by Tony Parsons
‘So you broke his ribs and put him in hospital?’
‘That’s right. He attacked me and I defended myself. I gave him first aid, called an ambulance and then rang his wife. The second time I met Liz, she came out to pick up her car, accompanied by Julie—by Dr Rankin.’
The detectives glanced at each other. ‘And you haven’t seen Liz Drew since then, or spoken to her on the phone?’
‘I’ve spoken to her, yes—she called to thank me for fixing her husband. If you’re implying that I had a reason to kill Drew because of a liaison with his wife, you’re way off the mark. I had nothing against the man personally. He was simply an ex-pug who thought he was king of the heap and could get away with just about anything. I don’t have any regard for men who knock women about, and Drew paid the price for that.’
‘You haven’t said why you were in town Friday evening.’
‘That’s because I wasn’t in town. At the specific time you refer to, I was having dinner with the Lewis family at my house out by the river. Even Jesus Christ couldn’t be in two places at the same time,’ Baxter added, with biting sarcasm.
The note-taking detective got up and left the room. He returned in a few minutes and whispered in the ear of the detective conducting the interrogation.
‘It seems your story checks out,’ the interviewer said.
Baxter noticed a scowl appear on Cross’s face, before his expression became carefully blank. Cross was a decent actor, but not quite good enough.
‘Of course it checks out,’ Baxter said. ‘You fellows are way off the mark and wasting your time talking to me. It was a pretty hairy job getting Drew’s body off the rocks and with that bloody great shark close by. I had to gaff him in a good-sized swell and then hold him next to the boat the whole way in.’
At that description, the detectives both looked a bit green about the gills.
‘If you’re finished,’ Baxter said, ‘I’ll go now.’
‘We’re nearly done,’ the interviewer said. ‘Just a few more minutes.’
Baxter looked at each of the three officers, his eyes lingering on Cross. ‘I haven’t been here long,’ he said, ‘but it’s common knowledge that a certain well-known person in this town was out to get Jack Drew. This person has the hots for Mrs Drew. I’ll bet that he and the fellow who gave you the false and misleading information about my movements are one and the same. Or that the informant is a close associate of his. Either way, he’s the one you should be grilling.’
‘Why would this man pick on you?’
‘Because I make a good fall guy to take suspicion off the bloke or blokes who killed Drew,’ Baxter said. ‘Then there’s the fact that I publicly humiliated him.’
‘How did you do that?’
Baxter allowed himself a small smirk. ‘He tried to deck me, so I gave him a kick in the behind. Ask anyone in town—it’s common knowledge.’
The note-taking detective handed him a sheet of paper on which were drawn the six islets of the Islands. Then the interviewer said, ‘Mr Lewis told us that this cross marks the spot where you sighted Drew’s body and from which you recovered it. Is that your reading of the correct location?’
‘Absolutely,’ Baxter agreed, smiling. ‘There’s only one small discrepancy.’
‘Yes, what’s that?’
‘Neither Steve nor I actually discovered Drew’s body. It was my dog Chief who noticed him—Chief’s got a fantastic sense of smell. Us blokes were too busy reeling in and cutting my line because there was a tiger shark on it. Chief barked and pointed his nose towards the next islet, and I looked and saw the body. That’s if you’re interested in getting the story absolutely correct. If my dog hadn’t barked, we might have left Drew where he was. It’s a tricky place to be with a decent swell running.’
‘Thank you,’ the interviewer said, keeping his tone professional although his lips were tugging up at the corners. ‘You did a great job getting Drew’s body back here. I doubt we’ll need to talk to you again.’
‘I hope not, because you’d be wasting more of your time.’ This seemed to Baxter like a good opportunity to find out more. ‘Nobody’s told me,’ he said, ‘but I’m interested to know how Drew died. What killed him?’
‘The back of his head was crushed. He’d been hit many times with something heavy, like a piece of pipe or a club of some description.’
Baxter immediately thought of Verna Graham’s husband, Bob. He was found with a fractured skull. It supposedly happened when he fell overboard.
‘He was, eh?’ Baxter asked. ‘Hit from behind? Maybe by someone who wouldn’t face him front-on. I sure hope you nail the creep. Drew wasn’t a great man by any stretch, but he didn’t deserve to end up the way he did. And the talk was that he’d improved since the last walloping I gave him. Liz certainly thought so.’
Just before Baxter left the room, one of the plainclothes detectives winked at him. This made him wonder if the entire interrogation had been a ‘snow’ job—after all, the whole thing had been utterly absurd.
While Campanelli had probably tried to fit him for Jack Drew’s murder, it had been a very amateurish attempt. What concerned Baxter was what might happen next.
Once outside the police station he made a beeline for Moondilla Motors.
‘How did you finish up with the fuzz?’ Lewis asked, wiping engine grease from his hands. ‘I heard from Jane that they called her to confirm your alibi.’
Baxter told him the whole story, including his suspicions. Then their talk wandered back to fishing and plans to revisit the Islands. When Baxter thanked Lewis for taking him out on the boat and showing him the ropes, and asked if he could return the favour, Lewis mentioned that Jason might want some martial arts lessons. That sounded fine to Baxter—he reckoned he could help the boy get into shape.
‘Well, I’d best head off,’ Baxter said, looking at his watch. ‘Julie’s going to run me home. I left Chief with her and he’ll be worried about me.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chief stood on the back seat of Julie Rankin’s car with his head between the front seats, enjoying himself as his master gave him scratches behind the ears. Baxter was incredibly proud of the shepherd for spotting Drew’s body.
Baxter didn’t say much on the short drive out to Riverview, and he noticed Julie glancing at him several times. ‘You okay, Greg?’ she asked at last.
‘I’m okay, Julie. Just lost in thought about Jack Drew and Moondilla. It’s all a damned shame. Mum will soon be telling me “I told you so”. She said I wouldn’t find it the same sleepy, peaceful place it was when we lived here.’
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve got some good news.’ Julie smiled. ‘I contacted Ian Latham today, and he told me that they’re on the verge of catching the drug peddlers. So I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Greg.’
‘That’s terrific news,’ Baxter said, returning her smile for a moment. Then he sobered again. ‘They might clean them up here, but there’ll always be drug pushers. The big money gets them in.’
Julie sighed. ‘True enough.’
They were approaching Riverview. ‘You can drop me at the gate and I’ll jog from there,’ Baxter said, expecting her to want to head back to work.
But when Julie braked and pulled up, she turned to him and said, ‘Jack Drew wasn’t involved in drugs. Not that we know of, anyway.’
‘Drew’s murder was probably for a very different reason. Someone told me that it’s common knowledge Campanelli had sworn to “get” Drew.’
‘That’s the story, Greg. But why would Campanelli risk his position here for someone like Jack Drew? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘It doesn’t have to make sense. Sometimes it’s revenge and sometimes it’s an ego thing: “I’m top of the heap and nobody makes me look small and gets away with it.” That’s the code of the Mafia. Maybe Campanelli needed to exert himself to pull others into line. He’s playing for big stakes. Add the fact that he has the hots for Liz—well, he could k
ill two birds with one stone.’
‘Three birds, if he’d been able to frame you for murder as part of the bargain.’
Julie’s eyes flashed with anger, it seemed on Baxter’s behalf. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but instead decided a change of topic was needed.
‘How is Liz taking Jack’s death?’ he asked.
‘Not very well. You’d imagine that she might be relieved to be rid of him, after the way he knocked her around, but they liked each other well enough when he was sober—and as far as I know, he hadn’t been on the grog since that last beating you gave him.’
Baxter nodded. ‘Yes, Liz told me that.’
‘The other thing is, she’s frightened of Campanelli,’ Julie said gravely. ‘She knows he wants her, and that he has a bad reputation with women. I think she even saw him in action on one occasion. She’s dead scared he’ll come for her now she hasn’t got her husband to protect her. I’ve had to give her some sedatives to calm her down.’
Baxter fought to control his anger. ‘I’d like to get my hands on the mongrel.’
‘Well, you’re not the only one. Even though she’s terrified, Liz told me she wanted to front Campanelli and have it out with him.’
‘What?’
‘It makes a kind of sense. She said that since he was going to come for her anyway, why shouldn’t she go to him first? She’s absolutely convinced that Jack was killed by him or one of his men. I advised her not to do anything so silly—to stay right away from the big devil and leave it to the police to handle. From what Latham said, he’ll probably get Campanelli before anything can happen to Liz.’
‘She’s a great style of woman,’ Baxter said, ‘but how did she come to marry Jack Drew? You said you might tell me sometime.’
‘The novelist’s curiosity?’ Julie asked with raised eyebrows.
‘To some extent. Not that I can describe myself as a novelist just yet, but I’m learning more and more that people—with their hopes and fears and foibles—are the foundation stones a writer must build on to create a story. The more thoroughly you dissect those core elements, the better you write. So I’m wondering: what motivated a woman with Liz’s looks and background to marry an ex-pug and a boozer to boot?’
‘I could tell you, Greg . . . but I’d prefer that you got it directly from Liz.’
‘Spoilsport. But you’re probably right. Besides, what red-blooded male would turn down the opportunity for a couple of hours’ chinwag with the smashing Liz Drew?’
He was hoping Julie might reveal some jealousy at that, but she just laughed and said, ‘Liz thinks you’re the ant’s pants, so I’m sure she won’t buck at a chinwag with you.’
Concealing his disappointment, Baxter said he should probably head up to the house and let Julie go on her way. ‘Many thanks for the lift,’ he added.
‘Any time. Remember your fish!’
He got out and opened the door for Chief, then pulled out the Esky full of fish that Lewis had given him back at the garage.
Just before Baxter closed the car door, he remembered he had something important to ask Julie. ‘Mum’s arriving tomorrow—’
‘Monday?’ Julie interrupted, her brow furrowed in momentary confusion, then, ‘Oh, of course, she’s in the restaurant business!’
‘Yes, she’s staying Monday till Friday. I know she’d love to meet you, so how about dinner Tuesday? That’s your night off, isn’t it? We’ll cook you a meal of red rock cod. Ugliest fish I’ve ever seen, but Steve assures me they’re very good eating.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Greg Baxter did not stand in awe of many people, but he was in awe of his mother.
Frances Baxter was an icon of the culinary world. She created an indelible impression wherever she went and whenever she spoke. Over the past few decades she’d become a byword in the hospitality business, owning a series of internationally famous restaurants. Her current establishment in Sydney was a destination for fine-diners from Japan to Paris to New York. Her cookery books were all bestsellers, and at least two were mandatory for any aspiring hosts of a truly memorable dinner party.
Over the years, Frances had visited nearly every country that could boast of an authentic cuisine. It didn’t matter if the meat was lamb, pork, beef, fish, chicken, kangaroo or alpaca, she knew more ways to present it than just about anyone anywhere.
Baxter was very proud of his mother’s achievements. He’d never sought the kind of publicity that had characterised her life, but he understood why it was meat and drink to her. It brought people to her restaurants, created a demand for her books and helped to make her fabulously wealthy.
And beneath the gloss of her persona, Frances was a decent woman. She treated her employees well and donated money to several charities. Her decency was what had always awed and inspired her son most of all.
•
Frances had been born with two essential traits for success: the first was a love of cooking and the second was entrepreneurial ability of a high order.
As a small child she spent hours with her mother in the kitchen. She started with simple things like cupcakes and pikelets, and gradually moved on to more difficult recipes. By the age of ten she could make sponges and fruit cakes that won at the local shows, and the name Frances Reid soon became known around the district. Whenever she had a spare moment, the teenage Frances had her head in a cookery book.
When the local café came on the market, Frances’ parents bought it and with it the opportunity for their daughter to widen her scope. She helped her father and mother prepare meals, and was soon doing much of the cooking. The café was also materially helped by the fact that Frances was very attractive in looks and personality.
When her parents were killed in a car accident, Frances carried on running the café. It grew extremely popular with trawlermen, as she purchased the best fish and seafood. A meal at the café became a ritual for many people, both local and visiting.
One man, in particular, never failed to have one or two meals a week at Frances’ café. He was a moderately wealthy man who played the stock exchange and lived in Moondilla because he spent most of his spare time fishing.
Richard Baxter had lost his first wife and was ten years older than Frances, but she married him. She could tell he thought she was something special—he didn’t try to change her. And he purchased the building adjoining the café, which allowed her to cater for more diners and for wedding functions.
Having a baby hardly caused Frances to miss a beat, and she carried on supervising the café almost to the day of Greg’s birth. She’d hoped for a girl but she wasn’t at all disappointed with her ten-pound baby son—Richard was the one who felt overwhelmed by parenthood.
Greg was six when Frances and Richard made the decision to sell the café and move to Sydney. Business at their new restaurant was helped by some well-chosen TV segments, and before long they were receiving more bookings than they could handle.
When Richard died suddenly of a heart attack, Frances’ way of handling her grief was to sell her restaurant and purchase another. It was here that she came up with an inexpensive but nutritious lunch for nine-to-fivers, which attracted a lot of attention on television. In one of many interviews at this time, she was first referred to as the Great Woman: ‘Yes, viewers, the Great Woman herself is here with us today.’
Chuffed at the popularity of her lunches, Frances tried something new. She incorporated a semi-luxury dining unit into her restaurant that could be utilised by government and business VIPs for special meetings. There was a special back entrance for private admittance, and the unit could be rented for an hour or a day. If you were especially famous, you might be attended by Frances herself, but otherwise by discreet employees whom she’d personally trained. After a meal, the VIPs could relax in super-comfortable lounge chairs while carrying on their business.
Suffice to say that a great many important ‘deals’ were discussed and agreed to in this unit. It was expensive, but it was what
the top people wanted and were used to—and a legitimate tax deduction. Clearly, Frances was a great lateral thinker.
She became a guest on countless TV and radio talk shows, and was soon one of Australia’s most recognisable women. It wasn’t difficult to understand her popularity in this arena. Some called it a sparkling personality, some called it charisma—whatever it was, the handsome woman with warm brown eyes and gleaming auburn hair had it. When the Great Woman spoke about a dish, people everywhere wanted a taste.
•
Despite her success and the busy nature of her life, Frances spent as much time as possible with young Greg. She’d very much wanted a daughter, but there were no more babies—this wasn’t her fault, but her husband’s—so all her motherly love had been channelled into her son. Baxter never for one moment in his life had felt neglected, and he’d never entertained any doubt that his mother loved him.
Just like his mother, he learned to cook early, although it never became an obsession with him. Instead his interest in gymnastics blossomed, followed by a devotion to martial arts. Despite not understanding this—or why her son felt he had to travel to Japan and Korea to hone his skill in the latter field—Frances fully supported him. Subsequently she watched him demolish three crims who tried to rob her restaurant—it was a big night and there was quite a lot of money in the till. After that performance, Frances felt that her support of her son was well worthwhile.
And when Baxter told her he was leaving Sydney to live in Moondilla, Frances may not have thought it a wise move, but she still helped him buy the riverfront property he’d set his heart on acquiring. Not only was it a good investment, she told him, but she could see that he had to either get the writing bug out of his system or succeed at it before he would contemplate marriage.
Baxter had several friends who’d made disastrous marriages and he had no intention of following suit: he reckoned the old adage ‘Marry in haste and repent in leisure’ was absolutely true. Ideally, he favoured another two or three years on his own before thinking about wedded bliss. That would give him the time to get his first book published and a second one well on the way.
