‘G’day, Dee,’ Spencer said to the woman behind the bar.
Dave watched as she looked up and gave a broad smile. ‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t Spencer Brown. You lost or something?’ Her ample breasts and stomach shook as she started a rough whiskey and cigarettes laugh. ‘What you doing here, honey?’ She came around from the bar and held out her arms.
Spencer grinned and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘Do I need a reason for popping by?’ he asked.
‘You’ve always got a reason. Unless you’re thirsty and that’s still a reason.’ Her gaze flicked over to Dave. ‘And who’s this handsome man? Geez, the police force is training them young these days.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Dee, owner of Oakamanda Pub.’
‘Dave Burrows. Detective. Spencer’s partner.’ They shook hands and Dave smiled at her.
‘He’s not that young,’ Spencer put in. ‘Looks younger than he is. Aren’t you? How old again?’
Dave laughed uncomfortably. ‘Thirty.’
‘Thirty,’ Spencer confirmed, turning back to Dee. ‘There you go, and he’s just got married a month ago.’
‘Oh, you’re a late starter,’ Dee said as she flicked him the once-over.
‘You reckon,’ Dave said. He wasn’t about to tell a perfect stranger how he’d worked for his dad until he was twenty-three and then one day, out of the blue, he’d been told there wasn’t room at home for him. How he’d had to find a way to stay involved in agriculture and he’d chosen to aim for the stock squad. That’s where he’d be next year or maybe the year after, depending on how this year went.
‘So, what do you think of my little pub? I guess Spencer has filled you in on the history,’ Dee asked Dave. ‘I had the bloodstains removed from the floor,’ she looked down at the uneven wooden floorboards and scratched at a spot with her worn-out sandshoe. ‘But you can still see the outline. See? It was there. And one of the bullet holes? Over there just behind the bar near the mirror.’ She pointed.
Dave looked around. Photos lined the walls, as did pictures of large nuggets: Found, 8oz nugget, 5km from Oakamanda or 2oz nugget, found 9km from Oakamanda. On one wall there was an old rusty rabbit trap pinned to the wall. Under it was written: Tap here for complaints.
‘It’s great,’ Dave said and he meant it. Even though the pub had the wild-west feel he was beginning to get used to, it was clean and cool and Dee had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to display the place’s history.
Dee turned her attention back to Spencer. ‘Drink or business?’ She flipped a tea towel over her shoulder and went back behind the bar.
‘Business,’ Spencer said, hoisting himself up onto a bar stool and helping himself to a handful of peanuts which were sitting on the bar.
‘And here I was thinking it was my good looks that had brought you all the way from Barrabine.’
Spencer grinned for a moment and then turned serious. ‘Heard anything about people going onto leases they shouldn’t be?’
Dee let out a loud laugh. ‘Only every day, sunshine. You’ll need to be a bit more specific.’
‘Unusual happenings…Anyone come in here complaining of seeing tracks the morning after type thing?’
Dee stared at Spencer, her wide smile gone, replaced by a frown. Then she leaned forward and picked up a large plastic display folder, thumping it in front of Dave. ‘There’s all the history of this joint. Newspaper articles, court documents, you name it, it’s in there. Knock yourself out. Have a read. Interesting stuff in there. By the time you finish that, your partner here might have a sensible question to ask me.’ She folded her arms over her breasts and stared at Dave with a grin.
‘Um, thanks,’ he said, glancing over at Spencer, who was beginning to open his arms in protest.
‘Ah, come on, Dee. Don’t be like that,’ Spencer said, his voice cajoling. ‘I can only tell you so much and you know it! Just thought I’d see if you’ve heard any more discontent than usual. Any mutterings from the locals or bragging from the tourists. That sort of thing. People camping in wrong spots or locals overreacting.’
‘Nothing more than usual, and that’s a fact, Spencer. Timmy Tucker must have a problem, though,’ she said. ‘He was in here this morning ringing you guys on the pay-phone. Don’t take a detective to work out it’s his joint you’re asking about.’
Spencer held out his hands in a ‘you got me’ way.
‘Seriously? I’ve heard there’re a few blokes pushing the boundaries. Walking onto leases at night, but no one ever seems to be able to catch them,’ Dee said. ‘Old Brandy up on the hill said he met one carload coming in his driveway ’bout two or three days ago. Got the gun out, I reckon, ’cause they came in here to get a drink and calm their nerves! Never said much ’cause their English wasn’t too good, but they were as white as ghosts and their hands were shaking. Think they might have got the full force of his hospitality. I’m sure they were only backpackers looking for a place to park their van for the night and there wasn’t anything too sinister about them.’
‘Geez, I wish he wouldn’t do that!’ Spencer said, frowning.
‘Only been doing it for the past twenty years. Old habits are hard to break, you know.’ Dee looked steadily at him. ‘I’ll tell you something interesting though. I’ve heard four-wheel drives coming past the pub in the early hours of the morning for the last couple of weeks and that’s pretty unusual. Even with the
