by John Bishop
and headed for Arajinna. He’d expected to feel exultant visiting the defeated Lenny. Instead he had a sense of anti-climax. Lenny’s illness would rob Justin’s team of a win in court. He had to admit it was a win he’d been looking forward to. And Lenny might have rolled the dice for the last time, but there was no knowing what attitude his family might take.
It was shortly after six when Justin Brody pulled up at Banabrook. Max and Eamon came out to greet him. The truck and the site of the spill were now enclosed in official crime scene tape. ‘What’s the latest?’ Justin asked.
Eamon said, ‘The shire’s weed control contractor has worked on the spill and reckons it’s safe. Seems a good operator. He took delivery of a whole lot of bags of powder and spread it over the entire area. He’s made a report to whatever government department handles chemical hazards and they’re sending an inspector to give the all clear in the morning. I’ve taped up the cabin of the truck. You’ll have to decide whether forensics should inspect it. It looks as though Lenny was hidden in there and slipped into the homestead while Meg was being hosed off. He was really lucky with his timing.’
‘And then his luck ran out,’ Brody said.
‘Yes,’ said Max. ‘Cousin Tony was the unexpected factor. Come in and meet the family.’
There were seven of them for dinner—a celebratory feast cooked by Tony and Judith and served in the main dining room. Max, Judith, Tony, Eamon and Ziggy took turns to recount the events of the morning from their individual perspectives. There was an edge to Ziggy’s contribution as he told how Max had given him the slip and left him out of the excitement.
‘I really am sorry, Ziggy,’ Max said. ‘I didn’t even find your missed call on my mobile until after Lenny had been carted away.’
‘Marvellous. Bloody marvellous,’ Ziggy glared at him. ‘And you were the one who thought it important to work in pairs as I recall.’
‘The point is well made. Guilty as charged!’
Justin changed the subject to tell of his visit to see the injured parties at Calway Junction.
Emily had no story to tell and expressed the opinion that at her age it was probably just as well she hadn’t been in the action.
With beds to spare at Banabrook, Judith had insisted all of them should stay overnight so they could unwind and enjoy dinner. The surveyors of Team Bravo had booked out of the Criterion ready to head back to Sydney in the morning. Judith had gone into town to pack Meg’s gear to avoid possible embarrassment for males dealing with women’s business.
Max served the wines Tony had selected to complement each course. These included Banabrook’s last bottle of a rare dessert wine made from grapes with the legendary noble rot. After dinner, Max ground and percolated fresh coffee. Usually this would have been served in the family room, but the broken window, although boarded up, somewhat spoiled the ambiance. Port and Brandy were offered, but Tony was the only taker. Uncorking a fine old cognac, he said, ‘I’ll stay the extra day to sleep it off and, as usual, vow never again!’ At eleven, the party broke up and went to bed.
Each temporary resident of Banabrook emerging into the daylight on Tuesday found Judith in the kitchen offering hot drinks, toast (with Vegemite or her celebrated cumquat marmalade), eggs and bacon, filtered tank water, and Alka Seltza. They took their selection out onto the verandah. Tom, Fred and Cookie Cate, who had already eaten breakfast in the farm manager’s cottage, arrived to consult with Judith about getting Banabrook back into shape before the next influx of tourists. In response to a request from Justin Brody, Tom undertook to arrange for the abandoned truck to be put into the care of an authorized cartage firm to be transported to Sydney for forensic examination. He would have to wait for the inspector to declare the spill site safe.
Max was first to leave, keen to get to school and resume direct contact with his students. He took Ziggy aside and apologised for causing problems for him. They parted on good terms.
The others insisted on pitching in to do the washing up. Then Justin left to spend time with Dominic Gerado before heading off to collect Meg. By eleven, Eamon and Ziggy had departed in the Operation Bravo vehicles. Soon afterwards, Emily drove Tony back to the house on the river.
Having given the staff an extra day off, Judith found herself alone with her thoughts. The family had lived with the knowledge of d’Aratzio’s threats for two years. It was a subject never discussed, even between her and Max, but she was sure all of them had thought about it from time to time. Since Charlie Magro came looking for Max two weeks ago, the threat had been constant and emotionally draining. Perhaps now it was all behind them. Justin had told her Lenny’s comment about rolling the dice for the last time. Justin had also expressed the view that Lenny’s family would probably see no profit in continuing what had been a very personal vendetta. Pressed on the subject, however, he admitted to having some misgivings. When Judith asked what he knew about Lenny’s family, he had frowned before replying.
‘There’s really only the wife, Miranda, and her relatives. Lenny was an only child and he fell out with his parents years ago. There are two daughters, both married and living overseas. I’ve had little to do with Miranda. She’s never appeared on our radar. She doesn’t frequent any of the nightspots we keep an eye on. It’s quite common to find the wives of underworld villains to be gentle and harmless. My guess is she’s one of those.’
It would be some weeks before Justin felt the need to telephone Judith from Sydney and tell her he had reassessed his assumptions about Miranda d’Aratzio. For now, however, calm had settled over Banabrook.
Entry in a Diary
Sunday 30th August 1992
By the Sunday after the confrontation with Lenny, the family room window had been repaired, and Banabrook had settled a new intake of guests into rooms in the old stables. When Max left to go to St Mark’s to conduct the 11am service, Judith sat down at the roll-top desk and made an entry in her diary.
30 August 1992
My first entry for nearly a month leaves a gap representing some of the most significant happenings of my life. Too bad! I don’t have the inclination to relive those experiences by writing about them, and the local papers are record enough.
I have barely kept track of other happenings around town. I know Caroline was concerned about strange goings on at Arajinna Fabrics but she has confidence in the temporary manager brought in from Sydney and the output from the factory is very high quality.
Emily has a certificate confirming the change of her name back to Blake is official. This will save us having to explain how she came by the name Henderson, which usually leads to questions about her three decades away from Arajinna, a story too complex to explain easily even if it was anybody else’s business. She is slowly losing the American accent that was so noticeable when I first met her two years ago. She obviously had a soft spot for the late Ivan Henderson, but they had never married, and there’s no doubting Daddy was her real love. How strange to think I would never have been born if she had not left her home and her husband.
It is hard to believe Emily is in her seventies. She has started playing golf again and won a mixed-foursomes competition recently, partnered by young Fred who is half her age. She is quite a legend in the local sporting clubs, and the older citizens of the town still talk about her dominance as a golfer and netballer in her youth.
Things have changed so much for me these past two years. I have lost Daddy and Mama, but rediscovered a half-sister who left Banabrook when I was a baby. I’ve met Emily (whose relationship to me I don’t know how to name—new friend will do!) I have also become attached to my effervescent cousin Tony, and to Sean, who I assume must be my brother-in-law. (Half-brother in law sounds too silly). Sean is the tallest man I have ever met; he is a giant and photos of him with me cause much mirth.
RIP LSD
Tuesday 15th September 1992
Neither Gavin Froyland alias Bill Smith nor Manny Cornelius alias Tom Jones was in the substantial crowd at the Northern Suburbs Cemetery fo
r the interment of Leonard Stanley d’Aratzio. Justin Brody was there, although he remained outside the gates and at a distance from the action in the hope of avoiding confrontation with mourners who held him in less than high regard. He believed those attending the funerals of big time criminals could be divided into four categories—those genuinely bereaved (usually limited to family and a few friends), those whose lives had prospered from their association with the deceased (in Lenny’s case his inner sanctum and employees of his pest control business), those who wanted to throw dirt on the coffin for other than religious ritual purposes, and those, like Justin himself, who were there to observe. Manny Cornelius was absent because he had been taken into a witness protection program when rumours surfaced in the underworld of his striking a deal with prosecutors to plead guilty and disclose names in return for lesser charges than his crimes warranted. Gavin Froyland had decided that, although now assured of a role in the d’Aratzio organization, it would be unwise for him to be seen at such an event by the likes of Justin Brody. So Gavin had stayed in Arajinna, continuing his work for the shire and waiting for his opportunity to withdraw from the pest control contract and take his well-earned position in the
