[Currently, I have three of my paintings displayed at the Blackwood Rotary Art show which is on for the next couple of weeks. If you are in Adelaide, check it out. A number of us Marion Art Group artists have our work in there. Hence, one of these paintings, my painting, the feature painting of Mt. Zonder which has nothing to do with the ongoing saga of my Friday serial, “The Culvert”.
I post this work-in-progress for your entertainment and also, feedback, if you are so inclined to give some feedback.
Cheers, Lee-Anne]
Collaboration
Thursday, May 19
10am
Police HQ
El
El stood beside the multimedia touch screen and created a Venn Diagram. She felt awkward, like an imposter—she shouldn’t be here. But here she was. She glanced at the patent label down the bottom of the screen, in teeny weeny script, “All rights reserved, Sven von Erikson” and again, was not sure they should be using this programme.
Dan assured her it would be fine and that he’d been using the so-called collaborative/crowd-sourcing material for months. ‘If it helps catch the culprits, what harm can it do?’
El pointed at the middle of the intersecting circle where the name of Sven von Erikson was written in bold Arial script. ‘But he’s a suspect, Dan. Who says he won’t fiddle with the programming and make sure he disappears?’
‘I’m sure he won’t do that,’ Dan replied. ‘After all, he wouldn’t have given me the programme to test, if he didn’t want crimes solved too.’
‘Keep your enemies closer,’ El muttered.
‘He’s a friend,’ Dan said. ‘Besides, if it’s a success the department will be rolling it out Australia wide.’
‘I prefer the old-fashioned whiteboard and Blue Tak,’ Dee plopped her comment in, ‘all this technology is begging for stuff to go wrong. I hate technology.’
‘Why don’t you go down to the basement and dig out an old whiteboard and Blue Tak then,’ Dan said.
‘Rather not, all that dust gives me hay fever.’ Dee shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’ve got my investigation mapped out on a wall at home.’
The three studied the diagram with the intersection of suspects who out-numbered the witnesses on either side. Dan tapped the name of Lille’s and Sven’s father, Jan von Erikson. ‘Where’s he?’
‘If he’s still alive, he’d be ninety-two,’ Dee said. ‘But I do remember from my research that he walked out on the family back in 1977.’
‘Right, Dee,’ Dan said, ‘I want you to find out where Mr. von E went and what he’s been doing all this time. No one ever reported him missing?’
‘Appears not, seems they just accepted he walked out and wanted nothing more to do with the family,’ Dee said.
‘Now, El, let’s not assume, but confirm if he’s dead or alive, and when and where he might’ve died or where he’s living now. I want you to go where the von Erikson’s lived at the time, I have the address here,’ Dan handed El a slip of paper, ‘and ask around. You never know, there maybe someone who remembers something.’
‘What about the Edwardes’s?’ Dee asked.
‘They’re a no go at the moment; Lillie has put in a complaint of harassment. So, we have to tread carefully until we have more solid evidence,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll be continuing to gather information concerning Percy Edwards and his murder.’
Dee raised her hand. ‘What about the trafficking of the baby Lillie had back in 1981?’
‘That will need to be put to one side until after we sort out the murders,’ Dan said. ‘Now, we have our work cut out for us, so let’s get onto it.’
Again, a detective sat opposite Francis. This one was female and wore a smug expression. Introduced herself as Detective Dee Berry. She announced that she had further questions that must be answered into the cold case inquiry of the hit-and-run of Milo Katz.
Francis Renard watched as this woman who he vaguely remembered from his youth purse her lips as if her mouth were full of berries. He noted that his wife, Eloise had made herself scarce. Gone for a walk on the beach. A fine morning for it, so she said after hearing Dee Berry was coming to visit.
“You’ll be fine,” El promised, before departing, leaving him to be fed to the “shark”. “Text me if she becomes too much of a problem. Besides, Zoe’s in the next room.”
So, this lady detective opened her strawberry-coloured lips and said sweetly, ‘I have some news for you, Mr. Renard.’
‘Really?’ he shifted his wiry body in the occasional lounge chair making it squeak. ‘I really think I told your partner, Dan Hooper everything I can remember from back then.’
‘Can you remind me who you spent the night with, and where on the night in question?’
‘Er…um…well, it’s a long time ago,’ Renard paused, and decided to change the subject. ‘You look familiar, do I know you from a past life?’
Her expression soured. ‘We used to go out, around that time, Francis.’
‘Did we? I-I don’t…’
‘Obviously not,’ Dee said, glaring at him. ‘Just to clear the air, you stood me up at my own end of school party. Then later, you said that you were there, but you weren’t. I have it in my diary and you’re in none of the photos. And…’ Dee raised her hand for emphasis, ‘this is the best part, we have witnesses, and subsequent evidence that place you and your Kombi at Sellicks Beach on that night when Milo Katz was run over. Would you like to comment, Mr. Renard?’
‘Er…er…’ Renard fiddled with his phone trying to surreptitiously send an S.O.S. to El. ‘Wh-what evidence?’
‘Some pretty solid evidence,’ Dee rubbed her hands together. ‘On the night in question, witnesses reported that you spent the evening with a certain young lady. Do you remember? Or have you forgotten her too?’
‘Um…probably, there were a lot of them back then.’
Dee leaned back in her chair. Looking smug, she said, ‘It would seem there was fruit from your labours, Mr. Renard. Nine months later, a girl called Zoe Thomas was born. We believe this child is yours Mr. Renard.’
Renard looked up and beyond Dee. He smiled, ‘Oh, yes, I know all about Zoe.’
The blonde standing behind Detective Berry grinned. ‘Did I hear my name in vain?’
‘Huh?’ Dee turned; her eyes widened. ‘I’m conducting an investigation here, Miss. Who are you?’
‘Zoe Thomas, Ma’am,’ she held out her hand to Dee. ‘Barrister.’
Dee refused to take her hand. ‘I see, so you’re not just a wee bit curious about your mother?’
‘I am, but at this present time, I’m more concerned with the current investigation of my father.’
‘Why?’
‘It would seem from your tone and attitude, and from what I could hear, that your history with him makes it too close and personal for you to be involved.’ Zoe narrowed her eyes at Dee. ‘You may conclude your discussion and leave now.’
By five in the afternoon, Dee was driving down the windy road from Queenstown to Strahan. She heeded Mavis’ warning to take care on this narrow, steep road. She counted the number of cans strewn on the side along with the native wildlife carnage—mostly pademelons and wombats.
Local traffic frightened her. They swung around the bend, on her side, almost colliding head on before swerving to their side of the road.
Dee drove slower than the locals to avoid becoming another statistic. A conga line of cars fumed behind her. Every so often, a frustrated driver risked their lives and sped past her around a blind corner. Dee expected to witness disaster awaiting her on the other side, but this time, they’d been lucky.
Finally, as the sun set over a choppy Port Macquarie, Dee pulled in at the caravan park cabin she had booked that morning.
After a quick shower and change into a fresh pair of black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket, she headed for the hotel. There being a number of eating places that lined the main street, she chose the one that appeared most popular, a bar and bistro.
Before settling at a table to sit, Dee weaved her way through the Friday night crowds to the bar. She hoped the bar staff were not too busy to have a chat. She also hoped they had an inkling who Greg Thomas was and where she could find him.
Resting one elbow on the bar, while trying her best to look casual, Dee waited. The bar staff scurried from customer to filling up large glasses called “schooners” with beer and ignored her as if she were invisible.
‘I’d make a good private detective,’ Dee sighed and muttered. She wondered if word had got out around Strahan that she was in town, on the warpath, investigating. Perhaps Mr. Thomas had gone into hiding and the locals were all protecting their own and their secrets. Or was it just that she was at that age and invisible. Probably the latter, she thought.
As a more mature bar staffer, a balding man with grey sideburns whizzed past her, Detective Dee Berry straightened up and leaned over the counter.
‘Excuse me,’ she said.
‘Hold on,’ the man glanced back, ‘just a minute.’
Dee gritted her teeth, pulled out her ID card and held it up. ‘It’ll only take a minute of your time.’
The man looked like a rabbit, or in Tasmania’s road case, a pademelon, stunned by the headlights of an oncoming car, and hurried over to her. ‘How may I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Greg Thomas,’ she said, ‘do you know him?’
The man’s eyes widened. ‘Is he in trouble?’
‘Na, not really. I’m trying to chase up his daughter, actually. You know, the lawyer?’
‘Oh, is she in trouble?’
‘I can’t say, it’s confidential.’ Dee smiled. ‘Do you know where I can find him?’
The man pointed across the street at crowds of people milling around a brown and green structure topped with sail cloth. ‘See the Visitor’s Centre, there, he’s next to that in the timber yard.’
‘Oh, right?’ Dee lifted her hand from the counter and prepared to leave. ‘Thank you. What time does he finish work?’
The man shrugged. ‘He’ll most probably still be there. He works late on his projects most nights.’
Dee waved and said again, ‘Thank you.’
She walked over the road. The visitor centre swarmed with the latest offload of tourists from the Gordon River cruise to an open-air theatre. The timber yard and shop appeared dark and empty.
‘Are you looking for someone?’ a voice called out of the dark.
Dee looked in the direction. The glitter of red ash splashed onto the pavement a few metres away. She could just discern the outline of a man in the shadows.
‘Huh? Who are you? Are you Mr. Thomas?’ she asked keeping her distance. You can never be too careful, she reasoned.
‘Nah,’ the man sucked on his cigarette making the tip glow red. ‘Why, do you want with him?’
‘I’m looking for his daughter, Zoe. Wondering if he could help me find her,’ Dee said, mindful not to reveal her identity as a police officer. ‘I’m an old friend of her mother’s.’
‘I see.’
Dee could just make out the man’s long hair, and beard that covered his face.
‘I was just wondering if you knew when Mr. Thomas would be in the workshop.’
The man coughed and with a gravelly voice replied, ‘Try tomorrow morning. He’s gone home for the night.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Good luck,’ he responded.
She left the old man on the wharf to his smoking and headed back to her cabin for the night.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
If you are in Adelaide, check out Marion Art Group’s exhibition at Bayside Village, Glenelg. On until Saturday, May 10. You can buy the paintings on the spot and take them home. Just in time for Mother’s day. My paintings are there too. Don’t miss out, have a look and enjoy the wonderful artwork.
When she left the old man at the service station, Dee made a mental note to turn left at the fork in the road where the purple house sat; just as the man said she needed to do to find the Thomas farm. She hoped the new owners would know where the Thomas family had moved.
After parking her car off the road, and in a ditch near the creek, Dee picked her way over the road and up the uneven path to the pastel pink painted house. Chooks ran amok in the front yard, scratching and pecking at the patchy lawn. A silver-haired blue heeler trotted around the yard after the chooks, sniffing and checking out where the hens had visited.
The door creaked open before Dee had time to knock, and a plump woman in her early 40’s looked at her and asked, ‘Are you lost?’
Dee replied, ‘No, actually, I’m an old friend of a lady who worked here with the Thomases back 40-years ago. Name of Lillie von Erikson? Did you know her? I’m trying to track down the daughter she had here back then…Adopted out…’
‘Ah, me mum…’ a knowing smile spread across the woman’s face, ‘always suspected that woz the case. So, now the truth comes out.’
She laughed, her tummy jiggling under her apron that covered with her latest cooking venture. Then she beckoned to Dee to come inside.
Offering a side of the table free of papers, the local lady said, ‘Cuppa? I have some delicious apple pie what’s just been cooked.’
Dee, who had a weakness for dessert and anything sweet, gladly accepted.
Over tea and heavenly pie with cream, straight from the cow cream, so the woman called Mavis boasted, Dee learnt the history of the little Huon hamlet, the days of the lives of each of the inhabitants, who was related to who, how many partners each had as well as offspring. Dee’s head spun with all these extraneous details but struggled to put in even one question related to her enquiry. Mavis rabbited on and on, barely pausing to take a breath.
The apple pie was good, though, and Dee accepted a second, then third piece in the quest to ask at least one question.
When Dee glanced out the window and saw the hill presiding over the river all black in the darkness of night, she decided to move the conversation along. She pointed at Mavis’s pie and melted cream. ‘Aren’t you going to have some?’
Mavis stopped mid-sentence about her son and ex going Mutton birding, and she stared at her plate. ‘Oh, yeah, forgot about that,’ she remarked and shovelled a spoonful into her mouth.
As she chewed, Dee said, ‘Can you tell me where the Thomases went?’
At the mention of the Thomas family and Mavis’s mouth was off again, full gallop. Dee could see that at this rate it’d be midnight before she had an opportunity to leave. She didn’t fancy navigating these tricky Huon valley roads in the darkness of night and hoped Mavis would offer her a spare room or couch to sleep…if she ever stopped talking.
Dee tolerated the whole Thomas history, from convict beginnings of their ancestors, a ship that never was that they built and sped them to the coast of Chile, another daring escape from most certain hanging, to finally straightening out their lives to buy this patch of land on God’s earth.
Dee was sure Mavis was making it up as she went along.
A few hours later after weaving through the Thomas family history over the last century, Mavis announced, ‘You see, that’s why Zoe never fitted in; she wozn’t one of us.’
Before Dee could utter, “How so?” Mavis raced on, ‘Me mum grew up with Janine, went to school wif her and they got married at the same time. But while me mum went on to have ten kids, Janine had none. That was until that girl, Lillie come to work wif them. Me cousin worked wif her on the apple farm. She reckoned something woz wrong wif that girl. You can tell if someone’s up the duff, ya know. It’s the way their tummy sits, no hiding it.’
Mavis took a quick sip of her now, stone-cold tea, gulped and continued, ‘Then the next thing, off Janine goes on a holiday and bingo, comes back wif a baby. By that time, the girl, Lillie, so me mum says is gone. She woz preggers with me at the time.’
‘Did you…?’ Dee began.
Mavis cut in. ‘I went to school with Zoe. All brains that girl, and you could tell she wozn’t one of us. She definitely had the makings of a mainlander. But Janine never budged. As far as she woz concerned, Zoe woz hers and nothing could persuade her to tell the ‘onest truth. But we all knew…I mean, the Thomases, bof of them dark haired, Irish, and here they have a blonde who looked like one of them German kids that Hitler used to go on about. What were they called, them kids?’
‘Aryan,’ Dee replied and then zipped in, ‘so where are the Thomases now?’
‘Ah, well, Janine, the mother, she’s passed, so I heard. Cancer got her, they said, but Mister Thomas, he lives in Strahan. They moved to the West Coast a few years back when Zoe woz still in high school. Told ya, she never fitted in. Heard she became some hotshot lawyer in Melbourne. If that doesn’t tell ya, once a mainlander, always one, I tell ya.’
After this comment, Mavis yawned.
‘Have you been…?’
‘No, never, why would I do that?’ Mavis said. She straightened up and puffed out her generous chest. ‘We have it all here on the apple isle, why would I go there, to the mainland?’
Dee prepared to stand. ‘I must…’
Mavis jumped up and pushed her down. ‘No, no, you can’t go out now. Here, you stay here tonight. I have a couple of spare rooms; me kids are all grown up, ya see. ‘sides, it’s dark out there and dangerous to drive at night. All the animals come out and I wouldn’t want ya having an accident. No, you must stay and have a good sleep, and, in the morning, I’ll draw a map for how you get to Strahan, okay.’
Dee thanked Mavis for her offer. She’d forgotten about the wildlife. She’d seen more animal carnage on the roadside from Hobart to Huonville than she’d seen in a lifetime of driving in the Adelaide hills and surrounds. She would prefer not the add to the native wildlife body-count.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
After the phone call to Fifi, Dee leaned back in her chair. ‘Gotcha, Mr. Renard. Gotcha!’ She couldn’t believe her good fortune in Fifi. Didn’t take that “Rannga” much to turn against her former friend.
However, youth group rumours were not enough to “hang” Lillie, she needed hard facts—evidence. She started with the local council office at Glen Huon. After all, most apple picking happened in the Huon Valley, Tasmania. So, a good place to commence digging dirt on her nemesis.
Thankful that she woke up the sleepy young man in the office before the council chambers closed, she trawled through the files he sent her. She was glad that such information about payrolls and workers in the area in 1981, had been digitised. Lillie von Erikson was listed as working for apple orchard owners, Greg and Janine Thomas. However, no mention of a baby or her being pregnant. Dee puzzled over the fact that Lillie, according to Fifi, seemed to have been in Tasmania long after the apple-picking season was over.
What was she doing there after apple picking? Dee wondered.
She moved onto Trove, an online digital archive, that has recorded historic newspaper articles and publications. Searched Lillie’s name in the local and state newspapers from the day.
Nothing.
She calculated when the baby would arrive if conceived in November. Then scrutinized state and also national papers for a birth in the personal pages. August—September 1981, in particular. Nothing. Still, all is not lost. Perhaps she didn’t put the birth in the paper if she adopted the child out.
But a quick check of newspaper dates available revealed that Trove only published papers up to 1950. What a disappointment!
A visit to the South Australian State Library was the next step in the search. There she trawled through the microfiche files for the Tasmanian newspapers, concentrating on births around August and September.
After an unsatisfactory August, she scanned the first week in September.
‘Ah! That looks more like it,’ Dee murmured.
She zoomed in on the notice of a daughter, Zoe, born to Lillie’s apple picking bosses, Greg and Janine Thomas. Detective Dee Berry smiled while resting her clasped hands on her belly. September 1, right in the timeframe too.
‘Interesting,’ she murmured. ‘Did the moll stay to help Mrs Thomas? Or did she give the baby to Mrs. Thomas?’
A check of the births, deaths, and marriages register, and confirmed. Mrs. Janine Thomas was over 40 when she had her first child, Zoe.
‘Not impossible, but suspicious,’ Dee muttered. ‘I think a little trip to Tasmania is what I must do.’ After saving the information onto a file labelled “Moll”, she put in an application for a visit to Tasmania courtesy of the government. After all, it was an enquiry into a murder investigation.
Who knows, Dee smirked, my enemy may be a suspect that needs to be eliminated; one way or another I’ll get her.
Dee gripped the leather-bound steering wheel of Toyota Corolla hire car as it rumbled up the unsealed road. Won’t tell the hire company about that little detour, she thought. From the Council records, the Thomas farm was hidden way out west, close to the “Great Western wilderness”. The further west she drove, the thinner and rougher the road became.
She passed a tiny town with houses painted in gaudy orange and pastel greens. A purple house stood sentinel at a fork in the road. Dee took the left track hoping to reach her destination soon. She’d given up on the Sat Nav. The designated voice, named Jilly was vague and hadn’t a clue where to go.
Dee was proud that she could still read maps and follow the directions of an old local manning the service station at Glen Huon. He said he’d remembered someone like Lillie 40-odd years back. Strangers were a rarity in a small town of fifty-odd people from where he had come. He said Lillie had walked into the church, and all twenty heads turned to size up the blonde from the mainland.
‘It wasn’t long before rumours were flying,’ the station owner said, ‘pregnant, just like the lady who lived in that purple house you’ll see when you get to the town up there. Rumour has it, she’s got a child from ten different men. Anyways, that’s a lifetime ago now. Back then, if someone sneezed across the valley there, everyone in town would know about it and the person who sneezed would have died from pneumonia. Not much better now.’
Dee must have given him a strange look, because the station owner added, ‘Oh, er, don’t believe the rumours. Them folk up there are all related, married cousins and what not, but they don’t have two heads.’
‘Didn’t think they had,’ Dee replied, ‘I just want to know how to get to the Thomas farm.’
‘Don’t know why you want to go there; the family left years ago.’
‘Do you know where they went?’
The man shrugged. ‘The missus died, so I heard. Daughter’s become some big shot lawyer in Melbourne. Something not right there, she never fitted, you know what I mean. She wasn’t one of us.’
‘Did she look like Lillie, the blonde?’ Dee showed the man a photo she had scanned to her phone of 17-year-old Lillie.
The man paused, squinted and then nodded. ‘Yeah, there were rumours. But we could never prove it. Janine, Mr. Thomas’s missus, always insisted the baby was hers.’
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
Monday May 3, 2022 2pm Church Hall at Seaside, Art studio session
Fifi
Feeling jangled from a stressful morning, Fifi unpacked her paints and laid them out on the table. She gave El a crooked smile. ‘So, what’s new with you?’
‘Hmm, nothing much.’ El eased into her plastic moulded seat and rested her box of paints on her knee.
Zoe’s staying with us for a while. She landed a job in Adelaide, you know. Reckons she’s on track for passing the bar and becoming a judge.’
‘Ooh, ladida!’ Fifi sniffed and then snorted. ‘What d’ya reckon ol’ Lillie’ll change her tune if she had an up-and-coming judge as a daughter.’
‘Didn’t know she had a tune.’
‘Oh, yes, she’s been dead against DNA and all that stuff since it’s become a thing.’
‘Pretty sure we know why that is, don’t we.’
‘Yeah,’ Fifi sighed and then started to paint. ‘Not like me; everyone back then when I had my Jacob, said I’d trapped Sven into marrying me. Some even went as far as to say that I wouldn’t ever get married otherwise.’
‘Yeah, I remember this one girl, Dee—Dee? I think. She said with my looks and red hair it’s a wonder anyone would marry me.’
El chuckled.
Fifi stopped painting and glared at El. ‘And, what’s that about? That laugh? Are you implying…?’
‘No!’ El locked eyes with Fifi. ‘Not at all. I think you mean, Dee Berry. I know her, she’s a police officer, actually, a detective now. As far as I know, she’s never been married, nor had any kids. I was laughing because she is the one who desperate and dateless. What’s more, pretty sure she’s got her heart set on my former partner in fighting crime, Dan.’
‘Not Detective Dan Hooper?’
‘Oh, yes, that Dan.’
‘Gawd, it’s a small world.’ Fifi placed her hand over her mouth and whispered, ‘I went to youth group with Dan. He was older, of course. All us girls swooned over him, but he went off and married some posh Swiss bird.’
‘Unfortunately, that didn’t end well.’ El lifted her paint set to the table. ‘Poor Dan just couldn’t compete with the obscene amount of money some of that set have. Last I heard his ex had taken a shine to Ivan T Rumf’s charms.’
‘Who?’
‘Just one of the richest and most powerful men in the world.’ El shrugged. ‘I mean, how can a Detective Inspector who is all about justice and not much money to show for it compete against such corruption? I ask you?’
‘Well rid of that one if she’s only interested in money.’
‘True.’
For a time, El and Fifi concentrated on their works. Fifi used a fine brush to define her bouquet of roses, while El made bold strokes blocking in a famous face for portraiture. Fifi raised her eyebrows at the choice of El’s subject. She didn’t make any comment about El’s muse, just mentally noting that El had nailed the fake tan, though.
After this pause in conversation, Fifi said, ‘Anyway, I heard that you had an interesting conversation with my sister-in-law the other night.’
‘How?’
‘My brother, Jimmy,’ Fifi’s voice dropped, ‘the police have been in touch about the body found near Mt. Lofty. We met with them this morning. Big news. It’s our dad. Gawd! Would you believe it? After all these years.’
El took in a quick breath. ‘Oh, that’s good. Isn’t it?’
Fifi covered her mouth, then wiped a stray tear from her cheek, then nodded. ‘Guess so. Still has to be confirmed with DNA ‘n stuff.’’
‘I’m sorry,’ El placed her arm around Fifi, ‘I guess it’s still a shock. And so final.’
‘Dan,’ her friend cleared her voice and straightened her back, ‘I mean Detective Inspector Hooper gave us the results of the autopsy. Broken neck—that doesn’t just happen. Plus, he had been moved after. He’s been lying in that disused mine, under that bridge all those years.’ She trembled and then sighed, ‘Poor Dad.’
‘Oh, that’s just awful,’ El said. ‘Do they have any leads?’
Fifi shrugged and swayed her head. She knew El was just being kind and empathetic, but she also knew that if she shared any further information, she’d fall into a heap and be a blubbering mess.
Once more steeling herself, Fifi said, ‘I hope they catch the low-life who did this. Maybe your virtual daughter, Zoe can give them a well-deserved kick up the pants and life in prison.’
‘I’m sure she’s more than capable if she ends up presiding over the case or somehow involved.’
‘Anyway, enough of that,’ Fifi forced a brave smile, ‘in answer to your question, Jimmy told me all about Lillie’s performance at the club the other night.’
‘Yeah, it was awkward,’ El replied. ‘I was glad to escape, thanks to Zoe coming to the rescue.’
‘Speaking of which—Jimmy mentioned how alike Lillie and Zoe are. More confirmation.’ Fifi had a vague recollection of the night of Milo’s demise at Sellicks Beach and Lillie coming out of Renard’s van in the morning. She had always wondered if there was more to her once best friend’s vanishing act to Tasmania than merely apple picking.
El cleared her throat and mumbled something Fifi didn’t quite catch, but it had something to do with Lillie’s response.
‘You know, do you think it’s wise to have Zoe living with you, so soon?’
‘No, why?’
‘Just…’ Fifi sighed. She couldn’t help herself giving advice, fixing things. ‘Seems to me she might be mooching.’
‘Mooching?’ El frowned at her. ‘Why?’
‘That’s what some people do. Just saying, be careful.’
‘Zoe’s not like that,’ El snapped. ‘I wish you wouldn’t be so judgemental. She’s a lovely lady, very intelligent and level-headed. Actually, I enjoy having her around.’
‘Sorry,’ Fifi said and looked down at her pink roses. ‘I’ve over-stepped the mark again, haven’t I?’
‘No need to be sorry, you have a lot going on.’ El leaned back and examined her work. The tanned face glared back at her from the canvas, his beady eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me about Jimmy, what’s he like as a brother?’
Fifi paused and prepared to give some pat answer that she hoped would satisfy her former detective friend’s curiosity.
Her mobile rang the tune of “Scotland the Brave”. She dove into her bag, fished the device out before it stopped and entered the merry-go-round of phone tag.
‘Hi Fifi, Dee Berry here from police investigations. I have some follow up questions, just a couple. Have you some time?’
‘Yes,’ Fifi said while standing up and moving out to the foyer. It was quieter there.
‘Do you remember when Lillie, your friend at the time, left Adelaide for Tasmania?’
‘Ummm,’ Fifi grimaced trying to force the memory cells to perform, ‘we went on a hike where we found…’ no, not sure if I should reveal that, ‘Lillie got lost and we found her near some cute little cottage. That was in January…sometime…it was so long…’
‘When did she go to Tasmania?’
‘Er, after January, I think…February?’
‘You’re not sure.’
‘It’s 40 years ago.’ Fifi gnawed at another nail. That Zoe, she doesn’t look forty. Crumbs! Jacob is 40. Where did that time go? Her mind wandered around the possibility of matching the two up. Then she realised they were most likely first cousins and dismissed the possibility.
‘How long did she stay there?’
‘I don’t know, six months, maybe? A lot was going on in my life. Jeepers! I got married and was having her brother’s baby. Lillie was not happy about that. She wanted nothing to do with me. With her, it was all about her career. I wasn’t good enough for her. Cripes! She didn’t even come back for my wedding. Her brother’s wedding.’
She didn’t mean to spill all her sordid details of her former life to this detective, but it just all slid out, like it wanted to be out. As if the detective, silent on the other end was some sort of therapist.
‘Interesting, don’t you think there was a reason she didn’t come back for such an important occasion,’ Dee said. ‘Is there any reason that you can think of that caused her to miss the wedding?’
‘Not sure, but I always wondered if she had been pregnant…’ Fifi hadn’t intended to share her speculation, but that just sort of slipped out too. ‘On that night when Milo, you know…in the morning I saw her come out of Renard’s van.’
‘I was really worried for her. Lillie was such an innocent back then,’ Fifi huffed. ‘But then after her working holiday in Tasmania, she came back without any baby in tow. So, I thought she must’ve been lucky…but…’ ‘Thank you, Ms. Edwards, you’ve been most helpful,’ Dee said, her voice sounding chipper. ‘I’ll let you get back to your…’
‘Painting.’
The phone clicked off. Fifi sat for a moment and reflected. Probably best I didn’t mention El’s news about Zoe. Not my place to tell. Let the cops figure out that one themselves. Why is it relevant? Gives Francis Renard an alibi, I suppose.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
Dee’s eyes crinkled as she chuckled under her mask. She slipped it to her chin and pecked at her chicken salad with croutons from the local supermarket. She had been tempted to treat herself to donuts (gluten and dairy free) from the market but resisted the urge. Must watch her weight; don’t want to end up like her high school nemesis Lillie. Boy, had she let herself go! Can’t understand how that husband of hers, Jimmy still fawns after her. Like a puppy dog, he was. Pity that enquiry went nowhere.
‘Anyway, got the Renard,’ she purred, then sipped her cappuccino. ‘By the way, Dan, there’s this no-fuss café near the bus stop that does the best. And so friendly. You should treat yourself.’
‘As you know, I had that interview with Francis Renard. You know, the Milo accident investigation?’
Dan nodded and cleared his throat.
‘You, okay?’
‘Yeah, fine. Just an allergy.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Dee replaced her mask and continued, ‘I followed up on Renard’s alibi. Says he was at a party the night in question. Now, I’ve got a feeling, just a hunch, mind you, that he’s not telling the truth.’
‘You have evidence?’
‘Not yet, but I’m working on it.’ Dee flicked through some files on the case which she had opened on her computer screen. ‘Did I mention I knew Lillie back then at high school? And Milo. What a sad character he was. So…so…thick. Kept hanging around us, wanting to be friends. Remember that?’
Dan snorted. ‘Frankly, I have no recollection of Milo. Was he in our year?’
‘Nah, should’ve been but had failed…I think he was part of the “special class”,’ Dee said, ‘Strange though, I have this vague memory of him hanging around with Renard and von Erikson. Saw them down at Glenelg in that bowling place.’
‘Bowling?’
‘Yeah, bowling. You know, ten-pin bowling? Remember Bayside Bowls? Opposite Colley Reserve. I used to bowl competition you see, and one day, around the time that Mr. Edwards went missing, there they were. Bowling. Not competition, just down the end having a social game.’
‘Did they look like they were enjoying themselves?’
‘Well, yeah, not actually … I was concentrating on my game.’ Remembering she had been trying to catch Renard’s eye with no success. ‘But I did notice at one stage, there was an almighty thud, then Renard and the von E guy laughing out loud. And I remember at that moment, Milo bawling his eyes out and then stomping out of the centre.’
The fact that this Milo character had walked off with the loaned shoes from the Centre, had disturbed Dee at the time, but it was her turn to bowl and her team “Top Spin” were depending on her for a much-awaited win against the opposing team, the “Cool Cats”.
They didn’t. Win, that is.
In her final stride, her focus slipped. To her right Renard hurled a ball at pin-breaking speed down the lane. He literally smashed the pins, leaving a 7—10 split, the tenth pin wobbling and broken. Her effort deviated at the last length to the far left and collected a mere three pins.
‘Interesting,’ Dan said rousing her out of her reverie, ‘follow that up. Perhaps Lillie has some comments about this Milo character that’ll be useful. Would you mind giving her a bell?’
‘No worries,’ Dee said with a smile. She was in a good mood today.
She didn’t mention the second part to her interview with Francis Renard. The somewhat informal part, when, after questioning Renard on his relationship with Lillie, he’d fumbled and bumbled his reply. His face all flushed he’d snapped, “It’s none of your business”, and it was long past by the time they, Dee and him, had hooked up.
Dee smiled again, and whispered, ‘Gotcha, Renard. I know you’re lying and I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it. What’s more you weren’t at my party. I have that on record in my diary, so there. Gotchya!’
She then lifted the receiver of the office land line, punched in Lillie Edwards’ mobile phone number and waited for her to answer. She mused how small Adelaide was, particularly in church circles. The line clicked and a commanding female voice spoke, ‘Good morning, this is Lillie Edwards speaking, how can I help you?’
‘Good afternoon, Ms. Edwards,’ Dee naturally had the overwhelming urge to correct this woman, ‘it’s Detective Dee Berry from the Adelaide Police…’
‘I’m busy, I can’t talk to you at the moment,’ Lillie snapped.
‘Perhaps we could set up a time when we could …’
‘I don’t know, I’m juggling a million and one things—look, haven’t I already spoken to you guys? About that Milo case—I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘About that, I just have a few follow up questions,’ Dee said with a sigh.
‘Look, officer, I really don’t have the time,’ Lillie snipped. ‘I’ve said all I can on the matter, and I feel like I’m being harassed by you guys.’
‘Just half an hour? Could I send you an email with the questions?’
‘No. I know my rights and if you people call me again, I’m going to escalate my complaint that I filed. Got it?’
With a firm clack of the phone call ending, Lillie cut the conversation.
Dee studied her receiver, puzzled. ‘Well, that was a bit of an over-reaction.’
She wondered if Lillie remembered who she was from way back in high school and was taking revenge on her.
Dee shook her head and replaced the receiver in the cradle. ‘Nah, surely not.’
That time she met Lillie in church, while she recognised her, Dee was sure Lillie had a blank look as if she was just another person.
However, the cogs of Dee’s overactive brain began to click over. She remembered Fifi. That girl who trapped Lillie’s brother into marrying her. Pregnant, she was. Sven had to do the right thing, he did. Too young, and the inevitable happened. Separation after a couple of years. Thinking about Fifi, caused Dee to fill with pride. I never tricked a fella into marrying me. Not even Francis Renard, tempting though he was. Come to think of it, marriage and men in general passed her by. Here she was, near sixty and married to her career.
Dee gazed over at her partner in fighting crime, Dan. Not bad shape. Did she have a second chance with him? He’s single, right? Sort of. He did mention a woman called Jemima from time to time. Part indigenous so the rumours said.
She smiled and remembered him saying Jemima was up in Central Australia looking after her elderly mother.
Dan looked up from his desk and waved. ‘How did you go with Ms. Edwards?’
Dee primped her fading strawberry-blonde curls. ‘She got all defensive. I think she’s hiding something, the way she over-reacted.’
Her object of hope didn’t seem fazed. ‘That’s okay. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, so to speak. I think her former sister-in-law, Fifi Edwards might be a bit more amenable. They were best friends in their youth. Lived next door. I’ll send you the number and you can try her.’
‘Right,’ Dee nodded. ‘I’ll get in touch with Fifi, then.’
After all, back then, Dee had lived just around the corner from those two. She had hung out with Fifi when Lillie wasn’t around. They had become particularly close while Lillie was on a working-holiday in Tasmania.
As she picked up the phone handle from its cradle, finger poised to dial, Dan signalled to her. ‘Hold on, Dee, on second thoughts, I’ll make the contact with Fifi.’
‘Why?’
‘I have another matter I need to discuss with her.’
‘What? I can handle it.’
‘I just think it’s better if I maintain contact with her at this time,’ Dan replied while shuffling papers on his desk. ‘I mean, she might get spooked if too many different people see her.’
‘Why? What’s this other issue anyway.’ Dee was most indignant that Dan would take away her opportunity to catch up with her old friend.
‘Remember the body found up Mt. Lofty way?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, turns out that the boots are Percy Edwards’s. Which means most likely that the body belongs to Percy Edwards. Fifi Edwards’s father has been missing for over four decades.’
‘Fancy that!’ Dee drummed her desk. ‘Just as we start the Milo accident hit and run investigation; Mr. Percy Edwards turns up.’
‘Yeah, I know. Strange how the universe works,’ Dan said.
‘Hmm,’ Dee paused, ‘You don’t think they’re connected?’
‘Could be, Dee.’ Dan leaned back on his seat and twiddled his thumbs. ‘Stranger things have happened.’
Dee jumped up. ‘I’m off for a coffee, you want one?’
‘Yeah, why not?’ Dan patted his tummy. ‘And could you get me a couple of those delicious donuts from the market? There’s a good girl.’
Dee pouted under her mask. So, condescending! Oh, well, be kind to the man; I might catch him yet. ‘Yeah, will do, what flavours?’
‘Just cinnamon and sugar. Oh, and a skinny cappuccino while you’re at it.’
‘I’ll be back,’ Dee said and strode out the door. She had Fifi’s number on her mobile phone, so she intended to call her. While I’m out getting coffee and donuts, I’ll have conversation with my old friend Fifi, off the record, she mused.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
[Oops! I made a bit of a blue last time when sharing a chapter of The Culvert. A repeat of a previous chapter under the guise of a different chapter heading. How did that happen? It’s a mystery…No, actually, I confess, the chapter repeated itself in the manuscript. All fixed, so here’s the real, fair dinkum “Fallout” Chapter.]
Fallout
Norwood Saturday, May 1, 2022 5 to 10:00pm
El
El gleaned from the afternoon that currently had turned into dinner and an excursion to an exclusive club restaurant in Kingswood, seated by an open fireplace, red wine in hand, that Lillie had loved her father. To her he was a kind man but had trouble holding down a job. She reckoned he deserted the family because he was ashamed that he couldn’t provide for them.
‘Just before he disappeared,’ Lillie said, showing an antique gold watch, ‘he received this watch and he said, “I’ve lost my job, and this watch is all I have to show for it.”’
‘Can I have a look?’ El asked.
Lillie took the watch from her wrist and handed it to El who studied it, turning it over in her hand. She recalled the watch Zoe was holding the other day after the discovery at Mt. Lofty.
An inscription on the back of the watch read: In appreciation. P.E.
For what? El wondered and said, ‘Interesting. Nice watch. Would be worth a few bob, I’d imagine.’
Lillie shrugged. ‘Yeah, it’s gold.’
‘Golden handshake, I guess,’ El remarked. Then without thinking glanced at Jimmy and asked, ‘Who’s P.E.?’ Lillie had consumed a few glasses of some red wine by then. Lillie’s choice. Madam being a connoisseur of red wine. She particularly recommended drops from the Clare Valley.
Jimmy squirmed in his seat, and mumbled, ‘My dad. His boss.’
‘Golden handshake?’ El said.
‘Hard times, had to lay off people,’ Lillie jumped in and with an edge to her voice. ‘Nothing personal, he reckoned. It broke him, though.’ She then gulped down her glass of red and poured another.
‘Is that why he left?’ El said.
‘You betchya!’ Lillie said followed by another skull of wine. She started to pour more Clare red into her glass.
Jimmy placed hand over the glass. ‘I think that’s enough, dear.’
‘Oh,’ Lillie glared at her husband, ‘I’ve only started, dear.’ She nudged his hand out of the way and completed the task of filling her glass. Then she offered the remainder of the bottle to El. ‘Want one?’
‘Why not?’ El replied. She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but with this woman of status and force, resistance seemed pointless.
She watched Lillie fill her glass. I’ll just sip, she thought.
Lillie, now slurring her words and swaying, launched into a diatribe; wrongs done to her and her hard life. Her mother, once Dad had gone, worked two jobs to send her to college. But poor Lillie suffered bullying from the rich kids. Did she mention her nemesis? Dee. Dee Berry. Oh, how she hated that Queen of bitches.
Jimmy nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Dee. Oh, my goodness!’ He turned to Lillie and gestured. ‘Tell her about the time she beat you up in the woodwork room.’
El covered her mouth as she tried her best to hide the smirk forming on her mouth. ‘Dee Berry? You went to school with Dee?’
‘Yeah, piece of work she was. Had it in for me from the moment we met eyes back in Year 8. We both liked the same guy—Danny. Danny Hooper.’
A snort escaped from El. Dan? That’s one for the books.
‘Did you know her?’ Jimmy asked.
El in a moment of awareness, cleared her throat. Don’t mention her association with the police force. ‘Ah, small world. Adelaide, you know.’
Jimmy narrowed his eyes at El. ‘What sort of work did you say you did?’
Ah, trick question. ‘Public service in human resources and management,’ El was quick to reply. She’d added the “resources” to give some distance to the management (aka policing part). Now to distract him. She took a sip of wine, then said, ‘Speaking of your father, what ever happened to him?’
Jimmy blanched and turned away. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
El bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ From what she had gleaned from Dan’s notes, Percy Edwards was himself a piece of work. ‘I understand.’ She decided not to mention the body in the freezer, even though she knew Percy was most likely the body they’d discovered under the culvert bridge on route up Mt. Lofty. She figured by this time, Dan or Dee had informed Jimmy of the discovery.
Meanwhile, Lillie was on a roll with the alcohol. She poured another drink, lost count of how many, and drawled, ‘Oh, my, Dee hasn’t changed. She’s plaguing me again. What is it with that woman?’
‘Yeah, no stopping that woman.’ Jimmy bobbed his head up and down. ‘She’s a copper now.’
‘Suits her, but why does she have to drag up the past and bother me?’
‘Why?’ El asked. ‘What’s she done?’
‘Aw, my brother hit a kangaroo way back in 1981, and now they think he’s killed somebody,’ Lillie said. ‘Hell, who do they think they are? Sven wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Jimmy patted his wife on the hand. ‘They’re just doing their job, Honey.’
‘Yeah but takes Dee to start bugging me again.’ A cloud fell over Lillie’s expression. ‘I tell you, if that Constable Berry calls me again, I’m going to sue for harassment.’
From there the conversation meandered from current trends in politics, bitcoin (and the Edwards’ massive profits) to conspiracy theories and Lillie’s passion for pro-life. No mention of her early travels to Tasmania and adopting out her baby there.
She smiled and considered the extended time with the couple, a most productive time. She checked her watch. My goodness! 10pm!
Lillie slapped her on the back. A friendly pat that with her level of inebriation had been a slap rather than a pat. ‘I really l-l-like you, El. I feel l-l-like I’ve known you forever.’
‘Yeah, likewise,’ El replied. She realised that, although she’d warned Francis she’d be out on reconnaissance with team Edwards this night, he’d be starting to get worried. She also realised she, herself had too much to drink to drive home.
El glanced at her phone to phone for a taxi.
‘Hey, El, dear, come tomorrow and we’ll get some serious painting done.’
El nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan, but um, I need to…’
Her phone pinged. A message from Francis. Where are you?
At the “Fireside” in Kingswood. Pick me up? Over the limit. El returned.
Francis: Ok, be there soon.
El assumed that Francis would text her from the car when he arrived, and she would make her escape. She would learn never to make assumptions.
Twenty minutes later, with Lillie praising the glory of not-so-local celebrity politician, Ivan T Rumf, a slim blonde in a grey jogging suit, stepped through entrance door to the lounge.
Jimmy jumped up. ‘Zoe! Fancy meeting you here.’
Lillie continued extolling the wonders of Ivan T Rumf’s financial wizardry. Barely noticed Zoe’s presence, until…
Zoe refused the offer to join them for a glass of the good stuff and being converted to the cult of Ivan T Rumf. El assessed from Zoe’s sour expression as she waited, that she was not a fan of the money mogul.
That sour expression and lack of enthusiasm for Lillie’s current pet topic, got Lillie’s attention. She looked Zoe up and down. And narrowed her eyes. She rose with hands on hips and snapped, ‘Who do you think you are, Madam?’
Zoe stepped back and holding up her hand, tried to diffuse the situation. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just come to collect my friend.’
‘Come now, Honey, it’s okay to have a different opinion.’ Jimmy tapped Lillie’s knee. Then to El and Zoe, ‘It’s the alcohol talking; she won’t remember a thing in the morning.’
Zoe and El glanced at each other. El rose, shrugged on her coat, lifted her handbag, and prepared to leave.
‘Hey, El, my friend, what do you think?’ Lillie tugged El’s coat sleeve.
Jimmy leaned back and smiled. ‘Hey, you know, just looking at you two. I mean, Zoe my Tassie friend, and Lillie, and I could swear you two are sisters.’
To say Lillie made a scene would be a gross understatement. Foot stamping. Fury flying. Abuse hurling. Colourful language not befitting of a prestigious college principal.
After making a hasty retreat out the establishment and into Renard’s car, El said breathlessly, ‘Sorry about that.’
‘What happened?’ Francis Renard asked.
‘She-she exploded,’ Zoe said. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Well, I’m glad I didn’t go in,’ Renard said. ‘How embarrassing for you.’
El sighed. ‘I think we have our answer, amongst other things.’
‘What do you mean?’ Zoe said.
‘If there’s any doubt, her over-reaction said it all,’ El replied.
Zoe scratched her forehead. ‘I don’t get it. You’re speaking in riddles.’
Renard huffed. ‘What the detective is trying to say, is that that crazy woman was your mother. Geez, I never knew she had a crazy side.’
El chuckled, ‘Ah, repression, does that to a person. Comes out sideways.’
‘Her?’ Zoe glanced behind her through the rear car window. ‘That woman who made a scene? Glad she gave me up…I can see the headlines now, “Judge’s birth mother is a nutcase.”’\
El raised her eyebrows. ‘Judge? You want to be a judge?’
‘Why, yeah. It’s all in my five-year plan; I was just taking leave after my mother died.’
On the drive back to Brighton, Francis Renard sat in the driver’s seat, tall, his chest puffed out. A grin split his face, and he said, ‘My daughter, a judge. My daughter a judge.’
And El contemplated. Perhaps I could return to work as a detective. Despite the fallout, she had enjoyed her foray into covert investigation. For her, Lillie’s outburst had been the highlight.
However, she was a tad concerned how she’d manage retrieving her car from the Norwood address the next day.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
When the football hammered on her favourite station, El switched to her USB drive and cheerful strains of Vivaldi swung into action. Nothing like this energetic Italian composer to get El into the mood for painting. Today, Lillie Edwards awaited another Saturday portraiture session.
El sighed as she replayed a rather awkward conversation with Dan. He so much wanted her to return to the force. El had put off the inevitable as long as possible. The longer she was away from the pressure of policing, the longer she enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in, and spending each day as she pleased, the less she was inclined to return to the drudgery of work. After all, she loved painting. Why spend days, weeks, months years behind a desk drowning in paperwork? Why waste time running multiple steps behind chasing criminals? Then, why spend all her hours again behind a desk researching, building up a case, just to watch the guilty slip through her virtual fingertips when at court, a clever defence lawyer convinces a jury to find them innocent?
With painting, she witnessed pleasant results in a few hours of dibbing and daubing while listening to her favourite podcast. Admittedly, lately, a certain crime story podcast was her go to of the month. Somehow, listening to crime stories proved more therapeutic than being involved in actual crime solving. Or so she told herself…
‘Would you consider returning to the force, El?’ Dan asked, desperation in his voice. ‘There’s nothing to stop you, now.’
‘I’ll think about it, and get back to you,’ El replied. The thought of returning to work, fighting the peak hour morning traffic, battling to find a park, and the daily grind of managing unruly people, set El’s teeth on edge.
That conversation happened on Tuesday.
Friday, Dan called again. He had asked, what was her decision.
While gazing out at the rolling waves from her wall to ceiling window, and still dressed in her dressing gown, El said, ‘I’m sorry, Dan, I’m not ready to come back.’
‘But why?’
‘I need more time.’ Just couldn’t break it to him that she really didn’t feel like ever returning. ‘The stress of the last couple of years has taken its toll.’
‘Oh, please reconsider, El.’ Dan’s voice softened to a whisper. ‘Just between you and me, Dee is driving me crazy. With her bean-counting.’
‘And her paranoia, no doubt.’ El snipped. ‘Look, it’s people like her that make the job an issue for me.’
‘But what about the challenge, the thrill of solving a case?’
‘Hmm, only to see it all fall apart and dissolve in court. And people like Dee who with their darn bean counting miss the whole point and give the defence lawyers a win on a silver platter.’ El shook her head. ‘Nah, I’m done.’
‘What? I thought you said you just needed more time.’ Dan sounded hurt.
‘Oh, I mean, for now. But if I decide not to return, I may still consider being a private detective. Be my own boss and bypass Dee and her cronies.’
‘Oh…but…’
‘Face it, Dan, I’ve had it up to here with the government and how they’ve treated us.’
‘But we need more…’ Dan sounded sad.
‘I know.’ El shifted in her seat on the lounge chair. Guilty. ‘Downward spiral. Less workers. More work for those left. Crime goes up. But-er-I’m pretty fragile at the moment. I can’t take the pressure.’
Renard chuckled in the background. ‘Can’t blame ya, they have treated public servants poorly. I’d quit too, if I was you.’
El turned and glared at Renard who pretended to concentrate on the newspaper crossword. She placed her finger on her mouth. ‘Shh!’
‘And you think I don’t have problems, El?’ Dan snapped. ‘You know, I’d much rather be an outback cop, on the coalface, than having to put up with all this cr—I mean politics here in the city. I mean, with all the demands put on me, I don’t have a life. It’s just work, and sleep. Hell, and then I can’t sleep because this cold case has got under my skin.’
‘Hell, yeah, it’s personal.’ Dan’s tone had a sense of urgency. ‘I mean, I remember Jimmy and Lillie Edwards from youth group. I remember when Lillie’s father Jan disappeared. And then, a year later, Percy, Jimmy’s father vanished. So strange. So strange.’
‘Perhaps, then, you are too involved,’ El said with a sniff, ‘you need to step back from it. perspective, remember. After all, just a thought, who says they didn’t run off together?’
‘Yeah, yeah, but something about the whole case doesn’t sit right. I can’t rest until I…’
‘Sounds like a rabbit hole, Dan.’
‘Well, let’s just say, Dee’s already dived in and buried herself in it. And so, I have to go along and pull her out.’ Heavy breathing. ‘That’s why I wanted you to consider coming back. Helping. I mean, you came to me with the cold case. You asked me. The least you could do is…’
‘I know. I know. I regret that. Moment of weakness.’ El clenched her fists. Be strong. Resist temptation. ‘Sorry, Dan, no can do. I’ve reconsidered and I’ve got to put my mental health first, or I’ll be no use to anyone.’
‘Not even now we’ve found a body?’ Dan urged. ‘Not even a little bit curious?’
‘No, Dan.’
‘Please, can’t you just find some time to do some digging. In an unofficial capacity, perhaps? Please?’
Renard swayed his head while filling in a crossword clue. ‘He’s desperate.’
‘You know that’s not…’
‘If you could just…I mean, I have a family…I’m so busy, Leo, my son has gone rogue. I think he has a girlfriend but…I don’t know where he is half the time. And I haven’t seen my girlfriend Jemima and our daughter Bella in weeks.’
El sighed. Nothing like a guilt trip to make her give in. ‘Alright, I’ll see what I can…’
‘Thank you! Thank you! I’ll send the details of discovery your way. Thank you.’
El pulled up in the wide driveway of the Edwards’ mansion. Just what she didn’t need, another hidden agenda behind the portrait session in honour of Lillie Edwards. Somehow, she envisioned the rabbit hole of the Edwards-Von Erikson cold case drawing her into its vortex too.
She giggled. Perhaps there was something in that idea that Percy and Jan had run off together. Then again, perhaps things turned sour, and Jan, in disguise, had given Percy the “heave-ho”. A variation on that famous cold case back in the ‘70’s of the body in the freezer.
El smiled and nodded while alighting from the car. Yes, she might start with that story and see if she sensed a reaction from Lillie.
Lillie, wearing a flowing, rainbow-coloured poncho, welcomed El into her mansion.
‘Sorry about the clutter, El,’ Lillie waved a hand at the stacks of books and piles of papers, tableaus ready to dance on what was intended to be a ballroom floor. ‘Every holidays, I intend to tackle that lot, but…’ While skirting the newspaper piles at the edge of the open hallway, Lillie led El to the spare bedroom come art studio. Freshly brewed coffee percolated its aroma, filling the room. Lillie glided over to the table holding the coffee and a silver standing tray with a pyramid of cupcakes laden with icing. El mused, pink icing with cupcake. Would she scrape off the icing and eat the cake? Risk offending her portrait muse and host who had gone to all that trouble, slaving the whole morning buying those cupcakes from the local bakery?
‘Coffee? Cupcake?’ Lillie’s shrill voice shook El out of her sugar-frosted nightmare.
El politely smiled and said, ‘I’ll have some coffee, but, um, I’ll need to pass on the cake. My sugar levels were a bit up, so I need to…’
‘But they are gluten-free.’
Before El could make another lame excuse, a cake appeared on a Noritake plate graced with delicate grey leaves and accompanied by a matching cup and saucer filled with coffee and cream.
‘I thought we could have some afternoon tea before you get down to painting,’ Lillie said while biting into her icing with cupcake. Gluten-free. ‘I’m sure that’s how that famous artist on the ABC does it.’
‘Get to know the subject—I mean, person he’s painting, you mean?’ El said, then sipped her coffee. ‘So, in that vein, let me ask about your childhood. Where did you grow up?’
From that question, more followed with the answers. No painting that afternoon, only more coffee, more cake, then biscuits which were brought in by Lillie’s husband, Jimmy—interesting—and finally, to keep the conversation flowing, some white wine, a Moscato, from MacLaren Vale. By the time the wine appeared, Jimmy had joined the party and El mused that this was the most successful informal interview she’d ever performed.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
My first memory of the verboten was the kitchen floor. Every Saturday afternoon, the kitchen floor took on the status of holy floor. Floor that has been washed with the sacred waters of floor cleaner and left untrodden to dry.
‘Don’t walk over the floor!’ Mum would yell after she had cleansed the linoleum floor. I looked with longing at the floor red with the gold and silver flecks in it. Inevitably I committed the sin of trespass on the holy floor of the kitchen and tracked a trail of my tell-tale footprints.
‘I told you not to walk on the floor!’ Mum would growl and smack me on the bottom. But I had a good reason to walk on the sacred wet linoleum. It’s because Mum would excommunicate me into the backyard of boredom, so that she could get the cleaning done. And it’s because after she had shrouded the floor with water and soap, I would have to pee. The only way to the toilet of relief, was through the kitchen over the sacred floor.
As I grew up, the kitchen was barricaded during floor-cleaning sessions. Out of desperation, curiosity and loneliness in the backyard on Saturday afternoons, I became acquainted with the family next door. More particularly, the verboten made a gradual shift from kitchen floor to the boy and girl next door. I mean, really, Mum with her sacred floor business, brought the grief upon herself. If she had washed the floor during the week and not made such an issue of it on Saturday afternoons, I may never ventured next door. Their loo was available because their Mum washed the floor during the week, if she washed the floor at all under all the rubble of clothing from a large and uncontrollable rabble of children.
Jimmy proved attractive to me because of my parent’s opposition. Fifi, his sister, Jimmy and I were childhood friends. According to my parents, especially Mum, they were not good enough. I was told not to play with them. So, play with Fifi and Jimmy I did, and their multitude of brothers and sisters. We would romp through the jungle of their backyard of unmown lawn. The weeds were as high as us children. The family were working class and faking their Christian faith, my father would say. He still accepted a position at Mr. Edwards’s factory, but…And later, once Dad was gone, she was only too happy to accept Percy Edwards’s help.
My mother had her eye on the well-to do family, the Hoopers, around the corner whose two sons were progressing towards careers into law and medicine.
Mum would say, “The kids next door will never amount to anything.”
When Jimmy took me for a dinky ride on his bike and we returned home after dark, I was grounded. I hated being grounded. By the end of the week, I vowed not to play with Jimmy again. He was a bad influence. However, Saturday and the sacred floor rolled around again, and so did Jimmy on his Dragstar bike.
‘Come on! No one’s goin’ to know! Just one ride!’ he said.
The sun shone, the sky blue and my parents were out. We were off, pedalling down the gravel driveway where we nearly collided with my returning parents in their FJ Holden.
I had a choice, I could suffer another week’s grounding or have the indignity of a smack of the ruler across my hand. I took the ruler option and learnt to be more devious in the future. There are many ways to cross a wet kitchen floor without being caught. There were means and ways of continuing my friendship with Jimmy and Fifi without catching the ire of my parents. But then after their father deserted them, the enormous family moved.
I wonder what ever happened to that man.
Perhaps life would have been different if he’d hung around. Not that they missed old Mr. Edwards. Life seemed to improve for Jimmy and his family after he’d gone.
And despite, or should I say, in spite of my mother’s protestations, I ended up marrying Jimmy Edwards. I guess in my mother’s estimation, Jimmy being a musician didn’t amount to much, but me, I’m successful. Principal of a prestigious school, how good is that.
Shame mum’s not around to see that. Although, she would definitely be turning in her grave if she knew I’m still married Jim.
Now, those Hooper boys from around the corner…one of them was Dan, I remember. I wonder what happened to him. Did he become the lawyer my mother always said he was going to grow up to be?
El paused; painting brush poised in above the canvas. ‘Oh, Dan? Dan Hooper?’
Lillie raised an eyebrow. ‘You know him?’
El cleared her throat. Better not say too much or she’ll start to suspect. Change the subject. ‘Actually, I knew his brother, Al.’
‘Oh, yes, Al, the younger one. Bit weedy and pimply as I remember. So, did he become a doctor?’
El nodded. ‘He did…a psychiatrist, I think. But it was a long time ago and I think he had some crisis in his life and had a career change.’
Lillie snorted. ‘A mid-life crisis?’
‘You could say that.’
‘So, what career did he change to?’
‘Um…’ El bit her lip and dabbed the nose of Lillie’s painted image. ‘Teaching, I think.’ ‘Haven’t heard of any Al Hooper in my domain.’
El smudged Lillie’s painted mouth. Oops! ‘I think he didn’t stay that long in teaching before he went into working for the secret service, ASIO, or something like that…’ El mumbled.
‘I’ll have to look him up,’ Lillie said breezily.
‘Good luck,’ El muttered.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, but, um, I don’t think he’s got a digital profile, being in the secret service or whatever it is.’ ‘Oh, you really don’t know; do you dear?’
El shrugged and wiped her mistake with her thumb. ‘So, tell me more about this Old Mr. Edwards. What was he like?’
At that moment, Jimmy reappeared in the studio. He held a tray with three flutes of sparkling wine.
Sometimes characters spring from real life, Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. Sometimes real life is just real life. Check out my travel memoirs, And escape in time and space To Central Australia.
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