restrained standing up.’

Melinda raised her eyebrows and wiggled them at Dave. He knew she was wanting to ask which would be his preference.

Narla picked up a paddle and gently tapped the bum of the Bundy Bear, who was lying facedown on the bed. ‘Bundy comes to us from Queensland during the off season. Drop bears only work for a few months of the year, so he comes to us for a rest.

‘Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you into the next room.’

An hour later, Dave and Melinda were sitting in the pub, having a drink, laughing over what they’d seen.

‘That was very illuminating,’ Melinda said, her eyes alight. ‘What about the story of the mayor who suggested a local madam ask the council to allow her to open a hatchery?’

Dave laughed loudly. ‘“Because she raised one thousand cocks a year!”’ he quoted.

Melinda giggled. ‘I wonder if the mayor was a frequent visitor!’ She took a sip of wine and pushed her glass away. ‘Why don’t you drink up and we go home? I’ve got some ideas from the stories we heard today.’

At the smoky look she gave him, Dave felt himself start to harden. He swallowed the last of his beer and took her hand. ‘I’d like to be your guinea pig,’ he grinned.

Chapter 30

Dave went into work on Monday morning feeling refreshed. It had been the best weekend he and Melinda had had together since they’d arrived in Barrabine. For the first time there hadn’t been any phone calls back to Bunbury—her parents had called three or four times but Melinda hadn’t rung them back. The last message he’d heard from Mark was a biting ‘Call me immediately’. It was clear he wasn’t happy with the silence from his daughter.

‘I just want to hang out with you,’ she said by way of explanation, then ushered him back to bed. He wasn’t about to complain, although he knew he’d cop it from Mark next time he answered the phone. The thought of a verbal barrage didn’t bother him at all.

They hadn’t even seen Ernie, and that was unusual.

‘Look at you,’ Spencer greeted him. ‘A new man! Have a good weekend, did you?’

‘Bloody brilliant,’ he answered, setting his coffee cup down on the table. ‘That Narla at the Exotic Club is pretty cool!’

Tez walked into the office, tucking in his shirt. ‘Great, isn’t she? So many stories and Narla is very matter-of-fact. She’s running a business and that’s all.’

‘And the girls,’ added Spencer, ‘you wouldn’t know they do what they do for a job—they’re very quiet and don’t cause us any trouble. If only the miners were as easy to deal with.’

‘Forensics bring the car back in?’ Dave asked, moving the focus back to police work.

‘Yeah, got it out the back, all locked up. They’ve pulled prints and a few hairs, but nothing else. Certainly Glen Bartlett’s though. We’ve matched them to the hairs we found in the swag on Fractured Hill,’ Spencer answered. ‘But they did find something else which was a bit interesting.’

‘What was that?’

‘They reckon there’s an old grave out there.’

Dave jumped to his feet. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I realise that’s what it was! Under the tree?’

‘Yep. My guess is it’s a pioneer’s grave,’ Spencer said. ‘Trouble is, we find these things all over the place out here. Never sure if we should dig them up or leave them as they are.’

‘Is there anything forensics can do to estimate how old the grave is?’

‘God only knows, they said to leave it with them, so they might come back with something.’ He slammed his hands down on the desk. ‘Right, I’m going to go and have a chat with Mr Pollard again. Let’s see what version of his camping story he tells this time. Are you coming or following up on the bank transfers?’

‘Bank transfers, and then I’m going to give Glen’s mother a call. See if she knows anything about who her son was wanting to find.’

Spencer gave him the thumbs up and left the room.

Dave called the bank and the manager told him the traces would be ready that afternoon or first thing in the morning. Satisfied with that, he prepared to ring Glen Bartlett’s mother, writing down a few questions so he didn’t forget anything. These types of interviews were difficult, particularly over the phone. He always felt like he was taking advantage of a horrible situation.

‘Hello?’ The voice that answered was frail and sad.

‘Hello, my name is Detective Dave Burrows, from Barrabine, in Western Australia. I’m investigating your son’s death.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Do you have some news?’ The hope in Carmen Bartlett’s voice tore at Dave and he wished he did have something to tell her.

‘No, I’m sorry, but I was hoping I could ask you some questions about your son.’

‘Of course. Anything I can do to help. I want to know why he was killed.’ Her voice broke a little.

‘And I can assure you we’re doing everything we can to find that out.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘What do you need to know?’

‘It seems Glen was over here looking for someone. Can you tell me who that might be?’

There was a short pause. ‘His father probably sent him on a wild goose chase. If that’s what got him killed, I’ll be very angry.’

Dave raised his eyebrows and tapped his pen. ‘Could you tell me a little about that?’

‘Paddy and I got married about eighteen months after he came to Victoria,’ she said. ‘We met at the fruit and veggie shop. I was serving and he was buying.’

Dave listened with half an ear, knowing he was about to get the life story.

‘After we were married I realised something was tormenting him. He had nightmares and would wake up sweating. I asked and asked what was wrong, but he didn’t want to tell me.’

‘I see,’ Dave said, letting her know he was there. He wanted to hurry her up, get her to the crux of the story, but he couldn’t

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