Murderer's Thumb

by Beth Montgomery

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The fate line. It’ll be on that palmistry website.’

  ‘OK. Let’s print out a copy at home,’ Snake said.

  ‘I’m having breakfast tomorrow at the Thackerays so I’ll check out the aerial photograph Lina saw there, then see how it matches against the palmistry map. I reckon the fate line has to be a pipe or fence or something.’

  Snake nodded. ‘Or a drain or windbreak or track or road or creek.’

  ‘We’ll narrow it down,’ Adam said. ‘I had an interesting conversation with Loody this morning.’ He related the haircutting and clothes-slashing incidents to Snake. ‘Do you think Matt’s capable of it?’

  His friend looked puzzled. ‘She did have really short hair at one stage, but it’s the first I’ve ever heard of it. I wouldn’t put it past him though. He is seriously strange and you know those murder mystery shows on TV—there’s always some loony freak who’s totally unbalanced who does something shitty like that, then butchers six people with an axe. Don’t get sucked in by him, Stats.’

  When they reached Snake’s room Adam showed him the diary. While Snake sat on the end of the bed reading it, Adam sat at the desk, jotting words on a piece of paper.

  ‘It’s a three-word clue,’ Adam said.

  Snake grabbed the paper and scanned the list. ‘You’ve circled “rotten post”. Don’t like our chances after six years. They’ve probably pulled it out for firewood by now. Pretty dumb place to hide it if you ask me.’

  ‘Rotten isn’t a literal clue, it’s used to jumble the letters up…and postscript gives us the initials P and S.’

  Adam took back the paper, wrote some more, then chewed the end of the pen while he thought.

  Suddenly the door burst open and Toot declared, ‘OK arsehole, what have you done with my iPod?’

  Snake shoved the diary pages behind his back. His face went bright red. ‘I haven’t got it.’

  ‘You’ve got something. What are you hiding?’ She dived onto the bed and tried to reach behind him.

  ‘Fuck off, will you!’

  Adam snatched the diary pages and shoved them in his back pocket.

  ‘Hey! Must be serious stuff if you won’t show me,’ she said sitting up. Her eyes glittered, full of mischief as she held Adam’s gaze. ‘Is it a letter from a girl, Stats?’

  This time Adam wasn’t bewitched by her. ‘Whatever it is, it’s none of your business. So piss off,’ he said coldly. Why were females so interfering and stupid, barging through closed doors and peering out windows?

  ‘No need to get shitty,’ she said, pushing off from the bed. ‘I get the message.’ She glared at Adam and walked out, shutting the door abruptly.

  ‘Good one, that’ll keep her off my back for a while,’ Snake said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s been at me all week asking about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Snake laughed, ‘Yeah, if you saw Emma’s body in the silage and all that. I’m not telling her anything, but she’s so annoying.’

  Adam swallowed. Why would she care about what Adam saw? He didn’t want her knowing about how he spewed, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped now. Loody had started the rumour machine and there was nothing Adam could do to stop it. But even so Adam wished he hadn’t told her to piss off. Maybe she’d never speak to him or never smile at him on the bus again.

  ‘Let’s get back to this clue,’ Adam said tapping the desk with the pen. ‘What do you think we’re looking for?’

  ‘I dunno. I don’t get it,’ Snake said. ‘If the fate line is a pipe, then how could she hide the diary? It would cause a blockage or get flushed away…destroyed.’ He sighed. ‘Unless she buried it, I s’pose?’

  ‘And we wouldn’t be able to find it either, unless it was a pipe above the ground,’ Adam said. Lina wanted the diary to survive. It needed a safe, long-term position, away from the elements. He drummed the pen in a steady rhythm. ‘No, I think it’s a fence. There are two four letter words, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well the only ones in this list that make sense to me are “nest”, “post” and “knot”. I’m thinking of stuff on a farm, fence posts, bird nests, figure eight knots in a strand of wire, that sort of thing. If I use “post”…’ he crossed out corresponding letters on the main clue. ‘I’ve got it! Corner.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Snake shouted. ‘Corner post knot, you know, a fault in the wood, on a corner post somewhere.’

  ‘Like I said, a fence.’

  ‘Right, and you’ll need that map to work out which fence she means,’ Snake said, feeding sheets of pale green paper into his printer.

  Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘Been printing party invitations?’ ‘No, Mum got it half-price from the newsagent. Embarrassing, eh?’

  ‘No wonder Mongrel calls you a poof.’

  ‘Smart arse!’ Snake said to the screen. He brought up the Madam Firebrand Forecasts site and scrolled down to the map. ‘That’s where you need to look,’ he said, pointing at the middle of the hand.

  Adam nodded. ‘I want to check it against the Thackerays’ farm photo though, just to be sure.’

  After lunch Snake showed Adam around. Beside the house was a broad cluttered garage for three cars: a four-wheel drive, a small sedan and a beaten-up two-tone Datsun. Snake walked over to the driver’s door of the Datsun. ‘Hop in,’ he said.

  Adam hesitated as Snake slipped inside the old bomb.

  Snake leant over and opened the passenger door from the inside. ‘Come on. We’ll go for a spin.’

  ‘OK,’ Adam said. He got in and felt like a hunched giant until he managed to slide the seat back. Snake started the motor and reversed out of the garage.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re driving,’ Adam said.

  ‘No big deal. This is our paddock bomb. Long as we don’t go on the main road, Dad doesn’t mind.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yeah, the kids. Meredith learnt to drive in it. She got her hours up quickly. I can’t wait to get my licence.’

  Snake drove across the dry grass to a closed gate where he idled the motor. He shot a glance at Adam.

  ‘The gate! Right!’ Adam jumped out, swung the gate open and stood to face the Datsun. There was a fierce buzz behind him that made him turn. A motorbike thundered across the paddock, the rider gearing down rapidly. He knew it was Toot even though her face was obscured by the helmet and visor. He recognised her jeans and T-shirt. She rode through the gateway without acknowledging him, then fired the bike forward with a rush, engine blaring.

  Pity he’d stuffed his chances. She was good fun, and had a nice arse.

  Snake drove round and round the paddock for what seemed like hours before he let Adam have a go at the wheel. Apart from endless practice in amusement arcades it was the first time Adam had ever driven. And for someone who took pride in his physical abilities, he was pissed off that unco Snake was a better driver. Adam kangaroo-hopped his way around the paddock, more and more frustrated as he continued to stall the car.

  ‘I can’t believe how touchy the clutch is,’ he said.

  ‘Takes a bit of getting used to,’ Snake agreed.

  ‘Like Falcon Ridge,’ Adam said. And your sister Toot, he said to himself.

  Snake looked baffled. ‘It’s OK here you know. You’ve just got to give yourself time.’

  On Sunday morning Adam was busy hosing cow shit down the drain when Matt approached, peaked cap askew, with tufts of sandy hair poking out. It was such a kid’s hat, with three tadpoles embroidered on it. Then Adam read the fine print underneath: ‘Breeding Solutions’, and realised the tadpoles were sperm. Now he thought it was pretty cool.

  ‘C…coming to the house for breakfast?’ Matt said.

  ‘If it’s OK?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Yeah. Mum’s got some cash for you.’

  Adam grinned. He’d been wondering when they were going to pay him. ‘OK,’ he shouted over the noise of the water.

  L
ater at the breakfast table, Adam and Loody talked football while Matt listened, pouring milk on his cereal.

  ‘You’re good, aren’t ya Matt,’ Loody said, in between mouthfuls of toast. ‘Came third in the best and fairest for the league last year.’

  Matt blushed but said nothing.

  Adam helped himself to some milk and cereal. He didn’t like the look of the toast.

  ‘Have the police interviewed you yet?’ Loody asked Adam, lowering his voice.

  ‘Yeah. The other day. Didn’t stay long.’

  ‘Tell you to butt out of the investigation?’ Loody said, spreading butter so vigorously that a corner of his toast snapped off. He picked up the broken piece and shoved it into his mouth. ‘What about you, Matt? Have they been around to play twenty questions with you?’

  Matt gagged on his cereal, but recovered and swallowed. His eyes darted from Adam to Loody.

  Adam wished he could kick Loody, but he was too far away.

  ‘You should see Adam’s telescope, Matt. Nice piece of engineering,’ he said. Then he looked slyly at Adam. ‘Been spying with it lately?’

  Adam glared at him.

  ‘Good tool for you, Matt. Go looking for nesting owls.’ He winked at Adam.

  Matt flinched and stared at his cereal.

  ‘Course there aren’t any owls nesting along old Byrd’s fence line now, are there?’

  Matt looked up. His pale eyes scanned their faces. Adam couldn’t work out the emotion behind them, but he saw the pain. ‘Not…not any more. Not now Lina’s gone,’ Matt said in a dull tone.

  ‘Yeah, shot through because she was a crook,’ Loody said.

  ‘She wasn’t…’ Matt mumbled, but Loody drowned him out.

  ‘Pinched stuff for drugs. You know the type.’ Loody’s face was directly across from Adam, but his eyes were angled at Matt.

  Adam felt his temper rise. From reading the diary he imagined he knew Lina intimately. If she had stolen anything it was probably because she needed the money to leave town quickly. But stealing wasn’t her style. Adam was sure she was above that. ‘What do you mean?’ he said.

  ‘When she lived up at your place heaps of things went missing, remember, Matt?’

  Matt squirmed in his seat, blushing again. Loody could see the torture he was putting Matt through and Adam realised that Loody enjoyed making Matt suffer. He wasn’t a match for Mongrel, but he wanted to copy him, bully whomever he could. Matt was the perfect victim.

  Loody continued his take on the story. ‘Frank’s wallet was stolen and turned up a couple of days later without any cash. Colin’s money went missing from the car. No one could prove it was her, of course. She was too good at it. She was a shocker, that one. Had blue hair, totally feral.’

  ‘If no one could prove it, then how do you know it was her?’ Adam asked.

  Loody gulped down his juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyed Adam suspiciously. ‘Don’t you believe me, Mr Inspector?’

  ‘Ever heard of innocent until proven guilty?’ Adam said.

  ‘You don’t know the chick. She was bad news, believe me.’ He scooped up his breakfast dishes and took them over to the sink. ‘I’ll see you later, Adam, Matt. Got to get some maintenance done.’ He picked up his cap and padded out to his boots at the back door.

  Adam looked up from his empty cereal bowl, aware of Matt’s gaze. His eyes were watery, his mouth slightly open.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Adam said.

  ‘Em’s dead. Is Lina dead too?’ he asked.

  At that instant, Adam felt for sure Matt was thick. Mental, as Snake would say. It was unsettling the way Matt looked at him with those empty grey eyes. Maybe Snake was right and Matt Thackeray was an axe-wielding maniac. There definitely was something odd about him and his question about Lina was really off. But surely he was harmless…

  Was Lina dead too? Those words echoed in Adam’s mind. Adam had read the diary, sensed the urgency in her message. She’d been in trouble, found out something dangerous. She knew her safety was compromised. Matt hadn’t read it, but he suspected what Adam feared, that Lina had been killed also.

  ‘I dunno,’ Adam shrugged. He rose from the table. ‘I guess I’d better get home. I’ll see you this afternoon, Matt.’

  Matt nodded and grinned. ‘The cows like you, Adam. You’re patient with them.’

  ‘Am I?’ Adam said, taking his dishes to the sink. He was glad of the compliment. ‘I like them too,’ he said.

  He made his way out to the hallway. According to the diary entry the photograph was in the lounge room. He pushed open the first door on his right but it wasn’t the lounge. It was more like a shrine. It had to be Emma’s room. Soft toys were propped against pillows on the bed. The room smelled of minted air freshener and had been recently dusted. Photographs of Emma were everywhere: covering each wall, placed on the desk, the bedside table, the bookshelf. There was even one above the door. But there was something wrong. They weren’t pictures of a fifteen-year-old. They were all primary school Emmas: gawky, flat-chested and innocent.

  Adam searched for a photo of Emma and a girl with blue hair. Nothing. On the far wall framed certificates stated Emma’s prowess at freestyle and middle distance running events, but they were ten years old: under eleven and under twelve age groups. Wasn’t there any record of the teenage Emma?

  Someone across the hall was playing the piano, softly, like rippling water. Adam shut Emma’s door and crept to where another door stood ajar. He peeked inside. The Brolga sat upright stroking the piano keys as if in a trance. Adam could imagine her fingers as feathers. She spun around and gaped at him.

  ‘Sorry to disturb,’ Adam said, thinking quickly. ‘Just wanted to say thankyou for breakfast.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ she murmured. She stared at him with dull eyes while Adam thought of something else to say. ‘But don’t go upsetting Matt about Em’s death,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t moved on yet.’

  ‘It was Loody…I…er…didn’t mean to…to…you know…’

  ‘I overheard you talking,’ she said, easing herself up from the stool. Her voice rose also, shaky.

  Adam stepped inside the room, his shoulders hunched. ‘Loody said…my pay…’

  ‘Oh yes. It’s here.’ She motioned to a bookshelf where an envelope was propped against a photo frame. She brought them both over to him. ‘Em was Matt’s favourite sister,’ she said. She pushed the photo towards him. ‘Here’s the three of them when they were little.’

  Adam held it out to admire. Three faces were beaming. Matt was in the centre, sporting a bowl haircut and a pale green shirt. Two girls hugged him, their eyes gleaming. The Brolga pointed to the thinnest one. ‘That’s Em,’ she said. ‘She was only fifteen when she died.’

  She wasn’t fifteen in the photo though; she was more like seven: teeth uneven, hair in pigtails. Emma had inherited Colin’s square chin but otherwise she was unremarkable. The other girl had a narrow face, slender neck and full lips. Adam pointed to her. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘That’s Rachel…my step-daughter. She’s married now.’

  ‘This must have been taken a long time ago.’

  ‘Matt’s tenth birthday.’

  ‘Why aren’t there any recent photos of Emma?’

  The Brolga narrowed her eyes. Her voice became shrill. ‘You’ve been snooping about, haven’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. I was looking for you…for my pay.’

  She snatched back the photo and stared at it. ‘Boys were always searching for her, wanting photographs, ringing up. Should have burnt them all.’

  ‘Burnt what?’

  ‘The photos. They started disappearing. I knew it was her, giving them to boys, spreading her image as she spread her legs.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry for what?’ Her eyes wandered from the photo to rest on Adam’s face, but he had the sensation that she wasn’t really seeing him. Her eyes were clouded with grief. ‘That she went crazy with boys. Flaun
ted and cheapened herself, for what?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘I’m just sorry, that’s all.’

  Her mouth twitched into the slightest of smiles. ‘Here. Take your pay.’ She gave him the envelope.

  He took it and looked about the room for the aerial photograph. It was hanging behind him above the doorway. Irregular shapes of greens and yellows were patched together like a poorly made quilt.

  He pointed at it. ‘Is that the farm?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, it was taken about ten years ago now. Things haven’t changed much.’

  Brown and silver blobs surrounded by dark green clumps were obviously the buildings, nestled between the trees. ‘I can see the houses, and the dam…’ Adam began. He searched for lines, for the fate line. The driveway and tracks were the most obvious, but he’d already discounted them. How would Lina hide pages along a road? It had to be a fence that she referred to. ‘Where’s the farm boundary?’ he asked.

  She smiled at him, her manner calm once again. ‘Here… to the creek, where our wetlands are,’ she indicated. She wasn’t a pointer, Adam reflected. Someone must have told her that stupid idea that it’s rude to point, just like Rosemary always told him.

  Adam peered at the picture, imagining the outline of a hand. Along the road and the creek line it was well defined, and Lina was right. It did look like the side of a human hand, including the thumb.

  ‘And here to the east…and the Byrds to the south and west.’ She waved her hand, cutting through the air and down.

  ‘It’s hard to see where some of the fence lines are,’ Adam commented.

  ‘Depends if the paddocks were grazed, or if there was a crop in.’

  He was disappointed that the picture didn’t have lines, especially a fate line. By superimposing his memory of the palmistry map over the aerial photograph he believed there should have been a fence that ran down the hill, right through the middle of the farm. There were sections where a fence was hinted at, but the line was broken.

  ‘Some of the internal paddocks are hard to make out,’ he said. He pointed to where he thought the fate line should be. ‘Is there a fence here?’

  ‘There was a long time ago,’ she said. ‘There are only remnants now. We mostly use electric fences.’