Emerald Springs

by Fleur McDonald

  Graham stared at the marks on her face. Finally he said, ‘Not pretty.’

  With a shrug, Amelia said, ‘Not as bad as it was.’ She stared at her brother and wondered why he was looking so seedy. ‘We could be twins with our eyes,’ she joked. ‘Yours are as bloodshot as mine.’

  He grimaced. ‘Yeah, rough night.’

  ‘What happened?’ Amelia asked, shifting in her chair to get comfortable.

  Graham opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything as Natalie put a cup and saucer down in front of him. ‘Nothing. Suppose I was worried about you.’ He took a sip. ‘Look, about the engagement party this Saturday—I haven’t spoken to Dani yet, and Mum, I know you’ve been putting in the hard yards, but I’ve been thinking maybe we should postpone it.’

  Amelia smiled and reached over to squeeze his arm. Every so often he could really knock her sideways with his thoughtfulness. ‘Thanks, that’s lovely of you, but please don’t do that. I’ll be up for it and I reckon we can all use a party. And you’ve all put in so much time and effort!’

  ‘Right then, thanks Milly,’ Graham said, but his expression was still very solemn. ‘It’s just been a bloody awful week. And I went to the Rural Crime Forum last night. That was pretty interesting. Informative. Didn’t put me in a good mood, though, I’ve got to say.’

  John put his paper down. ‘Tell us about it.’

  Graham summed up Dave’s speech, and added that there’d been a good turn-out, which Amelia was pleased to hear.

  ‘Did he say anything about the robbery?’ Natalie asked. ‘Any leads?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Graham mulled it over. ‘Yeah, he said there are criminals targeting our area and that they’re dangerous. That was all. Didn’t sound like the coppers are getting any closer to finding out who it is.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Amelia said wryly, ‘I can vouch for the crims being dangerous.’

  Chapter 18

  Sitting on the edge of his motel bed, Dave stared at the note he’d found tucked under his windscreen wiper after the forum the night before. Four typed words: Look at Amelia Bennett. He’d stuck it in an evidence bag, and today he needed to send it off for forensic analysis—along with the folded piece of paper that had been wedged in beneath it. His mysterious informant had either managed to get a copy of Amelia’s bank statement or forged it, a cause for concern on a couple of levels. To his expert eyes it seemed like the genuine article, though, and it made him think of the conversation he’d overheard between Jim and Cappa. The list of figures showed that the young woman had only fifty dollars sitting in the account two weeks ago.

  Of course, Amelia might have a separate savings account. But Dave was going to have to ask her about that, alongside other questions about inconsistencies in her story that weren’t the norm for an interview with the victim.

  He picked up the phone and rang the Barker police station.

  ‘Joan,’ he said without preamble, ‘I have some evidence I need to get to Adelaide. Anyone going down?’

  ‘Not from here.’

  ‘Can you get on to the next closest cop shop and find out? It’s important.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ she said before clunking the phone down.

  Dave dialled another number. ‘Coops, it’s Burrows.’

  There was silence on the end of the phone before the voice said, ‘Don’t tell me. You need a favour.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘You and the rest of the fucking police department.’ Coops sighed like an old man. ‘Right-o, whatchya got?’

  ‘A note and a bank statement that was left underneath my windscreen.’

  ‘Fingerprinting?’ Coops asked.

  ‘Yup. How long?’

  ‘If I don’t do the favour, it’ll be months.’

  ‘And if you do?’ Dave tapped his foot, looking at the evidence bag in his hand.

  ‘A few days.’

  ‘Coops, you’re a bloody legend.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, you’re not the only one who’s told me that. When can you get it here?’

  ‘Tomorrow at the latest.’

  ‘Contact number?’

  Dave recited it, a smile in his voice.

  ‘You owe me,’ Coops said.

  ‘I reckon I still might from the last case I worked on,’ Dave answered dryly.

  ‘Well, I’d better catch up with you and get paid, then. Catch you later.’

  ‘Yep. And Coops? Thanks, mate.’

  Hanging up the phone, Dave tried to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kim would not be happy. And, honestly, he didn’t want to investigate Amelia. The most likely explanation for the note was that someone was throwing suspicion on the young lady because they had it in for her, or because they were trying to deflect attention away from themselves or someone else. Jim was an obvious suspect, of course.

  Setting down the evidence bag on the bed beside him, Dave put his face in his hands. Even if he found nothing dodgy about Amelia, it wouldn’t matter to Kim. Acting as though there was the remotest chance Amelia was a criminal might change everything.

  ‘That would be bloody right,’ he muttered, shaking his head at himself. ‘I reconnect with Kim and it all goes pear-shaped.’

  But he had to get himself together and do his job. His notebook was chock-full of questions for Amelia, and the only way to get them answered was to go and ask her. He just hoped he could send off the evidence bag and then get in and out of Granite Ridge before Kim found out where he was and what he was doing. He’d been a copper for a long time, and there wasn’t much he was genuinely afraid of, but he was man enough to admit that Kim’s inquiring mind wasn’t something he wanted to deal with when she found out he was questioning her beloved niece.

  ‘Amelia, I need to ask about the alcohol in Gus’s ute. When I opened the door I could smell it very strongly, and forensics removed a can of Bundy and Cola. Had you been drinking while driving, or was the smell there when you got in?’

  They sat outside in the homestead’s garden, Dave on a stone bench and Amelia on a beautiful old swinging garden chair. The jasmine vine beside them was in full flower and the scent was heady. He watched her feet touch the ground as she pushed the seat back and forth. The bruise on her face was now mottled, a bit of yellow creeping into the purple.

  ‘I had that can with me,’ Amelia answered frankly. ‘I planned on opening it when I’d delivered the money.’ She shook her head, staring at the ground. ‘But I ended up cracking it on the drive into town. I had a headache and was really tired, so I thought it might help me get through what I still had to do. I just had a few sips. Is that illegal?’

  When she brushed her hair gingerly from her face and looked up at Dave, he was disconcerted by how like Kim’s her eyes were.

  He made a note on his pad. ‘You’re in luck—it’s illegal everywhere except SA. Though I’d discourage it.’ Amelia let out a long breath of relief and he was almost sure she was telling the truth. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know you’re probably sick of this question, but have you remembered anything else about that night?’

  Those familiar eyes stared into the distance. ‘There’s still not much,’ she said softly. ‘I told you that I went over the speed limit, didn’t I?’ Dave nodded. ‘I remember seeing headlights in my rear-view mirror. I thought it was Gus, thought he’d caught up. Then I realised they were on high-beam, and by then it was too late—they cut me off.’ She stopped and took a couple of shaky breaths.

  ‘Can you explain why you were driving so fast?’ Dave looked at her intently.

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t meaning to.’ Amelia licked her lips and ran her hands over her arms with a shiver, but it wasn’t cold—the sun was beating down strongly and a dry northerly wind had begun to blow, rustling the leaves. Amelia shivered again.

  Signs of guilt? Dave wondered, then checked himself. More like trauma.

  ‘I hadn’t driven Gus’s ute before,’ Amelia explained. ‘It’s brand new, one of those ones that do a hundred before y
ou realise it. I’m not used to that much power, not in my old car. I call her “Pushme”.’ They both chuckled. ‘Anyway, the ute didn’t feel like it was going extra fast, it just did . . . And I hadn’t been looking at the speedo. I was too busy looking at the road. Then I opened that can—took my eyes off things for only a second, I promise.’ She blushed and swallowed.

  ‘Then you saw the headlights?’

  ‘Yeah, thought it was Pushme. Then . . . I don’t remember so much about what they did to me—there are big blank patches in my head—but I heard voices and there was more than one. And I had a dream last night about a man popping buttons off my shirt, but I’m sure it didn’t go further than that. Honestly, Dave, that’s all I can recall. I’m sorry.’

  He nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Okay, let’s move on. When I interviewed you first off, you said you’d spent most of the night in the office and there were lots of people dropping in. You named a few of them, but do you know if all the committee members turned up?’

  ‘Everyone was there at the rodeo, but not all in the office. I mean, I didn’t see everyone, but I would’ve heard if someone was a no-show.’

  ‘And did the whole committee know how, when and where the money was going to be transported?’

  Amelia paused, then slowly nodded. ‘Probably. I don’t think it was discussed at any of the meetings, but as far as I know, what we did wasn’t any different to any other year, so there’s a good chance everyone just knew. They’re all old hands.’

  ‘Tell me about your role as treasurer.’

  Natalie popped her head out of the kitchen door, and Dave wondered if she’d been listening in. ‘Does anyone want more tea?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘No thanks, Mum,’ Amelia said with a smile, and Dave shook his head. Natalie ducked back inside, and Amelia turned to Dave. ‘Gus asked me to do it—be treasurer, that is. There was a bit of opposition, but he got around that.’

  ‘Why the opposition?’

  ‘Even though I have a degree in commerce and I’m an experienced bookkeeper, so I’m capable, some people thought I might be a bit flighty and irresponsible.’

  She sounded defensive, and Dave remembered this issue being mentioned at the hospital—he’d forgotten to follow up with Kim. He’d have to get her take on the situation later. If she was still talking to him.

  ‘You seem pretty responsible to me,’ Dave told Amelia. ‘Well, if we forget about drinking while driving . . .’

  She blushed again. ‘Yes, exactly. And you didn’t see me as a teenager. I had something to prove, you see, and being the treasurer was part of that.’

  Dave nodded sympathetically. ‘Sounds fair enough.’

  ‘Of course,’ Amelia muttered, bowing her head and rubbing her eyes, ‘it didn’t exactly work out the way I planned.’

  To make her feel better and butter her up a little, Dave repeated some of the things Kim had said: that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t have known, that she needed to focus on recovering. When she’d calmed down, he changed tack. ‘What about your financial situation, Amelia? I know I’ve asked you before, but—’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good. I have some savings.’ Casting him a sharp glance, she crossed her arms and sat forward.

  ‘In a separate bank account?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, better interest rates. Why?’

  It was a struggle to keep the relief from his face. ‘What about the other committee members? Do you know of any financial problems they might have?’

  ‘Don’t know about all of them, but I do the accounts for a couple of members and they seem to be fine. I don’t think I can tell you who I work for, though. Isn’t that like breaking confidentiality?’

  ‘It’s not as though you’re a doctor,’ he said and grinned. ‘If it’s going to clear their names, I don’t think they’d be worried.’

  Amelia smiled. ‘All right—Gus and Pip, and Anne. Actually, I do the accounts for quite a few farmers around the district, as well as my family. I’m sort of like an office manager who goes to your farm.’

  ‘You must get around a bit, doing that. Have you seen or heard anything untoward in the district?’

  ‘You know, I’ve been wracking my brains ever since I heard you on the Country Hour. But no, I haven’t noticed anything weird or different. I certainly didn’t think something like this would happen to me.’ She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and a tear slid down her cheek.

  ‘I know this is hard and you’re tired, Amelia. I’m sorry. This won’t take much longer.’ Dave looked down at his notebook to refresh his memory. ‘Can you tell me about your relationship with Paul Barnes?’

  She sat up straighter and wiped her eyes. ‘What do you want to know? We’ve been together for just over a year, we’re moving in together, and—’ she lowered her voice ‘—we’re going to get married. We’re doing the house up first, but there isn’t much money so it’s slow-going. He’s such a lovely bloke.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’

  When she smiled it was the happiest Dave had seen her since that night at the pub. Unfortunately, what she’d just said about Paul raised a red flag. Dave remembered Jim Green’s words from the forum, the ones that had prompted his question about Paul: Well, she’s hooked up with that Paul Barnes for a start, isn’t she? He hasn’t got a pot to piss in. It seemed that Jim, whatever his faults or motives, had been telling the truth about this.

  Dave made some more notes. ‘So things are a bit tight?’

  ‘That’s what I just . . .’ Amelia paused, realisation dawning in her eyes.

  ‘Amelia?’ he prompted.

  ‘Um, oh, well, you know, farming can be pretty tough. You spend your cash on the stock and the machinery, and there’s not much left for the house. You’ve seen a lot of the places around here: there’s a hundred-and-sixty-thousand-dollar John Deere tractor out back, but no glass in the kitchen windows.’ She gave a shaky little laugh. ‘Once the opening rains come, we’ll have a bit more to spare.’

  ‘What about your savings?’

  Annoyance crossed her face, but was it directed at her fiancé or at Dave’s questions? ‘Paul’s not keen on using them. He wants to “provide” for me. He’s old-fashioned—one of the beautiful things about him.’

  It all sounded plausible enough, but on the other hand . . . Dave wondered if he should ask to see evidence of her savings. Well, not today.

  ‘Right-o,’ he said, closing the notebook and slipping it into his pocket. ‘Look, I don’t have any more questions at the moment. Glad you’re out of hospital and feeling a little better.’

  Amelia nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Her eyes—Kim’s eyes—were fixed on him, and he shifted uncomfortably. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘my aunt’s a good person. She deserves to be happy.’

  Taken aback, Dave wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Yeah, she is,’ he managed, getting to his feet, ‘and yeah, she does.’ Not sure I’m the one to make her happy, though, he thought. Especially after this.

  Frowning, Amelia looked away. He wondered how much she’d guessed about his questions, and hoped she wasn’t too upset. ‘See you around, Detective.’

  He got to his feet. ‘Yep, I’ll be in touch soon.’

  When Chrissie arrived for a lunchbreak visit, Amelia was perched on the stone bench where Dave had been sitting. In her hands were a pencil and a sheet of paper that she’d grabbed from the house right after he’d left. Hoping a different medium would help, she’d been determined to recover her memories and write down everything about the robbery—but all she’d managed were a few scribbled words.

  She glanced up as Chrissie walked towards her, then flinched when she noticed her friend’s concerned look.

  ‘You all right?’ Chrissie asked, just as Amelia felt wetness on her cheeks and reached up to touch them. She’d been concentrating so hard on remembering, she hadn’t noticed she was crying. She wiped the tears away.

  ‘I’ve just . . .’ Amelia screwed up the paper and chuck
ed it onto the ground, anger and fear suddenly swelling. ‘I’ve got to remember what happened!’ she wailed. ‘Chelle said the memories might never come back, but that’s just not on.’

  Chrissie wrapped her arms about her friend’s shoulders and hugged her tightly. ‘Okay, okay, let’s start at the beginning and see if we can jog things along.’

  ‘I don’t want to be some bloody weak little girl,’ Amelia yelled, pulling away and getting up. ‘I want to remember, I want to be able to tell Dave what happened—every bloody detail. If I can’t remember, I can’t defend myself.’ She grabbed Chrissie’s hand. ‘I think he’s investigating me. He’s asking about my finances . . . and Paul’s.’ Her hands were shaking and her face felt hot.

  She heard movement behind her and spun around—at the shouting Natalie had come out of the house, but Chrissie waved her away and shook her head. Natalie made a despairing gesture and retreated to the kitchen.

  ‘Come on, let’s go for a walk,’ Chrissie said, squeezing Amelia’s hand. ‘Just a slow one up to the shearing shed and back again.’ She gently took the pencil away and put it on a white-painted iron table, then linked her arm through Amelia’s.

  Breathing deeply as they walked, Amelia started to relax. Chrissie talked about her day at work so far and some of the gossip she’d heard, and then about how Paul had come in first thing that morning. ‘I was so pleased to see him,’ she said. ‘Meant I could send him straight out to you. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen a bloke more upset. He left a trail of red dust behind him, he bolted so fast.’

  ‘It was really good to see him,’ Amelia said, even as she felt her stomach constrict at the thought of what she’d revealed to Dave.

  ‘How did he go in Adelaide?’

  Her stomach tightened further. ‘I’m a bad fiancée. Never even asked.’

  ‘I think you’ll get away with it. Got a bit on your mind.’

  Amelia swallowed, nodding. She took more deep breaths of the eucalyptus-scented air. ‘Do you ever think about the times we used to have at Emerald Springs?’ she asked. ‘I love that place.’