Justin breathed through his mouth and stood with his hands in his pockets. They couldn’t stay long: it was so damn hot. Flies clustered around his eyes and sweat on his brow and upper lip had to be wiped away constantly. Ever since he’d moved to Nundrew, he’d been thankful the police department had issued him with a wide-brimmed hat and the uniform included a pair of shorts.
He reached further into his pocket and brought out the weather instrument he always carried with him. The Kestrel not only told him the temperature but the wind speed and direction, plus the humidity. It was thirty-eight degrees and the humidity was only in the sixties.
Batting more flies, he hoisted up his shorts, which always seemed to sag on his thin frame, and looked at what was the face. He couldn’t determine if he knew the deceased or not. Not that he knew everyone in Nundrew, but he made it his business to know as many as he could.
With his hand covering his mouth and nose, he walked a little closer and stood carefully examining the body. The grotesque smile did nothing to make him want to smile back. It made him want to throw up. He’d vomited at his first scene, which hadn’t been as horrific as this one; he’d attended many since and the feeling had never gone away, although thankfully the action had.
‘Know him?’ Andy asked.
‘Nothing familiar I can see. What about you?’
‘Bit hard to tell, but I don’t think so. I think something’s had a chew here.’ He indicated the side of the face, which seemed to have bite marks.
‘Yeah, looks like it. Guess the coroner will tell us what did that. What a way to end up.’
Justin walked away and started to look around the area. ‘How’d the call come in?’ he asked over his shoulder.
‘Some poor bastard stopped in the wrong spot for a piss. Found this, then had to drive the hundred ks to report it to us. I left Joe taking his statement.’ He pulled a fly net down over his face and, with gloved hands, bent down and felt into the pockets of the shorts. The flies were batting against the netting and he wanted to shoo them away, even though they weren’t touching his skin.
The pockets were empty. ‘What do you think?’ He breathed through his mouth as he patted the shirt and again found nothing. Wishing the flies’ buzzing wasn’t as loud, he decided he wasn’t going to roll the body over until the forensic team got here. God knows what would be underneath; every sign of decomposition and enough smell to make it hard not to spew.
Shrugging, Andy kept looking around. ‘Out here, maybe a hitchhiker? No car, no indication he had a bike, motor or otherwise. Always wonder about those idiots who feel the need to ride our roads in the middle of the dry season.’
‘Yeah, like the clowns who used to ride across the Nullarbor. When I lived in Barrabine, we’d get called out to squashed cyclists often. At least two a month. Should be made illegal.’
‘Well, that hasn’t happened to this one. I reckon someone’s cleaned him up and not stopped. Or not even realised. If it was a truckie, that’s possible. Any ID?’
‘Nothing that I can find.’
They continued their search of the area. Justin wiped his brow. God, it was fry-an-egg-on-the-road hot out here. The town was always stifling, but sometimes, out in the bush, in among the rocky red hills and the waterholes, there was a cooling breeze and even small waterbirds that hopped and zipped and darted every which way. Just watching them made Justin feel cooler.
Not today.
Out here there was nothing but flat ground covered in sun-bleached spinifex tussocks and the occasional tree or bush. There was no wind, no relief from the intense heat that baked the land.
No wonder the poor bugger was decomposing so quickly. He wondered if there were any identifying marks under his clothes. A tatt or scar a family member would recognise.
Trouble was that people often came out here to disappear, to escape. Justin knew of three bodies that had never been identified in the eight years he’d been in Nundrew. They’d run fingerprints, dental records, DNA matching. Nothing. If they’d wanted to disappear, they’d done it well, and now their families—if they’d cared in the first place—would never know what had happened. The bodies had been buried in unmarked graves and the cases left open as unsolved.
‘Backpack here,’ Andy called.
Justin looked up and estimated Andy was standing about four metres from where the body lay. ‘Landed up here,’ he said, pointing to where it was stuck in a large bush. ‘Better get a couple of photos of that before we take it down.’
As he walked over, a couple of spinifex pigeons scuttled out from underneath. Justin jumped, then swore. Couldn’t be too careful out here. Plenty of snakes and they were always pretty quick.
After taking some photos, he unbuckled the canvas bag and handed the contents to Justin, who laid them out on the ground.
‘Two T-shirts, two pairs of shorts, a map …’ He opened it to see if there were any marks or comments on it. It was clean. ‘Nothing to indicate where he was headed or where he came come from.’ He tipped his hat back and wiped his brow. ‘Nothing. Damn.’
‘A bottle of water—we can dust that for fingerprints—and the map,’ Andy said, putting down the rucksack. ‘With the condition of the body and skin slippage, I don’t think the coroner will be able to get fingerprints.’
‘I agree,’ Justin answered. ‘Anything else?’
Andy opened the two smaller flaps on the outside and felt around. ‘Nah. Nothing.’
‘Well, let’s hope the crew to shift him isn’t far away. It’s freaking hot out here and I don’t think I need to be standing out in it for a hitchhiker. I’m like you, I reckon he’s been asleep on the road or been drunk and walked into the path of a vehicle.’
‘He wasn’t asleep,’ Andy said. ‘The body’s been thrown. He’s walked into the path.’
Justin lined himself up at the foot of the body and tried to work out where he’d been hit from. Pacing it out to the road, he started to look around. Scuff marks, indentations in the grass alongside the road, marks on the road to indicate a quick break … Anything that would help them work out what had happened.
If the corpse had been hit by a truck, there was every reason to believe the truckie might not have even realised he’d hit somebody. In those big rigs, you mightn’t feel the little bump of a human body hitting the bullbar. Or it could’ve been a roo or a pig. Truckies never stopped or braked when they hit animals. It would only cause the truckie harm, maybe even roll it.
‘Do you think someone hit him and didn’t realise?’ wondered Justin out loud. ‘He certainly catapulted a long way.’
Andy came to stand alongside him. ‘I’m sick of this stinking sun,’ he said.
Justin looked at him, deadpan.
‘What?’
‘Stinking?’
‘Yeah, stinking sun, stinking corpse. Where the hell is forensics?’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, he just might’ve been a blur on the side of the road, especially if it happened at night. Or someone wasn’t concentrating until it was too late. Stuffed if I know.’ He shrugged.
Justin looked around. There was something bothering him about the scene here. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
‘So we’ve got a map, a small bottle of water and some clothes? That’s not that much for a hitchhiker.’
‘Not our problem now. Look, here comes the team.’
A white coroner’s van came into view. The shimmering air made it blurry until it came closer and closer and finally pulled off the road. A cloud of dust billowed into the air and the two front doors opened.
‘Fellas,’ the driver said, going to the back of the van to grab his overalls and mask. ‘Stinker of day.’
‘Stinker of a corpse,’ Andy said. ‘We were just making mention of that.’
‘Been here a while?’
‘Maybe not with the temperature being what it is, but decomposition is advanced,’ Justin told them.
‘We’d better get to it before it gets any worse.’
‘Give us a ring wh
en you know something.’
‘Sure thing. Won’t be back in Brisvegas until late tonight though. So I don’t reckon you’ll be hearing anything for a few days. Maybe a week.’
‘Don’t think there’s any hurry. Cheers, boys.’
‘Thanks for doing the interview, Joe,’ Justin said as he grabbed the tape Joe held out to him.
‘No worries. Totally had nothing to do with the death, I’m positive. But it’s an interesting listen.’ Joe turned away, but snapped his fingers just as Justin was about to press play. ‘I forgot. I have a mate who’s got a few bodies of beef for sale. You interested?’
‘Sure am, mate. It’s coming into barbecue season. Put me down for one. Do you know when it’s coming?’
‘Probably a couple of weeks, but I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
Joe closed the door and Justin pressed play.
‘Can you tell me what you were doing out there, Martin?’ That was Joe.
‘I’m a rep for Solar Water. Spend a lot of time on the road. I was heading to Isa …’
‘As in Mount Isa?’
‘Yeah. The company had just launched a brand-new range of solar pumps, so I’m out and about giving all the rural merch stores a run-down on the features and so on.’
‘What are solar pumps?’
‘The farmers put them on bores; they’re a modern-day windmill, but easier to maintain. They pump water from the ground into tanks, which then go down into troughs. There’s been a big switch to them over the past five years and these new ones, well, they’re able to pump more water and for longer. We’ve put trackers on these so they follow the sun and get the most use of the daylight hours.’
‘And they’re popular, you say?’
‘Yeah. Take nothing to maintain. The old windmills, if something goes wrong, you’ve gotta pull the bloody thing apart. It’s man-hours and expensive. And not only that, they’ve got to be checked weekly, if not more regularly. The oil in the head, that sort of thing.’
‘Right. And you were on your way to sell these solar pumps to a merchandise store in Mount Isa.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You drive this road often?’
‘About every month.’
‘Do you think you’ve ever stopped at that spot before?’
‘That’s where I always stop for a piss. There’s a corner about two k down the track and another corner further on. Gives me time to go without being seen. I gotta bit of trouble …’ His voice faded off.
‘Trouble?’
‘With the waterworks. I need time. And on that road, it’s flat forever with hardly any trees. I stopped back at Julia Creek, the roadhouse there makes great hamburgers and coffee. I do it every time. I grab a coffee, something to eat and a bottle of water. By the time I get to that spot I always need to go.’
‘Right.’ There was a pause and Justin could hear Joe’s pen scribbling across the page. ‘So tell me about finding the body.’
‘I pulled up like I always do and got out. I needed a stretch, so I walked in the other direction for a way, then back again. Then I listened for cars. Couldn’t hear anything coming so I went around to the passenger’s side of the car and started. Then I smelled it. And I could see the flies. At first I thought they were bees swarming, but then I realised they were black. Didn’t think too much of it at first—maybe a roo or wallaby that had been cleaned up, but it smelled worse than anything I’d ever smelled before.’ He broke off and Justin could sense his horror at the scene, but also the excitement. After so many years as a copper, Justin could just about guess at what this man was going to say next.
‘I heard that human bodies smell worse than other animals …’
There it was. Justin nodded.
‘So I thought I should have a look. That’s when I found him. Or her. Or … whatever.’ Again his voice trailed off as the full extent of what he’d found hit him. ‘Oh god! It was horrible. All blue and purple and maggots and …’
‘You don’t know who the person was or how long they’d been lying there for?’
‘No.’ His voice was very low now. ‘No, I know nothing about them. How bloody horrible.’
Justin switched off the recording. There was nothing to be gained by listening to the rest, because it was clear from the horror in his tone, the poor bloke was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He grabbed a pen and started to fill out the paperwork for the body and log it onto the computer. Pausing, he decided to start with a search through the missing persons file.
As he scrolled, one caught his interest. It was from his old stomping ground and had a previous partner listed as one of the contacts.
Barrabine. Investigating Detectives: Spencer Brown and David Burrows. MP: Jeff Cane.
There was no better reason to pick up the phone and have a yarn with his old mate Spencer.
Chapter 12
It was the second day of Jeff Cane’s disappearance and Dave was at a dead end.
Jeff’s bank accounts hadn’t been touched; there hadn’t been any sightings, no phone messages. No contact with his wife or any other family member. None of his workmates could shed any light on why he would’ve disappeared, other than ‘There were a few issues at home, but nothing out of the ordinary’. If Dave heard that line one more time, he was going to have it engraved on Jeff’s tombstone—if they found him dead.
He was frustrated and cranky.
Spencer had come back to work that morning looking pale, but as cheery as ever.
‘What have you found?’ he asked as he strode in through the doorway.
‘Nothing.’ He swivelled around in his chair and looked at Spencer. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, fair to middling.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t rightly know. Got a bit of a cold and my hip is giving me jip. I thought I’d hurt it at dancing a couple of months ago, but it hasn’t got any better. Sometimes the pain just grabs at me and I can’t get out of bed. Reckon I’ll have to go to the quack.’
‘Wouldn’t hurt. You’re looking pretty tired.’
‘Yeah, pain seems to do that to a bloke.’
‘So what’s the next option in tracking down Jeff, do you think?’
Spencer twiddled his thumbs and thought. ‘Why don’t we go …’
The door swung open and Nathan Underwood’s head popped through the door. He had a strange look on his face.
‘What’s up?’ Spencer asked.
‘There’s someone in the front office to see you. Says his name is Jeff Cane.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I kid you not.’
Dave leapt to his feet, while Spencer followed a little more sedately.
Jeff Cane was sitting on one of the plastic chairs that lined the front office of the police station. He was dressed in the same clothes as Mary had said he’d left the house in; his hair was tousled and he was filthy.
‘G’day, Jeff,’ Spencer said. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’ Jeff stood up and held out his hand. ‘Yeah, sorry about the confusion. I needed to clear my head. Went bush for a bit then came back to me ute and it was gone. I hear you fellas have it.’
‘How’d you get back into town?’
‘I’ve been walking ’cause I didn’t have a ute! Walked fricken miles! Tried to hitch but no one would pick me up. Guess I looked a bit frightening. Still do.’ He held out his arms in a ‘look at me’ kind of way, a rueful smile on his face.
‘Well then, you’d better come in and have a chat,’ Dave said. ‘Does Mary know you’re okay? We can send someone to let her know and bring her here.’
‘I rang her when I got to the closest phone box. She knows. She said I should come straight to you guys. What I really wanted to do was go home and have a shower.’
‘Probably would’ve been a good idea,’ Spencer agreed. He indicated an interview room and all three men went inside, Dave closing the door behind them.
The room was smal
l, and Jeff had the stench of a man who’d been out in the elements for some time.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed as he clamped his arms down tightly to his sides.
‘Do you want a drink or something to eat?’
‘Nah, mate, I’m fine. Let’s do what I need to do so I can get outta here. If I could get my ute to go home with, that’d be fantastic.’ He dropped his gaze to the desk.
Dave leaned back in his seat. ‘I’ll need to record this interview, if you don’t mind, Jeff. After all, we’ve had the SES out looking for you. A huge amount of resources have been used.’
‘Do you what you need to do.’ The regret was beginning to sound in his voice.
Spencer hit the record button and Dave started the interview. After stating who was in the room and the time, he asked Jeff the first question.
‘What led you to leave your wife and children?’
‘I was angry,’ Jeff said. He started to cross his arms then seemed to remember he had BO and put them down again. ‘Mary seems to think I’m on an unlimited wage and she can ring anyone she wants whenever she wants. It’s not like that. Phone calls, especially STD ones, are really expensive, and the only cheap time is after 8 p.m., until, I dunno, think it’s 6 a.m. or something, and on Sundays. I’ve asked and asked and asked for her to make the calls then, but she still calls her mother in Perth in the middle of the day. It’s the most expensive time!’
Dave nodded his understanding.
‘Must be hard,’ Spencer said, leaning forward. ‘You work long hours at Strictly Agriculture, don’t you? What time to do start? Seven?’
‘Six-thirty. I’m usually the first one there. I open up and turn all the computers on. Get everything ready for the day. It doesn’t matter if the kids have screamed all night or not, whether I’ve been awake for the whole night too, I’ve still gotta get up and go to work.’ He frowned. ‘Look, I’m not complaining, but sometimes this shit gets to a bloke, you know? I needed some air.’
‘Yeah, it’s such a hard time. Kids are small and whingy. Mum’s finding life a bit tough, but the dad still needs to go out and earn a crust,’ Spencer said. ‘Do any of the kids sleep through?’
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