“It was only when we left England that she seemed to come back from that place of rage. Then I think this awful reality, reaching far out into her distant future, of the consequences of the thing she had done, including spurning all our help, started to sink in. First she apologised to Inspector Davidson, it was really quite gracious. Then, there on the aeroplane, she was so lost and friendless, crying her heart out for the wedding she would never have. I don’t think she really wanted to marry David, but it was her realisation of the loss of a future.
She said, ‘Today I should have been leaving London to get married. Instead I am going to jail.’
"The second thing was something else she said on the plane. It was, ‘You must find out the reason yourself. I will neither help nor hinder you.’ I already knew, and she knew that I knew, that she was a good person, if not innocent. In that moment she was telling me again there was a reason for what she did. She was clear that she could not tell me the reason; that would be betrayal. But part of her was willing me on to go and find it out, to give her a way out of this situation. Ever since then I have felt like she entrusted me with finding a solution or, at least, she was hoping that I could find one.
“So, lets’ stick with your theory that it was about him, that his actions were the reason why he was killed, he provoked her action. It was no capricious lovers’ tiff, but something that appalled and frightened her enough to make her kill him. We can speculate what that might be but that is of no use.
“We must find out about him, who he was, what he has done. There must be something in his life before he met Susan that will tell us. Let us start by double checking everything we have about him, just in case we have missed anything obvious.”
Sandy said, “There is one more thing to think about before we do, and it sort of fits too. Susan is really clever and she knows a lot about DNA and pathology from working in a lab and she has incredible self control, we have all seen it.
“Once he was dead she should have come and told us. That is what any normal person would do. At worst she may have been up for manslaughter, maybe self-defence if he had threatened her. But she did not do that, she made a decision to conceal what happened. But it is not only a decision to hide her role; it is a decision to hide his identity. I have wondered about it many times.
It comes through in the way she cleaned up after she killed him. Let’s assume she fractured his skull by hitting him on the head with a piece of wood and then he either staggered or she dragged his body to the edge of the water where the crocodiles finished it. That is what the evidence of the site told us, that blood trail and the dirt she had scraped away.
After it was done his body was gone. No one knew he was there, the day before he was in Timber Creek, and the same with her. If his vehicle was just found abandoned in that place or even in Darwin it would have been strange but people would have just wondered where he had gone and expected him to turn up. Maybe, after months, he would have been listed as a missing person. Perhaps the vehicle would have been checked and her DNA found in it.
But that would have proved nothing; she did not deny that she had travelled with him to Timber Creek, by then she had spent ten days with him, and it would be expected we would find her DNA and fingerprints in lots of places. All she would need to say was they had travelled together for several days to explain this. He had vanished after that. In fact that is what she did say at first.
“So why remove everything, not only her things but every last thing that had been his? He clearly had business papers; we found his briefcase with a smashed lock. But she burned it, and presumably all the papers it contained. And every other last thing of his was gone too. When travelling in the outback he would have had a range of gear, we saw some of it sitting on the back in the CCTV when he came to the Desert Sails. The people in Alice Springs describe the vehicle as having boxes and tools on the back. And yet every last bit has gone.
“It is as if she was determined to remove any trace of his identity that she could, remove everything that connected him to anywhere. Perhaps she found something incriminating in the car, and she could not bear for it to be found.”
Somehow it seemed to make sense and Alan nodded agreement. “OK, let’s accept the premise that there is something about him that they both wanted to stay hidden. Now we have to find out what. I fear she has done such a good job of destroying all the evidence that there is nothing left for us to find.”
Sandy said, “You don’t really believe that do you? He lived for at least three years in the NT and had enough money to buy a brand new car, take it where he wanted and pay for things with cash. So he had access to plenty of money. He clearly was careful about revealing his identity. But no one can live in a place and earn money for three years without leaving traces behind.
“There will be people who know him, somewhere in the outback, and know real things about him. We already have information to suggest he did regular work somewhere around the Barkly and there are not so many stations, aboriginal settlements and mines to check. We just have to be thorough.”
Alan said. “And I will have to find some justification to keep investigating. I wish I could do it on the phone, from my desk. But many people out there will only talk to other real people. That is how I have got the evidence thus far.
“Now, as far as my boss is concerned this murder is solved and I should be working on other cases. I can probably fudge a day or two each week working on loose ends. But I cannot go travelling around the back of the NT on what others will call a wild goose chase, not unless I can think of a good reason.”
Alan walked over to Mark’s little pile. It was really just half a dozen letters, mostly junk mail. Not all of them had been opened; the advertising fliers had been put to one side. He looked at them all one by one. He knew it was probably futile but opened the unopened ones anyway, finding only as expected.
The last letter, with a mobile telephone logo on it, was addressed to Mark Butler. It was probably just another piece of junk mail sent to Mark Bennet in error, probably a telephone promotion of the sort that seemed to come in Alan’s mail every second day. But what was there to lose? He opened it.
It was a phone bill, just half a dozen calls and a similar number of texts in a month; hardly a big user. The numbers were meaningless, most were calls to other mobiles. The first ones originated from or came to his phone when in Queensland, two in central Queensland and two in Mount Isa. The later ones came from or went to him in the Northern Territory, a couple from Tennant Creek and a couple from Alice Springs. This was all hardly remarkable for a person who lived in the NT.
But a bell was ringing in Alan’s brain. There was a pattern somewhere which he suspected was eluding him. He realised it was the vague story of their first meeting and subsequent travel together that he had got from the girl in Barkly Roadhouse. Mark Bennet had met Susan in Cairns and had then come back to the NT. The obvious route was through Mount Isa and Tennant Creek before he met her in Alice Springs and the dates on the bill did seem about right.
So he thought, even if it is not him, just a coincidence, what harm is there to check it out. I will ring through to the numbers and see who answers.
The first number rang through to the message bank of a company somewhere in Queensland. Not too promising. The second was the same, this time a voice on a message claimed to represent a big multinational. He rang the third; it was a helicopter operator, based out of Mount Isa. That at least was a bit interesting and gave something to follow up.
Sandy had come over and was standing alongside him listening to the messages. Then there was the same number four times over about a week. First a text received, and later that night a text sent. Then a phone call received and finally another text sent. He dialled the number, “I am sorry, this phone number has been disconnected.”
He kept going, another helicopter operator, this time based in Borroloola. “Hello this is Vic from Carpentaria Helicopters. I am probably flying if I don’t take your ca
ll. If you need to book my services please ring after 7 pm or send a text. I will call back as soon as I can.”
He sent a text. “Vic, please ring Sergeant Alan Richards of the NT Police on this number.” There was nothing in the rest of the calls that seemed of any value, though he could not help but be intrigued by the bracket of 4 calls and texts to the same number in a few days. It was worth following that up. Tomorrow he should run a trace on that number.
Alan and Sandy spent another couple of fruitless hours looking at everything from all angles. They were both getting hungry. They had decided it was time to go out and eat a late breakfast when Alan’s mobile phone rang.
The caller said, “Vic from Carpentaria Helicopters. Is that Alan Richards?”
Alan replied, “Yes, thanks for calling back. I am just trying to trace a Mark Bennet. You don’t know anyone by that name, do you?”
Vic replied, “Name doesn’t ring a bell. Any reason why it should?”
Something made Alan cagey. This guy did not seem to know about the murder, mustn’t see a lot of TV or newspapers. So he said, “Actually I am just trying to trace his movements from around August this year. He seemed to do some work in your neck of the woods and for a while was travelling around with a girl named Susan. Doesn’t ring any bells does it?”
The moment he said “Susan” he heard something, on the other end of the line, like an indrawn breath, it seemed to show surprise.
The voice came back loud and clear. “I have a good friend called Mark Butler, done a load of work with him over the years. Around the time you asked about he was travelling with a girl called Susan, a lovely English girl. In fact I took them fishing on the Calvert and Robinson Rivers. Perhaps you have the name wrong. Does that sound like your man?”
Alan’s heart was pounding, he almost dropped the phone. He pulled himself together. “Could be, listen I have this blokes photo and it is really important that I show it to you as soon as I can. I need to check whether it is the same guy. Where are you?”
Vic replied. “At Mataranka as we speak, but just about to ferry into Katherine for an overnight stay before I do a job on Scott Creek first thing tomorrow.”
Alan said “OK, where can we meet in Katherine later today? I can be there in three hours. Anytime after that is good, just name the place.”
Vic laughed. “Must be urgent, but sure, I am staying at the Paraway and I should be there by then. Just ask for Vic, the chopper pilot, they all know me.”
In a minute they were on the Stuart Highway heading for Katherine. Alan and Sandy both felt a huge hit of adrenalin. It was like their first discoveries together at the Mary River billabong, only much bigger.
When they reached Adelaide River, Sandy said, “We should slow down for a bit, stop for something to eat. We need to have a think about how we approach this. If this is Mark’s friend and we come in too hard, we may make him cagey. We need to let him know about our Mark and get his trust.
“Let’s stop for ten minutes, eat something and gather our thoughts. Then, when we get there, we won’t barge in and make a mess. It’s not like Vic is going anywhere today and we will arrive in the early afternoon. People will be resting in the shade then so it will be a good time for a leisurely talk.
“I suggest you first show him the photo. Then, if he agrees we are talking about the same person you should tell it as a bit of a story to get him in. If this Vic is his friend I am sure he will want to help.”
They arrived to find Vic was sitting by the pool, with a cool drink in his hand. He was a wiry mid-sized man with dark skin and dark features, not quite aboriginal but something like. He had a big grin on his face when he recognised them.
“Wouldn’t put it past my mate Mark to go by another name, what has he been up to this time, a bit of cattle stealing? Once you said the name “Susan” it was hard to believe it was anyone else”.
Alan pulled out the two photos. He held out a photo taken at Yulara, a nice clear full head shot of Mark. “Is that him?”
Vic barely glanced, “Sure, hard to mistake.”
Then Alan held out the photo of Susan. “How about this one? Is it the girl, Susan, who was with him?”
Vic took it and looked at it intently. He nodded. “She is even prettier than in my memory, not that this photo shows those gorgeous blue eyes. I have seen Mark with quite a few girls and most of them looked good, but this one was special.
I said to her, when we first met, “If he ever lets you go, make sure you let me know”. And I meant it. Then another time I said, “Why don’t you trade him in for a helicopter pilot, someone with a bit more class?”
She laughed, ever so nicely, and said. “I am sure you have had many girls join you in the mile high club.”
I only spent the day with them but I could tell she thought the sun shone out of Mark. She was so gorgeous, not just to look at but in her manner, that I was a bit hooked by her myself. You know; best mate and all that Mark was, if she was interested it would have been hard to stop myself. But he was the only one she had eyes for that day.”
Then suddenly Vic was serious. “But you did not drive all that way in such a hurry just for a social chat. What is this all about?”
Alan looked at him. “Not a big news or TV watcher, I gather?”
Vic looked a bit sheepish. “Well the last three months I have been real busy, haven’t had a day off since I saw them, you know that frantic rush to get all the mustering done before the rain comes. Come the end of this coming week I will be done and have a fortnight off. All the places are shutting down for Christmas at the weekend. But I am flat out till then. Today is my first half day off in ages. I thought I might catch up on the news this afternoon, though a beer in the pub would also be nice. Anyway tell me what it is about?”
Alan took a deep breath. There was no nice way to say this. “This man” he said, pointing to Mark Bennet’s photo “was murdered less than a week after you saw him in August. And this lady” he said, pointing to Susan “is on trial in Darwin for his murder.”
Vic looked dumfounded. For a minute he could not speak. Finally he said, “Are you sure?” He was pointing to Mark. Then, before Alan could answer, he pointed to Susan and said. “That thing that you said about Susan, murder, it just can’t possibly be true. It does not fit.”
He looked back to Mark and said “How do you know it is him. Are you sure it is him? I knew this man as Mark Butler for almost ten years, yet you say he is Mark Bennet, how do you know it is him. Is there a photo that definitely matches his face from after he died?”
Alan said “Why don’t I begin at the beginning and I will tell you what I know”. So over half an hour he filled in the gaps. Vic in return told him how he knew this man.
Alan admitted that the only thing that said this person was Mark Bennet, not someone else, was a photo on a driver’s license. He explained how the car was linked to the billabong and the car was registered to Mark Bennet. But all they had was a skull and a bit of forearm. They could not really tell if these matched the driving photo.
Then Vic asked about the forearm, “Which arm was found?”
Alan said, “It is the right arm.”
Vic said, “Did you find anything funny about it, like an old gunshot wound?”
Sandy said, “How could you possibly know that?”
“Well,” said Vic, “He had a bit of a bump on the bone on that arm. One day he was working cattle in a trap yard. A metal gate flew open and hit him right on that spot. It looked like he would pass out. He was grey with the pain.
“Later I asked him what it was about; he was a tough bastard who rarely showed anything. So I knew it must have really hurt. Normally Mark would say nothing about his life before. But we had become really good friends. I had told him about my family, all the Afghan, aboriginal and Scottish relatives. So now I think he felt he should tell me something about his life from before.
Mark put my hand on the lump to feel it. It was not very big but it was quite distinct. T
hen he said, “I was working overseas as a mercenary in Africa and I took a bullet right there. It smashed out a piece of bone. The hospitals and doctors were not good, no surgery. All I could do was clean out the hole, remove as much of the bullet and rubbish as I could find and fill it up with antibiotics. Then I strapped up my arm.
It took nearly a year before my arm was better and I could do much with it. I had to teach myself to write with my other hand. Now it is as strong as ever, but that pointy bit of bone is still tender, perhaps there is a little bit of the bullet still in there.”
Sandy said, “You know that is the first real confirmation that the body we found is that of the man who is called Mark Bennet or Mark Butler, whatever the name is. I have x-rayed that bone, I have seen the bullet fragments. It is Russian ammunition, and the man has worked in Africa or the Middle East. So now, thanks to you, we really do know that it is your friend Mark. And we need to know who he was and what he has done, to try and understand why Susan is involved”.
With the mention of Susan’s name Vic turned his attention to her. He asked where she was, why she was accused, what she had said.
So Alan explained the evidence he had gathered and Vic listened intently. When Alan told Vic about her complete refusal to cooperate, her absolute silence, Vic shook his head, “It just does not make sense, she was no weakling, but the way they acted together, it just does not make sense. She was captivated by him and he was by her. It sounds like she was there alright but there must be another explanation”.
Alan agreed, “That is why we were so desperate to see you, we need to find out, and so far, beyond Susan you are the only person who has admitted to knowing this man. So we need your help, anything you know about him or of others who might know him.
“In three months her trial will happen and unless she helps herself or we can find a reason for what happened it will be over in a day and she will spend most of her life in jail”.
Vic shook his head, still finding it hard to believe. “Of course I will help you. Mark was my friend and, no matter what happened. I know he would not have wanted something like this to happen to Susan. So I must help her, both for her own sake and to do what he would have wanted. I will tell you what I can remember now, and then, while I am working next week, I will put my mind to trying to remember anything else that will help.
Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3 Page 44
