Flood country

by Robert Maddison

  He smiled, and gave her a big hug. ‘Rather fascinating really. He’s got something to hide although it’s hard to tell at this stage how deeply involved he is. I did unearth one little gold nugget. He told me that a new constable here, Lisa, is Wellsmore’s stepdaughter.’

  Sharon’s eyes lit up. ‘Now it makes sense. When I went there and got right into McMahon for not doing his job in investigating Jack’s accident she must have overheard because as I was leaving she gave me the strangest look. I wasn’t sure how to interpret it at the time—now I do.’

  ‘I think I should go see her now. I have a funny feeling Wellsmore’s now disposable and maybe she knows where he is. Can’t be too hard to find out where she lives here, can it?’ said Luke.

  ‘Just let me make a few calls,’ said Sharon, disappearing outside.

  As she left the room, Pip’s phone rang. ‘Hey Pip, it’s Jack,’ he said tentatively.

  ‘Jack, wow, how nice to hear from you. Where are you?’ asked Pip.

  ‘That’s why I’m ringing—I’m out at Mike’s.’

  ‘What?’ she said, surprised. ‘Are you serious? I thought you’d stay away after you got Jen back.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that. I started this, so I’m back to help finish it. Ange and Jen are safe, so they can’t use them to leverage me again.’

  Luke was listening and he caught Pip’s attention. She said, ‘Jack, can you just hang on for a second, Luke wants to talk to me.’

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Luke.

  ‘At Mike’s place.’

  ‘Ok, good, ask him to stay there—we don’t want them knowing he’s back just yet. Tell him we’ll come out there tomorrow morning to catch up with them both.’

  Pip passed this on to Jack. He replied with, ‘Ok, sounds good. And, Pip, how are you and Luke getting on?’ a tinge of jealousy showing through.

  She smiled. ‘Just fine, Jacky boy, don’t you worry about that, ok?’

  ‘Good, look forward to seeing you in the morning,’ said Jack, happy.

  The door opened and Sharon breezed back into the room. Pip told her about Jack being back—she was obviously delighted. ‘I knew he wasn’t some pussy who would run away from a fight. When will we see him?’

  ‘We’re going out there tomorrow morning. Luke thought it was best if Jack keeps a low profile for now,’ said Pip.

  ‘Sounds wise,’ Sharon acknowledged, then changed topics. ‘Here’s the address for Lisa—don’t ask how I got it,’ she said, handing a piece of paper over to Luke. ‘I’ve drawn you a ‘mud map’ so you can find it.’

  ‘Fantastic, I might go see her now, if I can borrow the ‘custard can’ again?’ he said, looking at Pip.

  ‘Mate, no-one would eat custard that colour—call it the “shit can”—we all do,’ said Sharon. Pip laughed too.

  Chapter 61

  Billy and Marcus had been waiting for the sun to start falling before going out to where Vinnie told them Wellsmore might be holed up. Neither of them was happy with the task they’d been given. They also knew Vinnie well enough to know he didn’t make idle threats.

  Initially they drove by on the road which was about a kilometre from where they thought Tindle’s shack was located. They were both hoping there would be no lights on and they could go home. Their hopes were soon dashed because as they approached a light could be seen clearly coming from the shack. They slowed and then stopped the ute in a clump of trees beside the narrow track leading down to the shack.

  They watched the light for a few moments before Marcus said. ‘I want you to know I’m not fucking happy about this, Billy. Scaring people, running them off the road, I’m ok with; but not this killing shit. Christ, we could go to prison for life.’

  ‘I know, but what choice do we have? Vinnie’s one mean son of a bitch and he made it very clear, “do this, or you’ll be next.” Do you want that?’

  ‘Of course not; but how are we actually going to, you know, knock him off?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. Maybe we could make it look like he fell in the river pissed while checking his set lines, I don’t know,’ said Billy. ‘Come on, let’s go and make sure it’s him first—might be some other bugger, you never know.’

  They walked quietly down the overgrown track toward the shack, slowing as they approached it and then edging even closer by moving from shrub to shrub. Peering in through the dirty window, they could see Wellsmore sitting at the table; stubby of beer in his hand. There were a few other empty bottles on the table. They could hear some country music playing, sounded like Troy Casser-Daley’s ‘Table drains’ song. Wellsmore was singing along—his voice tuneless and out of key.

  Billy signalled to Marcus for them to withdraw and they did so by circling round the shack at a distance so they could see the river. There they observed that Wellsmore had an old tinnie tied up to a small rickety pier.

  As they walked back to their car, Billy said, ‘We’ll wait a while. Let him get really pissed and then come back and take him fishing, I reckon.’ Marcus nodded, understanding what Billy had in mind.

  Chapter 62

  Luke followed Sharon’s ‘mud map’ to a street on the outskirts of Dawson. There was a narrow strip of bitumen with wide unpaved areas both sides and a parade of trees that would offer shade for cars and roaming dogs during the day. A couple of semitrailers were parked along the street.

  It was approaching 10 pm and all was quiet except for the glow of televisions emerging from the houses, all of which had their windows and curtains wide open trying to grasp the slightest hint of a cooling breeze. At one house, he could see two mates, covered in grease, working on the motor of an old Holden ute under a carport—beers in hand, laughing heartily.

  He saw the house where Lisa lived. It was set back a little, neat and tidy, and with a big veranda around the front and one side. He didn’t know if Lisa lived alone so he sat and watched for a few minutes until he saw a lone female figure stand and go inside from the veranda. He decided to go in. If she had guests, or a live-in friend, he’d pretend he was at the wrong house and find another time to speak to her. As he opened the front gate, she reappeared and stood assertively on the top step; backlit by the light coming from inside. Beside her was a very large dog—looked like a Rottweiler.

  ‘I don’t know who you are, mate, but I saw you sitting there watching my house; so you’d better speak up real quick—I’m a police officer,’ said Lisa.

  Luke stopped and said, ‘Yes, I know you are. I need to talk to you about your stepfather.’

  Lisa studied him in the trail of light extending down the path. ‘There’s very few people in this town who know about my relationship with Pete. How did you find out?’

  On his way there it had occurred to Luke that maybe Lisa was caught up in all this, so he couldn’t presume she was an innocent and would want to play straight with him. He replied, ‘Look I’m unarmed, and all I need is ten minutes—it may be a life or death situation.’

  She took a few seconds to digest this, ‘Ok, but walk up here slowly and be aware that Roscoe here,’ she said, patting the dog, ‘doesn’t take kindly to people I aim him at.’

  Luke did as she said and moved to the bottom step, then walked slowly up as she stepped back and pointed to some reclining chairs on the deck.

  ‘Who are you?’ she said, very direct, her dark eyes glistening and complimenting her short dark hair and slightly darker European complexion.

  ‘I’m Luke Matthews,’ he said, offering nothing.

  ‘Tell me more or this little chat is over,’ she said, a little annoyed. The dog sensed her tension and growled quietly.

  He moved on quickly trying to avoid the issue of who he was. ‘Where is Peter? I think he might be in danger,’ he said, to gauge her reaction.

  She was clearly startled by the suggestion. ‘Why do you say that? Last time I spoke to him he was ok.’

  ‘When was that?’ inquired Luke.

  ‘Yesterday. I still want to know who you are to b
e asking these questions,’ said Lisa, with increasing worry showing on her face.

  His instincts told him he could give her a little more information. ‘Lisa, look, I’m helping some people look into all that’s been going on since Mike Thompson made those accusations about Pete at the community meeting.’

  Lisa fired off several questions. ‘What people? What do you mean by “look into”? Is this something official?’

  ‘Well, you know about Jack Miller, the journalist from Sydney. He was asking questions, and then had a car accident. There was a suggestion it may not have been misadventure,’ said Luke.

  ‘You’re a cop!’ she blurted out. ‘No-one else uses “misadventure” like that. You are, aren’t you? I had my suspicions.’

  ‘Well, yes I am,’ he said, conceding and now switching into full cop mode. ‘I’m a detective from Sydney and we’re working with ICAC to investigate a series of events since that community meeting—one of which was that accident.’

  ‘Sorry, but do you mind showing me some ID before we go any further,’ said Lisa.

  He reached for his ID and showed it to her. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘I had to be sure. Seems lots of people are keen to know where Pete is. Even the sergeant was quizzing me about him.’ This caught Luke’s attention. ‘Really? When was that?’

  ‘Yesterday. I called Dad just afterwards. He sounded a bit more upbeat. Said he’d call tomorrow and we could get together.’

  ‘Has your stepfather told you anything about his sudden sick leave?’ asked Luke, sensing she was keeping something back.

  Lisa fidgeted and then clearly reached the decision to take Luke into her confidence. ‘Well, yes, he told me that he’d gotten caught up in some stuff to do with water diversions and that it was necessary for him to disappear for a while, until it got sorted out. He said it all started through some cover-up he did years ago for his mate Steve Robertson from GrowOz and had escalated from there. I urged him to come see me so we could document it all—that it would be better for him if he did,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes.

  Luke sat back. ‘Why didn’t you report this when he told you?’ he asked gently.

  ‘I didn’t know where to turn when he first told me. He said Sarge was involved in some way so I couldn’t go through him. So I thought that if I could get Pete to come forward and confess it all I could then make contact with someone higher up in Sydney to try to help his cause. I know I should’ve reported it but I just wanted to try to help him—he was so good to me after mum died,’ Lisa sobbed.

  ‘That’ll have to be looked at later. What’s important right now is finding Pete. We have grave fears for his safety. Can you call him again now? You need to insist he comes to you or tells you where he is. I’d suggest not mentioning that this is now being investigated by others—he might panic,’ said Luke.

  ‘Ok,’ she said, shocked back to reality by his uncompromising talk. ‘I’ll try him again now.’

  Lisa picked up her phone, searched for Pete’s number and called. After a few seconds, she said. ‘No answer. It’s gone to the message bank.’

  ‘Lisa, I want you to keep trying. If he doesn’t answer within, say, the next couple of hours; then give up—maybe his phone has run out of battery or he might be out of range,’ he said trying to offer some solace to her.

  ‘Ok, I’ll do that. If he doesn’t answer, what do we do next?’ she asked.

  ‘I presume you’re on duty tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, from eight.’

  ‘You need to go to work and perform as usual. It’s very important we don’t reveal anything at this stage to those we suspect might be involved in all this. Do you understand?’ said Luke.

  ‘Yes, but how can I concentrate after what you’ve said about the possibility of Dad being in danger? If anything happens to him I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘Lisa, you did all you could to get him to come in, so don’t blame yourself for that,’ Luke consoled her and then continued. ‘Tomorrow morning we’re getting together to decide on our next steps. I’ll get back to you late tomorrow, after you knock off. You let me know the instant you hear from Pete. Here’s my mobile number.’

  As he departed he could hear Lisa saying into the phone, ‘Please, Dad, answer.’

  Chapter 63

  Billy and Marcus started to make their way back toward Pete’s shack by the river, donning gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. Marcus was now armed with a shotgun in case things turned nasty. It was just after midnight and they were confident Pete would have over-indulged with the booze and be a lot easier to ‘manage’ now.

  Even so, they approached the shack with caution; once again edging up to the window to peer inside. As expected; they saw Pete sleeping on the deck chair, snoring loudly, surrounded by empty beer bottles and an empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label.

  Billy signalled Marcus to follow and they made their way round to the old wooden door. Billy gently pushed the door open. It squeaked, despite his caution, and Pete stirred—but didn’t wake. On the table, Marcus saw Pete’s mobile phone and picked it up. There were several missed calls from someone called Lisa.

  Billy reached for his pocket, in which there was a chloroform-soaked cotton pad in a plastic bag. He positioned himself behind Pete and removed the pad from its bag, the plastic making a rustling sound. Billy reached down to place the pad over Pete’s mouth and nose. As he did so, Pete woke and instantly sensed the danger. He tried to stand. Billy thrust the pad with force across his face and pulled Pete back down into the chair, which gave way. Pete fell to the floor with Billy on top of him, still holding the pad across his nose and mouth. Marcus stood, watching, uncertain what to do—he couldn’t use the shotgun, or could he, he thought; reversing it so he could belt Pete on the head.

  Billy’s strength, the surprise factor, the chloroform, and the alcohol in Pete’s system were now taking their toll and Billy seemed to be winning this death struggle. Pete sensed he was losing the battle—he couldn’t hold his breath for much longer—his eyes were bulging, his face turning blue and his vision was clouding. He made one final Herculean effort to remove the pad from his face and this caught Billy by surprise—he was thrown clear and Pete took a rapid, much-needed inhalation, before everything went dark. Marcus was standing over him with the butt of the shotgun still vibrating from the force of his downward strike on the back of Pete’s head.

  ‘Holy fucking shit. About bloody time you helped,’ Billy roared angrily at Marcus.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t get a clear go at him. Now what?’ said Marcus sheepishly.

  ‘Grab his legs. Before he comes round let’s take him for a swim,’ said Billy.

  Together they carried Pete down to his aluminium boat and dumped him in it. His breathing was regular but just in case he woke, Billy said, ‘You sit and watch him. If he moves, belt him again, got it?’

  Marcus nodded. Billy started the six-horsepower Evinrude, cast off and then took the helm; steering the boat upstream. After about ten minutes the river widened; and on a sweeping bend, with high cliffs on one side, Billy navigated the tinnie over to near the deep corner. He tied the boat up to a partly submerged tree.

  ‘Ok,’ he said, ‘Give me a hand.’ They picked up Pete’s still limp body and under the light of an almost full moon placed him face down in the water just upstream of the snag. With one oar Billy pushed Pete’s body down under the submerged log, saying, ‘This way his body will stay caught on the snag and God knows how long it will be before they find him.’

  Just to be sure they sat and waited for ten minutes in case Pete came back to the surface. Billy said, ‘I reckon you belted him real hard. Let’s just hope he turns into fish food before they find him. Come on, let’s go. We’ll go back to the shack, put some of his fishing gear and empty stubbies in the tinnie and then set it adrift so it looks like he had an accident fishing with a belly full of booze, just like Vinnie suggested.’

  Chapter 64

  Sitting across f
rom the Minister for Water Resources in his office were Todd Marchant and Matt Brown.

  ‘This ICAC person is due here shortly. Are we ready?’ asked the minister.

  Todd replied, ‘Yes, Drummond rang me late last night. He sounded shit scared but said he’d done as you suggested. I don’t know, Gary—he worries me.’

  ‘Well, we have to keep him strong for now. After this blows over I’ll make him retire and go out with all the usual fanfare. Before our ICAC friend gets here; what’s our best tack? Deny any knowledge of the sick leave issue and simply say Drummond provided us with a brief that indicated Wellsmore was in the clear, yes?’ asked the minister.

  ‘That’s it—total deniability. We’ve double-checked and there are no records of this office being advised in writing of any wrong doings by Wellsmore from Drummond’s Department,’ said Matt.

  Mark walked up the steps of Parliament House on Macquarie Street and through the large automatic opening doors. He was right on time for his appointment with the minister at 9.00 am. Mark thought—now we get to see how far up the line this thing goes.

  He signed in, was given a security pass and the desk officer called through to the minister’s officer to say he had arrived. ‘They’ll be down to get you shortly,’ the portly grey-headed security officer said, hanging up the phone.

  A few minutes later a fresh-faced and smiling young lady appeared and introduced herself as Becky. ‘Please follow me, Mr Matthews isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. How’s your day begun?’ he asked, making small talk.

  ‘Same old, same old; phone runs hot from about eight till eight and even later when Parliament is sitting,’ she replied. With that the elevator slowed and the doors opened slowly to the automated voice advising they were on the ninth floor.

  Mark followed Becky and she asked him to take a seat in the waiting area. There were television monitors everywhere, each screening a different morning TV show, presumably so the staff could keep an ear out for any breaking news the minister should know about. When Parliament was sitting, Mark assumed, these would also screen a direct feed from the respective houses.