The Last Dingo Summer

by Jackie French

  ‘He said I should have called the police. He called them straight away. Constable Ryan said he’d keep a watch on the house and have a word with Merv. He’d let us know if he managed to talk to him.’

  ‘Did Constable Ryan phone you?’

  ‘Yes, but only to say there’d been no sign of Merv. We assumed that once he’d found out I couldn’t be blackmailed he’d left.’

  ‘So neither you nor your husband had any idea Mr Mervyn was still in the district on the morning of the bushfire?’

  ‘No idea at all. Sam would never have gone to Rocky Valley if he thought Merv was still around.’

  ‘Have you any knowledge that might help find Mr Mervyn’s killer?’

  Jed shook her head. ‘If I had, I’d have told the police. But Merv was a bully when I first met him. He probably assaulted other women. He may have tried to blackmail other people too. A man like that could have many enemies.’

  Mr Fox smiled. ‘Thank you, Mrs McAlpine. You have been very helpful.’

  Jed moved to step down.

  ‘Mrs McAlpine, a little more if you don’t mind.’ It was the coroner. Jed hadn’t realised she could ask questions too. She clenched her fists, trying to breathe calmly. ‘You said the fire was around your house?’

  ‘Yes. The smoke was so thick you couldn’t see more than a metre or so. The wind was screaming too.’

  ‘So you might not have heard a car? Or even the fire truck? Especially as you would have been in great pain.’

  ‘I . . . I think I would have. I heard Joseph’s ute and then the fire truck after that.’

  ‘But you didn’t hear anyone else?’

  ‘No.’ The answer sounded too bare, too lacking in respect. Should she call her ‘your honour’? She should have asked Mr Fox. ‘The road doesn’t get many cars at any time, and especially not on a day like that.’

  ‘Can you think of any reason then why an enemy of Mr Mervyn might be on that road, on a day of such extreme danger?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that. Of course I’ve thought about that. They’d have known his body would be burned in the fire — maybe hoped no one would even think it was murder.’

  ‘But how would they have known he was there?’

  ‘Followed him,’ said Jed. It sounded unlikely. Impossible. But it was also the only explanation she had been able to find for Merv’s death.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs McAlpine. I know how hard this has been for you.’

  Jed stumbled towards the seats. Nancy reached out a hand, gathered her into the family.

  The forensic pathologist took the stand. He should have given evidence earlier, but had been delayed in Sydney traffic. Jed dug her nails into her hands, willing him to say something, anything, that might make it impossible to suspect Sam.

  Male, glasses, looking apologetically at the crowd as if unwilling for his evidence to be used to accuse a murderer. Yes, the evidence was unmistakable. Ignatius Mervyn had been tied up when his body was burned. The position of the ties would have made it impossible for him to walk, or to have sought shelter in the church while he was bound like that.

  No, it was impossible to tell forensically what Mr Mervyn had been tied up with. Decomposition of the body as well as damage from the fire also made it impossible to tell exactly how or when he had died, but there was evidence of smoke in the remaining lung tissue. The bulldozer had also left skeletal damage, so he could not say if Mr Mervyn had been knocked out or drugged beforehand, or even shot, if the bullet had only hit soft tissue. No, no such bullet had been found on site, but the ground had been disturbed by the bulldozer. It was also possible Mr Mervyn had been shot elsewhere and the bullet had gone through the body.

  Mr Fox stood up. ‘You say there’s no way to tell the time of death forensically?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So Mr Mervyn might have been dead for days?’

  ‘Detective Rodrigues has already explained that the church was cleaned by . . .’ the coroner checked her notes ‘. . . Mrs Theodorakis and her daughter two days before the fire.’

  ‘Which left two days for the body to have been put there,’ said the lawyer. ‘Mr Mervyn may even have been dead long before the day of the fire. That is possible, isn’t it?’ he asked the pathologist.

  The pathologist nodded. ‘Yes, that is possible, though it doesn’t explain the smoke in the lung tissue.’

  ‘Placing the body in the church proved to be an excellent way of clouding the time and means of death, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Yes, I think I would say that.’

  But it doesn’t explain how Merv’s car got to Dribble the day of the fire, thought Jed. But maybe the coroner wouldn’t think of that, or might think that whoever killed him had driven it there. Except, of course, that was not how it had been . . .

  ‘Thank you.’ Mr Fox sat down with a small smile of satisfaction.

  Jed hugged Scarlett briefly before her sister took the stand or, rather, rolled her wheelchair next to it. Jed tensed as Scarlett made her oath, her hand on the Bible, small and serious. Scarlett wouldn’t deliberately betray her. But what if she was tricked into giving something away?

  Yes, her name was Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara. No, that was not her birth name, but the one she had assumed, now hers by deed poll. Yes, she and Dr McAlpine and Ms Carol Endacott had driven along the Overflow road to Dribble at about four-thirty that afternoon.

  ‘Did you see Mr Mervyn’s car?’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t notice it then. I was too worried about Jed.’

  ‘You’d seen Mr Mervyn’s car before?’

  ‘Yes, several times. He parked it just down the road from Dribble.’

  ‘Do you know why he did that?’

  ‘To frighten Jed.’

  ‘Did he succeed?’

  Scarlett glanced at Jed. Jed nodded. ‘Yes,’ said Scarlett.

  ‘What was Mr Sam McAlpine’s reaction to his intimidation of his wife?’

  Scarlett hesitated. ‘Angry. Protective.’

  ‘Frustrated because he couldn’t do anything?’

  ‘He did do something. He called the police.’ Scarlett looked over at Constable Ryan gratefully. ‘Constable Ryan was really good about it. He told other people to watch out for Merv’s car too, or to be with Jed when Sam or I couldn’t be there.’

  ‘But Mrs McAlpine was alone that afternoon?’

  ‘No, she was with me. I thought her car was right behind me while I was driving back into town. The smoke was so thick I couldn’t see anything. I just assumed . . .’ Scarlett suddenly looked like she would cry. ‘I still have nightmares about it. I should have driven in with her. Made sure she got to the Blue Belle safely.’

  Oh, Scarlett, thought Jed desperately.

  Mr Fox stood up. ‘Mr Mervyn didn’t approach the house on the day of the fire while you were there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you be sure of that?’ asked the coroner.

  Scarlett turned to her. ‘Yes, I think so. Maxi, our dog, would have barked or growled. She’d met Merv. She didn’t like him.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Kelly-O’Hara.’

  Jed tasted blood as Scarlett wheeled away to the back of the courtroom where her chair wouldn’t block the aisle. She must have bitten her lip. Nancy stood and went to sit next to Scarlett. Nancy looked pale, her face set like stone.

  Joseph spoke next, confirming Scarlett’s account, trying to sound dispassionate and professional, the anguish for his son evident.

  Yes, Sam had told them that a man called Merv was stalking Jed, but he had expressed every confidence in the ability of the police to handle the matter. He would not have gone to Rocky Valley in the fire truck otherwise. Yes, he had spoken to his son about the events of that day and about Mr Mervyn. Nothing his son had said to him could shed any light on what had happened to Mr Mervyn.

  ‘May I say something, Madam Coroner?’

  ‘Of course, Dr McAlpine.’

  ‘I know my boy. He wouldn’t murder anyone,
nor would he desecrate a church like that. Sam and Jed were married there.’ He managed to keep his voice steady as he added, ‘It was one of the happiest days of my life. And Sam’s.’

  Blue gave a small, choked cry. Kirsty and Mah hugged her.

  ‘Thank you, Dr McAlpine.’

  Joseph sat at the end of the pew next to Blue, carefully not looking at anyone, obviously trying not to break down in public. Blue let her tears fall, accepting a hanky from Kirsty.

  Bill gave evidence after that, red faced, helpless, admitting yet again that Sam and the fire truck had vanished in the smoke across the paddocks for ‘. . . ten minutes max it must have been. We could hear the engine all the time.’

  The counsel assisting the coroner looked at him without emotion. ‘I believe in your first statement to the police you said Mr McAlpine was gone for “about twenty minutes”.’

  ‘Well, yeah, at first, maybe. But thinking it over, it was ten minutes. The boys all agree. You couldn’t get the fire truck to the church and back in ten minutes. No way.’

  ‘Did you know Ignatius Mervyn?’ asked the coroner.

  ‘Yeah. Sam told us all about him, what he’d done to Jed, how he was hounding her again.’

  ‘Did Mr McAlpine ever say that he planned to do anything about Mr Mervyn?’

  ‘Yeah. Call the police.’ Bill glanced at Constable Ryan as if for confirmation.

  ‘Anything else?’

  Bill blinked. ‘Well, er . . .’

  ‘Did Mr McAlpine say anything else?’ pressed the assisting counsel.

  ‘He said he’d knock his block off if he came near Jed again. But he was just saying it. Sam wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly. Look, Sam was a good bloke. Is a good bloke, I mean. The best! The police have no right to be making accusations at a bloke who can’t defend himself.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Sampson.’

  Mr Fox stood. ‘Mr Sampson, did Mr McAlpine express any worry that Mr Mervyn might approach his wife again?’

  Bill looked relieved. ‘Hell, no. He wouldn’t have left Jed if he thought that Merv’d be back again. Sam was worried enough about her having the baby while he wasn’t there. There was no fire near Gibber’s Creek when we left either. Sam wouldn’t have gone to Rocky Valley if there had been.’

  ‘So you travelled back solely to fight the Gibber’s Creek fire?’

  ‘Well, that and Jed being so pregnant. When Fire Control ordered us to Sydney, we thought to hell with them, we’re going home. That’s where we were needed.’

  A stir in the courtroom. Jed realised this piece of knowledge had not been made public before. She could see when Bill realised it too.

  ‘But nonetheless, Mr McAlpine was worried only about his wife’s safety because she was so pregnant in a bushfire?’

  ‘Too right. Worried sick he was.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Sampson.’

  Tubby in the witness stand, then Bluey, each reluctantly telling the same story. No, it was impossible to see far that day. Yes, they had been ordered to Sydney, but Sam had been desperate to get home to Jed. Yes, Sam was gone for a short time with the fire truck, finding a clear way through the paddocks. Each looked apologetically at Jed, each anguished as they put stroke after stroke on the portrait of Sam McAlpine, killer . . .

  Because if Sam had seen Merv when he’d tried to find another way through — and if that ten minutes had really been twenty, or even forty, because it was so very clear that Bill and the others were lying for Sam — he could have got around the fire front across the Overflow road, could have found Merv near Dribble, struck him down, tied him up, dumped him in the church . . .

  Except he wouldn’t have, thought Jed dazedly. Not Sam. Struck him, maybe, especially if he had seen Merv lighting the fire. Tied him up, maybe. But not left him to burn to death, not when he had his mates ready to take Merv to the police . . .

  The mates who had spent the previous thirty hours fighting fires, risking their lives and almost losing them. Exhausted, high on adrenalin . . . would Merv really have been safe with them? She had heard stories of blackened bodies with jerry cans found after fires, firebugs found, stopped and left to die, and no one looking too closely at who had done it.

  No! Not these men. None of them had a whisper of vigilante in their souls. They were good men . . .

  Michael put his arm around Jed. Blue took her hand, held it hard in hers. Jed hardly noticed.

  Two more witnesses who had been working at Drinkwater the day of the fire, each confirming that no strangers had gone along the road.

  And then it was done.

  No, thought Jed. There has to be more evidence. A stranger had to have gone along the Overflow road. Someone who hated Merv . . .

  The coroner collected the papers in front of her. ‘Thank you, all. I will consider . . .’

  She was going to decide Sam did it. Because the police hadn’t looked for anyone else with motive and opportunity. Only Sam had those. And her.

  And suddenly she knew what she must do. They couldn’t prove she’d killed Merv, because she hadn’t. And if people muttered that she might be a killer, well, she could bear the gossip. Mattie would have her extended family, by blood and friendship, to keep her strong against the whispers.

  She had to say that she had seen Merv that day. That the fire was already closing in from Overflow when she’d last seen him, so there would have been no time for Sam to get to them, even if he’d found a way. She must do this for Sam. For Blue and Joseph, who should not harbour any doubt that their beloved son might have killed a man, even accidentally.

  She had to speak.

  Jed stood. ‘Excuse me . . .’ she began.

  Chapter 59

  You Should Never Get Tired of Zucchini by Brocccolli Bill Smith

  Zucchini Gingerbread

  Ingredients: 125gm butter, 100gm brown sugar, 125gm self-raising flour, 2 eggs, 1 dessertspoon treacle, 2 tsp ground ginger, 2 dessertspoons crystallised ginger, finely chopped, 125gm grated zucchini, 2 tbsp ground almonds.

  Melt the butter, add the treacle and sugar, stir well. Take off the heat, stir in the eggs, then add the other ingredients. Moisten with a little milk if necessary. Bake in a slow oven for an hour, or till a skewer comes out clean (this will depend on the size of the cake tin). Leave un-iced, or spread thinly with lemon icing when cold.

  Lemon Icing

  Add a dash of lemon juice to icing sugar, with one tablespoon of butter for every cup of icing sugar. Don’t add too much juice at once in case it gets too runny — just add more as necessary.

  FISH

  ‘No!’ Fish muttered as Jed stood up. She’d left the blonde wig off. People had been asking if they could feel her head all day, saying it felt like velvet. Wes seemed to like it too.

  Now he stared at her. She shook her head mutely at him.

  She’d asked the wrong questions. She had been so fixated on her mass murderer, so reassured by Nancy, that she had missed the most obvious point of all. The detective had missed it too, because he also had a preconceived notion he didn’t want to lose.

  And because neither of them knew Gibber’s Creek.

  But Fish did now. Enough.

  There had been other people around Dribble, Drinkwater and Overflow that day. Those two men had just testified to that. People that they’d expected to see there: those fighting the fire, or just checking people were okay. People who were so expected you didn’t notice them, like the police and the fire brigade people.

  Jim Thompson. He’d have been going from place to place all day, checking things were right. No one would be surprised when they saw Jim, or any of the Drinkwater men. Just as no one would have been surprised to see Great-Uncle Joseph either, if he’d come out to check on Moura. Everyone from the commune would have been fighting the fire too. No one would remember Broccoli Bill had been there either, unless they were specifically asked. Weird, fixated, sure he knew best, but everyone was used to him. No one might have seen him in the smoke, or heard him, silent o
n his bicycle . . .

  ‘Fish?’ whispered Wes.

  She couldn’t look at him. She shook her head, gazing at Jed as she walked towards the witness stand. Jed was going to try to draw suspicion onto herself. She hadn’t realised who was the most obvious suspect of all. But she could not let Wes know that she had worked out his father could have been there, was the kind of person who was so confident that his beliefs were right that he might have killed . . .

  Someone else stood up in front of her . . .

  Chapter 60

  Weather forecast: Maximum 32, minimum 18, wind northwest, chance of showers about the ranges.

  THE KILLER

  The courthouse was too hot. Two fans weren’t enough. The crowd made the room hotter too.

  That wasn’t why the killer was sweating.

  The killer watched as Jed Kelly walked to the witness stand again, trembling. She was going to tell them. Finally Jed Kelly was going to tell the whole truth.

  The killer had seen it all: had seen Jed on the track to the billabong that day; seen the blue car; had known what Ignatius Mervyn intended even before Jed fled towards the flames; had understood that if Merv wasn’t caught, then he would go after Jed again, time after time.

  The killer couldn’t let Jed tell the truth now. Admitting Merv had tried to kill her that day would not take the suspicion from Sam McAlpine. It would only make people think they might both be guilty — Jed defending herself from her tormentor, even stabbing or shooting him perhaps, Sam hiding the body in a place that would be burned.

  He’d loved Jed Kelly for ten years, ever since that long-ago New Year’s Day picnic on the river. She hadn’t even noticed he was there. What would a brilliant young woman have ever wanted with a country constable, one who’d left school in Year Ten? And when he’d first met her, she’d only had eyes for that Nicholas fellow, the romantic wounded veteran, not a high-school kid. And after that, it had been Sam McAlpine. William Ryan hadn’t even tried to compete. Oh, he might have, if Sam hadn’t been one of the good guys. But William had known Sam McAlpine all his life. Sam and Jed Kelly fitted. And he’d stayed silent.