‘Morning, Roberts.’
The constable took off his helmet. ‘Good morning, Captain. This is DC Berlin, up from Melbourne about those railway robberies.’
‘Welcome to Bundaroo Downs, DC Berlin. I’m Frederic Bellamy.’
Bellamy was around fifty, with a wiry build, thinning hair and a weathered, tanned face. The tweed jacket was neat and clean but the lapels were fraying slightly. With rationing still in force, a lot of people’s clothing was in a similar state.
‘Nice to meet you, Captain. Any chance I can have a quick word?’
Bellamy tapped his pipe against the doorpost. ‘Sergeant Corrigan said we could expect you. Cook put the kettle on when she saw your car coming through the gate.’
Berlin hadn’t mentioned visiting Bellamy to the sergeant. Over breakfast at the pub he had asked Lily Corrigan how long she thought it would take to drive out to the captain’s property. Roberts was certainly right about this being a small town.
‘Young Roberts here was just admiring your new car.’
Bellamy took the pipe from his mouth. ‘I’m partial to the Studebaker when it comes to trucks but for my money on long drives Chevrolet is always the way to go.’ He called down to the constable, ‘You can have a look inside if you want, Roberts.’
The boy was beaming. ‘Thanks very much, Captain.’
‘Best you keep away from the sheds there, laddie. Those damned dogs bite.’
Berlin glanced at Roberts, who nodded to acknowledge that he had heard.
Bellamy turned and walked in through the screen door, without offering to shake hands. Berlin followed, noticing that the older man’s limp was quite pronounced and that his left leg thumped loudly as it hit the floorboards. Bellamy led him down the verandah to a square, wicker table with matching cane chairs. He swivelled around and lowered himself into one of the chairs, sitting with his leg outstretched.
He indicated the outstretched leg. ‘Boche machine gun at Pozières took it off in 1916. Did you serve, DC Berlin?’
‘Air Force, Europe.’
‘Quite,’ Bellamy said. ‘On operations?’
‘Bomber Command. And I was a POW.’
‘Really? How interesting.’
‘You seem surprised, Captain. I thought it was all over town.’
‘I’m not one for local gossip, DC Berlin. Ah, here’s the tea.’
A stout, older woman with a white apron and maid’s cap placed a tray onto the wicker table. The teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl and teacups were delicate bone china, white with a blue floral pattern. There were scones on a matching plate.
‘Nice china.’ Berlin carefully picked up one of the cups. It reminded him of his grandmother’s wedding china. She had kept it locked away in the crystal cabinet for ‘best’ but Berlin had never ever seen a ‘best’ occasion arise.
‘It’s Meissen, bought it in Dresden, on my trip.’
‘I’d heard you toured Germany before the war, Captain. I don’t think you’d recognise Dresden now. Flatter than a pancake when we got done with it.’
‘Germany will rebuild, DC Berlin. But it must do so quickly or the world will fall to a red tide of Bolshevism.’
‘As I recall, it was Russian tanks that flattened the wire round my POW camp and liberated me.’
‘Chamberlain and Churchill both made a mistake in not allying with Hitler against Stalin after France fell. Stalin was always the real enemy. Mark my words, we’ll all pay for that before too long.’
There was a brief flurry of barking from the direction of the sheds. Bellamy glanced out through the balcony louvres but the racket stopped as quickly as it had started.
‘Help yourself to a scone.’
Berlin put a couple on his plate. ‘Good-looking property you’ve got here.’
‘I’m the third generation on this land. My grandfather started the property, my father built this house with his own hands – even made the mud bricks – and now we run over two thousand sheep and cattle and horses.’
‘I guess that was a big help in the war effort.’
‘My leg kept me out of active service this time, but we did our bit against the Japs, providing wool for yarn and fleeces to line your flying jackets and boots, and mutton and beef to line the belly. Bloody Yank soldiers complained constantly about the mutton, of course. All they wanted was beef and pig meat. But Bundaroo Downs did well by the Empire.’
‘Looks like you did okay, too.’
‘If you mean the new car outside, I’ve earned that. A man is what he makes of himself by his own efforts and I have nothing of which I need be ashamed.’
TWENTY-FIVE
Bellamy put his cup and saucer back on the table. ‘And now we have the pleasantries out of the way, DC Berlin, what do you want?’
‘I’m investigating this motorcycle gang and the robberies round here.’
‘And not getting anywhere, I hear.’
‘Early days yet.’
‘So what help do you think I can offer?’
‘I’ve heard you’ve got yourself a group of armed men and you’re giving them military training. I was wondering if you thought any of your men might be getting together after meetings to try out their new skills and do a little fundraising.’
‘What I’m doing is in no way illegal and I can assure you my recruits are of the highest moral character. Men who love their country and respect the law. And men who are willing to uphold the rule of law when others fail.’
‘So you think running a private army in peacetime is a good idea?’
‘At the moment this is a free country, thanks to men like me.’ He paused briefly. ‘And you, of course, but it is always wise to be prepared. There are already ominous signs.’
‘Such as?’
‘Our current prime minister is a damned socialist who wants to nationalise the banks and refuses to outlaw the Communist Party. We have unionists constantly striking and holding our ports and railways to ransom and disrupting the manufacturing industry, and lawless thugs are roaming our highways with impunity.’
‘The lawless thugs are my area. And as you say, this is a free country so people have the right to form unions and strike.’
‘Rubbish. Chifley should put the army in the factories and on the docks with orders to shoot to kill any man who strikes or disobeys a lawful order to go back to work.’
‘You don’t think that sounds a little … I don’t know, fascist?’
‘The Germany I saw in ’38 was a clean, well-run, ordered, safe, happy and efficient society. Our attorney general at the time, Mr Menzies, was quite taken, as was I, with the almost spiritual quality in the young Germans’ willingness to devote themselves to their nation. Very impressive.’
‘Made a big impression on me too, and a lot of blokes I used to know. Having seen that devotion in action I reckon it’s something we could well do without in this country.’
‘The British Government was as much to blame for the war as Hitler. Perhaps there were some … extravagant actions on Hitler’s part, but the war was forced on him and the German people.’
Berlin put a half-eaten scone back on his plate. It took a lot for him to lose his appetite but Captain Bellamy had achieved it. ‘I witnessed some of Hitler’s extravagances firsthand, Mr Bellamy, and I don’t want to see anything like that again as long as I live.’
Bellamy’s neck turned red around his collar. ‘That is your view, DC Berlin, but if the government can’t or won’t protect what is mine then I will do it myself, side by side with others who share my views.’ He stood up, using the cane to keep his balance. ‘And now if there is nothing else you wish to discuss …’
Roberts was still sitting in the Chevrolet when the two men came out through the screen door. He climbed out and closed the door carefully. ‘She’s a real beauty, Captain.’
‘How are we fixed for Saturday, boy?’
Roberts gave two thumbs up. ‘We’ll eat ’em alive, just you wait. Did he tell you he used to captain the local team
, Mr Berlin?’
Berlin shook his head. ‘That so?’
‘A long time back. I was Best and Fairest in 1913. Haven’t played since, of course.’
Bellamy leaned on his walking stick and the two men studied the vista.
‘Quite impressive, Mr Bellamy.’
‘What you see out there is the result of one hundred years of grit and hard work, DC Berlin. There was nothing here when my grandfather arrived, and his nearest neighbour was thirty miles away.’
‘Seems like you’ll be getting new neighbours soon,’ Berlin said. ‘Out at Bonegilla, those displaced persons.’
‘The dregs of Europe, in all likelihood. It’s good British stock we should be encouraging to emigrate here, but the socialists think we should settle for foreigners and their spawn. And Jews. They come empty-handed, with nothing to offer us. Still, a source of cheap labour may make some of our local layabouts wake up to themselves.’
Berlin found himself wishing that German machinegunner had lifted his aim a foot or two. ‘Start the car, Roberts, we need to be going.’
Bellamy put out his hand. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more assistance, DC Berlin.’
For a moment Berlin considered ignoring the outstretched hand but finally he shook it. ‘Every little bit helps, Mr Bellamy. Thanks for your time.’
In the car, Berlin lit a cigarette to kill the taste of the Captain and his scones. Roberts stopped the Dodge at the point where the road from Bundaroo Downs met the main highway.
‘Okay, Constable Roberts, what did you find out?’
Roberts carefully checked for traffic in both directions and then drove out onto the highway. He was pleased as punch that Berlin had expected him to do some sniffing around while he’d been talking to Bellamy. He felt that they were working as a team.
‘I took a bit of a quick squiz at those sheds of his.’
‘He said to watch out for the dogs.’
‘Him using the dogs to warn us off was what got my attention.’
‘That’s a nice bit of detective work, Roberts. Always stick your nose in where people don’t want you to. You didn’t get bitten? We heard a bit of a barney.’
‘I grew up with dogs back home in Benalla, we get along fine. Just give them a bit of a pat and share your devon and tomato-sauce sandwiches around and everything’s jake.’
‘Find anything interesting?’
‘You mean like half a dozen army-surplus Harley-Davidsons with sidecars loaded up with Tommy guns and cash?’
‘That would be nice.’ Berlin quite liked the idea of putting Captain Bellamy into handcuffs.
‘No such luck, I’m afraid. Most of the farm machinery is pretty run-down and all the sheds were padlocked. One had an open window so I climbed in.’
‘And?’
‘Lot of tools and iron plating and welding gear lying about and something big hidden under a tarp, so I took a peek. Captain Bellamy and his amateur militia have got themselves a Bren gun carrier tucked away in there.’
‘Might be using it to pull a plough.’
Roberts shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. They’re welding steel plates on to enclose it completely and there are gun ports on all sides. Turning it into a baby tank, I reckon.’
Berlin smoked and watched the passing countryside. Was Corrigan going to phone ahead to everyone he planned on interviewing? And was he warning his mates so they could lock up sheds or maybe move incriminating items out of sight before Berlin got to them? And what was Bellamy up to that he needed his own tank?
‘When we get back to town, Roberts, I’m going to buy you another sandwich, and then I’m going to kick your arse.’
‘What have I done wrong?’
‘When you picked me up from the airport yesterday you said Wodonga had a water tower, a stock saleyard, a train station and bugger-all else. Turns out there’s a damn sight more going on around here than you let on.’
Roberts smiled. A ute loaded with hay bales passed them going the other way, leaving a fine mist of dust in its wake. The Dodge crested a rise and just ahead in the haze, a crow picking at the carcass of a dead fox took off suddenly, swooping down low across the bonnet of the car. Berlin jerked backwards into his seat with a swift intake of breath and Roberts thought he felt him shudder.
‘Just a crow, Mr Berlin.’
‘I hate those bastards.’
Roberts wanted to ask why, but from the look on Berlin’s face he thought better of it. Berlin didn’t speak again on the rest of the ride into town.
TWENTY-SIX
Sergeant Corrigan and his brother Vernon had their heads together at a back table when Berlin walked into the Diggers Rest dining room just after seven. He got himself a whisky from Maisie at the bar, and when he glanced over in the direction of the Corrigan brothers the sergeant was watching him. Berlin wasn’t sure if he should take this as an invitation to join them for a chat, but he walked across the room to the table anyway. The sergeant was finishing off a beer and he belched and licked his lips. ‘Bloody marvellous. First for the day.’
‘If you say so, Sarge.’ Berlin took a sip of his whisky.
The sergeant ignored the comment but there was a hard look in his eye. The table was set for three. Both the Corrigan brothers were drinking beer and there was a half-empty glass of what looked like sherry on the table.
‘You have a productive afternoon, Berlin?’
If Roberts was reporting his movements back to the sergeant he already knew that most of it had been spent at his desk.
‘You could say that. I’ve been through all the files on all the robberies and now I know exactly how much I don’t know.’
‘Shall I tell Melbourne that if they ask?’
‘Maybe you should. They might replace me with someone more experienced and then I’d be out of your hair.’
Berlin caught a quick worried look exchanged between Vern Corrigan and his brother.
‘You’ve met Captain Bellamy, I believe,’ said the sergeant.
Bellamy was standing behind Berlin, leaning on his cane. ‘Indeed. DC Berlin and I had words earlier in the day.’
Berlin stepped aside and Bellamy settled into the empty chair.
‘Dear me, dear me, not ruffling the feathers of the local populace, are we, Berlin?’
‘I can’t do my job without ruffling a few feathers, Sarge.’
‘Get us another beer will ya, Vern, and a sherry for the captain. You want another, Berlin?’
The question was asked grudgingly, but in a country pub an offer to shout a drink was expected. Berlin had spotted Rebecca Green at a table on the other side of the room and her nod and smile was a definite invitation. He took this as a welcome opportunity to escape. ‘I’ve got one going already, thanks, and I’m supposed to be meeting someone. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your dinner. Have a pleasant evening.’
Berlin crossed the room, and put his hand on the back of a chair at Rebecca’s table. ‘Mind if I join you, Miss Green?’
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures, DC Berlin. And of course if anyone more interesting shows up I can always ask you to move on.’
Berlin was about to push the chair back in when she smiled. ‘For goodness’ sake, I’m pulling your leg. And will you call me Rebecca so I don’t feel like a middle-aged spinster? Now sit down and get yourself some of this roast chicken, it’s delicious. I don’t understand why you people in the city think chicken is only for Christmas.’
She was wearing trousers again, but this time with a soft-pink silk blouse. There was a string of pearls around her neck. Berlin liked the way the blouse clung to her figure.
Lily walked past, balancing three plates heaped with chicken and vegetables. Rebecca caught her eye. ‘I’ve just been telling DC Berlin here how good your chicken is.’
Lily put a plate down in front of him. ‘This was for Vern, but he can wait.’
‘Hope for your sake it’s not the one with the ground glass in it,’ Rebecca said quietly aft
er Lily moved away. ‘I’m pulling your leg again, in case you were wondering.’
‘I worked that one out all by myself. You a country girl then, Rebecca?’
‘Ballarat country enough for you? My dad was a photographer, we had a camera shop and studio there. Weddings, portraits, pictures for the local paper, you know the kind of thing. Plus developing and printing everyone’s holiday snaps.’
‘And that’s how you learned to take photographs?’
‘I helped Dad out in the darkroom and at weddings. It was a good little business till the war. Then my dad had to go away for a while so we closed up shop and Mum opened a café and milk bar.’
‘Bit of a change from photography.’
‘Actually it was a lot of fun. Mum turned it into a malt shop when the Americans built their big bases outside town. She did okay selling hamburgers and hot dogs and milkshakes. I used to help out whenever I came home on leave. I discovered that if I kept the right number of buttons undone on my blouse and bent over the fridge to dip the milk in just the right way, I was able to pretty near double our takings.’
‘I can see how that would happen.’
Rebecca grinned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re shocked, DC Berlin? Even in country towns, it was all sex during the war. At one stage we had US marines based there to recuperate after Guadalcanal. Those boys were out to live life to the full, and who could blame them?’
‘And I’m sure plenty of the local girls were happy to accommodate them.’
Berlin smiled when he said it but his tone was flat and Rebecca caught an edge of hardness to his voice. She let the comment pass.
‘The Yank army engineers lent the town council these big water tankers to wash out the doorways and gutters before sunrise every day. Used frenchies would clog up the street drains on a Sunday morning and the ponds in the parks were full of them. The soldiers from New York called them Coney Island whitefish. It wasn’t all that uncommon to find one hanging off the café’s front doorknob when I came to open up.’
‘We called ’em Yarra trout,’ Berlin said, ‘down in Melbourne when we saw them floating in the river. So did you have a boyfriend back then?’
The Diggers Rest Hotel Page 10
