The Twisted Knot

by J. M. Peace

  ‘All right, don’t wind up. Let’s talk it through.’ He gestured at the seat opposite him. Sammi leant on the closest desk instead.

  ‘Let’s take it as fact that Woodford was caught out abusing a new victim,’ Terry began. ‘That’s reason enough to kill yourself. What have we got that supports it was actually murder? His brother and family are missing. It’s possible that his niece – should that be step-niece? – was the victim.’

  ‘It’s definitely possible. Most children are abused by people they know. People who they trust, who have the opportunity to groom them, take advantage of them and then compel them to keep it secret.’

  Terry waved his hand at her to stop. ‘Yeah, I know. So let’s say he’s abusing the little girl. There’s rumours and unhappiness around town. Peter kills himself. The parents are horrified as to how the girl will be treated by the gossipmongers and they leave town to protect her. Even though his brother’s dead, he’s also the one that molested their daughter. They don’t know how to deal with it, so they run. Ignore everyone and everything till it settles down. Plausible?’ Terry asked.

  Sammi nodded.

  ‘Okay. Let’s have a look at your version. Barry finds out his brother is molesting his stepdaughter. Barry kills his own brother, rigs it to look like suicide, then takes off anyway. Why would he take off if he’s gone to all the trouble of staging a fake suicide? Wouldn’t you stay and try to help convince the police it’s suicide? You know, tell them how stressed his brother was about the gossip around town, how he had mentioned he wanted to end his miserable life.’ Terry paused and looked at her meaningfully. ‘What’s more plausible?’

  ‘Just because something’s more plausible doesn’t mean it’s what actually happened,’ Sammi said. ‘What about the fingerprints on the note and his missing phone and wallet?’

  ‘It’s not all neat and tidy, I’ll give you that,’ Terry replied.

  ‘Can you make it a priority? I’m happy to keep making enquiries, but it’s your job and I think you have to give it some attention.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Terry said. ‘What further lines of enquiry were you thinking of?’

  ‘A neighbour of Peter’s rang police about the burning scarecrow. I wanted to talk to him, check if he saw or heard anything else. Find out the last time he saw any signs of life at Peter’s,’ Sammi said.

  ‘Good idea,’ Terry said. ‘Do you want to follow that up, or do you want me to do it?’

  Sammi shrugged. ‘I can do that.’ She wasn’t sure whether she’d do it in person or on the phone, but it was a straightforward enquiry, something she felt she could handle.

  ‘What else?’ Terry quizzed.

  ‘You’re asking me? You want a connie to do all your work?’

  ‘Don’t get cranky, I’ll see what else I can dig up. Here, watch this.’ He clicked open the Facebook window again. ‘It’s a video of an elephant and dog who are best mates. That’ll cheer you up.’

  Sammi shook her head as she walked out of the CIB office.

  36

  Sammi had rung in advance, so Michael Wright was expecting her. She didn’t hold much hope that he would be able to tell her anything further about Peter Woodford or the burning scarecrow, but it was an enquiry that should be run out.

  When she’d made the appointment, Bob had intended on accompanying her, but he’d become tied up taking an assault complaint at the front counter. Rather than miss the appointment, Sammi had driven out to the property by herself.

  ‘Don’t worry, Bob, I can duck out alone. It won’t take long.’ It had been easy to say, she hadn’t considered the words until after they were out of her mouth. Things had been going well as she eased back into shifts on the road with small jobs and Bob a half-step behind her. Was she overestimating her confidence by going out on her own?

  She had run Michael Wright through the system and he had no criminal history. Mel reckoned he was an upstanding member of the community. If he had come to the front counter, Sammi would have dealt with him by herself. This should be no different.

  Despite this, as Sammi parked the car in his driveway, her hands were slippery with sweat and the keys jiggled in her hand as she removed them from the ignition. She took a deep breath.

  ‘My confidence is soaring,’ she reminded herself as she wiped her palms down her pants and got out of the car.

  She looked at the house and hesitated. It was so dilapidated that she wondered if she had stopped at the right place. The front door was open though and as she approached, she could see a figure inside moving towards her.

  ‘Mr Wright? Hello, I’m Sammi from the police.’

  ‘Call me, Mick,’ he said, extending his hand in her direction. Sammi shook it, hoping her palm was dry enough.

  Mick was a farmer, perched on the edge of retirement by Sammi’s estimation. He looked slightly less run-down than his house. His saggy blue worker’s pants were cinched tight by an old belt and his blue singlet was tucked in, possibly as a mark of respect for his visitor.

  He surveyed her, his eyes startling blue in his tanned leathery face. ‘You’re that girl who got abducted, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Now, what time did you –’

  ‘That was a hell of a thing,’ he said, nodding slowly.

  ‘Yes, thanks. If we can get –’

  Mick wasn’t finished yet. ‘You out here by yourself? No back-up?’

  Sammi already felt on edge and Mick’s questions were winding her up further. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead. ‘Do I need back-up, Mr Wright?’

  He broke into a broad smile that ended with a chuckle. ‘You’re safe with me, officer,’ he said. ‘Just curious. You’re a brave girl whichever way you look at it. Good on you for getting back out to work.’

  Sammi wasn’t sure if he was being condescending. She didn’t know him and couldn’t tell if he was laughing at her discomfort, trying to upset her. In the absence of a reply from her, Mick spoke again.

  ‘Sorry. You came to talk to me about Pete.’

  Sammi grabbed onto this. This was work. She knew this. Ask questions, take notes, clarify details. This she could deal with. She drew her notebook out of her pocket. ‘Yes. To do with the night you saw the burning scarecrow on his lawn.’

  ‘Come up onto the verandah, out of the sun,’ Mick said, gesturing to the front of his house. Yes, she could do this. Sit with her back to a wall here, one eye on the door, one eye on the driveway. She took the opportunity to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand.

  ‘Thanks. Hot today,’ she replied.

  They sat on a couple of mismatched wooden chairs with paint peeling off them.

  ‘So about what time did you call police the other night?’ Sammi asked, finally finishing her initial question.

  ‘It was a little after 2 a.m.,’ Mick replied. ‘The dog was barking something fierce. He’s a good dog, I figured something was really wrong for him to be carrying on like that so I got up.’

  Sammi nodded, making note of the time in her notebook.

  ‘I could see smoke from the direction of Pete’s house.’ He gestured across to a ridge. ‘I can’t see his place, so I jumped in the ute to drive over.’

  Sammi observed the driveway, imagining the house and shed, somewhere over the rise.

  ‘I get over there and see it’s not the house on fire, but a scarecrow out the front.’ He paused. ‘You’ve seen it, haven’t you?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I don’t need to explain it to you then. I’ve heard the rumours, I know what they call him in town. But as far as neighbour’s go, Pete’s a pretty good one. Quiet but helps a man out if you need a hand. I’ve known him all his life. Knew his dad, too. Harsh man, that one. Wasn’t so quiet over there when he was around,’ he added.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sammi asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t speak ill of the d
ead,’ he said. ‘A man should be able to raise his family the way he sees fit. But he used to beat them boys. A lot. His wife too. Lots of yelling and screaming. I don’t think anyone was real sorry when he passed away.’

  ‘Oh, that’s sad,’ Sammi said. ‘Peter took over the family house, didn’t he? After his mother moved.’

  Mick nodded. ‘Faye bought that little place in town. Pete and Barry divided up the land and Barry sold his share. It’s not a good farm anymore. Too small. Pete does only as much as he has to to stop from going under.’

  Sammi imagined Mick would generally be the type to keep his opinions to himself.

  ‘Anyway, Pete’s car wasn’t there, so I put a hose on the thing before anything else caught fire. Then I went in and used Pete’s phone to call the police. Door’s never locked. I thought it was something you should know about.’

  ‘Yes, definitely. Thanks for that,’ Sammi said.

  ‘I heard he hung himself. That he’d been there a few days before you found him.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sammi confirmed without adding any details.

  ‘So he’d been dead there in the shed for a while when I went around there?’

  ‘It’s likely.’

  Mick frowned, and ran his hand across the back of his neck. ‘Well, that doesn’t make complete sense to me,’ he said.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I can’t see his house, but I can see part of his driveway, see?’ He pointed it out to her through the trees. ‘I sit out the front here a fair bit, it’s my favourite spot of an afternoon. So I see who comes and goes sometimes. Well, the cars at least. Eyesight’s not what it used to be. I saw Belinda’s car go out to Pete’s on Friday evening. Then Pete’s car left in a hurry. You could see the cloud of dust he was kicking up for a mile. I was out here for a while, but I didn’t see any other cars before I turned in. And it was Sunday night that I went over to check the smoke. Pete’s car still wasn’t there. I could have sworn he hadn’t come back.’

  ‘Belinda was out here on Friday?’ Sammi asked, scribbling into her notebook.

  ‘I can’t say for sure. But definitely her car. She and Barry often have dinner with Peter on a Friday, but usually Pete goes over to their house. The car came around about dinner time. I go in at about eight-thirty to watch whatever movie’s on the TV. I didn’t see her car leave again. But Pete’s ute left maybe an hour before I went in.’

  ‘That’s odd. Might have been Barry driving Pete’s ute.’

  Mick lifted his chin, acknowledging her comment without agreeing with it.

  Sammi paused, a thought from the crime scene recurring to her. ‘What sort of ute does Peter drive?’

  ‘A Ford Courier. Silver.’

  Sammi thought back to the old ute she’d seen parked next to Peter’s shed. ‘Is it an old beat-up looking thing?’

  Mick frowned. ‘No, not really. It’s about a 2008 model, usually a bit dusty, but it looks okay.’

  Another loose end.

  ‘Anything else you can remember about that night, or the night with the scarecrow?’

  ‘That’s about it, officer.’ He gave her a genuine smile. Sammi realised she had relaxed in his company. The moment she was focused on work, the anxiety dropped away. She returned his smile.

  ‘Thanks, Mick. You’ve been very helpful.’ She rose to her feet.

  ‘You know where to find me if there’s anything else,’ Mick replied.

  ‘You look after yourself now,’ he called as she walked to the police car.

  37

  ‘Thanks for coming in today, Eric.’ Terry sounded like a mate asking for a favour. ‘We’ve just got a couple of questions for you, that’s all.’

  ‘And I definitely don’t need a lawyer?’ Eric asked, eyeing Terry suspiciously.

  ‘Nah, mate,’ Terry said with a hint of laughter. ‘Nah, it’s nothing like that. Only a couple of questions.’

  Sammi followed them into the interview room.

  ‘You know Sammi, don’t you?’ Terry said by way of introduction.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve met.’

  Sammi smiled grimly at the memory of the mob at the counter.

  ‘Look, Eric, I’m sure you’ve heard about Peter Woodford hanging himself in his shed.’

  ‘Yep. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bloke.’ Eric leant back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head.

  ‘It’s not been entirely straightforward, you know, with what’s happened in the past and now the new rumours. And we’re still tying off some loose ends.’

  ‘Not sure what it’s got to do with me though.’

  ‘Yep. Yep. We’ll get to that, mate. Have you been out to Peter’s place?’

  ‘What? Ever?’

  ‘Yeah. Have you ever been to Peter’s place?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You know where it is?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘How do you know where he lives if you’ve never been out there?’

  ‘I grew up here. They’ve always lived there.’

  ‘But you’ve never been out there?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Okay then. Hey, what do you do with yourself, Eric? You know, for work.’

  Eric shrugged. ‘I’m a labourer mostly. Just pick up work around the place.’

  ‘Where have you been working?’

  ‘Up north mostly.’

  ‘Been to Mackay?’

  ‘Yeah, spent a while there a year or two ago.’

  ‘I’ve got a cousin who lives there. Do you work on any building sites?’

  ‘Yeah. Been on a lot of building sites.’ They were all general questions with straightforward answers.

  ‘What sorts of work do you do? Are you a chippie or bricklayer or something?’

  ‘Done some bricklaying and some scaffolding and some roofing.’

  ‘Did you work for any scaffolding mobs?’

  Sammi watched as Eric’s posture changed suddenly. He folded his arms across his chest and his eyes flicked from Terry to the closed door and back again. He’d worked out his error.

  ‘B&D Scaffolding, yeah? They gave you some work shirts with their name printed on them,’ Terry continued using the same friendly tone.

  ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ Eric asked.

  Sammi could hear the irritation in his voice. Was he annoyed because he’d been caught out? Or because he had something further to protect?

  ‘Nah, mate. I told you at the beginning. We could go through the whole procedure to link you to the scarecrow on Peter’s front lawn. You know, contact your old bosses in Mackay, check you against the DNA swabs that Forensics got off the shirt. But I’m not really interested in that.’

  Sammi knew there would be no charges coming out of the scarecrow without a complaint. A dead man couldn’t make complaints to police. But Eric didn’t know that.

  Eric dipped his head then scowled at Terry. ‘So what do you want from me?’

  ‘We want to know who Peter’s latest victim is.’ Now Terry sounded like a detective instead of a mate.

  Eric stared at him. ‘Wendy’ll fucken kill me.’

  ‘Wendy’s not going to find out. Not from us anyway. There are so many rumours around town, we could have gotten the info from anyone.’

  Eric shook his head, looked away. ‘Then get it from anyone. Not me.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing to lose, eh? You don’t live here. You can take off again anytime. The arsehole’s dead now any way,’ Terry said.

  Eric took a deep breath and blew it out so his cheeks puffed up. He looked Terry in the eye.

  ‘I’ll tell you because I think you should know,’ he said. ‘Not because I’m scared of some shitty charge about the scarecrow.’

  Terry nodded. ‘Understood.’

  ‘It was his niece, Nicola. Barry�
�s stepdaughter.’ Eric grunted. ‘Dirty fucker. She’s only eight. I’m glad he’s dead.’

  ‘So who killed him?’ Terry asked.

  The look on Eric’s face couldn’t have been faked. Complete incredulity. That was definitely one rumour he hadn’t heard.

  ‘He’s been murdered? I thought it was suicide.’

  What will be the consequences of this getting out? Sammi thought. It was a risky move from Terry.

  Terry was watching Eric, leaving a pause.

  ‘I didn’t say he was murdered,’ he said, dismissively. ‘Did you hear he was murdered?’

  Amazement turned to confusion. Eric shook his head. ‘What?’

  ‘I think we’re done now. Thanks for your time.’ Terry stood and opened the door to the interview room.

  Eric left, still shaking his head.

  As soon as he was out of the office, Sammi turned to Terry. ‘I can’t believe you asked him who killed Woodford,’ she said.

  ‘Did you see the look on his face though?’ Terry replied.

  ‘Yeah, it was a cross between surprise and shock. Would have been the same look as on my face, but for a different reason. You know that will be all around town before the day’s over.’

  Terry shrugged. ‘Yeah. But now we know that he’s not keeping any other secrets.’

  ‘Isn’t that counter-productive, announcing to the town that it might be murder?’

  ‘Was it meant to be a secret?’

  Sammi paused, not sure how to respond to this. ‘Where did you work before you came to Angel’s Crossing?’ she asked.

  ‘The Gold Coast,’ he replied.

  Sammi shook her head. ‘You have no idea how small towns work.’

  38

  ‘What do you know, Gav?’

  When his boss had asked him to come into the office and shut the door behind him, Gavin hadn’t been expecting this question.

  He looked uncertainly at Stan. ‘What do you mean, mate?’ He got on well with Stan. As far as bosses went, he was a good one. He paid them fairly and gave them a little flexibility when they needed it. But Gavin didn’t know what to make of this conversation.