Back at home, Baxter was preoccupied with the layout of his book—principally, how to end it. He’d come across many otherwise good books that ended very poorly, so he was putting a lot of effort into concluding the book he’d come to think of as River of Dreams.
He’d already decided, after weeks of thought, that he should begin the book with the story of Rosa. This had started out as a piece of investigative journalism, one of the most popular he’d ever written. Baxter had titled it ‘Fallen Angel’. With some expansion and embellishment, and with names and details changed, he thought it couldn’t be bettered for the opening chapter.
He was hard at work when the phone rang. It was Julie Rankin, and she proposed coming out for a quick lunch and maybe a fish.
Well, that was what she told him. Once she arrived, it was soon apparent that what she really wanted was his account of the brouhaha at the Family Hotel.
‘What on earth induced you to take on Campanelli?’ she asked, after taking a sip of white wine and declaring it excellent. Baxter had made a second trip to pick some up, and now he was glad of it.
The answer to her question was straightforward enough. ‘He’s a bully and I hate bullies,’ Baxter said. ‘And besides, I had to defend myself. He’s a creep, Julie.’
‘Granted he’s a creep, but he’s an important creep in Moondilla.’ She was smiling, but her eyes were troubled. ‘He could make things tough for you.’
‘I’ll watch my back.’
The thought of Campanelli ‘getting’ him seemed ludicrous, but there was truth to what Julie said—the man had resources. Of course, Baxter wouldn’t tell her what Campanelli had muttered before getting in his Mercedes. It would only worry her.
A change of subject was in order. ‘Do you mind bringing your wine outside?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you.’ They headed onto the verandah, where Chief was snoozing in the sun. ‘I’ve been working on the layout of my novel,’ Baxter explained, gesturing to the stack of pages. ‘Do you have time to read the first chapter?’
She grinned and stared down at the pages, and Baxter was pleased to see that she seemed fascinated. ‘It’s my day off. Not that it means anything—I’m on call just about all the time. But I’d love to take a peek.’
‘Thanks,’ Baxter said, handing ‘Fallen Angel’ to her. ‘I’ll go on making notes while you read it.’
When she’d finished, Julie looked at Baxter and nodded. ‘It’s very good. Sad, but good. If a girl decides she wants to make a living via prostitution, that’s one thing, but having to live that way to fund a drug habit is another matter.’
‘Thanks, Julie. That’s exactly what I set out to say.’
‘And this is how you’re going to start your book?’
‘That’s the plan. I reckon it puts the whole rotten drug business into focus.’
‘It does.’ The troubled look was in her eyes again.
‘You know,’ Baxter said, ‘I came back here because I needed to get away to a different kind of lifestyle. Finding out about the drugs . . . well, it’s really taken the gilt off the gingerbread.’
‘Yes, I felt the same way when I realised how bad it was.’
‘Let’s hope that Latham and Company can clean it up, and then Moondilla will revert to what it was.’ He sighed. ‘Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.’
‘It’s still a nice place,’ Julie said. ‘A bit dull for some people, but—drugs aside, of course—you don’t come down here if you’re looking for excitement. You come to fish and to smell the flowers and to enjoy the river and the ocean.’
She looked as though she loved it as much as he did, and he realised her words echoed Mr Garland’s from so long ago.
‘That’s right,’ he said vehemently, the thought of the old fisherman stirring his anger, ‘and it’s obscene for Moondilla to be fouled up by drugs. I’ll do everything I can to help Latham and his team clean it up.’
‘Very laudable,’ she said, nodding. ‘I feel the same way. But let’s be cautious—we won’t be any help if we put ourselves in danger.’
Baxter nodded, although he knew it was a bit late for that.
Julie had finished her wine. ‘What a relief that I haven’t been called in to work,’ she said. ‘If you can spare the time, I’d like to introduce you to some of my family—my sister Jane and her husband Steve, the fishing fanatic.’
‘Good idea. I’d love to meet them, and I could ask Steve to tune up Flora.’
‘Flora?’
‘My runabout—you know, the Flora Jane.’
•
So Baxter spent a lovely afternoon with Julie and the Lewises.
Jane was a nice-looking woman—not as classically good-looking as Julie, but very attractive and with a great personality. Sherrie was a stunning seventeen-year-old who did indeed look like a young Julie, while Jason was fifteen, a solid boy whose main interest appeared to be sailing sabots on the river.
Baxter soon heard from the horse’s mouth that Jason wasn’t very good at cricket or football, so he wasn’t in the upper echelon of boys at the high school. Conversely, Sherrie was an excellent tennis player and swimmer, and Jason thought it extremely unfair that his sister was so good at sport, especially because she didn’t take it seriously.
In Steve Lewis, Baxter thought he’d found a true friend. Lewis was a lean fellow, quite nice-looking, with dark hair and keen grey eyes. He’d taken over Moondilla Motors after serving his apprenticeship there with his dad. Now in his late thirties, Lewis was recognised as one of the best mechanics on the South Coast, and had the Holden Agency in Moondilla. Jane had gotten to know Steve while working in the garage’s office, and it was clear there’d never been anyone else for either of them.
The two men got on like a house on fire, and were soon talking fishing. Lewis was one of the keenest fishermen ever to tie on a hook. Needless to say, he had his own boat, a bigger and more modern craft than Baxter’s. As Julie had implied, he was occasionally accused by his wife of being too keen, but Baxter’s plea for a boat tune-up seemed to fall on fertile ground. From the look in Jane’s eye and her encouragement of the idea, Baxter guessed that she’d soon be pushing her husband for more info about him.
‘So what have you got in mind once I’ve looked at your Flora Jane?’ Lewis asked.
‘Well, I’ve never gone out past the river mouth because I’m an inexperienced sailor, and I don’t know the best fishing spots anyway. So I’d appreciate having someone with me who knows the ropes.’
‘We’ve got a couple of busy weekends coming up, so how about I come by on Saturday arvo in a few weeks?’ Lewis suggested. ‘I’ll work on the boat then and we’ll take her out for a bit. Another time, weather willing, we’ll make an early start and duck out to the Islands before the wind gets up. You can fish from out in front of them if the nor’easter isn’t blowing—if it is, and there’s a run-in tide, you can get thrown up against the rocks. It’s a dicey place at the best of times, but the fishing is great, with lots of snapper on offer. You just need to know what you’re about.’
‘Sounds terrific.’
‘Have you got plenty of gear?’
‘Probably not as much as I should have. I’ve got a couple of rods and reels, and half a dozen handlines, but no lures. I don’t understand how to use them.’
‘Not to worry. You’ve been catching fish, haven’t you?’
‘Some, though not a lot. Of course there’s only me and an occasional visitor—Julie appreciated my fillet.’ He shot her a smile, which she returned. ‘But the thing is that my mother’s due to visit soon, and she’s a big-time chef and cooking writer.’
‘You don’t mean Frances Baxter, the Great Woman?’ Jane asked, astonished.
‘That’s her,’ Baxter said and grinned, while Jane shot Julie an annoyed glance for not keeping her in the loop. ‘So I’d like to have some decent fish on hand.’