They saw nothing but the camp chairs and the single stretcher brought in by Scott earlier. The benches were clean and shining, the appliances all hummed as they should, and there was nobody there who shouldn’t have been.
Scott glanced up at the ceiling, just in case, but there were no leaks.
He huffed out a huge sigh of relief. “Nothing to worry about, it seems. I’ll check out back, just in case.”
A quick look outside showed only dripping trees and a deserted two-space parking area. Everything looked tidy and undisturbed.
He locked the back door and returned. “Nothing.”
“So the broken window was just to scare us.” Viv’s earlier anger had given way to a look of defeat. The roller-coaster of emotions she had experienced over the past few hours were beginning to tell. “Wearing us down.”
Scott hugged her again. “Come on. Let’s get you home, think about what to do next.”
She just nodded, looking weary.
“Viv.” He put a finger under her chin and tipped it up. “We will end this. Somehow. The backpacker today, the brick tonight…it’s all gone way too far.”
She managed a tired smile. “So this is war?”
“You bet. It’s Mowbray war.”
That reference to their childhood games made her smile. “All right.”
Scott looked over at Trevor. “Trev? You want me to drop you home? You should be able to catch a few hours’ sleep before you have to get up for work.”
“I’ll hang at the girls’ place for a while,” Trevor said. “My jobs will all be canceled anyway, with the rain. You’ll need to get back to Georgie, and the girls will have to open the cafe. I’ll stay at their place until the window is repaired.” He glanced at Viv. “If that’s okay with you.”
“That’s so good of you, Trev.” Viv sent him a weak smile. “I was wondering what we’d do.”
They left the cafe and piled back into the car. It looked like their long night was just about over.
Satisfied, Enemy No. 1 listened until the sound of the LandCruiser died away in the distance, and came out of hiding to execute Step Three.
Couldn’t be easier. Walk to the water mains, turn the water back on, job done.
He returned to his car and drove home.
When the Mowbray women turned up to open the cafe in the morning, they’d be greeted by a small inland sea.
28
Caught
Maureen Beggs knew that her husband had a shady past. She’d been unaware of it when she first married Jim, who seemed to be honest and hardworking, if a bit of a rough diamond. Then one day, when the children were small, she overheard Jim and Ron laughing about how they used to go joyriding in stolen cars and do a few minor break-and-enters for ready cash.
When Jim realized she’d heard, he dismissed it as youthful folly. Lots of teenage boys sowed wild oats, he told her. As long as you straightened yourself out and became a good citizen, that’s all that counted.
At the time Maureen had believed him, but Jim had gradually changed from a hard-working man of a few words to one who was taciturn and penny-pinching and finally into a grumpy, cheerless old man.
After seeing Georgie, she was now certain that one kind of stealing had merely given way to another. Jim just interpreted the law to suit himself when it came to investments and property.
He was stealing from her.
For the first time, she had an inkling of what he’d been up to throughout their marriage. All these years when he’d let her think that he was just working hard for them, he was looking after his own interests.
He’d probably planned on divorcing her anyway, once he didn’t need her any more.
When she returned from her reading with Georgie, she was sorely tempted to go and confront Jim in the bedroom he’d set up for himself, with its little attached sitting room, but told herself to be patient. First, Linda Malloy. She couldn’t wait until the next day. Not with all this buzzing around in her head.
Shutting herself in her bedroom, she found Linda’s number on her phone and rang her.
“Hello, Linda,” she said, nervous but angry. “It’s Maureen. I—”
Before she got another word out, Linda said, “I was wondering when you’d call. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
When they finished talking, forty minutes later, Maureen was angrier than she’d ever been, and filled with a new determination to make Jim pay. Linda had promised to call her divorce lawyer and make an appointment for Maureen the very next day.
Satisfying though that prospect was, Maureen found sleep elusive. She heard Jim walking from his bedroom to the kitchen, then back to his bedroom, and finally the muted sound of a television in his sitting room, on the other side of her bedroom wall.
He never usually watched TV this late.
He was probably mad at her for leaving him in the cafe by himself today while she went to the quilting group. Although she hadn’t left him in the lurch, had she? She’d made sure that Anton was available.
She reflected that Anton had better be available for a lot more shifts now. She knew she couldn’t stomach working alongside Jim for another day, now that she knew what she knew.
Finally, the sound of the TV stopped. At last, thought Maureen. She was having enough trouble getting to sleep without that.
Then Jim’s door opened and closed, softly, and she heard him tiptoeing past her door. There was just the faintest hint of a footfall.
Maureen frowned and looked at the digital readout on the clock beside her. Why was Jim creeping about at two o’clock in the morning?
Painfully aware that her husband was proving to be someone she didn’t know at all, she got out of bed and, holding her breath, eased open the door of her bedroom and stole down the hallway to where it opened into the living room—just in time to hear the click of the door between the kitchen and the garage as it closed. She barely caught it, because of the rain on the roof.
Straining her ears, she heard the side door to the garage close softly. Jim was going outside, in this weather?
Hastening to the window overlooking the street, she watched in astonishment as Jim got into the car, shutting the door as quietly as he was doing everything else, and backed out of the driveway, the sound of his departure masked by the rain.
He didn’t switch on the headlights until he was clear of the house.
She had no idea where Jim Beggs, her husband of over forty years, was going at two o’clock in the morning in the pouring rain. She was certain that he was up to no good.
Her mind instantly flew to Coffee, Cakes & Crepes, and she shivered.
If anything bad happened tonight, she knew who she’d be looking at.
Maureen wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. The sound of rain was always amplified in a caravan, and this rain had been falling steadily for hours and hours, drumming on the roof, splattering against the windows.
After staring at the ceiling for far too long, Georgie slipped out of bed and made herself a cup of Earl Grey, even though caffeine at three o’clock in the morning wasn’t the best idea. Chamomile would probably have been a more sensible choice.
She didn’t even make a conscious decision to consult the crystal ball. On autopilot, she set the cup down on the table, reached for the crystal ball, and slid off the black velvet cloth that covered it.
Something’s wrong. She knew it, as surely as she knew she had been christened Georgina Bridget Goode.
That was probably why the familiar mist in the crystal ball formed in seconds, and images quickly followed.
The first face she saw was Viv, looking afraid, and then Viv and Lissa together. Lissa seemed to be entreating her sister, holding her back.
Rain. Rain inside their house, wetting the sofa—she could see a damp stain spreading.
Thrusting down a quick sense of panic, Georgie deliberately drew in several deep, calming breaths. Scott’s mother had been right, but how? Scott and Trev had checked out the roof of bot
h the house and the cafe.
Georgie peered closer, opening her mind. Was she seeing what she expected to see, or what had really happened?
Or maybe what was going to happen?
The scene changed, and she was looking at water spreading again. A widening pool of water, sliding across the floor, lapping at the sofa again.
No, no. This wasn’t the same sofa, and the floor was tiled, not carpeted.
This time, she realized, she was looking at the big squashy dusky pink sofa in the cafe.
The scene blinked out, and the mist filled the crystal ball. For a couple of seconds, Maureen Beggs’ face filled the center of the ball. Maureen, looking madder than Georgie had ever seen her.
Then nothing.
Georgie looked at her watch.
Three-fifteen.
Something was so wrong.
After they returned from the cafe, Scott was just accepting a cup of coffee from Lissa when the phone rang, the lilting tune that he’d set for Georgie.
He wasn’t surprised. If anyone could sense that something was wrong, it would be Georgie.
Scott put her on speaker so everyone could hear. “Hey, Georgie.”
“Scott, I’m seeing water in the girls’ house,” she said. “A wet sofa. And—”
“They got a brick through the window,” he said. “About two this morning. Trev and I came right over. They’re listening to you now.”
“We’re okay,” Viv called from the stool at the kitchen counter.
“That’s good,” she said. “But listen, guys…it’s not just the house. You need to go and check the cafe, too. I saw both. Water everywhere.”
Scott looked at Trev sitting beside him, and he could feel the tension emanating from his sisters. “Trev and I spent most of the night at the cafe, Georgie. No water coming in— and we’ve not long come back from there, just in case the brick was a ruse to get us to leave. It was fine.”
They all heard an intake of breath on the other end of the phone, and then Georgie’s voice, firm and sure. “No. It’s not fine. You need to go back, Scott, now. I saw water spreading, right across the floor. Your mother was right.”
“All right.” Without hesitation, he put his coffee mug down and stood up. “I’ll do it now, and call you back.”
“Wait, Scott—are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“You should check on Maureen, too. I don’t know why, but you should. Tell her I was worried about her.”
“I will. Cafe first, then Maureen.”
He knew better than to suggest that his sisters stay behind.
They drove back again, and parked again in front of the cafe. Back through the front door.
This time, the moment the light went on, it was clear that everything was far from fine.
Water was spilling through the kitchen door and spreading quickly across the tiled cafe floor. As they stared in horror, it reached the sofa and the first dark water stain started wicking upward.
“The mains,” said Trevor, splashing through to the back door. “Scott, key!”
Scott tossed him the keys and headed straight for the kitchen. One glance showed him that the water was streaming out from under the dishwasher.
Behind him, Viv and Lissa were grabbing towels from the bathroom and tablecloths from a cupboard, racing back to protect the sofa from the water.
For the second time that night, they all worked together to clean up water damage. Again, Scott phoned the police. He wasn’t positive that this was a crime scene, but he was sure enough to forbid anyone to touch the dishwasher, just in case there were prints on it.
Grim-faced, Viv took photos for the insurance company.
Nobody said much; they all just worked. It was almost as though there was nothing left that could shock them.
Once the tide had been stemmed, Scott phoned Georgie back. “You were right. Water all over the floor. You wouldn’t believe how much this spread just in the time we were away. Whoever it was must have been waiting and watching, then came in the minute we left.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Trev said, hearing him. “Would have been simple enough to set it up while we were at the house after the brick came through the window. Then just turn the mains off. They guessed we’d be back.”
Scott looked at him, instantly seeing it. “I think you’re on to something there.”
Lissa’s eyes flashed in fury. “When you left the second time, they’d bank on us not returning until morning.” She pointed to the back door. “Do you think he left footprints? It’s so wet out there.”
“Could be. We’ll leave that up to the police.” Scott returned his attention to the phone. “Give me half an hour, Georgie, and I’ll be back. Trev’s going to stay with the girls.”
“Good. But first—”
“I know,” he said. “Check on Maureen. I hadn’t forgotten.”
“I’ll text through her phone number,” Georgie said. “Try that first.”
29
A New Dawn
After watching Jim sneak away, Maureen didn’t go back to bed. She sat by the window, watching as the rain eased to a drizzle and then to intermittent showers, thinking about a wasted life.
How could she have been so blind?
How could she have been so weak!
Her eyelids grew heavy, and when at last the flash of headlights in the driveway made her jerk upright, she realized she had been dozing. A glance at her watch showed that it was 3.41.
Jim had left at two. Where had he been for more than an hour and a half, on a wet, miserable night?
She got up and slipped back through the dark rooms to her bedroom, closed the door and got back into bed, listening.
Ten minutes later Jim crept past her door and went into his own room. If she hadn’t been listening, her awareness extended, it was unlikely she would have heard him.
Maureen lay there worrying. Whatever he was involved in, she hoped it wouldn’t come back on her.
About an hour after Jim returned, her phone suddenly rang, the initial muted one-two beat.
Wide awake, Maureen snatched it up before it got louder and longer. Her fingers were shaking.
“H-hello?”
“Maureen? It’s Scott Mowbray. I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour.” His voice was calm, reassuring. “Georgie wanted me to phone you and check that you’re okay.”
Maureen’s pulse slowed a little. He didn’t sound mad. Maybe nothing had happened.
“I’m all right,” she said, but she wasn’t even convincing herself. She could hear the wobble in her voice. “I’m…no, I’m not all right, not really. But I don’t know what to do.”
Scott said immediately, “We’re right outside, Maureen. I’ve got Viv and Lissa with me. Would you like us to come in? Or you could come out to us, if you’d rather Jim didn’t know.”
Maureen couldn’t stop the tears sliding down her face. “Did anything happen tonight?”
He hesitated a beat, then said, “Yes. Yes, it did, but everyone’s all right, and it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” His voice was so gentle it made the tears come faster. “Don’t you worry.”
“I’m coming out,” she said in a small voice. “Can you wait a few minutes?”
“We’ll wait as long as it takes. Should we come to the door?”
“No. I’ll be fine. I’m coming now.”
Maureen got out of bed, turned on the light, and broke all previous records for getting dressed. She threw her phone and wallet in a handbag and eased the door open, almost expecting Jim to be waiting on the other side barring her way.
The house was silent.
No doubt he was tired out, after being out half the night.
She wished him well cooking his fish and chips today, because one thing was for sure: it wasn’t going to be her doing it.
Maureen walked out of the front door, down the driveway, and was met with a hug from an exhausted-looking Lissa, who was leaning on the car waiting for her.
She didn’t deserve those girls to be so nice to her, because if they were outside her house at five in the morning, looking like they’d been through the wringer, she just knew that it was Jim Beggs who was behind it all.
Yet again, Coffee, Cakes & Crepes didn’t open its doors that day. This time, nobody in in the town batted an eyelid, because theirs wasn’t the only business in the town with a notice on the door saying Closed due to Storm Damage.
Fortunately, there wasn’t actually a great deal of damage, thanks to Georgie’s timely alert. Trev replaced the hose on the dishwasher before heading back to the girls’ house to secure the broken window, and they’d saved the sofa from anything but a token wetting. Trev took Maureen with him, so she could get some rest and privacy in Viv’s guest room.
Meanwhile, Georgie, Scott and his sisters were busy. Scott had a long conversation with Bluey, and got him to email through some very interesting facts and figures on The Gang of Four, as they’d started calling Jim and his golf buddies.
“Just remember,” Bluey had said to Scott, serious for a moment, “you didn’t get this information from me. Even the Australian Tax Department doesn’t have it, although I imagine they’d love to get their hands on it.”
“They may get an anonymous tip,” Scott said, “but not until we’ve sorted things out here. Thanks, Bro.”
“No worries,” Bluey said breezily. “My rates have just doubled.”
“You’re worth more.” Scott grinned at the others. “We’ll triple it.”
“Can’t afford the tax,” Bluey said. “Call me if you need more, but I won’t be able to get to it until tonight. Because, you know, I have this real job?”
“Jury’s out on that one. Mum is still convinced you are a super-hacker.”
“Never say that on an open line. I deny everything.” Bluey terminated the call.
“You don’t really pay him to investigate for you, do you?” Lissa asked.
“Of course not. He’s a bona fide member of the Crystal Ball Investigation Team. It’s all pro bono.” Scott sent the pages from Bluey to the wireless printer in the cafe’s kitchen, and summarized the content for the others. “Next step,” he said, “a meeting with Maureen and Linda, before we have a little chat to Jim. After that, we’ll tackle Ron Foley and Stan Lambert.”
A Good Result Page 14