‘Hmm, thought that might be the case. No worries, I’ll keep looking.’ He said his thanks and decided he needed a coffee before he tackled anything else.
His walk was brisk and he realised that since he’d gone into the police station a great mountain of cloud had started to build up to the north and the air was slightly humid.
At the Mug, Layla was working the coffee machine and Ruth was in the kitchen. He gave them both a smile and wave, knowing Layla would make his coffee without being asked. He leaned against the wall and looked around. There was a couple he didn’t know at the back of the shop, reading the newspapers. The women looked up suddenly, her hands across her mouth. She said something to her husband and he reached for the paper, swinging it around to read. A look of shock crossed his face and they got up and quickly headed outside. Dave frowned as he watched them go, wondering what had upset them so much.
He walked over to their table and looked at the paper. It was open to the death notices. Someone they knew must have died.
Dave straightened. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
He walked quickly back to the counter and said to Layla, ‘Don’t worry about my coffee.’
She stared at him. ‘It’s nearly ready.’
‘Haven’t got time, sorry. I’ll pay for it tomorrow!’ He was out the door before she could reply.
He ran all the way back to the station and pushed open the door to the detectives’ office with force, causing Tez and Claire to jump.
‘You right, mate?’
‘All good.’ He opened the evidence room and grabbed the box containing everything that had come in from Glen Bartlett’s car. Throwing himself into his chair, he pulled on gloves before picking up the newspaper. He took it out of the evidence bag and carefully turned the pages until he came to the death notices. He ran his finger down the columns, looking for a name he recognised. There was no one. Then he turned to the personals. He read each one, dismissing the women offering sex for money and women looking for men.
It took three pages of ads before he found it.
I’m looking for the family of a woman who has been missing since 1945. Very little is known of the circumstances surrounding her disappearance, but it was from twenty miles north of Barrabine, Western Australia. If your family has had someone missing since that year and don’t know what happened to her, please contact Glen Bartlett.
Chapter 31
‘He was certainly chasing this woman’s relatives,’ Dave said to Spencer, a tremor of excitement running him. ‘Could there be any link between where he parked the car and the grave?’
‘There must be. His father must have given him a mud map and he’s gone straight there.’
Dave started to pace. Walking helped him think.
‘Who is he linking this woman to? Who is still out in the field from back in the 1940s? In particular ’45?’
Spencer rubbed his chin. ‘There’s China and Tim, a couple of blokes over on the southern parts, and that’s about it. There’s no saying that the family is still even out here, Dave.’
‘I know, but these blokes might remember the story, mightn’t they?’
‘We can go and talk to them, sure, but…’ He broke off. ‘Let’s go and give it a shot. Who knows, if we ID the woman, we might have a better understanding of why Glen Bartlett was murdered.’
‘Exactly!’
Dave drove and he drove fast. Excitement always gave him a lead foot. Spencer had to grab hold of the door handle a couple of times as they swung around corners on their way to Tim Tucker’s.
‘Steady up there, lad. This woman’s been dead nigh on fifty years. A few more minutes isn’t going to make much difference to her.’
‘Sorry. I just can feel we’re on the edge of a breakthrough.’ ‘Good,’ Spencer said dryly. ‘But let’s live to tell the tale, all right?’
Dave grinned and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Hey, that reminds me—when I was camped out the other night, I went down a track not too far from here and found two graves. They were Tim’s kids. A set of twins and a little girl. All died within a short time of each other. He ever talk about that?’
Spencer shook his head. ‘I had no idea. God.’ They fell into silence. ‘What happened to them?’
‘Mining accident and snakebite, according to the plaque.’
‘Bloody hell, imagine living through that. I know my kids give me the shits often enough, but I’d never be without them.’
‘Do you know what happened to Tim’s wife?’
‘She died. Tim’s never talked about it much. I think it still cuts him to the bone. He loved her very much and he only told me one night over a few beers when I asked what the significance of the piano was. The piano in the humpy is hers. He said she could play like a dream.’
‘I guessed it must’ve been ’cause I was pretty sure Tim didn’t play it!’
Spencer looked across at him. ‘What makes you say that? He could be the best pianist in the district.’
‘His hands are a miner’s hands; they’re like a farmer’s—thick and beaten up a bit. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to hit the right notes.’
‘Do you think I can do the cha-cha?’
Dave looked at his heavy-set partner, puzzled. ‘Um…’
‘Well?’
‘I guess it’s not the first dance I’d think you’d have a go at,’ he hedged.
‘You’re going to be very surprised to find out I’m the best cha-cha dancer in Barrabine. So don’t you be making assumptions about people.’ He raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger at Dave.
Dave looked at Spencer out
