It wasn’t bothering him too much right now. The walk was pleasant, the heat not as intense and he enjoyed the fresh air and peaceful start to the day. Having been raised on a farm, he was an early riser, so it wasn’t hard for him, whereas Melinda found it a challenge to get out of bed before seven.
Today he’d woken her and spent a few minutes talking, encouraging her to go out with Kathy or one of the other policemen’s wives.
‘Spencer said Kathy asked you to go to lunch and you said you were busy.’
Sleepily she’d nodded. ‘I still have things to do to organise the house.’
‘It can’t get any more organised, honey. Why don’t you want to go?’
‘I just don’t. Please don’t push me, Dave. All I want is you at the moment, okay?’ She’d reached out and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He’d ended up being a little late in leaving the house, but he had the promise of lunch with her at one of the delis.
He resolved to talk to her then about the need to make friends. It seemed to him that if she did, she’d be happier. Although he did wonder whether she was content to wallow in her misery. Make him suffer a little for bringing her out here. She’d snapped at him last night at dinner, saying it was his fault they were in this one-horse town, then she’d immediately apologised. But if she made these accusations she’d been thinking them, Dave had realised later that night. She’d only been apologising for saying them out loud.
He glanced at the newspaper headline. He didn’t care much about politics or the entertainment pages. He’d rather be reading Farm Weekly and catching up on stock and wool prices or agribusiness news, but it had been a while since he’d read that newspaper.
Glancing at his watch, he realised that being late out of the house this morning had made him late for the office, and if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be there before Spencer.
Beating Spencer to work was important—it showed the older detective he was keen and he’d need Spencer’s good opinion if he was going to make it to lead detective in the stock squad.
Dave folded the paper and drained his cup quickly, then hurried out onto the street towards the station.
The Barrabine Police Station was always bustling with activity. The constables and senior sergeants were in and out of the station, called out regularly to theft or domestic violence jobs. Then there were the offenders being arrested and brought into the cells, often yelling abuse in the process, ignoring the police’s exhortations to calm down.
Pushing open the station door, Dave was hit with a blast of cool air. He nodded good morning to the constable behind the desk and put in the PIN code to get through into the detectives’ office.
‘Morning, Dave,’ Terry Jasper said as he sat down and threw his feet on his desk. Leaning back, the wiry man ran his hands over his short dark hair and winked at Dave. ‘Beat the boss man in again.’
‘G’day, Tez,’ Dave answered. ‘Always the plan, mate.’
‘You’re making all of us look bad,’ said Claire Steele, Terry’s partner. Her voice was muffled as she shoved a piece of banana in her mouth. Dave glanced over at her and realised she’d had her hair cut. It was now very short and blonde.
‘Nice hair,’ he complimented her. She nodded her thanks.
Senior Sergeant Nathan Underwood called from across the room. ‘Look! The new fella’s trying to make good impressions on every front. It’ll wear off!’
Dave laughed, enjoying the camaraderie. ‘Can I just say that you’re all here too. And a little bit before me!’
‘That’s a good point,’ Claire said with a chuckle. ‘What have you got on today, Dave?’
‘I’m following up that burglary from a couple of nights ago,’ he answered, switching on his computer. ‘Got results from fingerprints. Known offender, so thought we’d go out and bring him in for a chat.’
‘Who’s the POI?’ Tez asked.
‘Person of Interest? Nathaniel Clarke. Eighteen-year-old from Calemalda Street. Been charged with theft before.’
‘Yeah, yeah. He was up in front of the magistrate about twelve months ago for the same thing. Reckon it’s probably his third time. He should go away, depending on what he stole.’
‘Did the whole house: TV, computer, got the safe open and took about a grand in cash and the victim’s rings from her grandmother.’
‘Stealing to buy drugs. One of the biggest problems in this town, drugs. Because there’s a high disposable income within the mining sector, the drugs get brought in, then the others—the unemployed or youth—get a taste for it and the crime starts because they need the money to buy.’ He sighed. ‘Never-ending cycle, unfortunately.’
‘Same in the city,’ Dave said, turning back to his computer. He hit the button to print out a few reports before making some phone calls to the pawnshops to see if any of the stolen goods had turned up. By midmorning he needed another coffee and had just taken orders from the rest of the crew when his phone rang.
‘Reckon you’ve got a body on your hands,’ said the voice on the end of the line.
‘Sorry, sir, could you repeat that?’ Dave’s heart rate kicked up a notch and he reached for a pen. ‘You’re reporting a murder?’
‘Not sure if it’s a murder, mate,’ the man drawled. ‘But there’s a heap of flies and an atrocious smell coming from a shaft on my lease.’
‘And your name?’
‘Tim. Tim Tucker.
‘And whereabouts is your lease?’
‘Twenty k north of Barra. Spencer Brown knows me. Send him.’
Dave looked
