Chapter Twenty Five

 

Binda looked up from her desk. Constable Simon Low stood in front of her with his broad brimmed hat in his hands. ‘Looks like we’ve found Terry Hart, or bits of him anyway.’

‘Where?’

‘Out along Shiptons Flat Road at Rossville.’

‘But isn’t that where he got killed by a hit and run a couple of years ago?’

‘Yep.’

‘Is his coffin out there?’

‘No, just bones and a bit of rotten skin. Someone seems to have just scattered bits of him here and there along the road.’

‘Do Peter and Darryl know?’

‘Yep. They’re on their way here now and so is Wal with his assistant Christine Reddy.’

‘The crime scene girl from Cairns?’

‘Yep.’ Constable Low smiled.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Something about her name?’

‘No Binda. I’m not going there.’

‘Alright. How did you find out about Hart’s location, or what’s left of him?’

‘Jess Ralton and Spanner Kiran found him, or what they think is him. It’s badly decomposed body parts. The boys are still at the scene.’

‘OK, thanks. I’ll see if Peter wants me to go out with them. They far away?’

‘Ten minutes.’

‘And you think Constable Reddy has a funny name do you?’

‘No Binda.’

‘Bullshit.’

 

‘Do you think my arse looks fat in this hospital gown Ruth?’

‘Shut up. I’m trying to get small sutures in here.’

‘Well I seem to be on my stomach most of the time with you bending over me somewhere. Surely you have an opinion?’

‘Were you born a wise guy or did your Mother drop you on your head?’

‘That’s not very nice.’

‘The little hole I drilled at the base of your skull will eventually close over. I’ve taken the intracranial pressure sensor out. It couldn’t pick up activity anyway.’

‘Do I have to pay extra for the humour around this place?’

Ruth ignored the remark. ‘The incision I made in your skin over that area will now heal up and you shouldn’t have any problems with that. You might even get to grow that rat’s tail.’

‘It’s been a life long ambition.’

‘I’m sure it has. Now that larger wound on the back of your head will take a bit more looking after. It’s healing up nicely and I’ll have the sutures out by the end of the week. I’m also going to let you out of here prior to that on three conditions.’

‘Anything.’

‘You have to let our physio girl run you through the paces and she has to clear you to leave.’

‘Done.’

‘I have to think you are fit enough to leave. You’ll have to keep all your head dressings on, so you’ll look a right dork if you go out to dinner.’

‘OK. What’s number three?’

‘You stay at Merinda’s home and you do exactly what I say as far as daily routine. Susan will be with you and she will report to me daily. She will bring you here every second day so I can check you over and that will continue until I say stop.’

‘Sounds like boot camp.’

‘You know damn well it’s not boot camp. You’ll be living in the lap of luxury. You’ll also be somewhat of a target and that is the fourth point I wanted to raise.’

‘You said three.’

‘Four is more difficult and it’s a decision I’ve made in consultation with the police.’

Ben looked puzzled.

‘Having you here is a risk to the hospital, its staff and patients.’

‘You think he’ll come here and have another go?’

‘Do you?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Inspector Keller thinks he will.’

‘Doesn’t that place additional risk on Merinda, having me at her home?’

‘Yes but it’s basically a numbers game. More people can get hurt here. The police are going to make routine patrols to Merinda’s house in a random pattern each day and night.’

‘I don’t think that is necessary.’

‘Darryl does. He’s going to run through this stuff with you on the day I decide you can leave here. I personally think that Darryl would prefer you just to go home. He’s made contact with your boss over that.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until this creep is nailed.’

‘What if your boss orders you home?’

‘He’s not my boss.’

‘He pays your bills.’

‘I’m not going anywhere Ruth.’

‘It’s my guess Darryl anticipated that. He may, therefore, use you as bait. No-one has any idea which victim this psycho is going to select next. He failed in his attempt to kill you. That error will be eating at him and it’s likely he won’t let it go so I’m told.’

‘Less risk to larger numbers of people if I’m away from here,’ said Ben.

‘Bluntly, yes.’

‘I wish I had my Glock or something.’

‘Darryl may speak with you about that situation, but you didn’t hear that from me.’

‘No loose lips here Ruth.’

‘Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow and you can take a more extended walk.’

‘Sounds great.’

 

Shiptons Flat Road is of gravel construction and badly rutted after heavy rains. It connects the main highway into Cooktown, with the tiny rural town of Rossville, and farming communities beyond. A disused dirt airstrip and dilapidated hanger is located off this road about half a kilometre north of the town. It’s owned by one of the local farmers.

Late on the evening of June 12^th, 2009, Terrence Hart had been run down on this road exactly at the junction with the dirt track leading into the airstrip. His body was badly mangled. No eye witnesses. No-one claimed responsibility. No suspects.

In line with legal responsibilities imposed, and under s43(1) of The Coroners Act 1958, Coroner, William Sharpe used his very wide powers under that Act, to admit any and all evidence which could assist him in determining why Terence Hart had been wandering down a gravel road near Rossville, almost 100 kilometres from his home, just before midnight and then run down and killed by a fairly heavy vehicle. After two days of going no-where, Mr. Sharpe made a clear determination as to the cause of death, but an open finding as to the person responsible.

Terrence Hart had no money. His family had no money. He was buried by the State in plot 251 at the back block of Cooktown cemetery and promptly forgotten…..until a serial killer dug him up and scattered his rotting remains all over Shiptons Flat Road in exactly the same place as the hit and run had occurred.

Darryl leaned back against the back door of the police Nissan patrol vehicle. He watched Wal and his new and rather lovely colleague, take photographs of a skull, vertebrae, tibia, broken clavicle, hand, foot, fibula, scapula, another tibia. Ruth had insisted that every piece of bone be tagged and left exactly where it was found. The road was closed in each direction from Rossville to the Cooktown Highway.

‘And the reason for this display?’ asked Darryl, as Peter Martin walked back to the police vehicle.

‘Dr. Dunn and Ruth are on their way. Perhaps they can make sense of this.’

‘The killer knew where Terry Hart got run down last year; right to the exact spot.’

‘So he did that one too?’

‘Anyone at the coronial inquest would have details of where Terry got hit.’

‘But we know this Psycho dug him up and obviously dumped him back here where he was killed.’

‘Perhaps to throw us off the track?’

‘What bloody track Peter? There is no track. This guy is going in all directions.’

‘Dr. Dunn has an angle he wants to pursue but he’s a bit tight lipped about it for the moment. He’s working on a detailed report to submit tomorrow. That might give us something to work with.’

‘Thank God. This investigation is basically dead in the water.’

Peter Martin hesitated for a moment. He summonsed up courage and spoke. I’ve got some fairly recent news for you Harry and you’re not going to like it.’

Darryl rolled tobacco into a cigarette paper and licked it closed. He inserted it into the plastic holder and gripped it between his teeth. The disposable lighter flared. The tobacco at the end of the paper glowed. Darryl sucked in a deep breath of smoke, held it for a few seconds and blew it upward in a well practiced manoeuvre, one designed to avoid blowing smoke into the face of anyone nearby. ‘What could be worse than the nightmare that is happening around here at the moment Peter?’

‘Sharon is flying in tomorrow.’

The cigarette and its plastic holder dropped from Darryl’s mouth, into the dust with a shower of sparks. ‘What?’

‘Sharon. Here. Morning flight.’

Darryl slumped lower against the back of the police vehicle. ‘Why?’

‘She misses you Harry.’

‘Are you out of your bloody mind Pete? This is a stitch up, right? Don’t do this to me. I’ve had enough.’

‘Sorry Harry. She’s arriving in the morning.’

Inspector Keller bent down and retrieved his cigarette and holder. They were covered with dust but the cigarette was glowing. He pushed the holder back in his mouth and sucked vigorously. ‘Do you think I have the power to close the Cooktown airport for a while….you know, officially?’

‘What do you think?’ replied Peter.

‘What about you? You’re in charge up here.’

‘Sorry Harry.’

‘Do you know where I can get hold of some land mines in a hurry?’

‘Harry….

‘Over reaction perhaps?’

 

Ruth and Val drove slowly around tiny yellow markers along Shiptons Flat Road until they reached Inspector Peter Martin’s four wheel drive police vehicle. The sun had dropped towards distant mountain ranges in the west but it had a way to go before Wal’s arc lighting would be switched on.

‘What’s your sicko done now Inspector Keller?’ asked Val.

Darryl glanced at Peter Martin. Peter nodded slightly and folded his arms. Darryl looked back along the dirt road and shook his head wearily. ‘It would appear that he has taken poor Terence’s skeleton apart to a large extent and from a point north about 50 metres from here, started dumping the bones out onto the road. He probably had the bones in a bucket or bag or something. The bones are somewhat scattered. The skull rolled off into the scrub to our left, but the boys found it. The non rolling parts like most of the spine, hands, feet and suchlike, were just scattered along the right hand side of the road for about 40 metres, as he drove along. The first bones were dropped at the exact spot Terry was stuck by a vehicle and killed in June 2009.’

‘He is an interesting fellow,’ said Val.

‘Not what I’d call him,’ Peter Martin said.

‘Why did he dump the bones on the right hand side of the road? To do that he would have had to drive on the wrong side of the road.’

‘It’s little more than a dirt track Dr. Dunn. He didn’t have to move all that far to the right,’ said Peter.

‘But he did.’

‘So?’

‘So he didn’t want other vehicles running over the bones and destroying them,’ said Val Dunn.

‘He wanted us to account for all the bones,’ said Ruth.

‘And have we?’ asked Dr. Dunn.

Darryl consulted a small clipboard lying on the bonnet of the police vehicle. ‘Wal is making a catalogue of bones as he takes his photos. He thinks he got everything except a small part of the spine.’

‘Not again,’ said Ruth. ‘Tell me it’s not the cervical section.’

‘Sorry Ruth,’ said Wal.

Constable Christine Reddy approached the group. ‘We’ve photographed the last of the bones,’ she said, somewhat nervously.

‘Does everyone know Christine?’ asked Wal.

‘I think so,’ Peter replied.

‘Did you get the cervical bones?’ asked Ruth.

‘Most of them. They were the last ones dumped,’ replied Christine. ‘That’s their marker on the left of the track from where we’re standing, just back there.’

‘Were any of the cervical bones attached to the skull?’ asked Ruth.

‘No,’ said Wal.

‘So how many have you retrieved?’

‘Six.’

‘Are they attached to each other?’ asked Ruth.

‘No, just dumped more or less in the one spot.’

‘And the rest of the spinal bones?’

Christine looked at Wal. Wall held out his hand to Darryl. Darryl gave him the clipboard. ‘What appear to be lumbar and thoracic bones were back 20 metres or so from the site of both clavicles and the cervical bones. You’ll have to string them together Ruth. We got seventeen vertebrae way back there more or less in the one spot and six more at that last set of markers together with both clavicles.’

‘Six?’

‘Yep.’

‘You a betting man Wal?’

‘Not really.’

‘If you were, which of the cervical vertebrae would you bet on, was missing?’

‘Three?’

‘You’re on and I think you’d win.’

‘What’s he making?’ asked Darryl, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the roadway. ‘A necklace?’

‘Probably,’ said Val. ‘I’d say that’s exactly what he’s doing.’

‘Who called this in?’ asked Ruth.

‘Anonymous male,’ said Peter Martin. ‘Said he was driving south to Rossville and saw bones on the road. Then he hung up. No name. Nothing.’

‘Couldn’t you get the origin of the call traced?’

‘This isn’t CSI Miami Ruth,’ said Peter. ‘No caller ID came up when he rang our switch and Telstra claim they can’t trace it.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘We’ve put in a second request with someone higher up in Telstra,’ said Peter. ‘Just to be sure, but it looks like we’re not going anywhere with that line of inquiry.’

Val Dunn squinted into the sunset. ‘He obviously wanted you to find the bones.’

‘I can’t understand why he didn’t just box them up and drop them on the front step of the police station,’ said Peter.

‘He dumped them back at the original scene of the original crime, for a specific reason,’ Val said. ‘Until we catch him and somehow get inside that twisted mind, we’ll probably never know the reason.’

Peter Martin wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘OK, guys. One more slow sweep of the road and five metres either side. Wal, you walk with them. Then bag the bones and call it a day. The locals are getting the shits with us for closing the road.’

‘Tell the group to keep a sharp eye out,’ said Ruth. ‘We don’t want to have wild speculation flying about here. If you can get the bones back to the autopsy room by 7 pm, we’ll make a start at trying to piece them back together.’

‘I can hardly wait,’ said Wal. The uniformed constables and the crime scene detectives began to walk back to the first set of yellow markers, highly visible in the golden sunlight. Fence post shadows lengthened across the road. A dry breeze blew tiny whirlwinds in the dust.

‘Can you take me back to the hotel Ruth?’ asked Val Dunn. ‘I have quite a bit of material to sort through and I want to have a preliminary report ready for Darryl by morning. I have several lines of inquiry that need exploring thoroughly. Some of them may look at bit unusual, but we’re dealing with a very unusual psychopath here.’

‘We’re obviously dealing with a local,’ said Peter Martin, more to himself than anyone else.

‘Most definitely,’ said Val. ‘From what I’ve seen already, he knows this area intimately.’

‘So we probably already know him?’ said Peter.

‘Oh yes. You know him alright,’ Val said. ‘He’s right under your nose.’

 

 

“****”