by Tony Parsons
Sheila looked so grim at that I decided to ask her if she’d like another sherry.
‘I would, thank you,’ she replied. ‘You’ve bowled me over.’
‘Sorry, Sheila. I’ve probably worried you enough for one day. Maybe we should see what Flora’s cooked up for dinner.’
‘Of course,’ she said, looking around. ‘How diplomatic of Laurie and Flora to leave us.’
‘Flora tells me you’re doing an Arts course externally,’ I said.
‘I don’t want to be a doctor’s receptionist forever, just as I didn’t want to be a nurse forever,’ she said. ‘I fell into the receptionist’s job because of my nursing certificates and because, well . . . Ah, here’s Flora.’
‘Are you two ready for dinner?’ asked Flora.
‘Are you sure you want me here for dinner too, Flora?’ asked Sheila.
‘Of course. You know very well that our invitations always include dinner,’ said Flora.
Sheila looked sideways at me. ‘Surely you want Lachie to yourselves the first night. Won’t I be in the road?’ she asked.
‘You’d never be in the road, Sheila,’ said Flora, giving her a hug. ‘We insist you stay for dinner.’
‘Then of course I’d love to have dinner with you,’ said Sheila. ‘I’d have brought some wine if I knew I’d be staying.’
‘No need,’ I said, retrieving a bottle of wine from the kitchen.
Sheila gave me a dazzling smile when she saw I’d left some flowers and chocolates at her place at the dinner table. I was very relieved because not only was I pleased to see her again but to be on pleasant terms with her. I could see that she was slightly on edge but her naturally sweet disposition and her evident closeness to Flora and Laurie kept her with us for a couple of hours.
After catching up with the latest news with Laurie and hearing all about what Sheila had been up to, I decided it was time to bring the evening to a close. Tomorrow would be a busy day and I needed to make a couple of phone calls.
‘It’s been good to see you again, Sheila,’ I said as I walked her to her car. ‘I meant what I said, Sheila. It’s been great to meet up with you again. You’re very much the same as I remember you.’
‘But older and wiser, Lachie, and some of my illusions have been well and truly shattered,’ she said.
‘Mine too, Sheila. One thing I’ve learned is the futility of looking back. One must go on. I doubt there’s a person in the world who hasn’t made a mistake,’ I said.
‘I never really got over you, Lachie,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m sorry for that, Sheila. I made the wrong decision and I paid for it. I realise I hurt you in the process. That was never my intention. I’d like us to be friends. However, it’s up to you, Sheila,’ I said.
She turned to me before she got in her car. ‘I’ve always been your friend, Lachie. Thank you for the flowers and the chocolates,’ she said before giving me a quick kiss on my cheek and getting into her car.
I shook my head as she drove away, more certain than ever that I would never understand women.
Back inside, I rang Ming and apologised for the late call before saying, ‘I need to see you first thing in the morning, Ming.’
‘Developments?’ he asked tightly.
‘I think so. What time will you be at the station?’ I asked.
‘Would eighty-thirty be early enough for you?’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be there spot on eight-thirty,’ I said. ‘Good night, Ming.’
I had a shower and then got into bed. It had been quite a day and reasonably productive all in all. In fact I couldn’t believe how far I’d progressed. I was strongly of the opinion that James Brewster and Zane Reid were implicated in Caroline Clemenger’s abduction and that they, with Ted Challis, were very probably the three men who had pulled the first Sydney bank job. Brewster and Reid may well have been involved in the North Shore job too.
However, as had been drilled into me in my early years with the police, suspicion was not proof. But it was the prerequisite to proof which was the situation that now confronted me. My first priority was to locate Caroline Clemenger and if possible, rescue her. My second priority was to identify the men who had abducted her. As I lay there going over every detail of the case in my mind, the most puzzling aspect was why the men holding her had brought her to town. It seemed to me to be a terrible error of judgement and perhaps signified that the leader of the outfit wasn’t the half-smart crim I’d figured him to be. He’d have to be very arrogant and contemptuous of the police to imagine he could get away with that kind of behaviour.
Why would he do it? Was I missing something? I wondered. And then something clicked in my brain and various ideas began to come together. The top man was a half-smart fellow who was also a gambler. He wasn’t the type of man who’d be happy to act as the custodian of a woman. That would be too onerous a task for a flash fellow like him. No, he’d hand her over to his lesser associates and let them do the minding. The Challis crew would be responsible for Caroline Clemenger, leaving the big shots free to rob banks and punt on horses. So how come the big shots, and I presumed they were the big shots, despite the false name given to Sheila at the surgery, risked coming out in the open with Caroline Clemenger?
I thought about that for a long time before an idea came to me from something Ming Morris had said that morning. He’d told me the police had been after the Challis crew for a while on suspicion of stock stealing but they’d never been able to catch them with any stolen cattle. Perhaps there’d been a time or two when the Challis clan had to turn Caroline Clemenger over to the boss man so they could go away and pinch stock. They probably lived on the sales of stolen cattle. It was just possible that the boss man had been looking after Caroline Clemenger when he cut his leg with the axe. So maybe the reason he’d had her in the car when he went to the surgery was because he couldn’t risk leaving her when he was forced to go to Coonabarabran to get his leg stitched. He, or they, would probably have had to take her.
The possibility that this was the solution made sense because surely only necessity would have compelled the crims to take Caroline Clemenger with them to Coonabarabran. Maybe the top man hadn’t trusted his immediate offsider enough to leave Caroline in his care. Maybe, if he was a ‘hard’ man he would have got rid of her and the fact that he hadn’t meant she was still alive. It was all theorising but until I had some hard evidence theorising was all I could do.
My thoughts turned briefly from Caroline Clemenger to Sheila Cameron and then, reluctantly, to Fiona. I wondered if I would ever again meet a woman capable of making my heart race like it had with Fiona. I hadn’t found myself experiencing any sudden rush for Sheila. Not that she wasn’t lovely and I had no doubt that she would make a good wife and mother. But she wasn’t interested in life on a property and although she’d probably endure it for the right man, her heart would never be in it. Also, I yearned for a woman whose presence hit me like a tonne of bricks. Fiona had hit me like that when she gave herself to me but our marriage hadn’t lasted because our priorities had been so different. If I’d learned anything from my failed marriage it was that, ideally, the woman you married should share some of your priorities. That was the ideal formula for a successful marriage. Ah, but I was day-dreaming. Or night dreaming. Very soon I slept.
CHAPTER 12
Ming Morris seemed a great deal more relaxed at our second meeting. He’d been affable enough the day before, though I think he’d felt a bit overwhelmed initially. He probably hadn’t known how to take me and although he’d agreed to cooperate he hadn’t really got right on side until after the exchange of emails and faxes between Superintendent Ballinger and me. I couldn’t blame him for his initial diffidence because his natural instinct would be that the police were the best people to handle crime and criminals.
The police were always grateful for any help the public might give them, but when it came to the possibility of the public acting in the capacity of police, that was a diffe
rent matter. If I’d been a run-of-the-mill private investigator rather than a former detective, and a decorated detective into the bargain, and if I’d turned up without official backing, Morris would have shown me the door. Despite his apparent willingness to cooperate, I could tell Morris wasn’t entirely comfortable about me freelancing in the Pilliga. I didn’t hold it against him. Morris was a good conscientious cop who didn’t relish the thought of me being killed by criminals on his watch.
‘I’ve been talking with Dick Ballinger,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘They’re under very heavy pressure about these bank jobs. The banks are very jittery. There’s a lot of money gone west – much more than the media has reported and he’s very keen for me to cooperate with you as much as possible.’
I took that in and thought about it. Ballinger clearly realised I was a good bet and had decided to back me to the hilt. He knew I’d been offered a big financial inducement to locate Caroline Clemenger and that if I was able to find her I would also find the men who’d pulled the first Sydney bank job and most probably the second robbery given the similarity of the MO. Ballinger knew from experience that I wouldn’t give up and I was probably his best chance of closing out the case because of my local knowledge.
‘All being well, there won’t be any more bank robberies. Not by the same men, anyway. I think I know who they are,’ I said.
Morris looked at me in amazement. ‘What have you got, Lachie?’ he asked.
‘Before I go into what I’m thinking I need some additional information. I had two lucky breaks yesterday. Can you show me where old man Challis has his place?’
‘Sure,’ said Morris before getting up and walking over to a big map on his office wall and pointing to an area I knew about but had never visited. ‘That’s the Challis place,’ he said.
‘Okay, and do you know where a character by the name of James Brewster lives?’ I asked. ‘It’s not in town because I looked him up in the phone book.’
‘I don’t know but Ray Milson probably will. He comes from here and knows everybody,’ said Morris.
‘Would you mind getting him in here because I’d like to ask him a few questions?’ I said.
Morris picked up his phone and presently the big senior constable who’d been on the desk the previous day came through the door.
My mobile phone rang at that precise moment. It was Dasher Doyle telling me that James Brewster had incurred a minor speeding fine but there was nothing listed against anyone by the name of Zane Reid.’
‘Very interesting. Thanks a lot, Dasher,’ I said, before ringing off and looking over at the two big men opposite me.
‘Sit down, Ray,’ said Morris. ‘For the benefit of our discussion this is Mr Rivers. He has a few questions for you. He’s on our side so you can be perfectly frank with him.’
Milson nodded. ‘I’ve got a very good idea who he is but if you say he’s Mr Rivers, that’s who he is.’
‘Do you know a guy called James Brewster?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, he owns a place out near the Gorge,’ said Milson. ‘And he spends a lot of time with the Challis boys who have the adjoining farm.’
‘What can you tell me about Brewster?’ I asked.
‘His old man, Joe Brewster, left his farm to him. Old Joe was a real bushman. He could split posts, shear sheep, divine water, break in a horse and fight like a thrashing machine. Kick, bite, bollock and fetch your own doctor. That was Joe Brewster. He married a town woman and they only ended up having James before the wife cleared out and left him to rear the boy. Apparently she couldn’t take living in the Pilliga.
‘I think old Joe must have been pretty hard on James because as soon as he was old enough he cleared out to Sydney. He was a pretty flashy kid and a big talker and I’ve heard around the traps that he said there was no way he wanted to earn a living the way his old man had. No splitting posts for him. He had big ideas about making a lot of money. He was a bit wild and he got into trouble of some sort but he finished an apprenticeship,’ said Milson.
‘What trade was it?’ I asked.
‘Watchmaking. Apparently he’d always been very good with his hands,’ said Milson. ‘Last time I spoke to old Joe before he died he told me James was managing some jewellery place in Yankee Land.’
‘A jewellery place?’ I said, thinking who better to understand the value of Caroline Clemenger’s jewellery than a man who’d managed a jewellery store. Various things were all starting to fall into place.
‘Yeah, Old Joe said he was doing okay,’ said Milson.
‘So what brought James back to the Pilliga Scrub?’ I asked.
‘Joe died and left him the place. It’s a pretty ordinary place, though it’s mostly cleared and capable of running livestock. Apparently Brewster came back to sell the property but he’s still around,’ said Milson.
‘Has he got any sort of a record in Australia?’ I asked.
‘We picked him up for speeding a few months ago. Like I said, there were a couple of minor offences before he left Australia,’ said Milson.
‘Do you recall what he was driving?’ I asked.
‘It was a cream Holden, though you’d hardly have known because it was so covered in mud and dust. The last time I saw him he was driving a flashy blue Mazda though,’ said Milson.
‘So what are you thinking, Lachie?’ asked Morris.
‘I’m beginning to suspect James Brewster and a bloke calling himself Zane Reid are implicated in Caroline Clemenger’s abduction. And I also think they and Ted Challis might have pulled off the first Sydney bank job. They probably did the second heist too but that remains to be seen,’ I said.
The two cops stared at me intently.
‘You’ve made some awfully fast deductions since you left me yesterday, Lachie,’ he said sternly.
‘Well it’s only a hypothesis at the moment but let me tell you what I think . . .’ I said.
‘First, Caroline Clemenger was wearing very expensive jewellery the day she was abducted. I think there’s a chance she either lost her memory when her head hit the front door of the bank or, possibly, she’s feigning loss of memory. They probably took her hostage because one of the crims knew enough about jewellery to realise she had plenty of money. Now we discover that James Brewster was a watchmaker and had managed a jewellery store,’ I said, pausing briefly to let it sink in.
‘According to Sheila Cameron a man came into the doctors’ surgery she works at to get his leg stitched. Afterwards she saw him get into a cream-coloured car – the same car she’d glimpsed Caroline Clemenger sitting in the back seat of. I’ve been wracking my brains to work out why the crims would risk bringing Caroline into Coonabarabran and I think you might have given me the answer yesterday,’ I said, looking at Morris. ‘They must have had to bring her with them because they were looking after her at the time.
‘You might well ask why they’d tie themselves down looking after a woman and not get other people to and I’ve been wondering about that too,’ I said. ‘Then yesterday you told me you’d been after old man Challis for stock stealing And I suspect that’s what they were doing when Brewster cut his leg with the axe. They’d have been looking after Caroline Clemenger while the Challis crew were away. So you see they’d have been forced to take Caroline with them,’ I said.
‘Did Brewster give his name to Sheila Cameron?’ asked Morris.
‘No, he didn’t. The appointment was made in the name of Brian Challis. But Sheila knows the family and she says there is no such person,’ I said. ‘Why he’d use that name is beyond me at this stage. He could have used any name at all. But he did give his address as the Challis address here in town.’
Morris still looked a bit incredulous so I handed him the newspaper clipping featuring Brewster and Reid. After he’d scanned it he handed it to Milson who read it and passed it back to me.
‘I read that story,’ said Morris.
‘Make anything of it?’ I asked.
‘No, nothing beyond the fact that those
two characters won a heap of money at Randwick races. That’s the kind of small town gossip the local paper thrives on. I did vaguely wonder why anyone would be interested in passing on the story. Most people who win a lot of money aren’t anxious to advertise the fact. There’s an odd smart arse who likes to trumpet his or her cleverness but not many,’ said Morris.
Milson nodded his agreement.
‘You’re dead right,’ I agreed. ‘Most gamblers try and conceal what they’ve won for a variety of reasons. I think Brewster deliberately sought out publicity through a newspaper to account for his sudden affluence. That way, when people see him driving around in a flash car, the first thing they think is he bought it from those winnings they read about or heard about on the race track. Some of it might have – because he’d need to have been sighted winning some punts – but a lot of it will have come from bank robberies. If I’m right – and I’m not claiming I am – Brewster made a couple of big mistakes.’
‘You could be right, Lachie,’ said Morris. ‘It stands to reason that a fellow with a small property out in the Pilliga Scrub wouldn’t make enough money to buy a flash car. But a couple of big wins on the race track could explain it. What do you think, Ray?’ Morris asked his big offsider.
‘Sounds plausible to me. And it’s in keeping with Brewster to big-note himself too. As for the Challis lot, I wouldn’t put anything past them. They’re all as cunning as shithouse rats. Only Peter’s any good and he doesn’t have anything to do with the others,’ said Milson.
‘What can you tell me about Zane Reid?’ I asked. ‘If that’s his name.’
‘I’ve seen a Yank with Brewster at the pub a few times. Not sure of his name though. Tough looking fellow,’ said Milson.
‘The bloke who’s holding the fort for me in Sydney while I’m up here told me he can’t find any reference to a Zane Reid coming to Australia,’ I said. ‘Of course he could be using a false name.’