Murderer's Thumb

by Beth Montgomery

  M.T.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Adam folded the pages and put them back in the little box. He felt sick, knowing what Loody and Mongrel had done at the shack. They must have murdered Emma. The motive was clear. Shut her up. He wondered about Loody losing his tooth in a pub brawl. Was that true or was it Mongrel’s way of reminding Loody to keep quiet as well? Just like he’d threatened Loody last night about keeping their alibi straight and said he’d punch out another one of his teeth. It all fitted.

  He checked his watch. Time to head home. He stood up, put the plastic box in his back pocket and started to climb the hill. Crickets shrilled through the cracks in the soil. Away from the swamp’s shade, the sun stung his sunburnt neck.

  Lina’s testimony was compelling. It made him hate Loody and Mongrel. How could he face Loody at milking tonight? He grimaced just thinking about it, as if he’d eaten something sour. Would he be able to control his emotions? Loody was a murderer. It made Adam’s skin prickle.

  He shook his head. How could Loody live with himself, working for the Thackerays all this time, after murdering their daughter? How did he have the gall to dig up the silage? Of course that’s why he asked Adam to go with him. To make it seem as if he knew nothing about the buried girl, to throw suspicion elsewhere.

  And Mongrel with his murderer’s thumbs, the mark of violence. He probably dealt the fatal blow, then ordered Loody to bury her. How could Mongrel go ahead and marry Emma’s sister, nestle in as one of the family when he was a killer?

  Adam spat in the dirt. He had to do something, tell the police somehow. But he was sure Mongrel had Barry Timothy in his pocket.

  Was there any way to warn the Thackerays about Loody and their own son-in-law? They’d never believe it. Colin wouldn’t anyway. He was too blunt, too immune to bullshit. That’s what he’d think about the story. Just bullshit. Matt wouldn’t get it either. The Brolga was his only hope. He could trust her Christian ethics even if she was over-the-top evangelical. She was still desperate about her daughter. If he could speak with her in private, then he might be able to convince her about what happened to Emma.

  As he came to the top of the hill he realised he had a chance. The Brolga stood feeding calves in the dappled shade at the edge of a small holding paddock only fifty metres away. He walked over, sticks crunching underfoot.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Thackeray!’ he called out.

  She turned to him, raking her hair back behind her ears with her bony fingers, and smiled. ‘Adam, you’ve been walking?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I told you not to. Colin will…you know…he doesn’t like people trespassing.’

  ‘I was at the wetlands. Emma and Matt helped improve it, didn’t they?’

  She looked away from him, gazed down the hill. ‘Matt’s practical…works hard, loves birds. But it was Emma’s idea. I think it was where she liked to be, near the swamp.’

  ‘Did she spend a lot of time there?’

  The Brolga shut her eyes and shook her head. ‘No, not, not really.’

  Was she about to cry? He sensed she was drifting away. Adam hid his embarrassment. ‘Please, Mrs Thackeray. I’ve got to talk to you, about Emma. I think I know who killed her.’

  The Brolga bent and picked up the empty bucket. A dead gum leaf stuck to its base. ‘You? How?’

  ‘The diary…I found the diary.’

  She looked at him as if for the first time, her eyes radiating hope. ‘You have?’ she said breathlessly, reaching out, grasping his arm.

  Adam was surprised at the strength of her grip. Grief made her desperate.

  ‘I…I’ll bring it, tonight, after dinner. But Colin and Matt…I don’t think I should…I don’t know how they’ll react.’

  ‘I know. We can speak privately.’ Her eyes were solemn, troubled. ‘I’ll meet you at the tractor shed at eight, if that suits.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She walked off with the empty bucket, the gum leaf still attached, leaving Adam wondering how he was going to break it to her.

  He rang Snake as soon as he got home. ‘I found it. It’s nasty,’ Adam said.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Mongrel and Loody raped her when she was drunk.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘No, I’m not. They must have murdered her too. They wanted to stop her talking.’

  ‘S’pose. What did it say exactly?’

  Adam sighed. The pressure in his head was intensifying. ‘The week before the party, at the shack…that’s when it happened.’ He glanced at the clock. It was five to four. ‘Look, I don’t have much time. I’ve got to milk soon,’ he said. ‘I’ll get back to you after milking.’

  ‘Right. Are you going to give it to Barry?’

  ‘Dunno. I’ll catch you later.’ He slammed down the phone and scribbled a note for Rosemary:

  I’m milking. Ring Barry if you’re worried.

  He scrawled the number underneath. He wasn’t going to tell her he’d seen Kazek’s car. He didn’t want her to dissolve just yet.

  Adam didn’t want to milk. His headache was growing, fuelled by too much happening at once: the stolen diary, Kazek nearby, Loody and Mongrel implicated as murderers, and his dilemma about how to tell the Brolga. The sunburn on his neck didn’t help either. He felt like shit and fought to control his double vision.

  Even though it was cool in the shed, the air was stuffy. It smelt of dust and urine. The apron’s halter rubbed the raw skin at the back of his neck and the rhythms of the milking machine magnified his headache. Loody and Colin were in the shed with him, putting on cups and spraying udders. Adam couldn’t face Loody. The saunter, the friendly toothless grin, the crude jokes—it made him flinch, made him want to smack the cowboy in the face with a hammer and knock the rest of his teeth out. He tried to shut Loody out of his mind.

  Only another hour or so and he could hose down the yard and head back to the house. His mum ought to be back from Booradoo by now. He had the Kazek drama to worry about too.

  He looked across at Colin who was disinfecting teats with a small spray bottle. The farmer stared back, his mouth pinched. For so long Adam had suspected Colin of murdering Emma. He’d read in the paper how most victims are murdered by family members. Colin sure fitted the description. He was such a surly bastard. But then again, Snake had thought Matt was the really odd one, the twisted psycho who seemed harmless but in reality was a calculating killer. Like Colin, he was out that night, had the chance to lure Emma away from the house, smash her head in and bury her in the silage. But Adam never took that hypothesis seriously. Of course there was always the Brolga, but a vicious head injury didn’t seem her style. Besides, she was home when Snake’s dad dropped Emma off. Then there was Rachel, but she’d been on a nursing shift the night Emma disappeared.

  In the end it was so obvious: Mongrel and Loody. Loody had worked for the Thackerays long enough to be part of the family, and according to Lina, Loody liked Emma a lot. The trouble was Emma thought he was a loser. But then they all got so pissed that everything got out of hand. If Emma talked they were in serious trouble. She’d been threatening to tell, and Lina was egging her on. So Mongrel and Loody acted. They lured her out of the house that night after the party with a bogus phone call, probably using Meredith’s stolen phone. And if Adam’s hunch was right, Loody was pretty good at stealing things. It all added up. Loody had more access to the Thackerays’ house than Lina ever did.

  What Adam needed was proof. But Adam was certain he’d solved Emma’s murder. It all fitted together.

  ‘Adam, Adam!’ someone was shouting. He knew that accent. He looked up and saw the hunched figure of Kazek descending the stairs into the pit.

  Adam felt the instant tension in his gut. He fumbled with the cups on the cow in front of him. Not now, not here!

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kazek yelled over the din. His sandals tapped against the cement floor as he made his way towards Adam, his arms waving so that his cardigan flapped like the sid
es of a squirrel glider.

  Loody was the first to react, intercepting the old man with his toothless grin, half greeting, half questioning. ‘You right, mate?’

  ‘Get out of my way!’

  ‘Hey!’ Colin shouted. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  Kazek ignored them and tried to push past Loody. ‘My son, you must reason with your mother!’

  Loody caught the old man round the waist and spun him towards the steps. ‘Back you go, mate.’

  Don’t touch him, you bastard, Adam thought. He stepped forward, seething. ‘It’s OK. I’ll handle it,’ he barked. ‘Dad, calm down.’

  Dad, Loody mouthed, backing away to the carousel. A spray of cow shit spattered on the floor not far from where Colin had been working. But Colin was gone. Loody was the only one back on the machine now, moving frantically to make up for the interruption.

  ‘Your mother won’t listen. Adam, you must speak to her,’ Kazek said. His eyes, clouded by cataracts, were filled with tears.

  ‘Dad! Stop it!’

  ‘She won’t let me in. You must tell her. I am your father. I have a right!’

  ‘You can’t just walk in here. It’s private property.’

  ‘Too bloody right,’ Colin said from the top of the stairs. He levelled a shotgun at them.

  ‘Jesus!’ Adam shouted. He pulled his father aside but Colin’s aim was steady.

  ‘You get back in your fancy car and clear out,’ Colin said.

  Adam felt Kazek’s thin bones shaking through the cardigan, but he knew it wasn’t fear. Kazek’s energy was electric and now that he’d found his family he’d do anything to confront Rosemary.

  ‘That man is criminal!’ Kazek screamed up at Colin. ‘I must talk with my Rosemary. I must see her!’

  ‘You’re the fucken criminal. Get off my land or I’ll shoot,’ Colin said.

  Adam gasped. Was Colin crazy enough to shoot someone in front of two witnesses? Adam glanced across at Loody, who winked back. What the hell?

  At the same time Kazek broke free of Adam and stood beside the rotary platform. ‘I’m staying here. He won’t shoot cows. I won’t leave till I see Rosemary.’

  ‘Dad, come on. This is stupid!’

  ‘I stay here until…’

  One of the cows behind Kazek lifted her tail. Adam saw it coming, but said nothing. Shit sprayed over Kazek’s neck, down his back and the side of his face. The old man staggered away, wiping at his clothes, spreading the green stink in trails over his beige cardigan. Then he bellowed, low and hoarse like an injured bull, and charged for the stairs.

  Colin lowered the shotgun and let him pass.

  Loody was rocking with laughter, still trying to put cups on. Cows kicked and fidgeted. More cow shit splattered onto the cement around him.

  Adam looked from the carousel to the retreating figure of his father.

  ‘Piss off. Go on. Sort him out,’ Colin said. ‘But I don’t want him setting foot in this place again.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Adam said. He flung off his apron and hurried up the stairs.

  Colin smiled. It was the first time Adam had seen him happy.

  Kazek was heading back to the house, yelling for Rosemary. He’d discarded his trademark cardigan. It lay in the dust, like a giant green and brown fungus. Adam picked it up with his thumb and forefinger, took it over to the orange Ford Falcon, and hung it over a side mirror. It was an unhurried movement, one he had to do to counteract the pace of his parents’ madness. He couldn’t let it overwhelm him. He took a deep breath. Rosemary would be trembling inside, frantic while Kazek paced the perimeter of the house.

  A police car was coming up the driveway. It was Barry Timothy. Rosemary must have found the courage to ring. Adam waved him down.

  ‘Still here, is he?’ Barry said.

  ‘Over at the old farmhouse.’

  ‘Right.’

  Adam followed the police car past the cypresses, into his own driveway. He looked back through the trees to the milking shed. Colin was making his way across the yard. He stopped to put the shotgun in Loody’s car.

  Kazek was on the verandah of the old homestead, outside the kitchen window, shouting. ‘Open the door! You bloody bitch!’

  Barry Timothy cleared his throat. ‘Mr Statkus!’ he began.

  Kazek ignored the newcomers, or didn’t hear them. ‘Rosemary, I am your husband. Let me in!’

  The house was silent. Adam knew Rosemary would be sitting on the floor in the hallway, as far from any window as possible, her head squeezed against her knees, trying to shut him out.

  Barry took the stairs and walked slowly along the verandah to within a few steps of Kazek. ‘Mr Statkus, I have to ask you to move on please,’ he said with the ring of authority.

  ‘Too bloody right,’ Colin shouted. ‘This is private property. Can’t come causing trouble round here.’ He marched up the steps behind Barry.

  Kazek spun round to meet them. His face was blotchy, streaked with tears and cow shit. ‘She is my wife!’

  ‘Mr Statkus, we’ve had a complaint from your wife that you’re stalking her.’

  ‘Ridiculous. I’ve done nothing. She’s tried this before.’ He went back to the window and rattled at the frame.

  ‘Mr Statkus, we’re taking this seriously. I’m asking you to leave the property please.’

  ‘You can’t do this. You should arrest him,’ he spat, pointing at Colin. ‘He points a gun at my head.’

  Barry turned to Colin who threw up his hands in disbelief. ‘Bullshit. Man’s a raving nutcase. Lock him up,’ he said.

  ‘If you don’t leave the property I’ll have to arrest you for trespass, Mr Statkus.’

  Kazek stepped away from the kitchen window. ‘This is madness!’ he said, stomping past them. When he got to Adam in the driveway he reached up and put his hands on his son’s shoulders and said, ‘Please tell them, Adam. I am not a bad man. We are family. We should be together.’

  He stank of cow shit. It was stuck to the collar of his shirt and filled the latticework of wrinkles on his neck. Adam saw the confusion and sorrow in his father’s eyes, but also the stubbornness. He took a deep breath. ‘You can’t keep chasing us, Dad. You’ve got to let go.’ He pulled Kazek’s arms down and squeezed them, first with affection then harder till he hoped they hurt.

  ‘You are soft, Adam. You talk like a woman. One day you’ll regret your mother controlling you.’

  Adam walked away. Control meant everything to Kazek; he had to bully everyone to keep it.

  ‘Come on, Mr Statkus,’ Barry said escorting him from the house. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Rosemary unlocked the door after Adam assured her Kazek had gone. Adam and Barry entered the kitchen to see her, back against the oven, still trembling. Her hair fell over her face, shadowing her eyes. Below the hem of her shorts her legs were scratched raw and bleeding. ‘I told you. I told you he’d find us,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Mum, this time I’m going to make sure we get an intervention order.’

  ‘They’ll refuse!’ she screamed.

  ‘Not now. We’ll keep a diary. Document every time he’s shown up.’

  ‘That’s the way to do it, Mrs Statkus,’ Barry said. ‘Hit them with facts. They won’t be able to dispute it then.’

  ‘We’ll have to move…’

  ‘No!’ Adam said. ‘We’re staying here. We’ll stand up to him.’

  ‘He can’t come on the farm anyway,’ Barry explained. ‘Colin will press charges for trespass if he sees him here again. You’re better off here than in a suburban street somewhere.’ He led her over to a chair. ‘Come on, sit down and Adam will get you a cuppa.’

  Barry was smooth, handling the situation with sensitivity. It was so unlike his normal arrogant style. As Adam made the coffee he wondered if Barry might be trustworthy after all. Perhaps he’d misjudged him?

  The policeman listened to everything Rosemary told him about Kazek’s previous stalking e
pisodes. ‘Can you remember the dates?’ he asked her gently. He encouraged her to write it all down. Adam handed her a coffee and reached for the calendar. Together they listed every attack they could remember. With Barry’s urging she agreed to approach the courts again. Barry got up to leave and wished them luck. Adam followed him to the door.

  ‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow,’ Adam said.

  ‘Just ring if he comes back, otherwise don’t bother.’

  ‘I mean…about something else.’

  ‘Changed your mind about counselling?’

  Adam took a deep breath and walked out onto the verandah with Barry. ‘It’s the diary, Lina’s diary. I found it… at least I did, but now it’s gone…stolen.’ He told Barry how he’d found his bedroom in a mess earlier that afternoon and how he suspected Loody.

  Barry leant back against a verandah post as he listened, legs crossed at the ankles. ‘What makes you think it was Loody?’

  Adam hesitated and rubbed his turned eye. Had he done the right thing telling Barry? Should he tell him everything? How he’d found part five, how he knew Mongrel and Loody had raped, then killed Emma. Indecision sat heavily in his gut. ‘Loody was at the barbecue last night, with Mongrel. We set them up.’

  ‘We?’

  He explained about the bogus letter and how Loody seemed over-interested.

  ‘Who else was nearby?’

  ‘Matt, maybe…his mum and...some other women. I think a couple of guys from the footy club…Birdie and his wife.’

  ‘So who did you tell about this…this letter?’

  ‘Just Mongrel and Loody.’

  ‘No one else?’

  Adam shook his head, wincing. His brain throbbed.

  The policeman shifted his weight and leant forward. ‘You realise you’ve been very stupid. This is a murder investigation. If you’re up to your neck in this, you could be in danger. On the other hand, a stolen letter, made to trick someone, could be considered as wasting police time. Be very careful, young man.’