I followed Liam and the woman, hoping for an opening for a friendly hello, but she walked remarkably quickly for a woman with such inflexible-looking joints. She hustled Liam into a battered blue Falcon and lowered herself awkwardly into the driver’s seat. They pulled away.
I fired up the Corolla and followed them at what I hoped was a discreet distance. The Ford cruised along Deakin Avenue towards the centre of town, took a left into Fourteenth Street, then a brisk right onto Walnut Avenue where I almost lost them behind a white HiAce. Luckily the van turned off.
A couple more turns and finally the Ford pulled up by a large park near the river. I continued along the street, did a U-ie and then pulled over, managing to grab the last parking spot. A large sign said Mildura Station Homestead.
My two tailees got out of the Ford and headed into the park. I counted to five before I got out and followed through the gate. To my left, artily arranged bits of old farm machinery; to my right, a historic-looking dunny complete with authentic flies. I followed the woman and Liam towards a grassy lawn beside the river, where there was a small party going on: stooped people in expansive hats sitting in fold-up chairs near a trestle table filled with sandwiches.
I did a lightning review of my options. They’d be unlikely to welcome someone connected to the person they thought was responsible for Rex’s death. Even if I wasn’t really all that connected.
‘Excuse me,’ I said to the stiff-legged woman, who was now hunched over, rummaging in an esky. ‘Is this the… gathering for Rex Patterson?’
‘It is,’ she said, without looking up.
‘Hi, I’m Cass. A distant relative of Rex’s. In town a little while. I live down south.’
She straightened up and stared at me. ‘You’re related to his sister?’ Her voice had a note of incredulity.
‘No, no, my mother was Rex’s cousin.’ I caught Liam’s eye.
He looked away quickly.
‘I only remember Rex from when I was a little. Kind fella. Showed me…’
‘Birds, of course. Welcome, my dear,’ a huge smile on her face. ‘I’m Dorothy. Not Dot, no one calls me Dot, let’s just make that clear.’ She handed me a plastic cup containing a brownish liquid. I took a delicate sniff. Whisky?
‘Helps ward off the heat,’ she said, then handed me a slice of cake. Yellow. I nibbled a corner: lemony and delicious. Clearly, I was consorting with expert bakers.
‘I don’t recall Rex ever mentioning his cousins…’ Dorothy took a sip from her own plastic cup. ‘Well, you’ll be keen to see as many birds as possible while you’re here. He took you to King’s Billabong, of course?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Best to try and find some common ground. Might give me a better chance to get Liam alone. Not in a creepy way, obviously.
‘Well, you’ll have to come out birdwatching with us there on Thursday. Show us everything you remember.’
‘Ah,’ I said. The common ground opened up into a yawning sinkhole.
Way too much chocolate ripple cake, lemon slice and jam drops later, washed down with a lot of thermos tea to dilute the whisky, I managed to stagger away. I’d hoped to get a closer look at Dan, one of my few actual suspects for the Patterson fire apart from Joanne, but Dan wasn’t there. He’d gone home direct from the cemetery, back to his wife, who needed round-the-clock care. And I’d had no chance to talk to Liam alone—Dorothy was not an easy woman to shake off.
Back at my car, I pulled out a notebook from my handbag and scribbled down a list of questions. There were many things in need of answers, and a rather large number of them involved Andy Devlin.
I started my car, about to swing over to Mallee Environmental, when my phone buzzed. I turned off the ignition and grabbed the phone: Dean.
‘Mum, where are you?’
‘Mildura, as it happens. You want to catch up? I’ll be free later on this arvo.’
‘What are you doing in town exactly?’
I paused. ‘Not wild about your tone, Dean.’
‘I’m worried about you, OK? I know what you’re like. You’re stalking someone, aren’t you?’
‘I think the word you’re probably looking for is “investigating”.’
‘Except you’re not licensed to do that.’
‘Whatever.’ I know, never good to use teenage-speak on your son and I really should know better. I took a breath. ‘How are you? I’ve been trying to call you. How are the girls?’
‘They’re OK. Apart from…well, don’t worry. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is Stephens. He’s decided we need to have a chat with you. Just informal, at this stage.’
Stephens, as in Dean’s boss. At this stage. Shit, what did that mean, exactly? Dean has been known to lock up his relatives. Well, me.
‘Oh?’ My voice was a little breathless.
‘Yeah. You’re a fucken asset, apparently.’
‘And that’s the adjective Stephens used, is it?’
‘What?’ He paused. ‘Oh.’
‘Have you ever considered speaking to me in a different way, Dean? Perhaps using the kind of tone and language that indicates, oh, I don’t know, that you might care about my feelings?’
‘Sorry.’
‘OK. Now let’s start over.’
‘Stephens told me, and I’ll quote him as best I can, since you don’t like my choice of adjectives: “We should consider your mother’s unorthodox methods, given her past success. She might be able to help with Vivian Bentley’s murder.”’
‘Murder?’
‘Yeah. Post-mortem results are in. She died before she went into the water.’
‘Doesn’t necessarily mean she was murdered, surely? Steep bank. And a lot of rocks. Maybe she hit her head on one of them.’
‘More like the rock hit her.’ He paused. ‘There was a stone near her body, with blood traces. And her DNA. But on both sides of the stone. Most likely scenario is someone hit her over the head with it, pushed her over the cliff and then threw the stone down after her.’
‘Oh.’
‘The stone also had traces of leather. Gloves, maybe. Anyway, it’s a case for Homicide. Although Stephens is keen for Mildura to make a good impression.’ He paused. ‘He’s after promotion. Bastard was gunna call you himself. There’s no way I’m letting him near you, or anyone else I know. Not since…’
‘Since what?’
‘Tell you later. Anyway, as you’re already in town, I want you to come into the station.’
A pause. I allowed it to lengthen into something with a cool and frosty edge.
‘You still there, Mum?’
‘I am.’
‘I mean, come in at your convenience, of course.’
I continued to wait.
‘Please.’
Excellent.