Dark Country (Dungirri)

by Parry, Bronwyn

  ‘I didn’t expect you two until later today,’ Gil said bluntly.

  Deb shrugged. ‘We left last night, as soon as we could after you phoned. We shared the driving, and stopped for a couple of hours by the road.’

  Loyalty. Kris added it to the affection and friendship she’d already noted. It spoke a lot for Gil that these two young people retained such a strong personal allegiance to him. She couldn’t think of many people, other than Bella and Alec, who’d drive for eight hours overnight at the drop of a hat if she was in trouble.

  She gave them a few minutes of privacy by heading outside to check the clothes Gil had hung out on the washing line the night before. The dry night and the early morning sunshine had done their job, and even the thicker pockets of their jeans were dry.

  There was a stack of work waiting for her, and Sandy Cunningham and the arson investigator might already be on site, but she selfishly took the time in the freshness of the sunshine to unpeg and fold the jeans, T-shirts, underwear and socks, the cloth sunlight-warm on her aching hands, a small, simple pleasure in what would undoubtedly be a demanding day.

  And now that he had transport, Gil would likely leave soon. The realisation left an emptiness, although his departure had to be for the best – for him, for Dungirri, for herself. The absolute last thing she needed was the distraction of an impossible man to highlight the loneliness of her solitary, workaholic life.

  Maybe she should get a dog. Bella had Finn, a devoted, if at times dopey, German Shepherd who’d kept her sane through bad times and good. A dog like Finn would be good company.

  She stifled a sardonic laugh. A dog. She was actually contemplating getting a dog. That definitely counted as a sign of middle-aged, single desperation.

  She hoisted the laundry basket to her hip, and caught sight of Beth walking down the road towards her. She waited, poised there, idly watching a family of small wrens flitting around a low branch in the gum tree, until Beth reached her.

  ‘Can you spare a minute, Kris?’ Beth asked, the tiredness in her eyes undermining her wan smile. ‘We’ve got a bit of a problem.’

  Gil gave Liam and Deb a brief summary of the previous night’s dramas, but all the while at least half his attention was on the scene out the window. Standing at the bench, making coffee, gave him excuse enough to keep Kris in his sight.

  It felt somewhat disconcerting – the contrast of the police uniform, and all it signified in his mind, and the quietly domestic, feminine stance with the basket on her hip; two images that didn’t fit together in his experience.

  But then somehow the two images slid together, melded, and he saw just Kris, police officer and woman, independent, strong and proud.

  Whatever Beth was telling her, it wiped away the calm expression that had softened her face just a few moments before. But he read frustration, more than worry, in the way she huffed her breath out, and jammed breeze-blown hair behind her ear with her free hand.

  ‘This Jeanie, I gather she’s important to you, Gil?’

  Deb’s question dragged his attention back, although it took a moment for his brain to relate the words to Jeanie, rather than Kris.

  ‘Yes. She gave me my first real job. And she helped me, when I needed it. She’s …’ He searched for words, couldn’t find adequate ones. ‘She’s the kind of person who holds a town like this together.’

  And two more of them were out there, in the backyard. Courage, he thought. But it was more than physical courage. Emotional courage and compassion, the strength and determination to stand with the community, long term, and to stand up to them too, when necessary.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Liam asked. ‘Do you have to stay here, or are we going back to Sydney?’

  He mulled over Liam’s question while he pushed the plunger down slowly. Last night, before the fire, the decision had seemed clear – he’d leave here as soon as he could. But later, lying awake in the dark, leaving didn’t seem such a good idea – at least, not until he knew more about what he was up against, and whether the threat to Kris was serious.

  He’d have more chance keeping informed about the police investigation by staying in Dungirri. If he went back to Sydney, he’d be working alone.

  And, he acknowledged to himself, there’d be a certain amount of satisfaction in staring back at some of Dungirri’s residents, showing them he had nothing to hide.

  ‘I want to stay here for a day or so longer, see if I can get any info from the forensic reports on Marci, and on the fire. But I need to get a vehicle.’ He hated being trapped, reliant on others. ‘There’s a chance I might be able to pick up something in Birraga this morning, but if there is a car dealer there, they’ll probably close at noon.’

  ‘You can use my car whenever you need it,’ Liam offered.

  ‘Thanks, but you’ll need it yourself.’ Because Liam and Deb wouldn’t be going back to Sydney with him. They could stay here for today, while he found out some more about what was going on, but he wanted them going somewhere else, safer, when he went back to Sydney.

  Outside, Beth was leaving, and he held the door open for Kris.

  ‘Any word on Jeanie?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s okay. Awake, and talking, and with no major damage. They’re a little worried about her heart, though. There could be some underlying problem. They’re going to run some tests over the next few days.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I’m glad in a way. I’d been worried about her. She’s been very tired lately, but she kept saying it was nothing. Now they’ll find out if something is wrong, and treat it.’

  Whatever Jeanie needed, she’d have, he resolved. The best specialists, private hospital if she needed surgery. They could do amazing things these days with hearts, and although he still worried, it wasn’t at the same level as before.

  Probably unaware of it, Kris let out another huff of breath.

  ‘There’s other trouble?’ he prompted.

  She paused on her way through to the laundry, shifting the basket to her other hip. ‘Jeanie was catering for the supper for the ball tonight, and all the supplies and everything she’d prepared were at the café. With Jeanie in hospital and Nancy Butler with her, there’s no-one with any experience in catering to organise replacement food, even if Birraga has things in stock. There’s a meeting at the pub shortly to decide what to do, but since there’s less than twelve hours now before the ball starts, I’m afraid they’ll end up buying a stack of frozen party pies.’

  Deb echoed her, aghast, ‘Party pies?’

  ‘Okay, it probably won’t be that bad,’ Kris conceded, with an unsteady laugh. ‘This town can band together to produce food when needed, but barbecued sausages and Eleni Pappas’s lamingtons aren’t quite the supper Jeanie had planned.’ Her voice caught, and she turned her head away sharply, digging in her pocket for a handkerchief, her cheeks flushing red.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She blew her nose, shaking her head at herself. ‘It’s so stupid. I didn’t even want this bloody ball. But it was supposed to be something special, to build morale and community pride, and now … now I’m afraid that without Jeanie it will be a disaster.’

  Her voice cracking, she turned on her heel and left the room.

  Since Gil had met her, Kris had been strong; resilient and professional in the face of murder, capable and focused in the terror of the fire. But now defeat and self-doubt sat heavily on her shoulders and shadowed her eyes, and he saw the cost of the long struggle she’d endured, providing leadership and hope through all the community’s traumas.

  When she’d first mentioned the ball the other night, the idea of a ball in Dungirri had seemed so ridiculous he’d dismissed it from his mind. Some country towns had an elegant social set, the type of people featured in country fashion magazines, people with wealth, position, social standing. Dungirri wasn’t one of those towns. Mark Strelitz and his parents, wealthy landholders, came the closest. Beth’s parents moved professionally in social circles, due to Harry Fletcher’s veterinary work in livestock rese
arch, and old Doctor Russell and his wife had always upheld old-fashioned standards, but the rest of the town was decidedly working-class, with more than its share of battlers. He’d bet that Mark and Doctor Russell were the only men in town who wore a suit to anything but funerals.

  Funerals. There’d been too many of those in recent years, in disturbing circumstances, and it struck Gil that rather than some ridiculous aberration, maybe this ball was a desperate claim for community pride and self-respect – for something to celebrate, instead of mourn.

  All the more reason for it to succeed. He didn’t give a flying fig about most of Dungirri, but he did about Jeanie, and he worried about Kris. She already carried far too many burdens, and his arrival had only added to them. He wished he could reassure her that it would work out, that Dungirri people could turn things around, deal with the challenge positively and not go to pieces. He just wasn’t sure if they could.

  ‘Should I offer to help, Gil?’ Deb asked in a whisper. ‘If you think I should, I will. If it matters to you.’

  If it mattered to him … It mattered to Jeanie, to Kris. Maybe that made it the same thing, for him. But her offer wasn’t a simple solution.

  ‘You’re an outsider, Deb,’ Gil warned her, plus you’re connected to me, and most of them won’t like that at all. Maybe letting them solve the problem themselves might be better.’

  The warnings only made Deb more determined. ‘I wouldn’t tread on any toes. And unless you’ve got other plans for us for the day, I’ve got the time. Besides, I’m suffering from kitchen withdrawal. I haven’t cooked anything for days.’

  ‘Don’t get too excited. Remember, this isn’t the city. The only decently equipped kitchen in town is now a pile of rubble. As for supplies, Birraga’s sixty kilometres away, with one small independent supermarket that will never have seen at least half the ingredients you probably use every day.’

  ‘So?’ Deb grinned with dangerous zeal. ‘I like a challenge.’

  He shrugged, and didn’t try to talk her out of it. It would keep her occupied, out of trouble and, truth was, if anyone could pull it off – short notice, limited supplies, and strange, likely ill-equipped kitchen – it would be Deb. She had a rare blend of pragmatism and imagination and, unlike some chefs he’d known, her ego was healthy but not bloated. And she didn’t just like a challenge, she relished it. Her energy and enthusiasm might even be enough to rise above the locals’ prejudice over her connection to him.

  Kris walked into the room, brisk and business-like, and passed him a neat pile of his clothes, without meeting his eyes.

  Deb spoke up. ‘Sergeant, maybe I can help with the catering problem, since we’re staying here for a day or two. I’m a chef. I’ve done plenty of catering for functions.’

  ‘Could you?’ The wild hope shone in Kris’s eyes for a moment, then dimmed. ‘But there’s no supplies, and I don’t know what the committee will want to do … There’s only the pub kitchen, or the hall, and that’s pretty basic. They might just go for everyone bringing a plate.’

  ‘How about I go along to the meeting, make the offer if it seems appropriate, and see what happens?’ Deb suggested tactfully, and despite his reservations about the whole idea, Gil felt proud of her.

  Kris offered to take Deb to the pub and introduce her, and Liam went with them. Gil had no qualms about Liam mixing with the locals; the guy had a natural, easy way about him, with a tact and diplomacy Gil rarely bothered with. People generally trusted Liam, and often talked openly with him; that had proved to be a useful skill, time and again. He’d probably come back with a good sense of the town’s reaction to the fire, what they were saying and thinking.

  The house fell silent after they’d left. Being in Kris’s place, alone, didn’t feel right, in spite of her invitation to make himself at home. On top of the disconcerting sense of intruding, the plans he’d made for the day kept changing, being revised, and the uncertainty and the risks hung over his head, with no clear way to deal with them. Combined with another bad night’s sleep, it didn’t encourage the best of moods.

  Still, there was no point sitting around staring uselessly at the walls. A shower helped to clear the smell of smoke from his nostrils, and the steam and warmth must have relaxed smoke-strained airways, because his breathing came effortlessly afterwards. He changed back into his jeans and T-shirt, more comfortable in his own clothes than some other guy’s shorts. Not his business who they’d belonged to.

  With time to fill in before the others would be back, he sat at the table and pulled over the writing pad Kris had left there last night. Ripping a page off it, he turned it sideways and wrote four names as headings across the top – Vince, Marci, his own, and Jeanie. Under each of the headings, he jotted down names of people who might have a motive to harm them.

  Before long, he had three or four possibilities for each of them – all capable of violence, all capable of killing, and all with significant resources. But it was their links that concerned him most. Each of the possible suspects had connections to the others. From whichever way he viewed it, he wasn’t up against one person, but a web. Now he just had to work out who was the deadliest spider, and when they’d come for him.

  TEN

  When Kris arrived at the Progress Association meeting with Deb and Liam, Angie Butler had just stepped forward, quelling the panicked chatter by offering to do the cooking, assuring everyone with a cheerful laugh that she’d learned a thing or two since she’d helped her mother in the pub as a teenager.

  ‘It won’t be anything fancy, folks,’ she announced, ‘but I probably won’t poison you.’

  With the crisis averted, the committee dispersed, and Kris introduced Deb and Liam to Angie, who leapt on their offer of assistance with the down-to-earth practicality and acceptance that Kris had discovered was her natural way, in the month or so since she’d returned to Dungirri. Angie seemed to have no reservations about their connection with Gil; her only comment, when she learned why they were there, was thankfulness that Gil had been in time to rescue Jeanie. The three were much the same age, and Kris left them already on friendly terms, brainstorming menus.

  Sandy Cunningham and the arson investigators had yet to arrive, so Kris returned to her place, hoping to grab a bite of breakfast before the day got too busy. As she pushed open her back door, Gil folded a piece of paper and tucked it into his pocket. The move was unhurried, and his carefully blank expression was innocent – maybe too innocent. Her fingers itched to get hold of that piece of paper.

  She almost asked about it, then stopped herself. He’d shared a lot of information with her, and if the fragile trust she’d built up with him was going to hold, she needed to keep trusting that he’d tell her what he knew, when he was ready.

  ‘How did the meeting go?’ he asked her.

  The kitchen bench gave her tired body some support. ‘There was some panicked talk about cancelling the ball when we got there, especially since most of the good cooks have hair appointments in Birraga for chunks of the day. But Angie Butler volunteered to take over. She’s not a trained cook, but she pretty much grew up in the pub kitchen, and helped Nancy a lot before going to university. She was pleased, though, to have Deb and Liam offer to help – and I think a bit relieved.’

  ‘People weren’t wary because they know me?’

  ‘Most had gone by then. And as far as Angie’s concerned, you’re a hero.’

  It might not have gone quite so smoothly, she thought, if the others had not rushed off so quickly. Ironic how some of them distrusted him so much, yet a real evil had remained undetected for years, a trusted member of the community. But that was in the past now, and she had to hope they’d all learned from that experience. At least Beth and Ryan were on Gil’s side, and they’d speak up for him. And the fact that he’d saved Jeanie’s life had to count for something. Once word got around about that, surely there’d be some respect for him?

  ‘There may be a grumble or two later today,’ she admitted, ‘when people
realise who’s helped Angie, but since no-one else volunteered, they’ve got no grounds to complain.’

  He shrugged, unsurprised and accepting. From a few of the comments she’d heard since he arrived, he’d been as outcast as his father all of his life, long before Paula Barrett’s death. A cruel thing for a boy to carry, and his lone-wolf wariness probably covered the scars. Yet she was becoming far too aware that he was capable of gentleness, and trust, and respect.

  She’d seen that herself, these past days, and Deb and Liam had spent the walk to the pub providing her with glowing character references that confirmed her impressions.

  ‘Is there a car sales yard in Birraga?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Birraga Autos, east end of the main street. New and used vehicles, but not a huge range. But if you’re planning to buy a car, you probably want to know that Birraga Autos is owned by Dan Flanagan’s son-in-law.’

  ‘Shit. There’s nowhere else, I suppose?’

  ‘Not in Birraga.’

  ‘F- Damn.’

  ‘Can you ride a motorbike? ‘

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I ride.’

  ‘Ryan has a good one that he and Adam have just fixed up to sell. It’s years old, but well looked after. Ryan hasn’t ridden since his accident, of course, but Beth uses it sometimes, when Ryan needs the car. Now they’re selling it because they need the money.’

  ‘I might go and see Ryan, then.’

  ‘They live in the old O’Connell place, up on Scrub Road.’

  ‘I know.’ His eyes didn’t shift away from hers.

  Of course. He’d followed her last night from the Wilsons’. It must have been from some distance back, because she hadn’t been aware of him.

  She wasn’t sure which annoyed her more, the fact that he’d done the he-man protective thing and followed her, or the fact that she hadn’t noticed. Probably the latter, if she was going to be honest.

  ‘I didn’t need protecting last night,’ she told him.