He could not stay silent now.
He turned and looked at Scarlett. For the past year he had tried to tell himself that the best thing to do was say nothing, to let the case stay unsolved. It wasn’t until he had seen Scarlett standing beautiful, furious and unaided in the darkness to defend her sister that he realised how much the guilt had nibbled at his soul.
All his life William Ryan had tried to do right. If he didn’t speak now, he could never feel right again.
He met Scarlett’s eyes and gave her a brief nod. Saw the second of shock as she finally understood. Brilliant, incredible Scarlett whom he had never seen properly till that night, all fire and courage, clutching at her tea towel.
If only he could borrow a little of that courage now. And suddenly, miraculously, he felt it flow towards him.
Constable Ryan stood up as the sweat rolled cold down his back. ‘I killed Ignatius Mervyn,’ he said loudly. ‘I didn’t mean to, but I did.’
Chapter 61
St Vinnies Sale Makes $106.58
Last week’s St Vinnies sale made $106.58 for the help of those in need in our community. Congratulations to all involved!
JED
Jed stood, unable to move, even as the coroner repeated, ‘You may step down now, Mrs McAlpine.’ She found Joseph at her side, taking her hand, Blue beside him, hugging her as she finally stepped away, shaking, and Constable Ryan took her place.
He looked . . . the same. Not a murderer. Impossible he was a murderer. Constable Ryan was a good man: she’d swear that he was good.
‘I swear by Almighty God,’ began Constable Ryan, his voice trembling, his eyes seeking hers. She looked back at him in complete and endless gratitude, knowing she could say nothing, could do nothing, to thank him for what he had done, what she suspected he was going to do now.
‘You are still under oath,’ the coroner reminded him. ‘Now in your own words. Your name is . . .’
‘My name is William Ryan, Constable First Class. I am stationed at Gibber’s Creek, New South Wales. I attended the property known as Dribble on the evening of . . .’
Jed listened as Constable Ryan repeated how Sam had rung him when Merv first showed up; how he had investigated her past and Merv’s; how he had reassured them; patrolled the Overflow road as often as he had been able, watching for the blue car.
‘What would you have done if you had found Mr Mervyn there on an ordinary day?’ interrupted the coroner.
Constable Ryan looked surprised. ‘Given him an official warning, then told the McAlpines he was there. That’s all I could have done.’
‘Very well. Go on.’
‘I was on duty on the day in question. Acting in liaison with Fire Control, I drove out along the Overflow road that afternoon, making sure everyone was prepared or had evacuated. It wasn’t easy, as visibility was down to about a metre with the smoke. I called at Moura, but there was no one there. I called in at the commune and Drinkwater, but they had their own pumps and seemed to have it all in hand. I was heading past the turn-off to the billabong when I saw . . .’
Jed held her breath.
‘. . . Ignatius Mervyn holding a jerry can. It was immediately obvious this man was committing arson in some of the worst bushfire conditions the district had seen.’
What seemed to be a single angry whisper from many throats shuddered across the courtroom. William Ryan met Jed’s eyes for a second, then looked back at the coroner, his expression serious and open. ‘I believed then, and I believe now, that Mr Mervyn’s motive was to frighten or even kill Mrs McAlpine by burning her house. It was also obvious that if he was left unchecked, he might light more fires. So I hit him,’ said Constable Ryan simply. ‘I came up from behind and king-hit him. He went down. There wasn’t much time and it was the only way I could think of to stop him.’
Constable Ryan paused, choosing his words. ‘I had seen Mrs McAlpine’s car in the paddock. She wasn’t in it. I didn’t know she had gone into labour, but I was worried she might have been hurt in the accident, and that even if she hadn’t been, she would have been traumatised and would need to get into town urgently. Given their . . . history, I didn’t want her to have to share the police car with Mr Mervyn.’
He paused again. ‘You have to realise what it was like that day. There was burning debris flying all around. I handcuffed Mr Mervyn, but he hadn’t come to. It wasn’t safe to leave him lying there. The church was the closest building apart from Mrs McAlpine’s house and, more importantly, it did not appear to be in the fire’s path.’ For the first time Constable Ryan’s careful police composure slipped. ‘I swear I only took him there to keep him safe but secure . . .’
No, he isn’t going to say he saw me, thought Jed. He never would.
‘I turned back at once to get to Dribble and help Mrs McAlpine . . .’
Or had he? wondered Jed. How much was he not saying? Had he first tried to follow her along the track to the billabong, but been blocked by the flames? She of all people recognised that he was not telling the whole truth.
‘I couldn’t get through. There was another fire front coming from the direction of Overflow. I think Mr Mervyn must have lit it too, though with the wind in all directions that day, there was no way afterwards of seeing where the fire began. All I could see when I approached Dribble that day was a wall of fire. I turned back to get Mr Mervyn and bring him into town, but the church was already burning. I couldn’t even get near it . . .’
Yes, he must have tried to follow me down the track, thought Jed, her hands gripping Blue’s and Julieanne’s. The timetable he was giving would not quite make sense to anyone who had been in the fire at that place and at that time. But no one else here had been, or they’d have known that Constable Ryan could have got to Dribble before Scarlett, Joseph and Carol.
But he hadn’t. He’d been at the billabong, hunting for her body among the burning bark and debris, hoping she might have survived, never guessing she had made it back up the river to Dribble safely with an old Driza-Bone to help her and the whisper of the memory of Matilda . . .
‘I was still in the church paddock when I saw Dr McAlpine’s ute pass. I followed it up the road, then saw the tanker arrive. There was obviously no need for me there, so I proceeded down the road to check on the situation at Overflow . . .’
‘You didn’t think to notify anyone that you had left a man to die in the church?’ The coroner’s voice was carefully unemotional.
‘No, Madam Coroner,’ said Constable Ryan.
‘Why not?’
Ryan raised his chin, as if to take a punch from an invisible hand. ‘I hoped that he wouldn’t be found. I hoped that if he was, it wouldn’t be traced to me.’
Detective Rodrigues stood up. ‘Excuse me, Madam Coroner, may I ask a question?’
‘Certainly.’
‘No handcuffs were found with the body. Can you say what happened to them?’
‘Yes. The builder’s crew called me as soon as they found the body. They couldn’t see much in the rubble, just the legs. I cordoned off the area, then when everyone had gone, I removed the handcuffs. And that’s it,’ said Constable Ryan. His eyes met Jed’s again, then he looked to the back of the court and nodded.
Constable Ryan’s duty had been done.
Chapter 62
Why I Love Zucchini by Broccoli Bill Smith
People have been asking why I plant so many zucchini. Well, I’ll tell you this about zucchini: they’re the most generous veg I know. No matter how many you plant, you always have more than you ever dreamed.
I like that in a vegetable.
JED
‘What will happen to him?’
Mr Fox had joined them at the Blue Belle. Leafsong had placed pots of Queen Mary tea before them — the most appropriate tea for a crisis — and slices of apricot-topped almond cake with ice cream for the entire extended clan, tables pushed together to accommodate them all. Mattie was now on Nancy’s knee, enthusiastically dribbling her first ice cream, and Jed h
ad finally stopped trembling.
It was over. Finally, absolutely over. Sam’s reputation was secure. Her secret was safe. And she was free of Merv at last.
She had tried to talk to William Ryan, to thank him, but by the time she had managed to get out of the courtroom he had vanished. And how could you thank someone for saving you and the man you loved from decades of whispers and gossip? Kind gossip, for the most part, but still a gleeful replaying of an old mystery, something her daughter should not have to face.
‘The police are questioning him now,’ said Mr Fox, swallowing his cake with appreciation. ‘It’s probably going to depend on whether the coroner hands down a verdict of manslaughter, or death by misadventure.’
‘And what then?’
‘If it’s misadventure, then Constable Ryan won’t be charged for Mr Mervyn’s death. He almost certainly will be charged with hindering the investigation and maybe assault too.’ Mr Fox shook his head. ‘Taking the handcuffs is going to go against him. By his own admission he did that with malice aforethought, though his confession will stand him in good stead. If it’s manslaughter, he will be arrested. If he pleads guilty — and it would be hard not to after his confession — there’ll be a hearing to determine his sentence. A manslaughter conviction means a minimum of three years in prison, though he would serve maybe just half of that with parole for good behaviour.’
‘But he didn’t mean to —’ began Jed. Blue took her hand again.
‘He caused the death of a man,’ said Mr Fox flatly. ‘It might have been different if he had immediately reported what he’d done. But instead he made every effort to hide the crime. Killing people is a crime,’ Mr Fox carefully placed equal portions of cake and ice cream on his cake fork, ‘even if you don’t mean to do it.’
Jed thought of Sam’s accident. No one had meant to do it. If Sam died — when he died — no one would be charged for that either. Darling Sam. She held out her arms for Mattie, clapping sticky hands, and gathered her closely, fiercely. Your father can’t be with you, she thought. But I will keep you safe. I will always keep you safe.
‘Ungle fice fream book,’ said Mattie, grabbing at the ice cream on Jed’s plate.
Jed reached down to the nappy bag for a washer, poured some water onto it from her glass and used it to wipe her daughter’s fingers. ‘Would you be prepared to act for Constable Ryan if the coroner says it’s manslaughter? I suppose the Police Union will get someone to represent him, but I’d like the best.’ Whoever Michael, Joseph and Jim had found would be the best.
Mr Fox nodded. ‘Yes. I think there is an excellent case for the minimum sentence.’
‘Will they sack him from the police force?’
‘Almost certainly. But I doubt he would wish to continue.’
She owed William Ryan her life, and her daughter’s life too. Nancy caught her eye and gave her a brief nod. Somewhere among the clan’s varied businesses, a job would be found for William Ryan, if he wanted it, one that might enable him to go to university too.
So many good men, thought Jed, looking around the pushed-together tables. Joseph, Michael, Jim, Mr Fox, Sam . . .
I know your name now. It’s Darling. Darling Sam, who even lying in the hospital was still her husband, still part of the heart of her life. Jed stroked her daughter’s ice-cream-silked nose with her index finger to make Mattie laugh, then pressed her face into the curls, drawing up the scent of baby, till Mattie wriggled off her knee and began to explore the café with eager toddling steps.
Such a rich world for her to grow into, thought Jed, watching Leafsong draw the chubby hands away from the cutlery on a table and sit her down with a pile of saucepans and cake tins.
Sam McAlpine would always walk with his daughter even when Mattie was grown and investigating the wider world. Strange how she had been so dubious about committing her life to Sam, but only now realised how much they had changed each other into what had truly been a marriage. Even if — when — Sam died, he would always be part of her now, just as Matilda would never truly leave her either.
Death was always tragedy, often almost impossible to bear. But you did bear it, because there was no choice, and where there had been such love, it was never quite the end.
That afternoon she would go down to the billabong and tell her ghosts just that. Though of course they all already knew.
Yes, thought Jed, looking around the tables, we are okay. No matter what happens, we are a family, facing it together.
Chapter 63
Will Margaret Thatcher Be PM of Britain?
It looks like Britain may be going to have its first female prime minister. The chances of that ever hoppening in Australia, however, romain remote . . .
AFTERWARDS
SCARLETT
Scarlett wheeled herself carefully along the cracked Cooma footpath. Yes, this was the right address. Cream brick veneer, marigolds in neat rows either side of a green gate, a good concrete path and, thank goodness, no stairs to the front door, or she’d have had to yell instead of knock.
She knocked. A woman answered, grey haired, wiping her hands on a flowery apron. She seemed startled to find she had to look down at a young woman in a wheelchair at her front door. ‘Yes?’
‘Hi, my name’s Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara. Is William Ryan here?’
A hesitation. ‘Yes, he’s in his room. I’ll call him. Would you like to come in?’
Scarlett wheeled herself down the corridor. China ducks, really truly china ducks, flying up the wall. At least two hundred porcelain figures of dogs: dogs sitting, begging, rolling, playing the banjo. A floral sofa and two matching armchairs, a burgundy Axminster carpet.
‘William? There’s a young lady to see you.’
He came out, rubbing his eyes. Probably having a nap, thought Scarlett professionally, or at least semi-professionally, because as well as her three years of medicine, she’d been working with Dr McAlpine for ages. Depression often manifested as too much sleep.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘It’s me.’
He blinked. ‘Scarlett?’
‘How did you guess? It’s the wheelchair, isn’t it? I’ll never be able to disguise myself in a wheelchair.’ She dropped the teasing. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay,’ he said automatically. He just as automatically sat in one of the chairs.
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ said his aunt tactfully.
‘Oh, sorry, Auntie Ellie. This is Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara from Gibber’s Creek. Scarlett, my aunt, Mrs Yantell. Don’t worry about the tea,’ he added. ‘I can make it.’
‘Glad to meet you, love. Milk and sugar?’ Then to her nephew, ‘You stay here and talk to your young lady.’
‘She’s not . . .’ Will glanced at Scarlett, then flushed. The flush grew deeper. Ha, thought Scarlett. He’s remembering me and my tea towel in the moonlight. The thought pleased rather than disturbed her.
‘Just milk, please.’ Scarlett looked back at William as his aunt went out. ‘You left last week before any of us could speak to you.’
The coroner had finally handed down her decision. Merv had died by misadventure, not manslaughter. No one had cheered — a coroner’s court was no place for cheering — but there had been the strange sound of an entire courtroom breathing out in relief, seconds of silence, then a gabble of whispers. And when Scarlett had turned around, Will had gone.
He shrugged. ‘No need to hang around.’
Scarlett looked at him shrewdly. And no wish to face the curious, the accusers or the congratulators, she thought. All would be hard to bear. ‘What happens now?’
‘Some of Dad’s old friends are influential. They let me resign before being kicked out of the police. That means I don’t have to face a disciplinary tribunal either. There might still be charges for interfering with an investigation, but they’re pretty sure they can block those too, for Mum’s sake.’ He met her eyes. ‘I almost wish they would lay charges. I deserve them. It’s not right that they can use influence like that either.
But Mum’s been through enough.’
‘We owe you a lot, you know. You saved Jed’s life and Mattie’s.’ Scarlett hesitated. ‘She told me what really happened that afternoon. All of it. You were wonderful.’
Another shrug, but his face no longer looked quite so tortured.
‘You could have stayed quiet,’ added Scarlett softly. ‘You could have let everyone think it was probably Sam, or maybe Jed, an unsolved murder that would be dragged up for amateurs to solve every ten years or so. But you didn’t. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.’
He shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t tell the whole truth. I swore to, but I didn’t.’
‘I know. You didn’t say you saw Jed there. You made sure no one would ever suspect her —’
‘That’s not it!’ He shook his head again, then lowered his voice. ‘Don’t make me out to be a hero.’
‘Why not?’ asked Scarlett quietly.
‘I should have admitted what I’d done as soon as the church burned down. I tried to tell myself it was for Mum’s sake, with Dad dying just then too. I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t sacrifice my career for a man like Ignatius Mervyn.’ Will looked blankly out the window, as if seeing that day again. ‘I saw him with a jerry can of petrol that day, just as I said in court. I saw Jed too, terrified, running from him towards the flames. I hit Merv from behind, then I ran after Jed. But I was too late. The fire blocked the way. There was no way I could get through.
‘I went back to Merv. He was still unconscious. And I . . . I almost lost it. I thought he’d caused Jed’s death and her baby’s — and who knew what else? I wanted to destroy him too.’
William hesitated, then continued. ‘But I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I put the handcuffs on him and tied his legs in case he came to, and carried him to the car and got him back to Drinkwater and into the church, just as I said, to keep him safe from debris. The grass was so short that the fire was just racing across the paddocks. The road was clear, so I was able to drive back to the billabong. It was just burning bark and logs then, so I was able to search through it, in case Jed had survived, or at least find her body.’
The Last Dingo Summer Page 27
