‘Fine, just fine,’ Melinda answered through gritted teeth. She really wanted to scream out she wasn’t fine at all. ‘And with you?’
‘Oh, you know, just the normal things. Getting Spencer organised for work, washing, cleaning. We’ve started ballroom-dancing lessons, so I’ve been practising a little while Spencer is at work. It’s such fun. You and Dave should come along. Get out and meet people.’
‘Spencer is ballroom dancing?’ she asked. The very thought was too improbable to imagine.
‘Oh yes. Despite his looks, he’s very light on his feet.’ She paused. ‘Would you like to have an early lunch with me? I’d really love to hear how everything is going for you.’ Melinda felt the hotness of tears behind her eyes again and shook her head very quickly. She couldn’t afford for anyone to be too kind to her today. She’d start crying again and probably wouldn’t be able to stop. ‘No thanks, Kathy. Not today. I’ve got another appointment to get to. But thanks for the offer. Maybe next week.’
Kathy gave a small smile. ‘Sure, Melinda whenever you’d like to. I know you might find this hard to believe but I think we have some things in common. It’s not too long ago I moved here, you know.’ She put her hand in the open window and squeezed Melinda’s arm, then readjusted her handbag safely on her shoulder and left.
What was that supposed to mean? Melinda wondered. That she understood what she was feeling? Ha, unlikely! No one could. No one had given up the same sort of job she had and followed their husband to the ends of the earth. Melinda watched her walk down the street, trying to fight the isolation that swept over her.
Chapter 5
Dave was scrutinising the surface around the mine shaft when he noticed the two sets of footprints. They weren’t his or Spencer’s—the grips on both were wide and jagged, although one set was smaller than the other.
He stared at them for a minute, trying to work out why they looked familiar, then he realised they had the same tread as his brother’s Rossi boots. Different to the Blundstone boots he and Spencer wore. He made a mental note to look at the soles of Tim’s boots, then grabbed his camera.
Snapping a couple of close-ups of the outline in the dirt, he hoped he could get a cast made and they’d be able to confirm the brand of shoe and size of the foot. He glanced at Tim’s feet, trying to see what type of boots he wore, but they weren’t anything like Rossi boots. His were ankle-high lace-ups with the Blue Steel logo sewn to the tongue of the boot, and his feet looked like they were larger than the biggest print he’d found.
‘Got prints here, Spencer,’ he called, following the trail of footprints. In this type of dirt, the feet seemed to sink in a little more than usual, leaving clear outlines of the sole. ‘Go anywhere?’ Spencer called back.
‘I’ll follow them.’ Dave hoisted the camera over his shoulder and brushed the tiny black bush flies away from his face, remembering Ernie’s advice about buying himself a fly net. He would find a camping store when he got back to town and do just that. Spencer and Tim were both wearing one, so they wouldn’t take the piss.
As he walked, he drew a line with a stick, separating his prints from the others. They couldn’t get confused that way. He followed them through bushes and trees until he hit a little dirt track. Looking up and down it, he couldn’t see a car or even vehicle tracks. The outline of the prints seemed to start from the edge of the bush and end at the mine shaft. He stood still and let his eyes look at all the aspects of the thick scrub, then took a couple of steps into it. He could see where the footprints started from—or finished. He couldn’t be sure if they started at the mine or the bush. Or vice versa.
Curious, Dave thought as he snapped more photos and went to report his findings back to Spencer.
He wanted to know a lot more about Tim Tucker. Most murder investigations began with the person who had seen the victim last…but this wasn’t a murder investigation.
Yet.
The hut Tim Tucker lived in was nothing more than a permanent tin shed, with a mud and water mix plastered over the inside of the tin and coated with a lime whitewash. To Dave it looked like something out of the 1920s. There were three tiny rooms—a bedroom, a kitchen and a laundry, all sparsely furnished—but it seemed to have everything a person could need: a hand-operated washing machine, an oven (albeit a bricked-up fireplace with a frying pan hanging over it), and a modern-day travel fridge running off battery power, which to Dave’s thinking looked completely out of place. He was sure Tim’s living area could have been an exhibit in the mine museum!
The only other thing that looked out of place was a polished piano wedged hard up against the wall, taking up at least half the living area. It seemed like the most cared for item in the house. The mahogany was polished and there wasn’t a skerrick of dust on the outside.
‘Couldn’t ask for a better view,’ Tim said as he put the kettle onto his gas burner and lit it. ‘Tea?’
Both the detectives nodded their thanks and Dave turned to look out the door. Tim was right. The red earth was scattered with saltbush and broombush, blackbutt and gimlet trees. While the trees stood tall, the bushes grew in clumps beneath, creating what looked like paths, which made Dave want to head out and follow them. The ironstone sprinkled across the soil still looked like it could be an abandoned asphalt parking lot, but Dave knew better now and saw beauty
