Apparently the policing wasn’t done right. She went on to explain everything Dave had told her.
Less than average, Will responded. Did the same policemen investigate Charlie’s suicide?
Yeah, a couple of younger policemen. Dave said they were just too inexperienced.
Does that mean they have to reopen Charlie’s file?
Fiona froze. She had never even contemplated that. The lump in the back of her throat threatened to block her breathing.
Sis?
I don’t know, she managed to make her fingers type.
Hate to be the one to tell you, but they probably will.
Fiona laid her hands on the desk as she looked at the words on the screen. Will didn’t type anything either, so she guessed he was thinking about this, as she was, all this distance apart. That comforted her a little. No matter how big the world was, how far apart they were, they were still under the same sky, looking at the same moon and seeing the same stars.
It wasn’t until the little ding sounded again that she realised the screen saver had kicked in. She hit the space bar, trying to get Will back.
Want to tell me about it? Mum says you haven’t talked to anyone—well not that she knows about anyway! Probably easier to write it down than talk about it.
No.
Well don’t think about it! :p
Too hard.
Good way to get it out.
No.
Okay. So what else is going on? Any rain?
Fiona scratched her neck, trying to ward off memories and, in the end, ignored his last message. Without thinking, she put her fingers to the keys and started to type.
I was inside getting tea ready. He’d asked to have chops and a special roast-veggie dish I make. It’s his favourite. She stopped and corrected herself. Sorry, rather it was. She hit enter so Will knew what she was writing. Now he would stay quiet until she finished.
I heard a ute pull up at the shed—I wasn’t that surprised. Eddie or Leigh often used to come over for a beer just on tea time, sometimes Geoff, too. Once in a blue moon, Damien, our neighbour, pops over. It seemed to be when they finished work. We kept a fridge down in the shed so I didn’t always see them.
She focused on her fingers so she didn’t have to look at the words on the screen; she had no idea if there were spelling mistakes or not. She didn’t care. Will would get the gist of it. She just kept typing. Maybe she needed to do this. Vaguely, she thought how weird it was for her to push these keys and make words, then shoot them across the world. It was almost like she wasn’t aware of what she was saying; it was just coming out in a huge, great gush.
I sort of forgot there was anyone there, but after a while I heard a yell and running. Then Leigh banged on the door, telling me I needed to call an ambulance. I knew. I just knew. Felt like my whole body had been drenched in icy water.
I can’t really remember how I got to the shed. Somehow I was standing in front of the car. She paused, took a breath and kept typing. It’s weird, the things that go through your head in a situation like that. I just stood in front of the car, and thought, ‘How can it be Charlie? It’s Mum’s old car.’ Did you know that, Will? He used Mum’s old car. We’d kept it as a run-around since she’d got her new one. He couldn’t have used anything else on the farm—it was the only vehicle running on petrol.
Leigh was telling me it was Charlie. I kept saying no, it’s Mum. I remember looking at him before I got to the window and saying: ‘Why are you lying to me?’ Nothing was making any sense. I sort of stumbled up to the car, slowly, needing to see inside, but not wanting to at the same time. Then I looked in the window and there he was. Sleeping.
That’s what he looked like, Will. Like he was sleeping. She stopped to brush away some tears. Like he was drink sleeping. There was a bottle of scotch in the car with him and he had a glass in his hand that was sitting right near his hip.
That was it. The ambulance came, then the police. There was noise and chaos and Mum arrived. Nothing, then nothing. Not for a day or so. Scott gave me something to make me sleep.
Fiona took her hands away from the keyboard and laid them on the table, still looking at the keys. She was cold.
A gust of wind made the tin on the roof creak, and a door further down the hallway blew shut. She jumped and her heart rate sped up. Fiona looked over her shoulder at the door. It was open out into the hallway. Beyond that there wasn’t any light. Shivering half from fear and half from cold, she checked the computer for something from Will.
The screen stayed blank.
Grabbing the blanket from the chair, she wrapped it around her shoulders before going to the door and looking out. It was hard to stop the icy dread spreading through her, even though she knew it was only the wind making the door slam.
She crept out into the hall, made a dash to the light switches and turned them on. White light flooded the hallway. There was nothing there. Trying to keep her breathing steady, she walked towards the other end, checking each of the rooms one by one.
‘Seriously being ridiculous,’ she told herself. ‘Meita would have barked.’
Meita!
The blast of cold air, as she opened the front door, cleared her head and dried the tears on her cheeks. It felt as if the skin around her eyes was stretched tight and taut. Eucalyptus, moist earth and pine scents wafted towards her and she heard the distant bleating of sheep.
Then Fiona jumped as Meita appeared silently from the kennel, her warm, sleepy body rubbing against her legs. Making a fuss over her, Fiona patted and rubbed her head and ears.
‘Come on, you can come inside.’
In the office, Fiona settled herself before reading Will’s message.
I love you.
It was brief, but it said exactly what she needed to hear.
The effort and memories had exhausted her and she wanted to go back to bed. But not before ending on a bright note.
I thought of a good name for our talks on here.
What is it?
Wralk.
Okkaaayyy. Your brain must be scrambled. Is that like walking and talking or something?
Fiona laughed, then stopped, surprised she had any laughter inside her tonight. She imagined Will leaning back in his large black leather chair, his blond hair flopping forward, or pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His desk would be piled with documents and files, and he would be reading, taking notes and wralking with her, all at the same time. She’d seen him do it before and never understood how he managed to comprehend everything he was reading!
She started to play one of their childhood games with him. ‘Wralking’—Verb. Writing and talking. Used mostly while on Facebook Private Messaging section. ☺
Very clever, Fee, very clever! I’ve got to head to court. Will you be okay?
Fiona knew exactly what to type. Yep, I need a long sleep, but I’ll be fine.
Wralk to you later then! Never forget though, I love you.
You were right. Was easier to write it than say it. I love you, too. Thank you for being my outlet.
Uh, I’m a drain now? Excellent. Bye!
Chapter 20
The pub was warm and welcoming when Leigh first stepped inside. He took off his jacket and shook his head, little droplets of rain falling from his hair and beard.
It had been a big day, what with the four phone calls from the same elderly woman complaining about a barking dog, and three from truck drivers asking when some of the dirt roads were going to be graded. The second, interesting call had been from a gentleman who had wanted to check that the boundary on his farm was in the right place. He’d been going through his grandfather’s papers and the first deed of title was showing the boundary about ten feet from where it was now. Land had been taken from him, he’d insisted. Leigh had promised to pull out the old records and check it for him.
‘G’day, Leigh,’ Mark said from behind a beer. ‘You look like you’ve got the world on your shoulders.’
Leigh
focused, and saw Mark and Ian sitting together.
‘Not so much the world as funding problems,’ he improvised.
Mark snorted as he took another sip of beer. ‘Nothing new there.’ They all shook hands. ‘Is that a heads-up that you’re going to be raising rates again?’
‘I’ll have a schooner of bitter, thanks, love,’ Leigh said to the barmaid, taking out his wallet. ‘And whatever these two are drinking.’ He turned back to Mark. ‘Let’s not talk about the rates issue now!’
‘I’ll go another round,’ Ian said, raising his glass. ‘Cheers, Leigh.’
‘So what’s going on?’ Leigh asked the open-ended question, knowing he wouldn’t get too much information out of Mark, but Ian would spill everything. That was the thing about Ian, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about much. Especially if he’d made a good sale or heard some good gossip.
‘Oh a bit of this and that.’ Mark was predictably cryptic.
Leigh nodded. ‘Lambs? Sheep? Cattle?’
‘All of the above. Prices for lambs are pretty good at the moment, so there’re a few people trying to shift old seasons. Need to, before they cut their teeth and cross that magic line from lamb to hogget and the price plummets.’
Leigh looked around him. The pub was quiet tonight: there were five people in the dining area and four old codgers around the bar, and that was it.
‘Where is everyone?’ he asked. ‘It’s usually pumping.’
Ian spoke up. ‘Forecasting a frost tonight. Reckon it’s too cold for most people.’
‘Hmm, you might be right.’
‘I hear they’re reopening the file on Eddie McDougall’s accident,’ Ian said casually. ‘Why’s that?’
Leigh could hear him trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Mark straightened beside him. ‘Really? What’s that about?’
Leigh took a deep breath. ‘What’s that about?’ he echoed pensively as a blast of cold air came through the front door. Ray Newell walked in. It was clear by the way he wove his way over to the bar that he’d been drinking already.
‘What’s that all about?’ Leigh wanted to rant and rage, but he had to put his mayor’s hat on and speak carefully. Be politically correct. God knew if he said something wrong, it would be held against him forever.
‘What’s all about what?’ Ray asked in a loud voice, settling himself next to Ian and leaning forward to look at Leigh. He ordered by holding out a fifty-dollar note, which the barmaid took before proceeding to pour him a drink. She obviously knew his ‘usual’.
‘Our police department,’ Leigh bit out. He wished Ray would just leave.
‘Oh yeah,’ Ray said in a sing-song voice. ‘I heard they were reinvestigating that shooting. Weird, huh?’ His tone implied something but Leigh wasn’t sure what it was.
‘The trouble with our police department,’ Leigh continued, putting on his mayor’s hat, ‘is that they come to country areas without enough training. When they are sent here, they’re expected to do everything, from helping old ladies across the road to solving crimes. If they come out to us with no experience in some of these things, then we can’t expect them to do well in areas they know nothing of.’ When he didn’t get a response, he turned to look at Ian and Mark. ‘Well, can we?’
Both men nodded their agreement, although he could see that Mark wasn’t sold.
‘Well, think about it this way, Mark.’ He put down his beer and addressed the stock agent. ‘If all they’ve done is pull over cars and bretho people, how can you expect them to work a crime scene to the best of their ability?’
Mark nodded. ‘Fair call.’
‘So what’s happened in this instance, is that two inexperienced coppers have come to a horrible and tragic scene. They’ve summed up, correctly, I might add, that it’s a terrible accident. But in doing so, they haven’t followed proper procedures in documenting or gathering the evidence to support it is just that, an accident.’ He took a gulp of beer before resuming. ‘How can we expect constables and the like to do detective work?’
‘We can’t,’ Ian said.
‘Exactly. And that’s precisely what has happened in this case.’
Mark looked at him. ‘Not bothering you, dragging everything up again?’ he asked slowly.
‘Of course it is,’ Leigh snapped. ‘Neither Geoff nor I should have to go through this again. But we are because of the incompetence of the police department. Now, I’m not saying these young lads are to blame, but they didn’t know what they were doing. They should have had more training, more experience … ’
‘Now how do you get more experience if there’s nothing to investigate?’ Ray asked lazily. ‘Should we just knock off a few people who are annoying us and get the police to investigate their deaths?’
Leigh threw him a withering look. ‘Just like your small-mindedness to say something like that, Newell.’ He turned away, just as he saw Ian elbow Ray in the ribs in a stop-it gesture.
Mark sat up straighter and put his beer to the side, watching both men.
‘No, what we have to do is get more experienced coppers out into the bush. Like that Dave Burrows. He’s got all the experience under the sun and he’s good.’
‘But look at his age,’ Ray persisted, downing the last of his drink. ‘’Course he’s going to have more experience! He’ll only be a few years off retiring, so he won’t stop around long. Don’t expect him to be the be-all-and-end-all.’
Leigh took a deep breath and shook his head. This was why he couldn’t talk to this man. ‘Ray,’ he said patiently. ‘I wouldn’t have to relive all this again if those officers had been trained properly.’
‘But they’ve got to go somewhere to learn.’ Ray signalled the barmaid once more.
‘Yes, but I’m not sure they need to learn out here. Why can’t they learn in the cities, where they’ve got more experienced police looking over their shoulders?’
‘They get paid extra to come out here. Like teachers,’ Ian interjected, looking pleased he had something to add.
Leigh felt like rolling his eyes. That simply wasn’t true.
‘You know it’s not just Geoff and me I’m thinking about,’ Leigh added. ‘What about Fiona? She’s about to be requestioned, too. Hasn’t she been through enough?’
‘I’m sure she’s touched by your concern,’ Ray said with a smirk, his insinuation clear.
Anger welled up inside Leigh, although he tried not to let it show. He pushed his hands into his pockets and curled them into fists. His jaw was clenched as he looked down at the dirty carpet and counted ten cigarette burns in it. When he looked up, he was back in control of himself.
‘I think we need another round,’ Ian said, then gestured to the barmaid. ‘Same again, thanks.’ He obviously felt the need to defuse the situation.
‘I’m not sure we do,’ Mark observed uncertainly.
‘So what’s happening in the world of real estate?’ Ray asked.
‘Busy, busy,’ Ian said, his cheeks beginning to glow from the alcohol. Another blast of air came from the door and a few younger blokes from the footy club, Myles Martin and Damien MacKenzie included, walked in, laughing loudly.
‘And did you hear about Copey? He didn’t see the fence and seeded straight through it. How you couldn’t hear the scraping of wire going under the tractor I’ll never know,’ Myles said with a grin. ‘They never found it till the next morning. Made a hell of a mess.’
The group of men burst out laughing and crowded around the other end of the bar.
‘G’day, Mylesy,’ Ray said, getting off the bar stool and heading over to them.
Leigh breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d stay away now.
‘Hey, listen, have you heard from the AFL Talent Squad yet?’ Ray clapped Myles on the back and the young man went red.
‘No, mate. Won’t be for a while. They’ve got a few other clubs to get around and look at. And I haven’t told anyone about that yet, so I’d rather keep it under my hat.’
‘Too late now!’
Leigh lifted his head to listen, ignoring Mark’s tap on his arm.
‘Don’t pay it any attention, mate,’ Mark muttered into his ear.
With every bit of self-control he had, he turned back to Ian and Mark. ‘Where were we?’
Ian opened his mouth and started to speak. ‘I’ve had more enquiries from this company, wanting to buy extra land.’
‘What company?’ Mark asked, curious.
Loud laughter erupted from the footy group and they all looked over at Leigh. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks but maintained his focus on Ian.
‘It’s a big company, BJL Holdings. They own a fair bit of land over east.’ Ian went on to tell them everything he knew. ‘The funny thing is,’ he leaned forward as if to reveal a secret, ‘I’ve done a bit of research on them and I can’t find who the directors are.’ He sat back, looking pleased with himself.
The three men sat there silently, working out what that meant.
‘What about a CEO?’
‘Oh yeah. She was easy to find. Some chick called Leah Kent. But the directors are hidden very well. It makes me wonder a little bit. Especially since they’ve bought so much land in this area already.’
‘Any trouble with the settlements?’ Mark asked.
‘That’s my point. Settlement isn’t happening until first thing in the new year.’
‘But if they own a heap of land over east, they must be legit,’ Leigh said. ‘And if they’ve paid the deposit they shouldn’t default. They’ll lose the money they’ve already put down if they do. Plus, there’d be a black mark against their name when it came to buying land.’ He frowned, looking at Ian, troubled by what he was hearing.
‘I don’t reckon there’ll be a problem with settlement,’ Ian agreed. ‘All I’m saying is, I find it interesting that I can’t discover who the directors are.’
Leigh spun his beer around on the bar, thinking.
‘I wouldn’t be too concerned about that,’ Mark said. ‘Sometimes they’re a bit harder to find with only a Google search.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s all I’ve done.’
‘I’m with Mark,’ Leigh said. ‘Wouldn’t worry about it.’
Sapphire Falls Page 16
