Chapter 22. Fudging On The Paperwork; and The Gardening Segment
As he arrived in the driveway there came the sound of a telephone ringing inside the house. Five months earlier a Community development programme had included the laying of phone cables to all the houses. When Angelica heard about it she’d immediately started pestering Cadney to apply for a handset and connection. He’d not been overly keen on the notion but realised that in the interests of marital harmony and bliss he’d better agree wholeheartedly to the idea and get on with lodging an application.
Nothing happened immediately, of course, and after a while Angelica began wondering if he might have fudged on the paperwork, even though he’d assured her several times during the intervening weeks that everything was in order. It was just a matter of waiting until the technicians got around to visiting Bonya, Cadney explained – an answer Angelica accepted with reservation.
By chance the Telstra techs had turned up that morning, while Cadney was out on his errand. Having the underground wires already in place meant the installation had taken no time at all.
Angelica pounced happily on the instrument, expecting the call to be from her mother … only to find it was the Harts Range policeman.
“It’s for you,” she said tersely, holding out the handpiece as Cadney walked in. He took it and said: “Jack Cadney...”
Frazier said he’d got the message to ring and had called the shop. “They told me you had a new phone and gave me the number. So what’s the go? Did you find anything on the trip to Harts Range?”
Cadney said yes and he’d been about to call. Things had become urgent and he needed Frazier to come as soon as possible.
“As important as that? Frazier replied. I’d better drop all this interesting paperwork then and get going. ―No! I’ll grab some lunch first. See you in a couple of hours … say about two o’clock.” He knew Cadney wouldn’t waste his time and so didn’t ask questions.
“Keep going past the Bonya turnoff,” Cadney told him. “I’ll meet you at the three white gums – where we ran into that mob of cattle. See you there.”
In the kitchen he put on the billy and made himself a monster corned beef and chutney sandwich.
Frazier arrived at the gum trees just after two. As he pulled up in the drain behind the yellow Number One Holden Cadney walked out of the bush.
“Lock it up,” he said as Frazier stepped out. “We’ll start at the broken ghost gum and go from there on foot. It’s not too far, a bit over one and a half K’s I’d reckon.”
He went to the Holden and retrieved the various items he’d collected. Frazier grabbed his camera and locked the wagon.
At the bent-over sapling Cadney explained the bruised bark. Then, as they set off into the scrub, he described what he and Angelica had seen at the Telstra Pole – about the tracks there and the stone Angelica claimed had a tiny spot of blood on it. On finishing he took the little parcel from his pocket and unwrapped it, then handed the stone to Frazier on the open tissue.
Frazier took it and stopped walking. He held it to the light to try and see what Cadney was talking about, then pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and sealed the tissue-wrapped pebble inside it. Too late to worry about contamination now, he thought as they resumed walking, and he was sceptical about Angelica’s claim of there being blood on it anyway.
Out of the watercourse they took up following the vehicle’s tracks and Cadney began describing their meeting with Tom and Evelyn Winters. They were heading to Alice Springs in a motorhome, he explained, but taking their time and camping along the way. Winters claimed to have seen a vehicle matching the description of Sheldon’s Nissan ten or twelve days back, while they were parked at the giant ant hill. It was heading east, he’d said.
By this time the tracks had taken them onto the gravelly rise, where they meandered in and out of the gidgee thickets. Cadney told of his idea to search the roadway by the ghost gums, then one at a time passed Frazier the items he’d found.
First came the bullock horn, then the fragments of clear plastic. Frazier looked the items over as they walked along. When they came to the rocky outcrop Cadney showed him the fragment of clear plastic in the crevice.
Frazier took pictures and wrote in his notebook, then picked up the shard with a disposable glove on his hand and put it in a sealable plastic bag. As the two set off walking again Cadney started telling him about the growing habits of spinifex.
The policeman found this amusing. What could have prompted it? There wasn’t a spinifex bush in sight. And spinifex was hardly subject of the week. He held his tongue, however, and let the other waffle on with his enlightening little monologue.
“…And so Fraz,” Cadney concluded, “big or little, each tussock grows without intruding too much on its neighbours. They might bump against one another but there’s no real pushing and shoving for space.
“You can see this from the air, the way they’re evenly spread with small areas between. In actual fact about a third of the ground stays clear.”
Just then they arrived at the far edge of the rise, where the wheel marks went down to the sand patch. Cadney stopped walking. “See where the tracks turn around? Look closely at the spinifex bushes inside the loop. Can you see how they’re all jammed together? Two or three of them are starting to die, but that’s still a bit hard to see.
“It’s the dying ones that are important, Fraz. They’ve been put there deliberately.”
Frazier could see what Cadney meant about the tussocks being packed together but he couldn’t make out any ailing ones. And what did it all mean anyway?
That is where Sheldon is buried, Cadney informed him. Under the dying spinifex bushes. “This is as far as I went when I walked in earlier,” he added, “in case you wanted to have the area cleared forensically. But we can check it out now if you like, seeing you’re here. If you want to, that is.”
Frazier declined going farther. He was more interested in returning to the wagon. The sooner he could report this to CIB the better.
For a while the two marched along hurriedly and without talking, but at the rock bar Frazier broke his silence. “Perhaps we should have checked,” he muttered. “If CIB comes out and you’re wrong about this the amount of shit flying will be bloody unbelievable.”
There was no mistake Cadney assured him. Under the dying spinifex bushes they would find the body of Raymond Sheldon.
The silent marching resumed. Nearer the police wagon Frazier said: “The problem with you Jack Cadney is that you’re too bloody smart by half. I mean how come you know all this stuff?”
“By keeping my eyes open, Fraz. Like I said before, ‘Black man...’”
“I know what you said before. The trouble is, most of what you say is total bullshit. I just hope this time you do have it right – for both our sakes.”
“Mate. Don’t worry so much. If I’d had any doubts I’d have gone down there first – to make certain like, before I rang. You’d never have known; I wouldn’t have left any tracks the white-eyes could find.”
“Bloody hell. What do you mean, ‘Don’t worry’? Now I don’t know whether you went there or not.”
“I didn’t have to, Fraz. To me the spinifex there is like a big red sign. ‘DIG HERE’ it says.”
At the wagon Frazier picked up his sat phone and keyed in the Alice Police Communications desk number. When it was answered Frazier began his report and Cadney went back to the Holden. There he retrieved the items he’d brought to deal with the tree: a steel picket, some cord … and the heavy short-handled hammer he’d borrowed from Danny Papa.
At the bent-over sapling he hammered the picket into the ground, hard by the trunk. Once it was in place he waited for the other to come over and assist.
Reporting completed, Frazier returned the handpiece to its mount, then grabbed his water bottle and joined Cadney at the broken ghost gum. After both had taken a drink they lifted the sapling back to vertical. Frazier then held it upright while Cadney went abo
ut lashing it to the picket.
“You’re bloody crazy, Jack Cadney,” the policeman muttered. “I mean why concern yourself? Two more of ‘em are growing here so why worry? It’s the way of nature, see; some trees make it and some trees don’t. It’s not as if there’s a shortage of the buggers.”
“Nah, mate; you wouldn’t understand. These three are special. —Hey, hold the bloody thing steady. I’m trying to get it tight.”
“Tight? You’re bloody strangling it.”
“Don’t worry, the cord’s polyester; the sunlight’ll bugger it quick. By the time the tree can stand on its own again it’ll have rotted off. Then one day when I’m going past I’ll stop and pull out the picket.”
Cadney bent over and retrieved the hammer from where he’d left it on the ground. When he stood up straight again he held the head-end to his mouth like a grotesque microphone and mugged at an imaginary TV camera.
“And that is the end of our gardening segment for today,” he announced, faking a deep resonant voice. “Tomorrow we look at bloodwood apples: Nutritious food? …or children’s throwing toy?”
Frazier burst out laughing, despite trying not to.
“Hey, I finally cracked a laugh!” Cadney bragged.
“Yeah. Like I said; sometimes words just fail me.”
“So okay Mister Policeman; what’s the go now?”
“A couple of CIB detectives are coming out. They’re getting away later this evening, I’m told, as soon as they get themselves organised. All going well we should see them here first thing in the morning. One’s a forensic specialist, apparently.
“I’ll have to stay, of course. Regulations, see. It’s to make sure the crime scene isn’t compromised – not that that’s likely to happen.”
“No worries; I’ll keep you company. My swag and tucker box are in the car and I’m carrying plenty of water. We can camp up near the spinifex patch. There’s any amount of firewood there.”
“Sounds reasonable. I’ve got my tucker box and some fresh stuff in the car fridge so we won’t starve. —But wait! My policeman’s automatic beer-detecting antenna has come on. There’s a coupla coldies somewhere; six at least. They’ll need confiscating.”
Cadney knew Frazier’s tucker box and gourmet fridge from working with him previously. The two usually held enough to feed five people for a fortnight.
This had not always been the case. On his first few bush patrols the young Senior Constable had carried provisions as advised, but being new to Central Australia meant he lacked experience of its occasionally abrupt and sometimes protracted weather changes.
One day a major rain system had stranded him between two swollen rivers. He’d had enough food for a couple of days, but distant flooding was feeding into the streams and despite the weather improving the rivers had continued to rise. As a result he’d had to radio Alice Springs for an air-drop.
But much had changed since then, and since Cadney’s earlier employment. Along with improved weather forecasting, the patrol wagons now came equipped with GPS units and satellite internet and telephone connections. Also, despite the occasional inconvenience, Frazier carried a car fridge and large steel tuckerbox. And the fridge was invariably host to a few beers.
Their arrangements settled, Cadney went to the yellow Number One Holden and keyed the engine. It wound over for a while, gasped a couple of times then started. Once it was running smoothly he turned and drove a hundred metres back along the highway, then swung the station wagon down through the side drain and bellied it over the windrow.
From there Cadney picked a route through the bush which kept them clear of the earlier tracks – in case the CIB detectives should want to investigate them. After finding somewhere else to cross the rock bar he drove on, then chose a campsite near the far edge of the rise. It was a couple of hundred metres to one side of the suspect area’s sand and spinifex, on ground slightly higher than most of the rise’s scrub free grass and gravel.
The police wagon arrived a few moments later. Cadney dropped the Holden’s tailboard to serve as a table as Frazier pulled in alongside, then wandered off to gather firewood.
On returning he found the tailboard occupied. The policeman was sitting on it, looking at his watch and counting backwards. Cadney dropped his load a short distance from the vehicles and went to investigate.
Beside Frazier were two cans of beer. He passed one to Cadney without glancing up then held up his hand for silence.
“… Three … Two … One ... Beer o’clock!” he announced, grabbing the second can, cracking its tag and holding it up.
“Cheers! Who’ll win the footy Sunday? Harts Range or Yuendumu?”
Cadney couldn’t help but laugh.
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