by Morgana Best
"Do you want to drive down there?" Melissa asked.
"Yes, that would be great, thanks."
Melissa snorted rudely. "No way! I was joking. There's no way I'd drive down that road. There's no way I'm ever coming back here."
Melissa was still complaining by the time we reached the lookout at Bakers Creek Falls, just a short drive from the bridge. I had to go on foot to guide her into the parking area, as thick tree roots were poking out above ground level and crisscrossing the entrance. There was another car in the parking area, but we couldn't see any sign of people.
I hurried over to the viewing platform which overlooked the Falls. Before me was a mass of perpendicular cliffs; I judged a half mile straight down into the gorge. The gorge ran as far as the eye could see. To say it was dramatic would have been a major understatement. The huge slabs of granite were as magnificent as they were terrifying. It was one dramatic, giant, sheer drop which continued for miles, as if someone had taken a knife and sliced cleanly downwards on two sides and then removed the middle section.
I was staring in awe when I realized that Melissa, still in the parking area, was calling to me. She was pointing to the tiny public toilet. In Australia we call outdoor toilets "dunnies." This dunny was a ramshackle, wooden building. "I'm desperate," she called. I nodded in reply.
Melissa emerged from the toilet and joined me on the platform. "That was disgusting; there are holes in the old, wooden door. Why would there be holes in the door?" Before I could answer she continued, "And there's nowhere to wash your hands." She held her hands out in front of her like a zombie and then pointed to the edge of the cliff. "Oh no, I'm afraid of heights; can we go?"
Just then a man popped out of the bushes, and we both screamed. The man looked amused. "So sorry to scare you. I'm a local photographer, Ethan Williams."
We introduced ourselves and he shook our hands. "I didn’t think there would be anyone here," he said. "We rarely get tourists in these parts."
I looked at him. He was young; I guessed mid twenties, and good looking in a boyish sort of way. "Are you taking photos of the cliffs?"
He laughed. "No way; I'm scared of heights; you won’t catch me anyway near them." He pointed to the brick wall. "This is as close as I get to the edge. Anyway, I'm a wildlife photographer."
"What sort of wildlife?" Melissa asked with a hint of fear in her voice.
He shrugged. "All sorts, really. I managed to take some good photos of a snake just then. It looked like an Inland Taipan, but it's probably only a Tiger Snake. We don’t get Inland Taipans this far east."
I shuddered at the mention of two of the world's most deadly snakes.
"Well, I’d best be off. Sorry again that I scared you."
We nodded politely, and he drove away. We were walking back to the car when another car drove in. A man got out and walked over to us before we reached Melissa's car. "Hello, ladies. A lovely day for sightseeing, isn't it?"
We agreed and went to move on, but he spoke again. "I'm Gerald Wayfield, a local historian. If you have any questions, I'd be glad to answer them."
Melissa and I looked at each other and smiled.
"I do have some questions, if you wouldn't mind," Melissa said.
He smiled and nodded. "I live just around the corner. If I see people here on my way past, I usually drive in and ask them if they have any questions."
"That's very kind of you," Melissa said. "I always heard there were lots of ghosts here and at Hillgrove, but when I looked it up on the net, I couldn't find anything."
Gerald Wakefield stroked his chin. "Well, there were individuals who went over the cliffs, and also mining accidents. There were a lot of drownings, too, so it goes to follow that there would be lots of ghosts, if you believe in that sort of thing."
I nodded. "Yes, I noticed that at the cemetery. A lot of children were drowned."
"The cemetery? Most tourists don't go there. What's your interest in Hillgrove?"
I looked hard at Gerald. On a physical level, he looked about sixty, give or take five or ten years either way. His build was wiry, and he was very pale, no doubt thanks to his wide brimmed hat which did not allow the sun to touch his features. His eyes were pale blue and glittery. On a spiritual level, I didn't pick up anything: nada, nil, zilch. That's unusual as I usually get some sort of vibe from someone. I fervently hoped he wasn't a ghost.
He was still waiting for Melissa to answer, and finally she said, "We're journalists for a paranormal magazine. I'm doing a story on Hillgrove ghosts."
He looked mildly interested. "What's the name of your magazine?"
"Horrors and Haunts."
I groaned inwardly when Melissa said the name. What a lame name; I always dreaded having to tell people the name of the magazine.
I need not have worried; Gerald clasped his hands in delight. "I love that magazine. I have a great interest in the occult. Here's my card; feel free to contact me. I'm only too happy to help." He reached in his pocket, drew out two business cards and handed one to each of us.
I turned it over. He seemed legit, albeit with a low budget for business cards, and at least he was not a ghost.
"Thanks," Melissa said. "I'll definitely take you up on that. You don't mind if ask you questions?"
"Not at all. It would be my pleasure." With that, he tipped his wide-rimmed hat and returned to his car.
Melissa turned to me. "That was weird. He asked us if we had any questions, but then he left pretty much straight away."
I agreed.
"Misty, would you take my camera and take some photos of the gorge, please? I'm not going anyway near the edge."
"I thought we were leaving," I said, as she handed me the camera.
"We were, but I’d forgotten to take photos, and you know that Skinny will want some."
"Okay." I walked over to the old, brick wall which served to keep tourists on the safe side of the gorge. I'm not good with heights either, but there were rocks jutting out on the other side of the wall, so it was not a sheer drop. I leaned over and took several photos. Just as I was finishing up, I saw something on a ledge below and to my left.
"Melissa," I screamed.
"I'm not coming over there; I told you," she called back.
"Melissa, there's a body, down on the rocks!"
* * *
If a cat does something, we call it instinct; if we do the same thing, for the same reason, we call it intelligence.
(Will Cuppy)
Chapter Three.
I had never seen a dead body before; at least not in person. I was used to watching crime shows on TV where actors were wearing special makeup, but I'd always shrugged off the visuals as if they were nothing. This, however, was an entirely different matter.
I took one more look over the brick wall that encircled the viewing platform. I scrunched up my face and turned back to Melissa.
“Are you sure it’s a dead body?” Melissa inched closer. "Oh Misty, do you think he's dead?" Her voice was trembling.
I bit my lip. "I don’t know; I think so. He's too far down to see clearly. Did you want to see for yourself?”
Melissa shook her head. “No way! Heights freak me out. Dead bodies do too, not that I’ve ever seen one.” Despite her words, she edged closer and closer towards the edge of the lookout platform.
I threw one last look over the edge at the dead body before hurrying back to the road. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. "I'm calling 000."
000 is the Australian equivalent of 911. They asked me if I wanted fire, police, or ambulance, and I told them I wanted police and ambulance. "I'm out at Bakers Creek Falls near Hillgrove, and I just saw what looks like a dead body, half way down the cliff face.” After a few minutes of explanation, I clicked off my phone and looked up at Melissa who appeared to be close to tears. “They said they're on their way, but because we're so far out in the middle of nowhere, it'll take them a while.”
Melissa sniffled. “Misty, how are we suppo
sed to just sit around with a dead body so close to us?"
I moved back away from the road and sat down, my back braced against the brick wall that kept people from tumbling down the steep face of the cliff. Or at least it was supposed to keep people from doing that, but judging by the body that lay beneath us, it didn’t always.
Melissa shook her head slowly from side to side, turning back to the road and looking both ways along it. “It’s kind of creepy out here,” she said.
I craned my neck and looked up at the sky. It was a soft blue with hardly a cloud in it, only a handful to the north, white and fluffy and full. The sun was hanging just above the tree line to the west. “At least it’s not dark,” I said, and Melissa agreed.
The two of us sat in silence for some time. After a while, Melissa took a deep breath and then climbed to her feet. She stood in place for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and then back again. She wiped her palms on her thighs and took a deep breath. Then she stepped slowly forward. She kept doing so, putting one foot in front of the other at a snail's pace. She bent at her waist as she neared the edge of the lookout area, and she reached forward with one hand, gripping the top of the guardrail, right next to where I was sitting.
I watched as Melissa edged forward slowly, leaning out over the guardrail. I reached up and slid a finger through one of Melissa’s belt loops on her jeans, trying to make her feel more secure. Suddenly Melissa backed away from the guardrail, forcing my finger painfully from the denim loop.
“Ouch!” I said, but I didn’t complain further when I saw Melissa’s face. She was as pale as the midnight moon; all color had drained from her face. Melissa threw her hands up to cover her mouth. When she pulled them away and spoke, her voice was quiet, and I had to lean forward to hear her even though it was mostly silent in the lonely Australian bush.
“There’s a dead body,” Melissa said. "We can’t stay here."
I tried to be the voice of reason. "We have to wait for the police, and besides, the dead body can't hurt us."
Melissa grabbed my arm. "Misty, can you hear that? A car?"
A car slowly came into view. However, it was not the police who turned into the viewing platform, but the man who had stopped to talk to us briefly only earlier.
“I think it’s that historian guy, Gerald Whatsit,” Melissa said as his car approached.
The car came to a stop, and Gerald got out of his car. “Ladies, I'd only just gotten home when I heard a police call go out that there was a dead body here. Are you both all right?”
I was shocked. "You can listen to police radio? But they encrypted that some years ago."
Gerald's whole demeanor at once changed, and he narrowed his eyes at me. "I have a crypto board and a high gain directional antenna. It's necessary, living out here. So, may I ask what kind of body you found?”
“The dead kind,” Melissa said somewhat rudely.
Gerald’s eyes darkened. “I meant, is it a child, a man, a woman?"
"A man," I said. "Come and see." Gerald followed me to the viewing platform and looked over.
“Oh dear, how dreadful. And that's what's around his neck? It looks like a camera hanging by a strap. I can't see it too well."
I peered over the edge too. "Oh yes, I can almost make it out. It does look like camera."
Gerald shook his head. "That's so sad, someone being silly enough to try to take photographs from the other side of the barrier. Well, I’d better be on my way."
Gerald hurried to his car and drove away in a cloud of dust.
“He's a bit strange," Melissa said.
I simply shrugged, and did not have time to respond as we saw a police car drive up from the other direction. The car was bright purple, with the word "Police" emblazoned down each side on top of a thick, white stripe. It was followed by a big, white van that said, "Police rescue."
Melissa turned to me. "Finally!"
A tall, slender officer stepped out of the vehicle. “Hello there. Are you the ladies who reported finding a dead body in this vicinity?”
I nodded. I looked at his name tag that read, Constable Peter Jefferson. “He's half way down the cliff," I said, pointing over my shoulder. "I think I can make out a camera next to him.”
Three men from the white van rushed to the cliff edge and looked through binoculars. "He's definitely deceased," one of them called back to the police officer. "We won’t need the specialty casualty access team paramedics."
A young police officer hurried over and spoke to the other constable. His name tag read, Constable Colin Kindly. “Those cliffs are sheer straight up and down. Nothing would have slowed him down.”
“Not a good way to go,” Constable Jefferson agreed.
The young officer looked at Melissa's camera. “Have you taken photos here?"
Melissa nodded.
"I'm sorry, but we'll have to take your camera with us." His tone was firm. "It's possible you might've got something on there that would help determine what happened to the victim.”
Melissa and I exchanged glances; Skinny wasn't going to like this. “How long before I get it back?" Melissa asked.
“We'll arrange for you to have it back once we check its content for evidence.” He took the camera from her and hurried to his vehicle with it. When he returned, Constable Jefferson nodded to him, and he pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket, along with a pen. He flipped a few pages into the notebook and then held his pen at the ready. When Jefferson saw he was good to go, he spoke. "I’ll need your names, addresses, phone numbers, and dates of birth first please, ladies."
After he had collected our information, he asked, "Now, tell me how you came to be here today." He peered over the edge, and pointed his pen toward the body’s location. “That’s pretty far away from anyone up here to see without looking for it.”
I agreed. "I didn’t see it at first."
“Have either of you seen anyone else at the lookout today?
“Yes," Melissa said. "A local man named Gerald, err, I forget his last name."
"Wakefield," I said.
Melissa nodded.
“Gerald Wakefield," the officer repeated. "Did he stop by before or after you discovered the body?”
Melissa scratched her head. “Actually, both.”
“Both?” His brow scrunched.
“We met him before I saw the body, but not long after we called you, he came back. He gave us his business card.”
The police officer stretched out his hand to me. “May I have his business card, ma’am?”
"Sure." I handed him the card.
“He was the only other person you saw in the vicinity?”
“No, there was also a wildlife photographer named Ethan Williams. He said he's local. He was here when we arrived,” I said.
The constables nodded, and then Jefferson turned to Kindly. "We'll need the helicopter to retrieve the body."
"How can a helicopter get close enough to that cliff face?" Melissa asked.
"NSW Police are quite used to cliff retrievals," Constable Kindly said. "We have new helicopters that have auto hover autopilot technology."
Constable Jefferson spoke. "Okay, now you ladies are free to go. If you remember anything, please let us know." He took his notebook and jotted something down quickly. He tore the page out and handed it to me.
“That's the station's number and my name," he said. "If you think of anything at all, give me a call."
I nodded and folded up the paper.
“Thanks,” I said, and Melissa and I hurried to her car, keen to put this unpleasant business behind us.
Anyone who considers protocol unimportant has never dealt with a cat.
(Robert Heinlein)
Chapter Four.
I was staring at my computer screen when I heard a knock at the door. I managed to pull my feet away from Diva without being scratched, for once. Diva always liked to sit either on, or directly in front of, my feet when I was at my desk. I always lik
ed to sit with my feet stretched out in front of me. Clearly, Diva's likes and my likes were in direct conflict, which is why I always had scratches on my ankles.
I opened the front door, relieved to see Melissa standing there, holding a plastic bag filled with cartons of Chinese take out.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said, as she stepped in.
“Thanks so much; I’m starving.”
“It's been a long day,” Melissa said, "what with driving all the way back from Armidale this morning, and we have work all week, starting tomorrow."
I forced a laugh. “You might have work all week starting tomorrow," I said, "but soon I’ll be part time. Being part time is quite a change for me.” A familiar pang of worry about my finances, or lack of them, ran through me. I was only just managing on a full time wage; how would I cope with less pay?
I made my way into the kitchen to fetch a couple of forks, two wine glasses, and a bottle of red, while Melissa placed the bag of food on the small coffee table in front of the couch.
“So what have you been doing all afternoon?” Melissa asked. "Getting used to being a lady of leisure? And why is your cat glaring at me?"
I stopped poking around in the various food containers. “She wants some of our food."
"Well, why don't you give her some?"
I sighed. "You don’t understand. Diva wants us to give her our food, but she doesn't want to eat it. She wants to sniff it, and then glare at us. Look, you give her a tiny piece of your food, and I’ll fetch my laptop. I want to show you something."
I returned just as Diva was alternating between sniffing the little piece of chicken that Melissa had offered her, and then glaring up at her.
I took a sip of wine, and then said, "You have to see this.” I placed the laptop on the table, turning it so Melissa could see. I played a news video that showed aerial footage of the police helicopter hovering in place.
Melissa turned away. “I’m eating; I can’t watch anything so gruesome.”
I shrugged and turned the screen so that it only faced only me. "Listen to this," I said. We both listened to the news report for a few minutes. It said that while the police had nothing but praise for the local media, the Sydney media's helicopter had been hindering the police's PolAir helicopter, making the retrieval difficult.
