a grey dustcoat over a suit and tie and his face was devoid of expression.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
‘Hey! No butting in.’
A young red-headed boy was waiting at the counter in front of Berlin. He was barefoot, wearing a faded plaid shirt and patched short trousers held up with braces attached by shiny chrome clips. The boy was rubbing a couple of copper coins together in his hand, looking longingly towards a glass-topped case full of firecrackers.
‘Serve the kid first.’ Berlin glanced down at his watch. ‘And shouldn’t you be in school?’
‘Fair go, mister. Me mum and dad got shickered last night and Mum slept in and I didn’t get no breakfast.’ Berlin put the lad’s age at around six or seven, going on forty. The boy turned back to the shopkeeper. ‘Can I have a penny ha’peneth of broken biscuits, please? All sweet ones.’
The shopkeeper picked up a brown paper bag and lifted the lids on several square metal biscuit boxes. He began dropping pieces of broken biscuits into the bag, with the boy watching him intently over the counter.
‘Make sure you chuck in some teddy bears.’ He looked up at Berlin. ‘I like teddy bears, especially the heads.’
Berlin smiled. ‘Me too. Don’t you have any shoes? It’s cold today.’
‘Nah, couldn’t find ’em but she’ll be right.’
The shopkeeper opened another biscuit box and shook his head. ‘No broken teddy bears today.’
Berlin put a threepenny coin on the counter. ‘There’s a trey-bit, break some.’
The shopkeeper added a couple of teddy bears, weighed the bulging bag, twisted the corners and handed it over the counter. Berlin tossed the kid another coin.
‘Get yourself an apple on the way to school, and move smartly. I’m a policeman and I don’t want to have to lock you up.’
‘Thanks for the dosh, mister. Okay if I get a sherbet bomb for play lunch with the change?’
‘Just don’t go buying crackers with it. Now hop it. And if I catch you wagging school again I’ll spiflicate you.’ The kid scuttled out of the shop and Berlin turned back to the shopkeeper, whose face was still impassive.
&
nbsp; ‘I’m DC Berlin, Mr Lee. I need to talk to you about your daughter. Is this a …’ Berlin almost said a good time, but stopped himself. ‘Is this a suitable time?’
‘Perhaps so. It seems a dead child is bad for business, DC Berlin. The boy was my only customer so far this morning.’ He walked across the shop and closed the doors to the street. Then he walked back behind the counter to a curtained doorway.
‘Please come this way.’
Berlin followed him through the doorway into the rear of the shop. There was a wok on top of a wood stove and the shelves held the same kind of bowls Berlin had eaten chow mein from in the Chinese cafés on Little Bourke Street. There was a sickly sweet smell in the air and smoke wafted from thin joss sticks burning in front of a red and gold cabinet, which held a metal bowl of fruit. On either side were framed, faded photographs of an elderly Chinese couple in traditional dress.
‘My wife has been praying to our ancestors to protect our daughter. We were up all night when she failed to return home from the hotel.’
‘I understand.’
‘Then the policeman knocks on the door. And now my wife weeps. Will you sit down?’
He indicated the kitchen table and the two men sat down. Mr Lee raised the lid of a wicker basket and lifted a willow-patterned teapot out of the padded interior.
‘Tea?’
Berlin nodded and the shopkeeper poured two cups. Berlin looked around for milk and sugar, but neither were on offer. The tiny cups had no handles so Berlin followed the shopkeeper’s lead, lifting the cup and sipping. The tea was only warm and had a slightly acrid taste. He was glad it was such a small cup.
‘What can you tell me about your daughter’s friends, Mr Lee?’
‘My daughter works here before school, in the hotel kitchen after school for pocket money, and on the weekend she studies. Her friends are classmates she sees only at school.’
‘She have anyone special? A boyfriend perhaps?’
Mr Lee shook his head. ‘My daughter is an obedient child and she knows better. She obeys her parents. School, work, study.’
‘Young people don’t always do as they are told.’
‘Gwailo children maybe, white people’s children. My daughter is betrothed …’ he paused, ‘was betrothed to a young man in Melbourne, a merchant’s son, from a good family.’
‘When did they meet?’
‘They have not met. They were to meet and marry on her eighteenth birthday.’
‘She was happy with that?’
‘She was happy with her parents’ wishes.’
‘And you, Mr Lee, do you have enemies, a dispute with anyone, anyone who might wish harm on you and your family?’
Mr Lee shook his head.
Berlin put his cup down on the table. ‘I think that’s all I need for now, Mr Lee. I’m sorry I had to intrude. Please give your wife my condolences.’
‘Of course. Thank you for your consideration.’
He opened the doors to the street to let Berlin out, and left them open. The Dodge was waiting at the kerb and Roberts was talking to Constable Hooper. Mr Lee picked up a broom and began to slowly sweep the verandah.
‘I promise we will catch the man who did this and he will hang, Mr Lee.’
The grocer looked up, his expression blank. ‘My daughter is a Chinese girl, DC Berlin. Who will hang a white man for killing a Chinese girl?’
Roberts was waiting in the driver’s seat when Berlin opened the passenger door and climbed in, slamming it shut behind him.
‘So what did Hooper want?’
‘Looks like you might have been right about hearing motorcycles earlier this morning, Mr Berlin. He came by with a message for you – the railway station in Rutherglen got knocked over by a bunch of blokes on military Harleys around five a.m.’
‘Right, Roberts. We’ll need all the details of the Rutherglen robbery as soon as we can get them.’
‘Constable Hooper is on to that already. You want to go over there this morning? Rutherglen, I mean? I’ll need to top up the petrol tank if you do.’
‘Let’s wait and see what the preliminary reports tell us. I really want to talk to those carpenters about the Lee girl’s murder but first we should stop by Bandiana.’
FORTY-TWO
Whitmore was sitting on the steps of the Bandiana Provost’s hut when the Dodge pulled up. He stubbed the butt of his cigarette out on the step then made a small hole in the dirt at his feet and buried it. Berlin thought the sergeant looked tired.
‘Bit of nastiness in town last night I hear, Charlie.’
‘You heard right.’
‘She was a good kid.’
‘You knew her?’
‘I know her parents. Most people do – it’s a small town, remember. Got any suspects?’
‘Maybe. I just had a couple of questions you might be able to help me with, Pete. You think Kenny Champion’s old man’d be capable of something like that?’
Whitmore lit another cigarette. ‘Charlie, the last few years have taught me anyone is capable of anything. But if you’re asking if I think Cec did it, then no. We spotted him drinking down by the water tower just after nine last night. He was too pissed to even stand up. Kenny and me ran him home in the jeep. He was tucked up in bed snoring when we left him. That was around half-past nine.’
‘What about Kenny? He lost his brother to the Japs.’
‘So did you, Charlie. That make you a suspect? I lost a lot of mates, too. You want to ask me what I was up to last night?’
‘No. So what about the carpenters out at Bonegilla? You manage to dig up anything on them yet?’
‘I’ve got a lot of names for you – they’re all ex-military. But as far as background goes, so far I’ve only got info on the ringleader, the one they call Blue. His real name is Harry Kendrick. Tough bastard, really tough. Served in the Middle East. Good soldier when there was fighting but a bit of a troublemaker when things were quiet. But that happens.’
‘Violent?’
‘Jesus, Charlie, there was a war on, remember? Violence is what they paid us for.’
‘So did they get more out of him than they paid for?’
‘Too right. Bugger kept getting promoted in the field and then running amok as soon as he got leave. They reckon in the end he’d put on his sergeant’s stripes with a safety pin rather than wasting time with a needle and thread. Flattened some Yank officer in Brisbane when the Sixth came back. Fight over a girl, apparently. Wound up in the Army Detention Barracks at Grovely and then he did time at Boggo Road Jail for being a troublemaker. Got snarlered just before the war ended.’
‘What does snarlered mean?’ Roberts asked.
‘Services No Longer Required. They gave him the elbow. I’d say the rest of his mates would probably be cut from the same cloth.’
‘Great.’ The tone in Roberts’ voice indicated he wasn’t too thrilled by this news. ‘We’re on our way out to Bonegilla to ask them some questions about the murder. Just the two of us,’ he added.
‘That sounds like fun. You mind if I tag along? I’m at a loose end this morning – anything for a bit of excitement.’
‘Couldn’t hurt, could it, Mr Berlin?’
‘Thought you didn’t want to get involved in civilian business, Pete.’
‘But this is just going for a bit of a drive with a mate, Charlie. I don’t plan on getting involved.’
‘Kenny coming too?’ Roberts asked.
‘Sorry, Bob, he had a bit of a big night so he’s taking it easy. Let me get my hat. Dibs on the back seat.’
The sergeant settled into the leather seat of the Dodge and sighed contentedly. ‘Now this is the bloody duck’s nuts, eh, my good fellows? Drive on, Roberts old sausage, drive on.’ He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Anyone for a smoke?’
Berlin shook his head.
‘Ya know, Charlie, every time some high mucky-muck staff officer rolled past us while we were slogging through the ooze I wondered what it would be like to b
e in one of these. Closest I ever managed before this was getting my boys to help roll General Blamey’s car out of a ditch.’
There was a different sentry on duty at the Bonegilla camp gate when they pulled up, but he was reading the same magazine. The sentry glanced at the car.
‘You blokes know where you’re go— Aww, cripes!’ The sentry jumped up, crumpling the magazine behind him. ‘G’day, Sarge. Didn’t see you there.’
‘She’ll be right, Tommy, didn’t mean to frighten you, son. You happen to know if that carpenter Blue and his mob are around?’
‘Just Blue and some other bloke. Haven’t seen the rest of them today. Just follow the road here and then go left at the ablutions block.’
Roberts had the Dodge rolling forward when the guard yelled, ‘You’ll see that Austin down there already.’
‘Stop!’
Roberts stepped on the brakes, hard. Berlin already had his door halfway open.
‘What Austin?’
‘Little grey job. Nice-looking sheila driving. Said she was from the newspapers. She came through about five minutes ago.’
‘Get going, Roberts, and put your foot down.’
The Dodge was moving forward before Berlin got his door closed again. They took the left turn at high speed with Berlin holding on tight to the door pillar.
The Austin was parked next to the half-built hut. There was no sign of Rebecca or the two men but a couple of motorcycles were parked just in front of the car, in the shade of the building. Roberts stopped the Dodge and they jumped out. The constable slammed his door shut and got a nasty glare from Berlin. He put his hands up in apology. Offcuts of wood were strewn about the site and Berlin picked up a piece about two feet long. Roberts selected a piece that was double the length. Whitmore took it off him, handing him something shorter.
‘There you go, Bob,’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t want to go banging into the ceiling when it’s some boofhead’s skull you’re really after.’
Inside the unfinished hut, Blue and one of the other builders had Rebecca bailed up in a corner. Blue was laughing at the six-inch hatpin she was holding. When he saw her glance past him, he turned round and grinned.
The Diggers Rest Hotel Page 16