Good News, Bad News

by Maggie Groff

Conscious of the time, I jogged back to the room. It wasn’t an easy run as every step reminded me of my chin and lower back, but there was a phone call I had to make before I got back to work.

  Perverse woman that I am, I was disappointed Rafe had shown physical restraint in my presence. The great galoo hadn’t even tried to kiss me, damn it. On the plus side, he had made sure that I knew he had a room, and what we could do in it. Yep, he had played enough of a game to let me know that the magic was still there, and that one signal from Miss Frosty Pants here would have him heading down the field. The big questions were, of course, would I give the signal? And should I?

  I knocked on the door to our room and Daisy let me in. She was still on the phone to Dave. Quickly, I explained that Senior Sergeant Kelly was guarding our prisoner, and then I went out to the balcony, closed the door behind me and called Harper.

  ‘I’m cooking dinner,’ she said. ‘Can I call you back?’

  ‘No, this is urgent,’ I insisted, and before she could get a word in I gave her a rundown on the argument that I had had with Rafe in Miles’s restaurant.

  ‘This,’ she said sarcastically, ‘is what you call urgent?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Rafe shouldn’t have told Toby about his relationship with me, should he?’

  ‘Why not? Someone had to, and you sure as hell hadn’t.’

  I scoffed. ‘Then Rafe should have told me that he’d told Toby!’

  Oh gawd. This was beginning to sound like year eleven talk.

  ‘Scout,’ Harper said in a sharp voice. ‘Rafe was protecting your feelings. He didn’t want you hurt that Toby didn’t rush home.’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, he’s come to the island!’

  There was a short silence and then Harper said, ‘And you’re on the phone to me? Have you gone raving nuts?’ Then she hung up.

  Hmmm. Although I was still firmly of the belief that Rafe should have talked it through with me before he had contacted Toby, as well as informed me that he had done so and of Toby’s response, I knew that I hadn’t been as straight with Toby as Rafe had.

  His honesty with Toby, I was finally realising, had been, for Rafe, the right and honourable thing to do at the time, and he had been prepared to lose his friendship with Toby in pursuit of my affections. And, let’s face it, I hadn’t resisted.

  I knew, too, that Harper had been right, and that Rafe hadn’t told me because he didn’t want me to be upset that Toby hadn’t rushed home.

  She was right about something else, too—I was raving nuts!

  Grinning from ear to ear, I put some ice cubes in a plastic bag and secured it under my chin with a scarf that I knotted on top of my head. Looking a little like the Easter Bunny with toothache, I sat down to work with renewed enthusiasm. After looking to see if Tom had emailed back about Kestrel, which he hadn’t, I resumed writing. In no time at all I entered the zone, a place in my head where time is infinite and my thoughts are alert and focused.

  It was almost midnight when I stopped writing and read through the completed text. My attack on Leary was merciless, detailing his crimes with relish. I was particularly proud of my description of the white streak in his hair, which I likened to a coward’s white feather that Mother Nature had affected to serve as a warning to others.

  I’d also referenced the stolen yacht Nadine and the suspicions surrounding the unfortunate death of Martine Flaction in Nouméa.

  Satisfied with the copy, I emailed it to Brian along with a range of documents and photographs. Brian, I knew, would be waiting at his desk, as I would wait at mine until he called me with changes.

  I looked over at Daisy, who was lying on her bed. She bunched the newspaper she was reading to one side and asked, ‘Are you done?’

  ‘Not quite,’ I said, and punched Nemony’s number into my phone. It was the middle of the night, but there was no way I could have her read about Martine Flaction in the papers tomorrow without being prepared.

  Nemony was still up, attending to Amelia, and she listened patiently while I told her the shocking details. As I’d expected, she took the news bravely, and then thanked me for letting her know.

  As soon as I closed my phone, Daisy, who had heard the conversation, quizzed me in detail about the information Rafe had given me.

  ‘And don’t tell me,’ she said when I’d finished, ‘Senior Sergeant Kelly is the man you were seeing for a while?’

  Guessing that Dave might have known and told her, I admitted, ‘Good pickup.’

  Thankfully, Daisy resumed reading her paper and I stood up, stretched and then sat down again. Not too long ago an hour had felt like five minutes; now five minutes felt like an hour. I took some more painkillers and replenished the ice in the pack under my chin.

  Eventually my phone rang.

  ‘Perfect,’ Brian said without preamble. ‘It’s been distributed.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said with satisfied relief.

  ‘I noticed you didn’t mention the location of Valor,’ he commented.

  ‘How clever of you.’

  ‘For the follow-up?’ he said.

  ‘Naturally,’ I quipped, and Brian laughed and then abruptly hung up.

  ‘Are you done now?’ Daisy asked me again.

  ‘Almost,’ I said.

  Then I called Rafe.

  ‘I’ve sent my copy,’ I told him. ‘Is everything okay with you?’

  ‘The prisoner is still bound, if that’s what you meant,’ he said.

  Realising the double entendre of my question, I clarified, ‘Yes, of course that’s what I meant.’

  ‘Then call the cavalry,’ Rafe said. ‘And hurry. I’ve spent the last two hours sitting in the dark thinking about taking your shirt off.’

  Smiling with excited anticipation, I rang off and then looked up the number for the Queensland Water Police.

  Chapter 61

  It was 7 am on Wednesday and Detective Greg Carter was asking me some serious questions.

  ‘Okay if I have another croissant?’ he said.

  ‘Be my guest,’ I told him.

  Detective Carter, Rafe, Daisy and I were sitting at the deepwater end of the jetty on Silver Gull Island, having breakfast at a table and chairs that Rafe had carried down from the restaurant. The sun was shining and a light wind was blowing. Just another perfect day in paradise, and apart from aching limbs and a sore chin, which a hot shower and more painkillers had tempered, I felt fine.

  Carter looked at his watch. About my age, he was a big man, thickset with a Stephen Fry nose and sandy-coloured hair cut short.

  ‘The launch should be here in ten minutes,’ he said, and then looked expectantly out to sea.

  The launch, I knew, would be arriving with forensic police to search the cottage and would also be required to transport the prisoner back to the mainland.

  Leary was currently being watched over by the island manager, Mr Barrington Tupper, and a burly duty manager. An hour ago, under instructions from Carter, I had woken Tupper and advised him of the situation, and that the police would try to remove Leary with the least amount of fuss. Tupper had been shocked, but pleased to have been forewarned, and had immediately accompanied Daisy and I to the Rainforest Bar where he was now doing his managerial duty, albeit a duty that I was sure wasn’t on his job description. However, Tupper was up to the task, and I hoped that he was using the time wisely and drafting an ad for a new bar manager.

  Leila had been arrested on the mainland three hours ago, and water police were already at Shute Harbour securing the Splash Charters fleet. A crew had also been dispatched to Stingray Cove to collect Valor, and officers from New South Wales Marine Intelligence were preparing to board flights north to question Leary. It was, as they say on the flight deck, all systems go.

  It had been an interesting night. I had called Carter at about 1 am and briefed him on the situation, and had remembered to relay that Tom would be forwarding a report on the yacht Nadine to him in the morning
.

  Carter had been the only officer available at the time, and when I’d told him that Leary was captured and being guarded by a holidaying police officer, he had immediately raced over to the island in a small speedboat.

  Daisy and I had met Carter on the jetty, and then the three of us had gone to the Rainforest Bar. We had followed Carter inside and Daisy had turned on the lights.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Daisy had whispered to me when she saw Rafe. ‘Makes you want to get arrested, doesn’t it?’

  I’d grinned at her and then she and I had sat in chairs and watched with immense delight as Carter had formally arrested a very dishevelled and angry Michael Leary. Tempted as I had been to poke my tongue out at Leary, who had glowered menacingly at me, I had refrained, but Daisy and I had clapped enthusiastically as Carter had handcuffed him to the bar rail.

  The show over, Rafe had remained with Leary while Carter had accompanied me and Daisy to our room. Once there, I had presented him with the evidence in my possession, including my note-taker, and had handed over the Learys’ getaway stash. Carter had then returned to the Rainforest Bar.

  All in all, Daisy and I had managed only a couple of hours’ rest, but we were now wide-eyed with excitement at the thought of seeing Leary marched off the island.

  ‘More tea?’ she asked me.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ I replied, and Daisy poured the tea.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rafe registering our enjoyment of the occasion. Looking tired but devilishly handsome, he had been up all night, either guarding the prisoner or talking to Carter about policeman-type things.

  Despite my artful concealment with Daisy’s foundation, Rafe had noticed my swollen chin and expressed concern about my injuries, and I had reassured him that I’d mend. We hadn’t had a moment alone since I’d sent in my copy, and as we waited in the sunshine, I was keenly aware of Rafe’s eyes upon me. Every so often we met each other’s gaze and smiled, and as the occasions intensified, so did the longing behind my smiles. Maybe later, I thought hopefully, he will offer to kiss some of my bruises better.

  The minutes ticked by and a couple of seagulls joined us and squawked for food. Rafe threw them a piece of bread. A fish jumped and plopped back into the water.

  Finally, Carter’s phone buzzed and he answered. Then he snapped the phone shut, stood up and said, ‘Five minutes away.’

  The four of us looked eagerly out to sea. Speeding towards us through the calm iridescent waters of the Whitsunday Islands was a police launch. As it cut the engines and drifted to the jetty, I felt my heartbeat pick up a notch. There were five male officers on board: a shining example of our tax dollars at work.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Daisy said. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. I wish Dave was here.’

  One of the officers threw Rafe a rope and he tied the launch to the nearest bollard. Four of the officers jumped onto the jetty and one remained on the launch. Carter and the four officers then had a brief discussion before moving off quickly towards the resort, their feet making a thunderous noise on the wooden boards. Two of the officers, Carter had told us, would remain on the island to search the cottage and would return to the mainland later in the speedboat.

  Daisy and I were practically jumping out of our seats. Rafe, who appeared fascinated by the launch, was talking to the officer who had remained behind.

  Morning walkers and a couple of swimmers had realised something was afoot and had stopped to watch the show. A group of female staff had also gathered to see what was happening.

  My phone rang and, wincing slightly, I stood up and walked a short distance along the jetty to answer.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Quite a lot,’ I replied happily, and gave him a rundown on the situation.

  ‘Kestrel looks clean,’ he said when I’d finished. ‘I came in early to check on her.’

  Slightly disappointed, I thanked him for his vigilance. It would have been great to have another stolen yacht to include in any follow-up story, not to mention the possibility of another bounty. I was tempted to ask Tom again if he knew how much the bounty for Nadine might be, but I didn’t want to sound like a moneygrubber. Daisy and I were just going to have to wait to find out, and judging by my past dealings with insurance companies, that could be a long time.

  ‘Thanks for informing the police as we’d agreed,’ Tom said. ‘I’m glad it all worked out for you.’

  We exchanged the usual farewell pleasantries and then rang off.

  I glanced towards the resort to see if there was any sign of activity, but there was nothing yet. As a professional courtesy, I called Dandy McCormack to inform him that my story had hit the morning papers.

  ‘Yes, mate,’ Dandy answered. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Nothing thanks,’ I said, and quickly brought him up to speed. I didn’t want to get into lengthy conversation with him in case he started any flirting business again.

  ‘This is just the start of Leila’s troubles,’ he said, laughing heartily, and before we rang off we concurred that she’d be burnt toast when his money-laundering story broke in a few weeks.

  I put my phone away, went and sat down next to Daisy and told her about my calls. Then we both looked up as Rafe called out, ‘Here they come!’

  Carter and the officers were moving in a close group along the jetty towards us. Daisy put her hand on my arm and I tensed with anticipation.

  As they got closer I saw Leary in the midst of the pack. He was struggling against the strong grip of the officer holding him.

  Daisy stood up and moved towards them. ‘Hey, Mick!’ she shouted.

  He looked straight at her and she clicked her camera. ‘This one’s for Nemony,’ she trilled, and he swore viciously at her and spat on the ground.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Daisy said again.

  As the officers escorted their newest customer onto the launch, Carter came over and shook hands with each of us and thanked us.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, and then he untied the rope and boarded the launch.

  There was a load roar as the engines fired, and the launch slowly reversed, turned in the direction of the mainland and then sped away.

  Rafe, Daisy and I stood on the end of the jetty and watched in silence as they disappeared into the distant scenery.

  Then Rafe gently pulled me to him and kissed me passionately.

  Somewhere in the background I heard Daisy saying, ‘Oh my goodness!’

  About Maggie Groff

  Maggie Groff is an established writer who lives with her family in northern New South Wales. She is the author of two non-fiction books, Mothers Behaving Badly and Hoax Cuisine, and has worked as a columnist for Sunday Life magazine in The Sun Herald and been published globally by Readers Digest. Her first novel, Mad Men, Bad Girls, featuring the investigative reporter Scout Davis, was published in 2012 and nominated for the Ned Kelly Award for best first fiction. Good News, Bad News is her second Scout Davis novel.

  Also by Maggie Groff

  Mad Men, Bad Girls

  Maggie Groff

  Mad Men, Bad Girls

  Meet Scout Davis.

  Investigative journalist. Tea enthusiast. Guerilla knitter.

  When an American cult moves to the Gold Coast, Scout’s investigative antennae start quivering. She sets out to expose the cult’s bizarre practices, but when she learns the identity of a recent recruit, her quest becomes personal. And dangerous.

  Meanwhile, her sister Harper, Head of Sport at a posh school, needs a favour regarding a strange case of vandalism.

  But Scout has her own secret. In the dead of night she sneaks out with the Guerilla Knitters Institute, an underground group of yarn bombers, to decorate Byron Bay with radical artworks. Scout suspects that the local police sergeant, Rafe Kelly, is hot on her tail. And she doesn’t mind that one bit . . .

  Mad Men, Bad Girls was first published in 2012 as Mad Men, Bad Girls and the Guerilla Knitters Institut
e

  First published 2013 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  Copyright © Maggie Groff 2013

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

  Groff, Maggie.

  Good News, Bad News /

  Maggie Groff.

  Groff, Maggie.

  Scout Davis ; 2

  Investigative reporting – Fiction.

  A823.4

  EPUB format: 9781743286562

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Typeset by Post Pre-press

  Cover design by Seymour Designs

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