‘Got the same problem as last week, with Maddie and Janelle,’ she said and told her about the weight loss. ‘The baby’s hungry, nothing short of it. And I don’t believe the story that Maddie won’t take a bottle. I bet if I gave her one, she’d drink it in two seconds flat. What do we do?’
Patti held out her hands for the baby. ‘Let me have a look at her while you mix up the bottle.
In the kitchen Melinda boiled the kettle and added two heaped scoops of the powdered formula and mixed it enthusiastically. She wanted to think that Maddie was just a difficult baby, but there was something telling her things weren’t quite right here. Dave had always talked about trusting his gut when he was investigating a crime. Well, this wasn’t a crime, but she knew she needed to listen to her inner voice; and it was screaming to her there was more to this story than what she was being told.
Back in Patti’s office, she handed her boss the bottle and watched as she squeezed a tiny bit of milk onto the baby’s lips and then carefully put the teat in her mouth. Maddie started to suck instantly.
The women’s eyes met over the hungry child, now oblivious to either of them. She was lost in a world of milk, warmth and comfort.
‘I haven’t seen any signs of Maddie being abused,’ Melinda said softly, stroking the downy head. ‘She’s not got bruises anywhere and she’s always freshly bathed and in clean clothes when she comes in.’
‘Hmm,’ Patti said, looking down as Maddie continued to suck.
‘I can’t even remember her having a nappy rash.’
‘Let’s go and have a chat with Janelle,’ Patti said, taking the empty bottle out of Maddie’s mouth. ‘Do you want to make up another bottle before we do that? I think she’d take it.’
Back in her office, Melinda placed the sleeping baby into the pram. Janelle looked alarmed that both women had come back in, with serious looks on their faces.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Is there something wrong with Maddie? Is she sick?’
‘She’s hungry, Janelle,’ Patti said softly. ‘Very hungry. And because she’s hungry, she’s going to cry and not sleep but, also, she’s losing weight and not growing the way she needs to.’
‘She won’t take a bottle!’
‘I understand that seems to be a big problem. Janelle, we’ve had her feeding in here twice. She guzzles it.’ Patti broke off when Janelle stood up and snatched at the pram as if to walk out the door. ‘She’s a very hungry baby and hungry babies feed.’
Patti subtly blocked the door.
‘You saying I can’t look after my own baby?’ the teenager asked in a loud voice.
‘No, Janelle, that’s not—’
‘You can get fucked. I know what I’m doing.’
‘Janelle,’ Melinda barked, needing to get the situation back in hand. ‘Sit down. We are not saying you can’t look after your own child. We’re here to help you, not make life harder. Okay?’
‘Why don’t you believe me?’ she pleaded. ‘I am looking after my baby! It’s not my fault she won’t drink or take a bottle. It’s not my fault I haven’t got any milk!’
Melinda looked at the young girl, her tears wet on her cheeks, and remembered what she’d been like at seventeen. How could a girl who was little more than a baby herself be expected to raise a child? Especially without support from her family. It was no wonder she was crying out for help.
She squatted down in front of the girl and put her hands on Janelle’s knees. ‘Listen, Janelle, can I tell you what I think is happening here? It’s you who’s crying out for help here. You who needs some attention. Unfortunately, you’re getting us to pay attention to you by hurting your baby, and as Maddie’s nurse I can’t let you do that.’
Janelle stared at her. ‘I’m not hurting my own baby,’ she said angrily. ‘She’s the one who won’t drink. I’m trying to feed her but she won’t…It’s all her fault.’
Patti shook her head. ‘Sweetheart, you’re so young and I know you’re not getting any help at home. In your situation it would be quite normal to need help. But you can’t do it in this way. You’re starving Maddie, while trying to get attention for yourself.’ She spoke in a gentle tone. ‘So, what we’re going to do now is take you both across to the hospital. Maddie needs to be looked at by a doctor and you do too.’
‘I’m not going nowhere,’ Janelle said. ‘You’re both full of it. Got no idea about me or my life. Or Maddie. We’re leaving.’
‘You can’t, Janelle. We’re not going to let you. If you don’t come willingly with us, I’ll have to call social services to come over here and take you to the hospital.’ Melinda didn’t mention that the Department of Community Services would be called anyway. ‘If you let us take you, it’s going to be much better for you and your baby.’
Janelle didn’t say anything, just stared at them with fire in her eyes. Suddenly she sagged and all the fight went out of her. She burst into tears and slumped back into the chair, her sobs breaking Melinda’s heart.
Chapter 26
‘I still haven’t heard from the next of kin,’ Dave said to Spencer when he came back in late on Thursday afternoon. ‘But the coppers from Ballarat have called.’
‘Took a while,’ he said.
‘They’ve done the inform. The mother is elderly and having a bit of trouble dealing with the news. Doesn’t sound like she can get out much or has a lot of friends or support around her.’
‘Tough.’
‘Shannon has finished with the body so he can be sent back to his mother now,’ Dave said.
‘Okay, can you get hold of Shannon and organise it? Let her know that from our end she’s right to release the body. I guess the funeral directors will do the rest.’
‘No problems. Now, Peter from the camping shop has confirmed the items are from his store. He’s also brought in a photocopy of the cheque that Glen used to pay for the goods. That camp was indeed Glen Bartlett’s.’ Dave drew in a breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a whoosh. ‘And there’s something weird about his bank accounts.’
Spencer looked over at him, his eyes alert. ‘Whose bank accounts?’
‘Glen Bartlett’s. They came on the fax this morning. His bank in Ballarat wasn’t going to let me have any of the information I wanted without a warrant, so I got on to the judge on duty and told him what I needed. It was the fastest warrant I’ve ever got!’
‘Judge Banrock is pretty easy to work with. So tell me, what did you find?’
Dave grabbed a sheaf of shiny fax paper and took it over to Spencer’s desk and pointed to all the highlighted amounts.
‘Looks to me like he was getting money from someone. Every two weeks there’s been three hundred paid in. There’s no reference to where it’s come from other than a manual transfer notation and it’s been happening for the past six months.’
Spencer flicked through the pages. ‘Hmm. Did he have any other accounts? Credit card?’
‘A credit card and another savings account. This one here is his running account. The credit card has a debit of five hundred dollars and the savings account has five grand in it. But you know the other thing which is weird? He doesn’t have a lot of money, so this big payment he had coming up, what was it for? Did he have a gambling debt, trouble with drugs? Some kind of unsecured loan?’
‘Better get onto it. Ask the bank to trace where the three hundred dollars is coming from.’
‘Have already. It’ll take a little time.’ Dave looked at his notes. ‘Okay, going back to my conversation with the Ballarat coppers—they don’t know much about him and the mother was too shocked to give out any useful information. I’m getting the feeling he was a loner, didn’t have a lot of friends. The mother, Carmen, wasn’t aware he’d decided to sell the land, but she did say he was the executor, so she’d left it up to him. The money would then come into the estate and be given to the people it was supposed to be.’ ‘Why didn’t the father leave the land to the mother?’ asked Spencer.
‘As far as I
know they didn’t ask that question, but I’ll follow it up. Thought I’d leave it a few days before I give her a call. Give her a chance to get used to the news.’
‘This is a murder enquiry, Dave. You can’t waste time!’
‘I know, but I’ve got other things to go on with—like finding the wagon.’
‘Have you got any information about the land?’
‘Nothing other than Carmen was happy for him to make decisions he wanted to…Just so long as the money ended up in all the right spots.’
‘And was one of the right spots Glen’s bank account?’
Dave looked at his notes. ‘Yes. This is an assumption, and I know as detectives we should never make assumptions, but—’ he took a deep breath ‘—from the information I’ve had from Ballarat, the parents are wealthy. Well, the mother is, since the father is dead. Made his money goldmining. But looking at the son’s bank accounts, he does have money issues. Like I told you, there isn’t much in his accounts.’
‘Ah, mummy and daddy don’t hand out the dosh easily? Wonder why he didn’t take over the finances for his mother if she’s elderly. Does he work?’
‘Doesn’t appear that he does.’
‘Well, no wonder he needs money. Alrighty then, I guess all we can do is wait until we hear back from the bank on the traces. I’m getting bloody frustrated. We keep hearing about this person Bartlett was looking for and we’ve got no idea who he is or how to find him!’ Spencer stood, hoisted up his shorts and parked his ample bum on the edge of the desk.
‘That’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘Ring Ballarat back and see if they can search his house. Maybe there’ll be something there.’
‘It would be very helpful if we could find his car,’ Dave pointed out.
‘That too.’
The phone rang and Spencer picked it up. ‘Brown,’ he said.
Dave turned and went back to his desk, carrying the bundle of statements. As soon as Spencer had mentioned the person Glen was looking for, everything fell into place. Glen didn’t need to come over here to sign the sale papers, Dave was sure. He’d have to check with a lawyer or real estate agent, but he was fairly certain they could’ve been signed over a fax or the papers mailed to Victoria and signed in front of a JP.
No, the sale was a cover.
Glen Bartlett had come over here to find someone.
Dave picked up the phone and called Ballarat.
An hour later he was in his vehicle driving out towards Oakamanda and Fractured Hill. That was the last known place that Glen had been, so it seemed the best place to start looking.
He’d been to see Melinda to tell her he would be camping out tonight and tears had welled up in her eyes, taking him by surprise. He had to admit she was looking tired. A weekend of doing nothing was looking more and more appealing.
‘Don’t you worry, Mr Dave,’ Ernie had said from over the fence as he was leaving. ‘I watch out for missus, Dave.’
‘Thanks, Ernie. You’re a good neighbour.’
Spencer had helped him pack up a few camping things and sent him off with a clap on the shoulder and a good luck wish.
‘We’ve got to find the car,’ Dave had told him. ‘That’s going to hold a lot of information.’
‘Only if it hasn’t been done over by vandals,’ Spencer had replied.
‘The sooner we find it, the less likely that’s going to be.’
Now, driving along the dirt tracks, he made sure the GPS tracker was on and he looked at the map sitting on the passenger seat. He planned to follow every little track he could find.
Ten minutes later Dave pulled up where a narrow trail veered off the road. He looked at his map and worked out which track it was before nosing his way down there. He didn’t get too far before he found a large tree over the road; by the look of the track, no one had been down this way for ages. He turned around and drove out.
The next trail he came across was owned by a mine. trespassers will be prosecuted, yelled at him in large black lettering. Dave was undecided. He guessed if there was an abandoned car on the road to the mine, someone would have reported it already, but again that was making assumptions.
He put a call out over the radio, hoping to get the station.
‘Station receiving,’ came the reply.
Dave grinned and asked for Spencer.
‘Can you phone all the mines out here to see if there’s been any suspicious activity by a white four-wheel drive?’ he asked. He didn’t want to explain why, even though the channel was supposed to be secure.
‘Will get Claire and Tez onto it.’
From Spencer’s tone, he knew what Dave was thinking. Excellent.
Back on the road, Dave found three more tracks before nightfall, but none of them held any of the secrets he was looking for.
Finally, before the sun set, he parked under a tree and started to collect firewood. Before long, cheery flames were licking up around the branches and Dave had unpacked his chair, swag and barbecue plate. He sat back with a beer in his hand and contemplated the bush as the stars began to appear in the salmon-coloured sky.
In the distance he could hear the hum of the closest mine but the noise didn’t bother him. He mainly heard the crackle of the fire and call of the birds as they settled in the trees for the night.
He thought about his childhood and all the times he and his brothers had gone camping in the back paddock. And the time he and his cousin Kate had told their families they were going camping at one of their favourite spots. Taking the small Suzuki ute, they’d managed to get bogged in a creek. Not letting that small problem stop them, they’d carried what they needed to a dry spot, set up camp and spent the night as planned. They were good mates and they’d had great conversations around the campfire, cementing the friendship even more.
In the whole time they’d been together, Dave had never taken Melinda camping. He would have to rectify that now. He’d always been wary of suggesting it because she was a city girl through and through and he didn’t think she’d like roughing it.
He remembered what Kate had said when he’d introduced her to Melinda. It had been at Kate’s engagement party in the woolshed of their family farm. The dress code had been jeans and RM Williams boots. Melinda had worn black pants and court shoes. The drink of choice had been beer or rum. Melinda had sipped white wine.
Later in the evening Kate had dragged Dave away from the group and said to him, ‘What the fuck?’
‘Excuse me?’ Dave had looked at her curiously. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Why Melinda?’ she had asked. ‘She is not your type. You need a country girl. Someone who’s going to get down and dirty with you. Go camping, hiking, exploring. Not shopping in Myer or drinking lattes in Fremantle.’
Dave hadn’t known what to say. Sure, Melinda came from a different world—and her parents, especially her father, weren’t exactly his biggest fans—but he’d been certain then, as he was now, that Melinda was the right woman for him.
He’d take her camping, he promised himself, just as soon they found out who’d murdered Glen Bartlett.
Chapter 27
Dave woke to the breaking dawn and lay listening to the sounds of the bush.
Out here, north of Barrabine, the birds seemed to disappear during the heat of the day, leaving the flies as the only sign of life. But on dusk and dawn the birds came out with a cacophony of sweet-sounding songs. As he lay in his swag he tried to put names to the calls he could hear. There were finches and willie wagtails, and he thought he could hear a wattle bird, even though they were rare this far north, so he couldn’t be sure.
The finches were darting in and out of the trees and knocking droplets of water from the leaves onto his swag. Rolling onto his stomach, he peered out to see if the fire had lasted through the night. It had, with red coals still glowing in the dull morning light. Wiggling out from underneath the heavy canvas, he put on his boots and did a few stretches to loosen his back
before rolling up his swag and putting it in the back of the car. He’d learned to roll up his swag as soon as he got out of it on a camping trip with his brothers. A small python, completely harmless but a snake nonetheless, had crawled into his oldest brother’s swag one morning when it had been left unrolled. It was only discovered as he got into it the next night. A nasty fright for boy and snake, but a good lesson.
Dave rekindled the fire with a few thin sticks and waited until there were enough coals to put on his billy. Soon it was boiling away and he threw in tea leaves as if he were an old swaggy getting ready to set off walking for the day.
He sat on a log and drank his tea and ate the bacon sandwich he’d cooked up, the ants racing around his feet claiming any crumbs he dropped.
Last night he’d scoured the map and found a couple of places he was keen to look at today—one was ten kilometres to the west of where he was camped, and the other was a track off the main road to Oakamanda. Camping out meant he’d been able to work later and could start earlier.
It took him half an hour to drive the ten kilometres—the road was very rough and Dave wondered if the corrugations might shake the car to pieces. He tried to angle one wheel off the road and out into the bush, but then he realised he might stake a tyre that way, so he had to stay on the road and drive carefully.
When he found the track, he was pleased it didn’t seem to be used that much and therefore wasn’t as rough. It twisted and turned through the bush and seemed to go on forever…until it didn’t go any further. Dave drew in a breath and looked around. The road ended in a turnaround circle and it looked like someone had been here recently.
He shut off the engine and got out of the car, listening intently. He looked at the ground for tracks and saw a thin trail leading off into the scrub. Grabbing his GPS, water bag and camera, he followed the trail. It might be a kangaroo track and lead nowhere, but it was worth a look. Not that there’d be a car able to get through, but a look was a look. Half an hour of hard walking and his legs were scratched from low spiky bushes and sharp sticks. He stepped over fallen trees, whose trunks were in the process of being turned into termite mounds, and pushed his way through thick bush, where the track was a little overgrown.
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