The Practice Baby

by LM Ardor

  Fielding was silent. The empty space forced Dee or Raj to reveal more.

  ‘Of course if it does turn out to lead somewhere anyone who helped with information would be first to know,’ added Raj.

  The older man sat forward and put an elbow on each knee. ‘So there might be a story in it? And we’d get first crack at it?’

  ‘Of course, we’re a way off at the moment but the story might turn out to be important,’ added Raj.

  ‘Adam is one of our local boys made good; a famous son of Orange. You know he won the Eureka prize for innovation in genetics research in 2014? Is it something like that again?’

  Dee didn’t know where to go with this. Faced with questioning, their motives and the story they had worked out—that they were nominating him for an Australia Day honour—seemed both tacky and feeble. She nodded, hoping Fielding imagined something of interest and that Raj would go with the flow.

  ‘Adam, or Professor Fairborn, wasn’t giving anything away,’ said Fielding.

  ‘You spoke to him?’ asked Dee.

  ‘Information straight from the horse’s mouth always hits home with readers. Plus it seems fair for the subject of a story to put their side.’ He paused, looked them up and down. ‘And what’s your interest in all this? Are you journalists?’

  ‘No. Not journalists—researchers. I’m afraid confidentiality is a priority at this stage but we’re happy for you to have first access to any story.’

  Raj handed Fielding a card with his name, a mobile number and nothing else. Fielding sat back and massaged his jaw with his left hand. ‘And you’re not private detectives? Look, I didn’t know Adam well. My son was at school with him. I asked him what he remembered last time he was visiting.’

  ‘Any background at all would be helpful,’ said Dee.

  Fielding sat back, opened his legs so his genitals pointed at them. Dee forced herself to relax, settle in for a story.

  ‘The family were squattocracy, here from first settlement. Big spread out of Molong, Fairborn Downs merinos, stud rams, that sort of thing. Wade Fairborn married a local girl, beautiful, but not the same social class. There were rumours that the marriage wasn’t happy, especially when Wade Junior, the oldest boy, grew up a bit and wasn’t the full quid. They said Wade blamed his wife for the boy’s problems, and himself, you know, because he’d married beneath him. Took to the drink, fancy stuff, single malts, big reds. Big parties, chefs from Sydney. I was younger than the father and older than Adam but once I got the job as boss here I’d get invites to the bigger dos. The wife was always dressed up, designer clothes, high heels, but she was a mouse. They say he used to beat her.

  ‘All the socialising stopped once the little girl died. That was in the late sixties. I wrote the story. The details were hushed up. I always thought there was more to it but Wade was mates with the magistrate and police commissioner and everyone else in town, no point in raking through the muck when nothing could be proved and the child was dead.’

  Dee was torn between the need to know more and the danger that Fielding would stop talking if his flow was interrupted. She could sense Raj wanted to know more too but she held her palm towards him below the desk to say keep quiet.

  ‘After that they brought in a full-time tutor and Wade Junior didn’t leave the property. No one thought he could do any more harm.

  ‘It wasn’t much later that the boy died too. Drowned in the dam, slipped and hit his head on rocks. Adam was an only child after that. Things didn’t sound too happy out at the property. No more parties. The patriarch was drunk most of the time and, according to the housekeeper, the mother spent her days in bed with migraines.’

  ‘The girl was bitten by a snake, wasn’t she?’ asked Dee.

  ‘Yes, well, that’s how she died. No one knows how her doll got dropped down between boulders out in the paddock. The children were forbidden to go near the area because of the snakes. But Wade Junior was uncontrollable—aggressive, especially towards Evie, and she was a sweet little thing who didn’t fight back. Word was he used to hit her when no one was looking and used to take her toys. Theory is she followed him out to the boulders to get the doll back while the housekeeper was busy.

  ‘If you had time you could take a run out there. Bob Collins owns the place now. He should be able to show you around. I’ll give him a ring.’

  Fielding must have believed there was a story and decided to be helpful. He organised the visit and directed them to a car hire place.

  As they left, Dee asked him about Glen.

  ‘Sturrock, you say? And in Blayney? Nothing comes to mind. But the Blayney Advocate is stored at the State Library of New South Wales. Shouldn’t be too hard to find the case.’

  45.

  The row of poplars leading up the hill to the homestead and faded ‘Fairborn Downs’ sign arched over the gate were easy to find. The house was an imposing homestead with wide verandas overlooking acres of rolling paddocks, grassy and golden at the height of summer.

  Bob Collins, a big man of about forty-five, met them at the gate. They got out to shake hands and then transferred to Bob’s Landcruiser to ‘take a turn around the place before it gets too hot’. Their hire car was left at the gate.

  He was friendly and not inquisitive about why they wanted to know more. Fielding must have given them a good report.

  They drove past the house. On one side brown cattle with white faces stood like great slabs of meat chewing the lush feed.

  ‘Simmentals,’ said Bob. ‘The old man was one of the pioneers of the breed in Australia. Did well out of them. Things were a bit rundown by the time I came along, but the blood lines were still here.’

  The dam was large, in a natural basin formed by an outcrop of white boulders at one side, and overhung with eucalypts on the other. A jetty of old grey timbers was collapsing into the water. There were ducks and reeds. A fascinating place for children to play and, Dee noticed, out of sight of the house.

  ‘Didn’t expect it to be full at this time,’ said Raj.

  ‘A freshwater spring bubbles up over there from the rocks. Means this property can survive much longer in the droughts than anywhere else in the district.’

  Raj nodded as though he was a farmer born and bred.

  ‘That’s where it happened—the older boy, found drowned. Slipped on the rocks and hit his head apparently.’

  ‘Apparently?’ asked Raj. Bob looked them up and down and moved into the shade.

  ‘Well, there were rumours—everyone blamed the boy for the little girl’s death. And the body had been dragged out of the water before the police got here and the tracks into the water obscured by other footprints. No one could explain how he hit his head and then ended up face-first in the water.’

  Dee widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows; an invitation for Bob to continue.

  ‘You know about the eldest boy?’ Bob asked. ‘Not normal, couldn’t speak more than a few words, always screaming and hitting himself. These days they call it autistic but then it was just retarded. Everyone was relieved when Adam was born and grew up normal and then Evie, a gorgeous little thing. She and Adam were inseparable. He used to protect her from Wade Junior.’

  ‘She needed protection?’ asked Dee.

  ‘My mother worked as housekeeper here for a while. She tells some tales about how Adam would refuse to go to school until there was someone to protect Evie from Wade Junior. Wade was nasty, a big brute of a kid, didn’t go to school. The teachers couldn’t handle him so he was kept at home—quite a handful. He’d steal the girl’s toys and hit her if she tried to get them back. That’s how they think she got out to the rocks where the snakes were. The gate was open and her doll was dropped down between the rocks. Evie wouldn’t go on her own—couldn’t open the gate herself. There was talk of charging the nanny with manslaughter for letting the children out of her sight but old Wade wanted it hushed up—so it was. Verdict of accidental death. Same for the older boy. And that’s how it used to work in the country.
Still does really. All the top people know each other and protect each other, think there’s no point in displaying the dirty linen; they know what’s best.’

  Dee nodded but didn’t interrupt the flow.

  ‘According to Mum, life was miserable out here after that. Wade Senior drank all the time and his wife took to her bed with some imaginary illness. Adam was always an odd one. The housekeepers were his only company. None of them lasted long enough to have a relationship with him but he didn’t seem to care. Kept his room immaculate, no one was allowed in there even to clean or change the bed. He spent all his time studying, gathering specimens from around the farm to dissect for his science projects.

  ‘The house was empty, cold. In the daytime Wade would be out on the farm, baling hay, dealing with the cattle, fixing fences, supervising old Matthew who did most of the heavier work. Lunch was a tray in her room for the wife and Wade took a lunch pack out each day. On weekends, lunch was just the housekeeper and Adam, who’d take off to his room as he was swallowing the last mouthful. Mum got orders from Wade and money for supplies. Her job was to leave dinner served up on a plate for each of them and wash up the dishes in the morning. The big formal dining room was never used; Wade ate in his study, the wife in her room and Adam who knows where. It was weird, three people living separately in the one house. There was never any sound, no radio, no TV. Even when all three of them were there. Mum didn’t like it, she left after a few months. They had a lot of housekeepers over the years, no one could cope. My brother replaced Matthew as general roustabout when he died. He reckoned the old couple mellowed after Adam went off to university. Wade cut down his drinking and the two of them started eating meals together.’

  ‘Tragic story,’ said Dee. ‘And in the end the parents suicided, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes, sad after things seemed to be going better between them. They’d taken a trip to South Africa where Wade’s grandmother had come from and June had started to come back to church. Wade Senior went to AA, a big step in a country town. It was quite a shock when they were found dead.

  ‘After that there was nothing for Adam out here. He sold the place. Got a good price. I should know; I’m still working for the bank.’

  46.

  On Monday night Dee looked at her unpacked bag from the weekend. It could wait. Mondays were the busiest day of the week. After a long day and a dramatic weekend she needed sleep. As she shifted the bag out of the way, Raj rang.

  ‘Hi Raj.’ Dee heard the sleepiness in her own voice.

  ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘No, no, it’s only nine thirty—but I was about to go to bed. I’m worn out. You must be too.’

  ‘No, I’m good. I’ve got news.’ He sounded excited.

  ‘Okay.’ Dee tried to sound enthusiastic but wasn’t sure she was ready for more news.

  ‘Glen tried to kill his half-brother over a will. I had someone search the Blayney local newspaper. There was a front-page spread when it first happened. Glen was charged with attempted murder at first. But here’s the thing, the brother said he’d been drugged and then woke up with Glen strangling him. Thank goodness it’s past the thirty days. At least Leah’s safe,’ said Raj.

  ‘You said a will was involved?’ Dee was fully awake now.

  They both paused. It was evidence that Glen knew about inheritance rights and was willing to take action, including the sedation of a victim.

  ‘The half-brother, who’d looked after their mother for the last fourteen years of her life, threatened to dispute the will so Glen wouldn’t get a share of the house.’

  Dee didn’t say anything.

  Raj said, ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes but I’ve just had a thought. What if Glen thinks Leah is going to claim Tom’s flat?’

  ‘Is that likely?’

  ‘If you had Glen’s mentality you might think it was likely.’

  ‘So Leah is still in danger?’

  Dee sat down on the bed. ‘Maybe, but it doesn’t matter in a way. The poor girl is so obsessed about “the professor”, she won’t come out of hiding any time soon. And Tom was still murdered and whoever did it thinks they got away with it. There’s a killer on the loose. Once all this fuss has blown over, the next danger is to Skye and to Charlie. Someone has to do something.’

  47.

  Craig Mason, the junior detective who’d interviewed Dee and prepared the report for the coroner, and Marlena, were already at the Social Brew Cafe as Dee approached. Dee hadn’t been sure if Marlena would even answer when she’d sent a message that there was more evidence about the case but she had agreed, and even suggested she bring Craig along. Could Dee’s urgent after-hours visit to her mother for a UTI a week ago be weighing on Marlena’s mind?

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Dee hoped her sweaty face told them she had practically run the distance to make up time.

  Craig stood up. His expensive suit, gym-toned body and what the kids called ‘man scent’ said high-flyer sales executive, not police constable.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me, I really appreciate it,’ Dee said.

  ‘You know there’s not much scope to do anymore now we have the official finding by the coroner,’ Marlena said as Craig nodded. ‘There would have to be some strong new evidence for any further investigation.’

  Their coffees arrived. Craig jiggled his leg as he sat forward in his chair, ready for a quick exit.

  ‘You told me Glen Sturrock had a record for assault,’ Dee said and unfolded a copy of the front page of the Blayney Advocate on the table. ‘This is the original story.’

  ‘Did you know this?’ Marlena asked Craig.

  ‘No, the charge was assault. He got a suspended sentence. It couldn’t have been serious.’

  ‘Or the victim was too intimidated to say what really happened,’ Marlena interrupted.

  Dee and Marlena both stared at Craig as he read the article. He sat back in the chair. Dee had a chance to convince him.

  ‘Tom was worried. He made his girlfriend stay away from the flat. Someone was watching the flat for a week before Tom’s death and someone came down the stairs at 3.15 am the night he died without putting on the lights.’

  ‘That’s not what our enquiries with the neighbours found.’

  You wouldn’t get any information from Jock, thought Dee. His generation of wharfies saw the police as the enemy, ‘the wallopers’.

  ‘It’s complicated—the man I spoke to, a patient of mine, isn’t going to talk to police. He probably didn’t even open the door when you came around. But I believe him—he’s got no reason to lie.’

  ‘Dr Flanary.’ Marlena usually called her Dee—this felt official. ‘The insurance company is doing its own investigation. The beneficiaries are the ones with a motive. That includes Mrs Harris and her partner plus the girlfriend, Lee isn’t it?’

  ‘Leah,’ Dee corrected.

  ‘And the girl’s disappeared, as has his laptop,’ Craig interrupted.

  ‘She’s terrified the killer is after her too. She’s convinced Tom was murdered because of his hacking. He discovered designer babies were being offered at GenSafe, the clinic I sent them to. She maintains someone was watching her when she came for an appointment at the surgery. People have been asking after her at her share house and there was a break-in there a few days after the death.’

  ‘The insurance investigator has understandably been trying to find her. Of course they’ve been to her house.’

  ‘And the break-in?’

  ‘Doctor,’ Craig’s use of her title was a formality to permit him to patronise her, ‘this is the inner city. How many break-ins do you think we have each week?’

  Marlena was still on side. ‘You know the danger if this is looked at too closely?’

  Dee shook her head no.

  ‘If the insurance company decides it’s a suicide there won’t be any payout. If the boy was besotted by the girlfriend, do you think he could kill himself to guarantee her future?’

  Don’t be ridicul
ous sprung to Dee’s lips but she said, ‘No, he was in love and they were planning a life together. Everything was going well for them. Neither of them would want him to die.’

  The coffees were empty. Craig had his hand on his phone and car keys, his right leg jiggling again as he sat on the edge of his chair.

  Marlena was one rank and twenty years of experience above Craig but in spite of all the ‘equal opportunity political correctness’ it wouldn’t be long before he was promoted. Men, especially young fit white men with a degree, were meant to be in charge. Meantime he’d have to toe the line and pretend to take notice of Marlena.

  Marlena wasn’t yet ready to lie down and let him walk over her.

  ‘Leave it with us; we might be able to nose around a bit, put you at ease. Our job isn’t just to keep the public safe, they have to know they’re safe,’ she said with a nod towards her junior officer.

  Dee knew that giving advice to Craig was hard to resist for Marlena.

  ‘This is on me,’ Dee said as Marlena fumbled for her purse. She picked up their bill and handed a fifty-dollar note to the waitress.

  ‘Craig, I’ve got to check on a case up the road. I’ll see you back at the station.’ Marlena stood up and turned to Dee. ‘You walking along Harris Street?’

  ‘Sure.’ Dee exchanged smiles with Marlena over Craig’s head.

  A few yards away from the cafe Marlena turned to Dee and said, ‘Sorry it’s so hopeless. I might be able to get the lad to have a go at finding alibis if I imply it’ll be a coup if he uncovered more to the case. It could backfire though. Are you certain about all this?’

  ‘Marlena, I know Tom didn’t die of natural causes. And I think his girlfriend is in danger. It’s too late for Tom but what if we can stop another murder? That’s enough, isn’t it?’ Dee heard the earnest pleading in her own voice.

  ‘Leave it with me. I’ll let you know if we get anywhere—but no amateur sleuthing—if this is real you could be in danger too.’