She looked up. ‘I think I can find it. Want me to run you out there?’
‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
‘I’m entirely at your service.’ She went back to her notebook.
‘I’ll be right for a ride, Roberts, if you want to head off.’
Rebecca closed her notebook after the constable left. She was smiling.
‘Something on your mind?’
‘I’ve just worked out my hook for the story. I reckon my editor is going to love it. I might nip over to the post office in a minute and phone the paper.’
‘Can that wait till after we go out to the football oval?’
‘Of course.’
‘And you’re sure you don’t mind taking me?’
Rebecca leaned over to Berlin and lowered her voice. ‘Well, I did say I’d do anything you wanted, Charlie, and I’m happy to oblige but I think a drive in the country is showing a distinct lack of imagination.’
FORTY-SIX
Rebecca parked the Austin beside the sports oval, a scabby brown patch of ground with four white goalposts at each end. A low, single-rail fence surrounded the oval and on the far side, set back against a rocky cliff face, there was a toilet block, a scoreboard and two wooden huts.
A rain squall was passing so they waited. Wind buffeted the little car and even though it was cold, droplets of condensation began beading up on the windscreen.
‘Not exactly the MCG, is it, Charlie?’
‘You got that right.’ The tiny country sporting ground was as far as you could get from the hallowed Melbourne Cricket Ground, where the gods of cricket and football were worshipped by the faithful on a weekly basis. ‘But I wouldn’t have picked you as a footy fan.’
She laughed. ‘I remember when we first arrived in Melbourne. We’d only been off the ship for about fifteen minutes before people started asking my father which team he was going to support. We finally worked out football was a bit more of a religion than a sport. He eventually let me choose a team just to shut people up.’
‘Who did you go for?’
‘St Kilda, because I liked the colours and I thought there was something quite noble and heroic in giving a team the nickname “the Saints”. Then I actually saw a match and that quickly put the idea out of my head. I must say I do like seeing a nice high mark, though. So who do you follow, Charlie?’
‘Essendon.’
‘The Bombers, that’s appropriate.’
The rain stopped after a few minutes and the gusty wind eased to just a breeze. Berlin wound down his window and checked the sky.
‘Looks like it’s over for now. Let’s take a squiz, shall we, Miss Green?’
Rebecca grabbed her camera from the back seat and joined him at the white rail bordering the playing field. They ducked under the rail and crossed the oval together, stopping outside the huts. They were the same type of box-like, single-storey wooden structures that made up the Bandiana camp down the road.
One hut had windows down each side and a simple verandah overlooking the oval. The building was unlocked and inside it was divided into two separate changing areas. There was a row of washbasins and shower cubicles at the back and Rebecca studied the images scratched and drawn on the tiled walls.
‘Maybe the army should consider running life-drawing classes. A lot of these boys are woefully under-informed about female anatomy.’
‘And doing a lot of wishful thinking about their own, from the look of it,’ Berlin added.
The second hut was larger and set further back from the oval so that it butted against the cliff face. The unlocked double doors were marked EQUIPMENT STORAGE and a sloping concrete ramp led down to ground level. Berlin pushed the doors open and inside they found a lawnmower and line-marking equipment, and a pile of mops, buckets, rakes and yard brooms. In one corner was a simple kitchen with a sink, an urn, a pie warmer and some folded trestle tables.
‘Wild goose chase?’
‘Seems like it.’
‘Nice space, though. It would make a great photo studio.’
Berlin was only half listening. ‘What?’
‘I said this place would make a great studio, Charlie. Just a couple of windows on the side, which would be easy to black out, and a really solid floor. Look.’ She jumped up and down on the spot. ‘See, solid as a rock.’
‘Possibly not the most ideal location, though – not a lot of passing traffic.’
‘Exactly what my old man would say. Want to head back to town now? I need to make that phone call.’
Rebecca dropped Berlin off outside the police station. He didn’t feel like being cooped up in the tiny office after the cramped space of the Austin. There was a rickety bench on the verandah so he sat there, smoking and watching the passing afternoon traffic.
His leads and suspects in both cases were rapidly disappearing – and he wasn’t looking forward to his next phone call to Melbourne. He lit another cigarette and his thoughts turned to Rebecca. He enjoyed her humour and she was very easy on the eye. She was pretty tough, too, and Berlin liked that. She’d done okay photographing the Lee girl’s body, and that was no picnic. Of course she was crazy, no doubt about it – going out to see those carpenters with only her notebook and a hatpin. But she had used the hatpin at just the right moment, you had to give her that. And there was something else that drew him to her. Perhaps it was that for all her brashness, he knew she was hurting, too.
The blocky, two-storey Terminus Hotel across the road was decorated with four arches that shaded and framed the entry to the public bar. Whatever elegance this architectural flourish was supposed to produce was negated for Berlin when Sergeant Corrigan and Captain Bellamy appeared through one of the arches. Corrigan saw Berlin and nudged the captain. The two men crossed the road in his direction.
Traffic on High Street was light, which was lucky since they were not the most nimble pair Berlin had ever seen. At least Bellamy had an excuse, with his cane and wooden leg. Corrigan’s difficulty was very obviously alcohol-induced.
‘Taking the afternoon off then, Berlin?’ The sergeant was swaying ever so slightly.
‘Gathering my thoughts.’
‘It’s been a whole bloody week! I would have thought you’d be gathering up a few suspects by now. Melbourne and Wangaratta have both been on my back again and I’ve got better things to do than to take the flak for your incompetence. I’m off for a slash.’
The sergeant staggered into the station. Bellamy lowered himself onto the bench next to Berlin. His cheeks were slightly flushed.
‘You two been celebrating something special?’
‘Just a quick counter lunch after another successful morning at the saleyards.’
‘And you needed a police escort for all the cash?’
‘The sergeant likes to keep an eye on things and I don’t mind the company. Any luck with the motorcycle gang?’
Berlin shook his head. ‘My inquiries are ongoing.’
Roberts pulled up in the Dodge and Berlin stood up and walked towards the car. ‘Nice chatting with you, Bellamy, but I’ve got some people to meet.’
‘My offer still stands, Mr Berlin. My men are at your disposal, anything we can do to help.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Berlin slid into the passenger seat and slammed the car door.
‘Your timing’s perfect, Roberts. Let’s get out of here.’
‘Are we going anywhere in particular, Mr Berlin?’
‘Anywhere but here. Just drive.’
‘Back to the Diggers Rest?’
‘Why not.’
They stopped outside the hotel and Roberts switched the engine off. Berlin didn’t make a move to get out of the car. He checked the car park for the grey Austin, but it wasn’t there.
‘Bellamy and Corrigan hold hands at the saleyards on a regular basis?’
Roberts seemed a little thrown by the abruptness of the question. There was a pause before he answered.
‘I suppose so.’ He made the statemen
t warily.
Berlin looked across at the constable. ‘Anything else going on here I need to know about?’
Once again, Roberts paused before answering.
‘There’ve been some stories floating about for a while, Mr Berlin. I try not to get involved.’
‘What kind of stories?’ Berlin was happy to wait.
Roberts weighed up his options. The Melbourne detective seemed like a straight-up-and-down character but he had to be wary of crossing his sergeant – he knew what that could lead to. But if he ever made it down to Melbourne and Berlin was still a cop and had any kind of pull, having a friend would be a good thing.
‘Cattle going missing from the stockyards after the sales and winding up out at Bellamy’s place. One bloke who worked the yards reckoned the abattoirs couldn’t have been doing a very good job because he saw Bellamy selling off the same cow half a dozen times in the last six months.’
That explained why Bellamy and the sergeant spent so much time with their heads together. And having the local police sergeant standing next to a town councillor at the sales would send a strong message. It could also explain why the sergeant’s brother always had a fridge full of beef.
Berlin offered the boy a cigarette and lit them both.
Roberts took a deep drag. ‘Thanks for that, Mr Berlin, I mean Charlie.’
‘No problem, Bob, I owe you one.’
The boy looked across at Berlin. Berlin winked.
Inside the Diggers Rest Berlin inquired after the health of Lily’s daughter and she smiled as she told him the baby was fine and dandy. She also mentioned Miss Green was off tracking down some background on her story about the painter, so he ate dinner alone. He was surprised to realise how much he missed Rebecca’s company.
FORTY-SEVEN
Hogan, the Wodonga station’s senior constable, poked his head in the office door just as Berlin took off his overcoat and hung it up. ‘The doctor’s here to see you.’
Berlin tossed his hat on the desk and reached for a cigarette. The clock on the wall said a quarter to eleven. ‘Been waiting long?’
Hogan shook his head. ‘No, but you don’t want to go lighting any matches around him – the alcohol fumes are so strong the whole building might blow up. And young Bob’s been looking for you as well.’
Doctor Morris was at reception, holding onto the front edge of the desk for support, his eyes bloodshot and twitching. Hogan was right about the fumes.
It had been dark in the alley where they found the Chinese girl and Berlin hadn’t really had a good look at Morris. Close up in daylight he seemed very old and very tired. His hat needed brushing, there was a stain on his tie and his collar was dirty and frayed. He had a white moustache, yellowed from nicotine and badly in need of a trim, and his shoes were worn and showing bare leather at the toes. God help me if I ever get to that stage, Berlin thought.
‘How can I help you, Doctor Morris?’
‘The Chinese girl, have you arrested anybody? For the murder.’
Berlin shook his head. ‘Not yet. Not a lot to go on, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s not right. This is a decent town.’ The doctor had a bit of trouble getting his tongue around the sibilants.
‘It’s a small town too, Doctor Morris, and people see things and they talk. We’ll get the killer eventually.’
‘The Champions – what about them?’
‘What about them?’
‘Are they suspects?’
‘Should they be?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Is it?’
‘They hate the Asians because of what happened to the older boy. He was decapitated same as the girl.’
‘But Jenny Lee was Chinese. It was the Japanese that killed him.’
‘You think the Champions would know the difference?’
‘I reckon they might, but thanks for the advice. And let me know next time you need any help doing your job, setting a broken arm or taking out someone’s appendix.’
The doctor’s breathing became shallow and his hands took a firmer grip on the desk. ‘Suppose … suppose I told you the girl was raped?’
‘Suppose you did. You told Constable Roberts the autopsy results wouldn’t be ready till Monday.’
Berlin could see the doctor thinking this through.
‘It’s a preliminary result. I thought you should know.’
The doctor had to work hard on getting ‘preliminary’ out without tripping over his tongue. He stretched the word carefully, not quite slurring it, speaking with the studied concentration of the experienced drunk.
‘Thanks for the information, I’ll look into it.’
‘And arrest the Champions?’
‘Let me look into it, eh?’
‘Perhaps I should speak with Sergeant Corrigan.’
Berlin shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. The sergeant assigned the case to me. I get to say who’s arrested and for what.’
The doctor pulled himself close to the front of the desk. ‘Well, then, fuck you.’ He seemed rather pleased that he’d managed to get the words out. Reaching awkwardly into his right coat pocket he produced a leather key case.
Behind Morris, out in the street, Berlin could see a dark green Humber Snipe, the driver’s door wide open, the back end of the vehicle jutting out onto the roadway. Even by Wodonga’s casual parking practices it was a fairly ordinary attempt.
‘That your car, the Snipe?’
The doctor was trying to focus his eyes on his keys. His grip on the desk was the only thing keeping him vertical. ‘Yes. What of it?’
‘Do you really think you should be driving? How about I get someone to run you back to your surgery?’
‘I have patients to see, places to go.’
‘Then you should try and keep your speed down and the carnage to a minimum.’
‘After forty-five years behind the wheel I don’t need some whipper snapper like you telling me how to drive.’
The doctor’s eyes suddenly became unfocused. He began breathing heavily through his nose and Berlin moved around the desk in time to catch the older man and break his fall. Roberts walked in the front door of the station.
‘Give me a hand, Bob. We need to get him outside and into some fresh air.’
The two men manoeuvered the doctor out through the door and lowered him onto the wooden bench on the verandah.
Roberts straightened his tunic. ‘Not much of the old bugger, is there? I thought he’d weigh more.’
‘I’d say he’s on a mostly liquid diet. Let me catch my breath and then we’ll take him home.’
They loaded the doctor into the back of the Snipe and Roberts drove them the two blocks to the surgery. Morris was snoring by the time they carried him into his office and they left him in the waiting room, propped up in a chair.
‘The doc have anything against the Champion family you know of?’ Berlin asked as the two men walked back towards the police station.
Roberts thought for a minute. ‘Mrs Champion, Kenny’s mum, had TB. She passed away in a sanatorium. Cec took it real hard and that’s when his drinking started. He was going around saying the doctor should have treated her for it sooner and he reckoned he was responsible for her dying. That was just before the war. Maybe you should talk to the sergeant about it? He’s been here longer than me.’
‘No, we’ll leave the sergeant out of it for now.’ They were passing a café and Berlin glanced at his watch. ‘Bit early for lunch but I’ve worked up an appetite. This joint any good?’
‘They do a pretty good hamburger.’
Berlin ordered a pork and chutney sandwich with tea and sat down in a booth. Roberts ordered a burger with the lot and a chocolate milkshake. He slid into the other side of the booth and put his helmet on the seat beside him.
‘Constable Hogan said you were looking for me earlier,’ said Berlin.
‘That’s right. I picked up this poddy dodger and he told me something that might be useful.’
; ‘What the hell is a poddy dodger?’
‘You know, a cattle thief.’
Berlin tore the cellophane off a new pack of cigarettes and offered one to Roberts, who shook his head. ‘We didn’t handle a lot of cattle rustling in the city, Roberts, so you might have to spell it out.’
‘This bloke sneaks around at night nicking poddy calves, the baby cows that haven’t been branded yet.’
Berlin lit his cigarette and took a long drag. ‘I figured out the bit about the calves being baby cows, but how can he help us?’
‘Well, he was fixing a puncture on his truck this morning and I stopped to give him a hand. He seemed pretty nervous about something so I took a look in the back of his truck. A lot of calves and not a brand to be seen among ’em. I marched him straight down to the station and stuck him in the lock-up. He decided we might go a bit easier on him if he helped us.’
‘Helped us? How?’
‘Sunday night around nine he was cruising down past the local saddling paddock in his truck with the headlights off. And he thinks he might have seen the Lee girl arguing with someone.’
‘Saddling paddock?’
Roberts grinned. ‘Bit of bushland down by the river. You know, somewhere private, like a lovers lane.’
‘He recognise who she was arguing with?’
‘No, but he says it was a soldier. He couldn’t make him out clearly since the moon was well down, but he said he saw a tunic and a slouch hat for sure.’
‘Ever take your girlfriend down to this “saddling paddock” for a bit of privacy?’
Roberts looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘Maybe – once or twice.’
‘I’m not interested in your love life, Roberts. I just need to know if you think he’s telling the truth. Could he have seen anything from the roadway in the dark?’
‘I reckon he was probably fair dinkum. He put his hand up to having half a dozen stolen calves in the back of his truck at the time, which is why he had his lights off. He was just as interested in not being seen as they were.’
Berlin sat and thought about it for a minute and then he looked up at Roberts. ‘Keep my seat warm, I’ll be back in a tick.’
The trade at Lee’s grocery store had picked up a little. Berlin waited outside while two middle-aged women in plaid skirts, cardigans and sensible shoes commiserated with Mr Lee. Mr Lee’s face betrayed no emotion, and as the women left the shop with their baskets over their arms Berlin overheard one say, ‘It’s the Chinese way, dear, they’re very stoic. I saw it in that film The Good Earth before the war.’
The Diggers Rest Hotel Page 18
