Her eyes were fixed on his, drinking in every word.
“I’m seeing,” he said, “that Shirley is in more danger than she knows. The threat is close to her, and it’s coming from a man. I’m assuming that would be Jason, since he’s been asking about her.”
“Close, as in he’s here right now? Or he’s tracking her down?”
“I can’t tell. But the danger is imminent, so if I were to guess, I’d say if he hasn’t found her, he will soon.”
“But how? Her daughter, Emma, said they didn’t tell him.”
Scott shrugged. “I can’t answer that. Enough to know he’s drawing closer. We have to make sure we stay close to her.”
“And convince her not to run. If he could track her down once, we have to assume he could do it again. Maybe he’s got contacts who can track credit card spends, or track her phone?”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. I get the feeling that he’s a garden-variety criminal. Cunning, maybe, but not with those sort of contacts.” Scott thought again about what he had seen in the cards—and what he had just seen in the crystal ball. “You remember how mum saw some sort of force ranged against Shirley? And we thought it could be the police? I’m still getting that. I don’t know whether she has actually done something wrong or she’s afraid of being guilty by association, but they’re in the equation somewhere.”
“And there’s more, I can tell. What?” Georgie made ‘give it up’ motions with her fingers.
“In the crystal ball…you know those plants that went up in smoke?”
She nodded.
“They were marijuana plants.”
Georgie’s jaw dropped open. She hadn’t seen that one coming. “Marijuana?”
“I’ve had to follow up enough reports of marijuana plantations around Australia to know what it looks like.”
“Ah.” Georgie’s breath quickened as she put it together. “And Jason Cooper was in trouble with the police with drugs charges. Maybe he had it in the house while he was there.”
“A supplier, I’m guessing. And somehow, he’s holding it over Shirley. She’s scared enough to refuse to tell anyone.”
“Supplying drugs,” Georgie said. “I can see it. I can. He’s probably had people coming in and out. A drug house? And Shirley’s trying to cope with a sick husband, and he takes advantage of that…blackmail, do you think? Pay up or I tell the police that good old Dad is in it too?” Different expressions played across her face as she weighed up the possibilities. “Do you think he was cultivating it in the backyard? In a shed, maybe? And Shirley was complicit because it was her house?”
“I think you’re close. You saw Norm, you saw Shirley, and then you saw Jason and Shirley arguing. Lots of tension there.”
Then, because he was looking at her, Scott saw it when the pieces all came together. Georgie’s face changed, and her expression suddenly cleared. She touched the crystal ball again, and cocked her head, as though listening to something beyond the reach of mortal ears.
“I know what happened,” she said. Her eyes sought Scott’s, and in them was both trepidation and triumph. “I know.”
19
Seeking “Auntie”
It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do, in a decent bed instead of on a heap of clothes in the back of his panel van. When he woke, Chook felt a great deal more optimistic.
Today was the day he’d find her, if she really was somewhere around here. But first, to gain people’s trust, he had to look more like the kind of loving nephew Shirley would be likely to have.
Chook hadn’t missed the fact that some of the locals he talked to the night before had cast a disparaging eye over his stained clothes, and one woman actually wrinkled her nose and moved away from him. Nobody seemed too willing to chat for long.
It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t had time to get to a laundry for the past few weeks, Chook reflected sourly. Life wasn’t easy when you didn’t own a washing machine.
However, he was a man who could adapt to circumstances. Always had, always would. He’d pick up a couple of cheap t-shirts and a pair of shorts, get his hair cut, and then start asking around again.
That turned out to be an inspired decision. He showered, washed his hair, and dressed in his new clothes before heading to the hairdresser he’d spotted the day before. A girl with spiked blonde hair led him to a seat.
“Hi. I’m Terri. Just a trim?”
“Yes.” He eyed her while she ran her fingers through his hair a few times. In his experience, hairdressers never shut up: yak, yak, yak. He might be able to get something out of her.
She got to work. “Just visiting, are you?”
While she snipped away, he admitted to being a tourist and then launched into his “surprise for dear old auntie” story. Sitting in front of a mirror watching himself talk, he thought he did an impressive job. His eyes actually shone as he talked about how much he owed his imaginary aunt.
“Awww, that’s so nice,” Terri said, beaming at him when he finished. “And you think she’s staying in Canungra?”
“I’m not sure. I know it’s somewhere around Tamborine Mountain,” he said. “I’m sure that’s where she said she was going. I’ll keep searching, anyway. You got any ideas?”
“I hope she’s nowhere near the fire,” Terri said, ignoring his question and following her own train of thought. “They just said on the radio that it’s changed direction with this wind that’s come up. It’s heading this way now.”
“It is?” Chook didn’t know much about bushfires. “How can it come back over stuff that’s already burnt?”
Another hairdresser, listening, broke in. “It skirted the burnt ground, leapt a gully or something. But it’s still a fair way off, and the RFS is watching it.”
No immediate danger, then, Chook thought. But even the threat of a fire changed things. What if Shirley decided to get out of harm’s way and move on?
“I’ve checked the caravan parks,” he said, closing his eyes as Terri squirted water onto his hair before attacking it with some kind of razor thing. “She’s not at that park with the paintball game, and she’s not the Showground, or at the Riverbend Park. I even checked the farm stay. I can’t think of where else she might be.”
“She might have moved on to the coast,” Terri said. “It’s only a bit over an hour away.”
Chook groaned at the very thought. He’d be searching forever. “I hope not. I’ll never find her.”
“Have you tried the Mowbray place?” said the other hairdresser. “I don’t know if it’s officially open yet, but we’ve had one or two people in here who have stayed there.”
Chook perked up. “Is that another farm stay?”
“It’s not exactly a farm,” Terri said. “Just a family property. It used to be part of a larger parcel of land, I think. The Mowbray brothers have properties side by side.” She turned on an electric trimmer and pushed his head forward. “Look down for a sec…your aunt might be there, if she heard about it from someone else.”
“The Mowbray place,” Chook said, over the top of the buzzing. “Where will I find that?”
“When we’ve finished here I’ll do a bit of a mud map,” said Terri. “It’s only ten minutes down he road.”
Ten minutes. Chook crossed his fingers. Better than setting off for the coast, looking for a needle in a haystack.
He walked back to the hotel, thinking about what he’d say to Shirley when he found her. She’d never believe that he had changed for the better. He’d have to use scare tactics right away; let her think that he was so close to the edge that he’d spill everything to the cops if she didn’t do what he said.
Thanks to his new look, she might not even recognize him until he was right in her face—and she’d be looking for him in a black HiLux, not a beat-up old white van.
He had the advantage.
20
Facing the Past
There was nothing, nothing that beat the feeling of having everything suddenly fal
l into place. One moment the pieces of the puzzle were a confusing jumble, maybe with just an outline in place—and the next minute, you had it.
Georgie was sure, but she wanted to check on one thing.
“Last night,” she said to Scott, “after we finished watching the late night news… you know how I was uncomfortable, restless?”
“Yes.”
She thought again of that urgent, persistent prodding at the edges of her mind, as she had looked out into the darkness, wondering if he was out there. “I looked over at Shirley’s motorhome, and I had the feeling that there was something just out of reach. Something I should know. Well…let me show you.” She flipped open her laptop and located the TV station’s website, then navigated her way to the news headlines. One more click, and she was there.
“Look.” Georgie turned the laptop around so Scott could see it, and clicked the link to send the video clip to full screen.
Scott got it right away. “The woman on a hunger strike.” He flicked a look at Georgie. “Norm…medicinal marijuana.”
“It fits. I know it’s right, Scott. That’s why I had that feeling, that there was something big I was missing.”
They listened again to the short video showing the woman talking passionately about the use of medicinal marijuana to alleviate pain associated with chemotherapy treatment for cancer, nausea and chronic pain.
When it finished, Georgie searched Scott’s eyes for the same certainty that she felt. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Good chance. I can see the logic—but I don’t feel it like you do. You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Georgie didn’t know why she was so certain, but she would have been willing to bet her new RV on it. When she knew, she knew. “When you read the cards? You saw the police, or something like it. Then in the crystal ball, we both saw the marijuana plants, the smoke…I don’t know how it works, how you get the oil, but maybe Shirley’s husband just smoked it for relief. I bet that’s why she kept quiet, protected Jason. And why she gave him money to stay away. It’s still illegal.”
Scott, typically, turned his attention to practicalities. “What do we do now? Tell her what we saw? Warn her?”
“Both,” Georgie said, closing the laptop. “As soon as we see her out and about, I’m going over there. Once she knows we know, she’ll open up. My only fear is that if she thinks he’s close, she’ll want to jump in that motorhome and drive away as far and as fast as she can.”
“Which is entirely understandable.”
“Understandable,” agreed Georgie, “but not solving the problem. We have to help her, Scott.”
“Not arguing with you there,” he said. “All right. Let’s see what she says.”
Shirley slept in.
When she finally opened her eyes, she was astonished to find that it was almost eight o’clock. She never slept that late.
Maybe everything had finally caught up with her. The stress of selling her home, paying off Chook, and then trying to find somewhere safe to stay awhile. The Mowbray place was the closest she’d come to that, until she’d taken Emma’s phone call alerting her that Chook was asking for her phone number.
And then there was the threat of Louise wanting to do a reading, Georgie with the crystal ball…the fear of having the secret pried out of her.
Did she want that, or not?
She didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know. She was just so tired.
Even after a good night’s sleep.
She opened the main door and latched it back out of the way, letting the breeze in through the screen door. It was actually more than a breeze; it was windy today. Windy and hot. She knew that wasn’t a good combination in bushfire season—and on the horizon, she could still see the smoke from the fire behind Tamborine Mountain.
Did it look closer than yesterday?
Shirley frowned at it, wondering. She thought it did. Maybe they would have to move into North Tamborine today, congregate on the high school oval.
Then movement caught her eye, and she saw that Georgie was heading her way, carrying her laptop.
More news about the fires, she guessed. It looked like they would be evacuating for sure.
She really, really hoped that fires didn’t devastate the Mowbrays’ property. Louise and Tony had been so kind to her. And Scott, and Georgie.
“Hi!” Georgie smiled at her, stopping outside the door. “I saw your door open. Am I too early? Have you had breakfast?”
Returning her smile, Shirley opened the screen door. “Come in. I slept in—can you believe it, with all that’s going on? Join me for a cup of tea—or coffee?”
“Thanks, I’d love to.” Georgie came inside and took her place at the small dinette, watching Shirley fill the kettle and set it on the gas cooktop. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“That’ll be Rainforest tea.” She put a couple of teabags in the pot and took a couple of mugs down from an overhead cupboard. “So, what’s going on? Is it time to move?”
“It’s still ‘wait and see’, but the wind has changed, so Scott’s ready to move us all out at a moment’s notice. Nobody’s taking any risks.”
“Sounds good to me,” Shirley said. “I plan on surviving for a long time yet.”
As long as Chook leaves me alone, she thought, and immediately was annoyed with herself — with herself, and with him. Was her whole life going to be determined by what Chook wanted? Hadn’t she suffered enough?
She caught Georgie’s eye, and had a sudden feeling that the other woman knew exactly what was going through her mind. Uneasy, she looked away, waiting for the kettle to boil.
Georgie busied herself opening the laptop and clicking around until Shirley put the tea on the table and sat down. Then she said, “Scott and I watched the late news last night. There are several big fires down south. Ours didn’t rate much of a mention.”
“That’s good news, I guess.”
Why did she have the feeling that Georgie was holding back? That she had something to say?
“But,” Georgie said, “that wasn’t the only thing that caught our attention. I’m not sure if you saw this, Shirley, but take a minute to look at it.”
She pressed a key and turned the laptop around so Shirley could see it.
The moment she heard the words medicinal marijuana, Shirley froze. With her fingers clenched around the mug tight enough to crack it, she watched the video through, not daring to look at Georgie.
Her heart was pounding, and she felt panic immobilize her.
Georgie knew. How she knew, Shirley couldn’t begin to guess, but she knew. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop it trembling, to stop the tears coming.
“Shirley.” Georgie got up and moved beside her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and hugging her. “It’s all right. Really, it is.”
Shirley’s chin dropped to her chest, and she felt something inside her splinter. The decision about whether to tell or not to tell had been taken away from her.
Finally she managed to speak. “How did you know?”
She heard a couple of quick steps over to the kitchen counter, and then Georgie was putting a box of tissues in front of her. “A clue here, a clue there.” Her hand rubbed in comforting circles on Shirley’s back. “We’re going to help you, Shirley. Really, we will; you’ve got friends here. Sit and drink your tea, and let me tell you what I think is going on.”
The warmth and caring in her voice brought on a fresh rush of tears. Shirley gulped and nodded, and mopped up the tears while Georgie explained how they’d gradually put things together.
“You told us about Jason, about what he’s like…and then last night, I saw this interview about medical marijuana, but I didn’t put it together until this morning, when I did another reading. Shirley, I saw Norm, and…I could see he was sick. I saw you and Jason—I’m guessing it was Jason—arguing while you were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Now, I’m not so sure that it was dinner…that maybe you were cooking up some
thing else. I saw plants going up in smoke, but I still didn’t get it; I thought it was the fires around here. And then, Scott told me the plants were marijuana.”
For a moment, there was silence.
“So that was it.” Shirley heaved a shuddering sigh. “It was all just crazy coincidence. If you hadn’t seen the TV news…”
“You know what?” Georgie asked. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Well, I do, but I don’t think it’s random. I think everything comes together when it needs to, so people who need it can get help.”
Shirley lowered her forehead on to her hand, massaging away the growing headache. “You still don’t know it all.” And when you do, she thought, will you still want to help?
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m rarely privileged enough to see everything. The crystal ball isn’t magic, and I’m only human.” Georgie got up. “You’ve got a headache, haven’t you? Where do you keep your medicines?”
Shirley didn’t attempt to deny it. “Cupboard over the sink.”
Georgie put a glass of water and two Panadol capsules in front of her, then sat and waited until Shirley looked at her again. Georgie said nothing, but her eyes were full of sympathy.
“You have to promise,” Shirley said, “that you won’t tell the police. I can’t go to prison. I can’t.”
“It’s not my story to tell,” Georgie said.
“But what if they ask you? You’ll have to lie. That’s what I’m asking you to do. You need to be clear on that.”
“I know it’s not yet legal in Australia to use marijuana for medicinal purposes,” Georgie said, “but the climate is changing. I’m sure if people knew about Norm…”
“It’s not just that. In a way, I’d be happy to tell his story, to tell how it helped him, but…there’s more.” As much as she liked Georgie—and trusted her—Shirley wasn’t going to say another word until she promised. “You have to promise, or I can’t tell you.”
She held Georgie’s gaze, and saw the conflict in her eyes while she thought about it. Then the other woman gave a wry smile.
Good Intentions Page 10
