Murderer's Thumb (22 page)

Matt took the meat back inside and Adam wished he'd gone with him, but he'd left it too late.

‘Heard you and Snake Patterson are looking for that diary,' Mongrel said.

‘Don't know what you mean,' Adam said swiftly, hoping he sounded suspicious.

‘Pig's arse!' Loody spat.

‘Course my grandparents wouldn't like people trespassing on their farm, you know.'

‘Right…I…I don't know what you've heard but…'

‘We know you've found certain information,' Mongrel prompted.

Adam sighed. ‘OK. It was a letter…a letter Lina was going to send to Meredith, only it never got posted.'

‘Right. And what does it say?'

Adam looked over his shoulder. Matt, the Brolga and two other women were on the verandah of the clubrooms, setting out the salads. He lowered his voice. ‘It says the diary is hidden at the CC shack.'

‘And?' Mongrel said. His eyes were intense, his voice slow and insinuating.

‘Other stuff about “the guys” or something. I don't remember really...I just skimmed over the letter.'

‘Where is it?' Loody asked.

‘At home.'

Loody and Mongrel exchanged glances.

Mongrel sucked in his breath. ‘See Stats, this diary is a big deal around here. We don't want just anyone getting hold of it. You get the picture?' He levelled the tongs at Adam's nose. ‘You're a city kid, got lots to learn. You fuck up, and I make things hard for you. Understand?'

Adam nodded.

‘Course, we know you'd tell us straight away if you found anything, wouldn't you?'

‘Sure…' Adam said.

‘And you'd better tell Snake we're keeping an eye on you two, just in case you do…fuck up. You got me?'

‘Yeah,' Adam said. His face was impassive but inside he was laughing. The dickheads had taken the bait. He walked over to the clubrooms, mounted the steps up the verandah and nodded at the Brolga. She gave him a tight smile.

‘Here come the Pattersons,' Matt said pointing to the four-wheel drive that had just pulled up.

It was dark outside. Most people were inside the clubrooms, away from the moths and mosquitoes. Matt had challenged Snake to a game of darts in the far corner and people were sitting around tables arguing, laughing, drinking. Music blared from someone's portable sound system, but no one was dancing. Toot had vanished. Adam got up and went outside.

There was a breeze coming off the oval, but it was still hot. He walked away from the clubrooms over to the netball courts where he could see her silhouetted against the girls' change rooms. Anxiety made his breathing rapid. He knew he should call out, say something. But what?

‘Took your time,' she said.

‘I didn't realise you'd gone.'

‘Got to pick your moments carefully,' she said.

He gulped, took a few steps closer, didn't know what to do with his hands. Cross them, let them hang…do the Loody cowboy thing with one hand on his thigh. No way! He leant against the change rooms, dug his hands into his pockets, bit his lower lip.

‘What's wrong?' she said.

‘I don't…I didn't think you'd want to talk to me after last night.'

‘I didn't.' She stared at the ground, her mouth twitching.

That's it then, Adam thought. No point in having this conversation. ‘So?' he said searchingly.

‘So what?'

‘So why don't you tell me to piss off ?'

She shuffied her feet, looked away from him. ‘Because I…I like you.'

‘But you don't want to talk to me.'

Her eyes flicked up at him. ‘I do,' she said grabbing his arm. ‘You just freaked me out a bit. Didn't expect…you know.' She looked away again.

Adam's insides were screaming with embarrassment. ‘I didn't mean to…you just…you're hot, you know. It's hard not to…um.' His mouth twisted trying to think of an easy way to say it.

‘Get hard,' she said with a lilt in her voice.

He laughed. ‘Yeah.'

‘Do you have a girlfriend?'

‘No. Do you?'

‘I'm not into girls,' she said sharply. She moved away from the wall, about to walk off.

‘I know, I meant a boyfriend. I'm sorry. I find it hard to…'

She swung round at him. ‘To what? To believe a girl who rides motorbikes isn't a lesbian.'

‘No…no. I like that. I like motorbikes.' He grabbed her arm. ‘I like the way you smell of grease. I mean…I find it hard to talk any sense when I'm around you.'

‘I know,' she said and she reached up and kissed him.

Adam couldn't believe she was kissing him. That mouth he kept staring at was now exploring his and he could taste, or was it smell, the aroma of garlic sausages. He pulled away from her frantically, wondering what flavours she could taste in him.

‘What's wrong?' she asked. Her face was shadowed but he knew she was staring up at him, worried.

He took a deep breath. He liked garlic sausages but he didn't want to say anything to upset her. She obviously found his mouth OK. ‘Nothing,' he said, pulling her close. ‘I just want to do it again.'

Matt, Loody and Adam sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. The Brolga was emptying the dishwasher, this time wearing green rubber gloves. Adam wondered if she was obsessive like Kazek and had a colour-coded system of rubber gloves.

‘What do you do on Sundays, Adam?' she asked.

‘You mean apart from milking cows?'

She smiled. ‘Yes. Do you go to church?'

‘Er…no.'

She looked at the kitchen clock. ‘I'll have to get ready to go soon. The service starts at ten.'

Adam glanced at the other two. Matt was chewing, a serene expression on his face. Loody was trying hard not to laugh. Smartarse.

‘So what will you do today?' she pressed on.

‘Ah, go down to Snake's probably.'

‘See your girlfriend?' Loody said.

Adam shot him an angry glance.

‘Don't get funny. I saw you last night,' he said.

Adam felt a combination of pride and embarrassment. Just what
did
Loody see?

‘And your mother? Does she go to church?' the Brolga continued.

‘No she's going to some pottery workshop in Booradoo this morning.'

‘Of course she's the artist, isn't she?'

‘Thinks she is,' Adam said.

The Brolga shut the dishwasher and peeled off her gloves. ‘It wasn't infidelity, was it?' she said to Adam.

‘I'm sorry?' Adam began to understand who Matt took after in the communication stakes.

‘Your parents. They're divorced, aren't they?'

Adam felt a prickle of annoyance. ‘Actually, no. Technically they're separated.'

‘Headed the same way. Such a shame. The marriage vow is meant to be sacred,' the Brolga snapped and strode from the room.

Loody sniggered. ‘Don't worry mate. She tries to convert us all at least twice a week.'

Adam sighed and pocketed the envelope she'd left on the table for him. For sixty dollars he supposed he could endure some bible-bashing.

‘Did you bring part four?' Snake said as Adam dropped his bike and they made their way into Snake's bedroom.

Adam sat on the bed. ‘No. I left it at home. I don't think we'll need it. All we need is the last clue.'

Snake shut the door gingerly, as if spies were lurking in the hallway. ‘You know, I've been thinking about Mongrel. If Lina said he had a murderer's thumb, she might have left part five with him, do you think?'

Adam scoffed. ‘Nah, no way. She didn't trust him. I don't either. He's a first class prick, that one. But she's right. I had a good look last night at the barbecue. His thumbs swell at the end.'

Snake sat at his computer. ‘You like The Cutthroats? I just downloaded their new single. Check out the graphics on their MySpace.' He turned up the volume on his speakers, reclined in his chair, feet on the desk.

Adam winced. He wasn't into heavy metal. ‘How did the first aid test go?' he asked.

‘Easy. Reckon I did better than Toot. Should have seen how she bandaged this bloke's head. Looked like a zombie when she'd finished with him.'

A surge of pleasure shot up Adam's spine when Snake mentioned Toot. He couldn't help smiling to himself. Snake must have noticed.

‘She's gone for a ride if you're wondering,' he said.

Adam nodded, disappointed she wasn't around.

‘You two are major gossip this morning, you realise?'

‘Oh.'

‘One of the blokes at the brigade cut your picture out of the
Standard
and pasted it to the CPR dummy's mouth for Toot to practise on. Everyone cracked up.'

‘What?'

‘This morning at the first aid test, we've got these dummies…'

He cut him short. ‘What picture?'

‘Don't you read the local paper?'

‘Didn't know there was one.'

‘There's a picture of you and Matt on the fenceline, doing stretches. Star recruit, it says.'

‘Bullshit!'

‘Nah.'

‘You got a copy?' Adam was desperate to read what they'd written. Was it a minor article on an inside page, or big headline stuff on the back page?

‘Probably chucked it out by now. How were Mongrel and Loody last night, eh? Falling for that letter shit. It was so hard not to crack up whenever they went past. They think they're so shit-hot those two.'

Adam sighed and shook his head. ‘Right dickheads, if you ask me. I can't believe the number of macho jerks that live in the country…'

‘Thanks, mate,' Snake said. ‘We can't all be classy trend-setters like you.'

Adam didn't know whether he'd offended him or not. ‘I didn't mean you, you know.'

Snake waved the apology aside.

‘So when are we going to look for part five?' Adam asked.

‘Right now!' Snake said. ‘I'll go get my bike.'

Visiting the silage pit wasn't high on Adam's wish list. The place gave him the shits. Now the embarrassing erection joined Emma's skeleton to haunt his memory.

TWENTY-FOUR

Snake closed the silage paddock gate and he and Adam trudged over to the pit. On the way they crossed over Snake's recent circles: big ruts of bare dirt cut into the parched grass.

‘Nice work,' Adam said.

The wall of silage was dry now and the smell of fermented grass had gone. Tufts of weed grew determinedly in the parched ground either side of the silage. A raven cawed from high in the thin trees lining the pit. Black guardian of the dead. Adam shivered, despite the sun on his back.

‘There's still a fair bit of feed here. Why doesn't Colin use it?' Snake said.

‘Suppose it's been spoilt in more ways than one. I guess he couldn't bear digging round here; he probably thinks it's haunted.'

The raven cawed again and ruffied its feathers.

Adam wished it would fly off. ‘Let's go,' he said.

They pushed their bikes down to where the ground flattened and a series of young gums were established. Beyond them the grass was thicker and streaked green, and dozens of older trees, paperbarks and eucalypts were scattered along the banks of a creek bed.

They propped the bikes against the trees and trampled upstream through ankle-high grass.

‘We've got to look for asymmetrical shapes and manufactured homes, whatever that means,' Adam said.

‘No homes around here unless you're a bird or a lizard,' Snake said.

Adam frowned. Maybe Snake had hit on it: animal homes! ‘That's it!' he said, ‘Nests! They're manufactured. Whereas a lizard would find a hole and make it a home. And the egg, it could be an asymmetric shape, if you didn't bisect it, but cut it like you do when it's in an eggcup.'

‘An eggcup! God, who uses eggcups?'

‘Would you believe my old man does.'

Snake laughed. ‘So now you want to climb every tree round here and look for eggs, do you?' Snake said, incredulous. ‘No. Not every tree. There must be a shortcut, another clue, like there was at the silo, but trees are where we begin, I suppose.' He looked up. The trees around them were too young to have any natural nesting holes.

Snake was staring up at one, shaking his head. ‘Hang on Stats, isn't a hole in a tree a found home?'

‘Yeah, but then they make a nest…' Adam began, then paused. He grinned at his friend. ‘You know you're right. It's only manufactured in one sense. And Lina's diary couldn't survive in a nest out in the open for six years. Didn't Emma make nesting boxes with Matt?'

‘Manufactured homes!'

‘Has to be. Where are they?'

‘Upstream, where the creek forms a kind of swamp. I'll show you,' Snake said, striding off towards a thicket of spindly trees and reeds.

Adam followed. The creek wound through the scrub, towards old farmer Byrd's boundary fence, and then became a series of boggy puddles connected by a trickle of water. The ground squelched up over Adam's runners and coated them in black muck. Dozens of paperbark trees lined the sides of the swamp, providing dappled shade. The air was thick with midges. A choir of insects played a deafening chirp-chirp tune.

Snake stopped and pointed straight ahead. ‘That's what we're looking for.'

A wooden box hung from a melaleuca. Once green, the paint had now faded and it took Adam a moment to see it. But the best thing was, it was at head height. He could easily stick his hand in and search.

‘There aren't any eggs this time of year, are there?'

‘Doubt it.'

They moved closer. Snake studied the treetops, but it was eerily still. ‘We must have scared the birds off,' he said.

‘Good,' Adam said. He plunged his hand inside. Sticks, feathers, dry leaves and grit, but there was no film container, no diary of any description. ‘No luck,' he said.

‘There're more further along,' Snake said.