‘No, I’m fine.’
‘So, what about you?’ Jenny asked. ‘How long have you been the sheriff in Chatton?’
‘Sheriff? Me?’ said Arbor. He grinned. ‘Not me. I’m only the deputy. I dunno. Six weeks? I only just got here.’
‘And how do you find it? Crazy enough for you?’
‘It is now. Before that … It’s hard to believe that just yesterday I was so bored I was counting all the trucks at the silo.’
They laughed.
‘I know what you mean,’ said Jenny. ‘I wouldn’t say my life’s full of drama. Except for Days of Our Lives and The Bold and the Beautiful. And, of course, Home and Away.’
‘Oh, no. You don’t, do you?’
‘Not all the time. Look, is this your mates?’
The Commodore had turned off the main road and was slowly approaching them. Arbor took a large swig of his coffee and tossed the rest away.
‘I expect they’ll want to get on,’ he said.
‘I told you this was the turn,’ said Burke to Cole, sharply, as they alighted. Arbor noticed that she now had her jacket off and that the outline of her bust had been revealed for the world to see. Her breasts were large and well-defined, he thought, and he found it difficult to keep his eyes from the fragment of lace peeking between the buttons of her shirt. Despite any other lack of appeal the woman might have, he considered, her chest was a thing of beauty.
‘How did the autopsy go?’ he asked.
‘No surprises,’ said Burke, shortly.
‘But at least we know what the murder weapon was,’ said Cole. ‘Something big and nasty.’
Arbor watched as Cole unloaded the evidence kit from the backseat. If there was any more information to be had, it wasn’t forthcoming.
‘So, where are we going?’ Cole continued. Arbor could tell he had his eyes on Jenny. He could tell she was aware of it, too, and wasn’t enjoying it.
‘It’s at the north end of the property,’ said Arbor. ‘About a kilometre away.’
‘Shit,’ said Burke. ‘And how are we supposed to get there?’
The question came as an accusation, as if Arbor was to have an easy solution at hand.
‘We can walk,’ he said, enjoying the consternation on the detectives’ faces. ‘Or there’s these things.’
He indicated the quads.
Burke looked at Cole, with a strange mix of trepidation and relish.
‘Oh, bugger it,’ she said. ‘I’m game if you are.’
Without hesitation, she continued, this time to Arbor.
‘Constable, I’m riding with you.’
Arbor used a pair of occy straps to stabilise the evidence kit in front of the handlebars of the quad and then gave it a shake. Fine, he thought. It’s going nowhere. He climbed on board and signalled for Burke to join him.
He could feel the strength of the woman’s thighs as she pressed them hard against his hips. Her breasts were soft against his back as she shifted her weight and then held him tight. Her arms wrapped around him. Decidedly low, he worried. Her hands, rather than around his midriff, were below his waist, below his belt, patently close to the seams of his trousers.
As he started the quad and moved off slowly behind Jenny and Cole, Burke wriggled even closer. You’ve got to be kidding me, he thought. He could feel her hands move. Lower and lower. Fuck, he thought. Before long, she’ll be right in there, wanking away.
He could stop her, he supposed. Just say something. But he wasn’t sure. What if this was just the detective’s way? What if she just needed to feel secure? And, on the other hand, he could happily admit, it was beginning to feel all right. A little like Christmas gone had finally arrived. This could be habit forming, he thought. He was getting hard for the second time today. Ah, to hell with it, he decided. Jenny and Cole were a good way in front and with no view of proceedings. Sit back and enjoy the ride, Danny, he told himself. He was entirely in Burke’s hands.
The detectives spent just a short time examining the Subaru before deciding that there was nothing more to learn. Any trace evidence – DNA, fingerprints and the like – had long since been burned away. And Arbor had already surmised that the Chatton murder case, such as it was, did not warrant, or deserve, the full investigative resources that might come to bear on another, higher profile, case. He was already convinced that, to Burke and Cole, solving the crime was not a high priority. Getting back to Perth for New Year was.
‘That about does it,’ said Burke, ripping off her gloves and tossing them into the scrub. ‘Nothing more here that the locals can’t sort out.’
She climbed onto the back of the quad and put on her helmet. ‘Come on, Constable,’ she smiled at Arbor. ‘Time for another joyride.’
Christ.
Arbor could see Jenny Martin looking at the detective, disapprovingly.
‘I’ll take you this time, Sergeant,’ she said, surprising Arbor. ‘The creek bed’s a bit tricky. I’m not sure I’d trust the constable to give you safe passage. I’m sure Constable Cole will be gallant about it and swap places.’
He would thank Jenny later, Arbor decided.
‘Yeah, no worries,’ said Cole, but Arbor could tell that this detective, too, was displeased.
They set off slowly, at only a few kilometres an hour, Arbor making sure he followed in the exact path set by Jenny. After several minutes, he followed her up the bank of the creek and towards the sheds.
‘It’s the big one,’ he said, pointing, as he killed his engine.
‘Just let us do our job,’ snapped Cole. ‘You and the lady stand back. We don’t want you destroying evidence.’
You’re a bit late for that, thought Arbor. I’ve already opened … Oh, never mind. Just keep your mouth shut, Danny. There’s less hassle that way.
The detectives collected the evidence kit and entered the shed.
‘Did you tell them about the shoe?’ asked Jenny.
‘Not yet,’ said Arbor. ‘I’ll wait until they come out. We don’t want to interrupt them while they’re hard at work, do we? Are you sure it’s not one of yours?’
‘Yeah, I’m quite sure of that. It’s nothing like anything I’d wear. That’s a young girl’s shoe.’
Burke emerged from the shed holding her nose. In the other, outstretched hand, she held a sickle, caked black with blood and flies.
‘Hell, I didn’t see that before,’ said Arbor.
‘Then you weren’t looking hard enough,’ said Burke. ‘But by the looks of it, we’ve definitely found our murder scene. There’s enough blood in there to fill Sydney Harbour.’
That I could have told you, thought Arbor. An hour ago.
‘Sergeant Burke,’ he said. ‘Miss Martin here, she found a shoe. Over here. She swears it’s not hers. I thought … With the girl, Amira, being missing …’
Burke took the few steps to the fence and peered over.
‘Well, there you go,’ she said. ‘I can’t see much in it, but … Why don’t you bag it up, Cinderella? Eh? That can be your little project.’
The sarcasm in her voice was masked only by a sudden retching from inside the shed.
‘Oh, Christ. Get it up, why don’t you?’ Burke shouted, her face now lined with disgust. ‘I told you to give that burger a miss! He never fucking learns, that prick.’
Well, if your crime scene wasn’t fucked before, thought Arbor, it certainly is now.
The other detective reappeared, headed for the scrub and retched some more.
Whatever you do, Danny, don’t stuff it up. They’re right behind you, ready to take the piss at a moment’s notice.
He began with photos, observing that the shoe was intact, new and relatively clean. Sparkling red. Upside down. The heel, he noted, was ridiculously high for this environment. Too high, he considered, even for daily life in Chatton. He kept snapping. Never too many, he told himself.
‘You’re doing a good job, there, Constable,’ gibed Burke. The two detectives were standing some distance away, smoking.
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Crazy, thought Arbor. Didn’t they realise that one ember …? It was high summer and the grass and crops needed little more.
He looked closely at the area surrounding the shoe. It offered just a little comfort, he thought. The grass appeared undisturbed and, whatever they might be, there were no actual signs of a struggle, no signs that a body had fallen or been dragged away further into the scrub. It seemed as if the shoe had just been thrown there, perhaps from some distance.
He donned his gloves and moved in for a closer look. He squinted, peering inside the shoe, looking for a label. He could barely make it out.
‘Senso?’ he asked Jenny. ‘Have you heard of it?’
He heard the detectives snigger.
‘No, sorry. I haven’t,’ Jenny replied.
‘Come on, Columbo,’ said Burke again. ‘It’s only a fucking shoe.’
They might have helped him, thought Arbor. There was a girl missing, after all. But, no. They’d rather play their silly games. He lifted the shoe and placed it into an evidence bag. He might need to check it for fingerprints, he thought. Hopefully, he would find something to compare them to at the shop. But, for now, all that seemed a long way off.
He stood up and looked around, taking in the bigger picture. He drew an imaginary line between the shed, the position of the shoe and the creek bed beyond. And he shuddered. Although everything in his nature told him otherwise, he could tell it was possible. The body of Amira Rashid might really be lying there, hidden in the scrub, no more than fifty metres away.
‘Is it worth having a look?’ he asked. ‘Maybe we could walk up the creek a bit.’
‘Yeah, maybe we could. But, no. Not now. Not in this light,’ said Burke. ‘Another five minutes and you won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face. You could step on her and not even know it. Come on. Back to civilisation.’
She had to be joking, thought Arbor. Sure, the sun was getting low, but there must have been at least an hour of decent daylight left. Plenty of time to … But, he could see the detectives were getting restless.
He bit his lip. Maybe Burke was right. He was new at this. What did he know? In any case, there was no way he could override her. Any search for Amira would have to wait until tomorrow. All he could do for now was head back to the farmhouse and then put some distance between himself and what passed for intelligent policing.
‘So what time do we start?’ he asked. He was watching Burke load the evidence kit into the boot of the Commodore.
‘When? What do you mean, Constable? Start what?’
‘The search. Tomorrow. For Amira, I mean … Shouldn’t we do something? Organise a search or something?’
‘Ha. You’re joking, aren’t you?’ said Burke. ‘On what basis? One bloody shoe? And where would we get the resources for that? It’s Christmas, remember?’
‘Yeah, but … the girl,’ said Arbor. ‘She might be stuck out there. She might have been out there for—’
‘Look, you can search for her all you like,’ said Burke. ‘We’re not stopping you. But we’ve got bigger fish to fry. We came here to solve a murder, remember? Not to find Little Red Riding Hood. But if you do find her, we want her. And pronto. Do you understand? I don’t want some novice playing softly, softly, catchee monkey when a hard line is called for. Capiche?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Good. Enough said.’
‘And what about the Blairs?’ said Arbor. ‘Are you going to—’
‘Yeah, yeah. We’ll see to it, Constable,’ said Burke. ‘We’ll stop in and see them on the way back in. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about them.’
She slammed the boot lid and joined Cole inside the car. The Commodore raised a cloud of dust as it hit the main road.
‘Jeez, they like to put it about, don’t they?’ said Jenny.
‘O’Reilly’s right,’ Arbor replied. ‘A bigger pair of dickheads, I’ve yet to meet. Excuse the French. But I’ll be surprised if they do half the job they’re supposed to. I’ll give them a few minutes, let them get well down the road, before I head off.’
He turned towards Jenny. ‘Listen, thanks for your help today. I’d have been stuffed without you.’
‘No worries,’ said Jenny.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Arbor said. ‘It’s too late to do much more tonight, but if I can square it with my sergeant, I might come out tomorrow again and have another look around. If you don’t mind, that is. There’s no way of telling for sure, but I reckon there’s a good chance Amira is out there somewhere. I can’t organise anything big by myself, but … Well, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll come out early tomorrow morning, okay? And I might have a word with those Blairs myself. God knows what sort of job those two will make of it.’
‘That’s fine, Danny,’ said Jenny. ‘I’ll be up.’
‘Thanks, again,’ said Arbor. He found himself offering his hand. Her grip was firm but her skin soft, he found. Just right, like so many other things about her.
The shoe. The shoe, thought Arbor. It sat on the passenger seat like a burning coal, demanding action. It was Amira’s, he felt sure of it, and it meant that something dire had probably happened to the girl as well as to her father.
He took out the number the Wallis girl had given him. It seemed so long ago. He gave it a call.
‘Hello,’ came the distant reply.
‘Hi. Can I speak to Jacinta, please?’ he said. ‘It’s Constable Arbor, Chatton Station.’
‘Yeah, hold on. I’ll get her.’
Arbor heard the phone crash and then the chatter of family life.
‘You kids! Keep it down! Jacinta! It’s your phone! It’s a cop! What’ve you been up to?’
‘Nothing! And you shouldn’t touch my phone, Dad!’
The girl reached the phone breathless and, Arbor imagined, flushed pink.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah, hi. It’s Constable Arbor. I was wondering. I’ve got a shoe here. I was wondering if you could look at it for me. Tell me if you recognise it.’
‘Is it Amira’s?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Arbor. ‘That’s why I need you to take a look at it. Look, I’m just on my way back into town now. I don’t suppose I could drop by?’
‘Yeah, well. If you’re quick,’ said the girl. ‘We’re just about to have dinner.’
‘That’d be great.’
Arbor listened as the girl gave her address, and then punched it into the GPS.
The sun had set, he thought, but he was beginning to see daylight.
Even in the dark, Arbor could see that the yard was tidy and the lawn short and well-cultivated. They were sure signs that the Wallis family were house-proud. But the caravan parked in the driveway gave him food for thought, that the family might be large and overflowing the standard three-by-one. Sure enough, when Jacinta flicked on the light and opened the door, she was attended by a crowd of noisy siblings.
‘I’ll only keep you a minute,’ said Arbor, offering her the bag. ‘Don’t touch it. I just need to know if it’s Amira’s.’
Jacinta needed just the briefest of glances.
‘Yeah, that’s hers,’ she said. ‘She bought them on Saturday. In Ashby. They cost her over two hundred bucks. I told her they were stupid. Look at those heels. Have you found her yet? Is she okay?’
‘There’s no news yet, good or bad,’ said Arbor. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.’
The girl breathed deeply.
‘You’ve put me off my dinner, now,’ she said.
‘Why? What is it?’ said Arbor.
‘A curry.’
Compared with the Wallis residence, Arbor mused, his own place was a pigsty. The yard, such as it was, was a scattering of weeds, the windows were curtain-less, and the house itself was an embarrassing reminder of the nineteen-eighties. It was a box, like all the other little boxes that lined Royal Street. An amusing irony, he thought. It was the last place in the world any royal would visit.
But the rent was cheap, he decided, and, unlike other landlords, the government didn’t demand the continual upkeep of the property. Like the rest of Royal Street, number 15 was sliding into ruin, and no one seemed to mind.
He had remembered his empty fridge, and had dived into Jack and Jill’s just as they were closing their doors. It was nothing new. A hamburger here, a pizza there, Jack and Jill’s offered him a varied diet. Tonight was fish and chips. What kind of fish it might be, he didn’t ask, but he had had it before and survived. He had actually enjoyed it. And a Fanta. He always preferred citrus with fish.
He hit the exterior light, sat on the step and listened to the cicadas sing. Before long, he had company. The Webbs’ hound, a big dark rangy thing, had come loose from its chain and come looking for food.
‘Bugger you,’ said Arbor. ‘You’re not getting my fish.’
He threw the dog a chip. It swallowed with a snap and looked for more.
‘You’re a greedy bastard, aren’t you?’ Arbor continued.
He threw a few more. The dog devoured them quickly. Arbor looked towards the Webb place. The lights were on and Nathan’s Hyundai was parked in the drive. He would take the dog home later, he thought, when they had finished their dinner.
The door opened. Arbor kept a tight grip on the dog’s collar.
‘Hey, Nathan,’ he said.
‘Hey, Danny,’ said Nathan. ‘What’s the story? Are you lost?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, you’ve been living across the road, for what, a month? More? This is the first time you’ve been over.’
‘I brought your dog back.’
‘Yeah, so you did. Bring him in. Come on. We don’t bite.’
‘Hi, I’m Mandy,’ sad Webb’s wife, offering her hand. She was about the same age as her husband, thought Arbor, older than himself, but not by much.
‘I’m Danny,’ said Arbor. ‘Your hound here ate half my dinner.’
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