by JD Nixon
“Sure she does.”
“Tezza, just go with the flow for once. Suck it up, and before you know it, your disciplinary time will be over.”
“It will always be there, recorded on my personnel file though, won’t it,” I said glumly. “It’s hardly going to do wonders for my career.”
“It never stopped Fiona from getting promoted, did it?”
“I s’pose not.” I looked at him. “Did you really wrangle her, or are you just bullshitting to make me feel better?”
He winked. “You never heard it from me. And it’s not my job to make you feel better. It’s my job to make you behave better. Now, where are we going?”
We followed Valmae’s instructions, pulling up behind the casually parked ute.
“That’s Dave’s ute, all right,” I said, stepping out and walking over to the driver’s seat. The door opened on my first try. “It’s not even locked. And look, the key’s still in the ignition.”
“Maybe it broke down?” Baz said, poking his head through the open window of the rear seat.
I turned on the engine, only to be met with a red fuel light. “Nah, ran out of petrol by the looks of it.”
“Here’s his wallet,” Baz said, groaning as he lent down to pick it up off the floor. “Not a cent left in it, and no credit card either.”
“Hope they didn’t gouge Dave too much on the credit card. He’s not exactly rolling in it.”
I pulled out my phone and rang him, letting his mother know when she answered that we’d found his ute, and breaking the bad news about the missing money.
“So, our two teens got this far and then lost their wheels. Where’d they go next?” I looked around me, seeing nothing but bushland on either side of the highway.
“I think we better ask around at some of the properties closer to here,” Baz decided.
“But I already rang everyone out here. Nobody knows anything.”
“Better check again.”
And so, after securing Dave’s car, we spent the rest of the day tramping around from property to property, asking the farmers if they’d noticed anything strange over the last week or so. The only thing even remotely interesting was the disappearance of a very elderly bicycle from one property’s outlying shed, but as it was a surplus piece of equipment, the apologetic farmer couldn’t even remember the last time it had been sighted.
“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” I complained as we returned to the patrol car.
“Had to be done.”
“So where’s the girl? And does the poor thing even know about her boyfriend yet?”
“That’s the kind of news I don’t like telling people.” He glanced around at the bushland, frowning. “I don’t like the idea of a young girl out here in the wild by herself either.”
“Maybe someone’s taken her in?”
“And not telling us? Why? From all accounts these two were strangers in town. There couldn’t be a person around here who doesn’t know that we’re trying to find out information about some strangers in town. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“So she’s living rough?”
“Perhaps.”
“Poor thing.”
“She was an accomplice in a carjacking and mugging, remember,” he said dryly.
“True. But Dave said she was crying all the time. Doesn’t sound like a hardened criminal to me.”
“Maybe the boy was forcing her to be with him.”
“Dave didn’t think she looked coerced.”
“Well, Tezza, it’s a real mystery to me. Let’s get on back to the station so I can ring the dees.”
“Maybe we should organise a search. Perhaps we could track her down. She’s the one person the dees would want to talk to.”
Baz looked around him again with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “I don’t know. Just the two of us in all this bushland? It sounds like an impossible task.”
“So what do we do? Just wait until she shows herself?”
“What choice do we have? We’ll let the dees know that we’ve found the car, but not the girl. And they can decide how they’re going to handle it from now on.”
Back at the station, Baz had to answer the call of nature once more, so left me to ring Mr X and Zelda. Mr X sounded uncharacteristically testy, frustrated by their inability to identify our dead teen.
“Someone has to know who he is,” he fumed. “Zelda and I have been poring over the missing persons database for days, trying to find a match. But we don’t even know what this kid looked like.”
“We know there’s someone who does know who he is, but we can’t find her, and have no idea where she’s hanging out.”
He sighed heavily. “She’s probably miles away by now if she had any sense. Look, we’ll send forensics to your place to see if they can lift any prints from the ute. Maybe our kid had a record.”
“Bit sad when that’s what you’re left hoping for in a case involving a teenager.”
“Zelda and I are working six cases at the moment. Believe me when I say that I am not fussy about how a case cracks.”
“Just let me know if I can help at all. I feel responsible for this kid’s death, and the least I can do is try to give him back his name, and let his family know what happened to him.”
“It’s not your fault, Tessie.”
“That’s what everyone says, but you didn’t see that kid getting splattered. That’s not something anyone is going to forget in a hurry.”
“Sounds like everyone’s feeling cheery at the moment. So,” he paused, “how’s it going with Baz the Wondercop?”
“Just brilliant. I’m having a ball.”
That raised a laugh in him. “Oh well, if it helps you get off the brass’ shitlist, it will be all worthwhile in the end.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to make much difference. I think I’m now permanently on the brass’ shitlist,” I said wryly.
“Uh-oh, speaking of shitlists, here comes the Super, and she does not look happy,” he said hurriedly, lowering his voice. “Better scram. See you, Tessie. Look after yourself.”
“X, get off the fucking phone, and explain to me why –” I heard the Super bellow before I was left listening to the dial tone.
Chapter 6
The next fortnight passed slowly. Baz, the human gluestick, shadowed my every move as we re-questioned everyone in town about our two mysterious teens. But we had no more luck finding any answers than we’d had the first time we’d done it.
The most exciting thing that happened during that time was the arrival of the promised forensics team to dust over Dave’s ute. As Mr X and Zelda accompanied them, I was thrilled when Baz allowed me to tag along with them for the day as they went around re-questioning all the townsfolk again, even though they’d already interviewed them by phone. I guess Baz decided that a couple of detective sergeants could keep an eye on me as well as he could. In any case, I scrambled out of the station before he changed his mind, leaving him to deal with our paroled reportees and Young Kenny’s routine visit.
But that fourth bout of being asked, and answering, the same questions left some of the townsfolk feeling rather cantankerous, and not bothering to hide it.
“I’ve told Officer Tess everything I know twice already,” complained an increasingly belligerent Valmae, giving the two dees a death-stare, and impatient at being interrupted from her pressing duties on the family’s avocado farm.
“We just need to hear about you noticing the abandoned ute one more time, Mrs Kilroy,” replied Zelda in her cool, implacable detective voice. “Perhaps you saw the two teens we’re currently trying to track down.”
“I didn’t see them!” she almost shouted in exasperation. “I’ve told you that three times already. The ute was abandoned when I first noticed it. I told Officer Tess that when I reported it to her.”
I shot her a tight, sympathetic smile when I thought Mr X and Zelda weren’t watching.
The owner of the missing bicycle was equal
ly curt when they made him go over his story again as well.
“I don’t have anything else to tell you,” he insisted. “I noticed the bike was missing, but I can’t say when, because I don’t go out to that shed regularly. I told Officer Tess all this already, and I have nothing to add.”
That said, he turned his back on them to continue tinkering with some piece of farming equipment I couldn’t identify if I tried.
“What a waste of a day,” moaned Zelda, slipping into the front seat of their unmarked car. “Let’s go back to Wattling Bay and do some real work.”
“Before we do, let’s go speak to that guy who was carjacked again,” decided Mr X, checking his mirrors before pulling out on to the highway. He glanced at me in the rear view mirror. “He’s some kind of kiddie fiddler, isn’t he? That probably doesn’t make him very reliable as a witness.”
“He’s not a kiddie fiddler,” I spoke up, aggrieved by his implication. “It was all a huge misunderstanding. He had a drunken urge to pee, but unfortunately picked the park next to the primary school to do it in. School wasn’t even out at that time, so there weren’t any kids around, just parents waiting for the bell. That’s why the magistrate gave him a probation period, which he’s since served out. He lives a quiet life with his mother and has never done anything wrong, or caused any trouble, apart from that one unfortunate incident. And I’ve never heard even a whisper that he preys on small children in any way, and believe me, the townsfolk would have let me know if he did.”
Dave’s mother opened the door to us at their old timber house. The residence had seen better times, but like most of the small farmers in the outlying districts of Little Town, money was tight for Dave, and he was always just one bad crop away from severe financial stress. I could appreciate that.
“Yes?” asked Mrs Gatton, eyeing Mr X and Zelda with suspicion. Dave and she wouldn’t receive many unexpected visitors, living as far out as they did. Her rheumy eyes shifted to me, the one familiar face in the bunch. “Is everything all right, Officer Tess?”
But before I could open my mouth to assure her, Mr X stepped in. “I’m Detective Sergeant Guylen, and this is Detective Sergeant Mills. We’ve come to interview David about his experience with the carjacking. And you are . . .”
“Mrs Shirley Gatton. Dave is my son,” she huffed angrily, her eyes darting my way again in reproach. “And you’ve already interviewed him at great length. You can’t have forgotten that, surely? He had to spend the best part of a day driving to Big Town to the police station at your demand.”
“Now, Shirley, no need –” Mr X started, trying to be conciliatory.
“Excuse me, but I did not give you permission to call me by my first name. It’s Mrs Gatton to you.”
Mr X blushed slightly at the rebuke, but I wasn’t surprised. Mrs Gatton was of the same generation as my Nana Fuller, and I knew that tiny, much-loved curmudgeon would never have allowed a younger person, or someone she didn’t know, to address her with such familiarity.
“We’d just like to corroborate his story again, Mrs Gatton,” tried Zelda.
“He has a farm to run. He can’t just drop everything because you people don’t take proper notes of your interview with him the first time around.”
“Mrs Gatton,” I said gently, laying my hand lightly on her arm. I could feel it trembling beneath my fingers, and I didn’t think it was from anger. She was afraid, and perhaps her son’s humiliating experience at the hands of the justice system had left her worrying about him whenever the police came calling. “The detectives just want to see if Dave’s remembered anything else about that incident. That’s all. It’s really important that we explore all possibilities to identify that poor boy. I’m sure you’d agree with that. He has a family out there who haven’t yet heard the terrible news about him. And, at this stage, Dave’s our main witness.”
She hesitated, her lips pursing with unhappiness. And just when I wondered if she was going to refuse to cooperate entirely, she reluctantly directed us to where Dave was working in the fields behind their house.
“This is a tough town,” Zelda commented dryly, stepping carefully on the dirt path leading to the fields, mindful of her expensive shoes. I felt a momentary tinge of gladness that I didn’t have to worry about niceties like that in my boots.
“Everyone seems almost hostile to us,” Mr X agreed, frustrated yet again.
I shrugged. “What do you expect? People around here, especially the farmers, don’t have a lot of time for you fancy folk from Big Town. Especially when you keep asking them the same questions, expecting different answers. They’re busy people, and it gets up their noses to have their time wasted.”
“It’s like getting blood out of a stone,” muttered Zelda under her breath.
“Believe it or not, they’re trying to help you. The fact is that nobody saw, or knows, anything, apart from what they’ve told you already. And that will probably be the same of Dave,” I replied, riled in a mild way on behalf of the good folk of Little Town. Because though they were suspicious of Big Town cops, they were very supportive of the town’s own police, particularly as we were sometimes the only thing standing between them and the lawlessness of the Bycrafts. The townsfolk were generous in showing their appreciation by regularly showering us with gifts of produce, something for which I was eternally grateful, as it helped stretch my budget.
Dave saw us approach, and straightened himself up from a crouching position, from where it appeared he’d been testing the soil. His face held a resigned expression, with an underlying hint of utter weariness that I thought perhaps only I picked up on, knowing him better than the others. He didn’t speak when we reached him.
“Hello, Dave,” said Mr X affably, not reprimanded this time for his over-familiarity. “We were in the neighbourhood, and thought we’d pop in.”
“Why?” he asked with quiet flatness, adjusting his hat so his face was partly in shadow.
“We just thought it might be a good idea to run you through your story again.”
“It wasn’t a story. It was the truth.”
“Let’s not quibble over words,” Mr X replied easily, with a smile that Dave didn’t return.
“We were hoping you might have remembered some further details of the two teenagers,” said Zelda blandly.
“I haven’t,” Dave said, his voice becoming fainter. “And God knows, I’ve thought about it a hundred times since it happened. Down to the last detail.”
“We thought you might have remembered more being relaxed at home. You were rather tense when we interviewed you in Wattling Bay,” noted Zelda.
“Which we understand, er, given your past interactions with the police,” added Mr X.
Dave’s glance landed on me, his gentle brown eyes miserable. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’ll never live that down, will I? It’s going to haunt me forever. That’s the only thing anyone will ever remember me for.”
“Dave . . .” I began, but I truly didn’t know what to say to him.
He was right – he would never live down that indecent exposure charge. There were parents in Little Town who clasped their children closer to them whenever Dave walked past. I was sure that rebuff hadn’t escaped his notice. And I knew from talking to my schoolteacher friend, Gretel, that he was no longer one of the local farmers invited to the local primary school to talk about his crop, as so many others were.
“We’re not concerned about that today,” Zelda dismissed briskly, but I wasn’t sure Dave even heard her, lost in his own dismal thoughts.
And for the first time since the Sarge had left town, I’d met someone even more steeped in wretchedness than me, something I hadn’t thought remotely possible. It was a depressing scenario for both Dave and me.
“Describe the couple to us again,” Mr X directed, taking out his notepad.
Dave complied in a dull monotone. His description hadn’t changed from that which he’d given me in his original report.
“Thi
nk back again to everything they said,” urged Zelda, also with her notepad out, pen poised. “Were any names mentioned? Even nicknames?”
“No,” Dave denied. “He called her ‘babe’ once, that’s all. Like I told you the other day.”
And on and on they went questioning him, not grilling him in any aggressive kind of way, but probably making him think they hadn’t believed a word he’d told them in his interview with them in Big Town. But finally their questions puttered out, and they were left realising they hadn’t uncovered even a tiny smidge of any extra information.
“When can I collect my ute?” he asked.
“I’ll contact forensics when we get back to Wattling Bay and let you know,” promised Mr X. And with that, we left Dave to return to his farming duties.
When they dropped me off at the station, they didn’t tear off as fast as possible, as most cops from Big Town usually did, eager to shake the dust of Little Town off their shoes. Instead, they came inside to the back room to take both Baz and me through our accounts of events again. Dishearteningly for them, neither of us had anything further to add to what we’d already detailed in our reports on the accident, and for me, also about my initial interview with Dave.
I walked them to the front door, Zelda bounding down the stairs and to their car, talking on her mobile. Mr X lingered in the doorway.
“Is everything okay?” I asked him. “You don’t seem your normal cheery self.”
“God, look who’s talking,” he retorted.
I gave him a tight smile. “I’m never cheery at the best of times, and this is definitely not the best of times, so it’s no comparison really.”
He sighed and rubbed his chin. I heard the rasp of his stubble as he did. “It’s Blondie.”
“Oh. Is everything okay with you guys?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes met mine. “Look, I haven’t told anyone, but she’s pregnant.”
“Oh,” I said again, but this time with a lot more surprise. “I take it from your expression that news was unexpected.”
“Highly unexpected.”
