30

I drove home; a cold clenching in my stomach. Ernie had been spot on, of course: Dean always has to be right.

Well, maybe I’d have better luck with his boss, when she finally arrived. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to present the evidence direct to Sergeant Paula Vandenberg. Although…what kind of first impression would that create for her regarding Dean? She’d start the job only to discover her subordinate was incompetent. Well, not completely incompetent, just…

In any case, I couldn’t stop the Kellett investigation now. Half of Rusty Bore could be run off the road before Dean finally clicked that he needed to do something. If only I could come up with something that would force him to do that.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. If I could just figure out this blasted big story of Natalie’s. Who she and Galang were meeting in Rusty Bore. And I only had forty-eight hours to find out, since there was every possibility Dean would decide to lock me up after our little ‘chat’.

Shortly after I got back to the shop, Brad arrived, looking a bit sorry for himself.

‘Janette’s dermatitis is playing up, so Madison’s initiated biosecurity lockdown. Hopefully it’s just for a few hours,’ he said.

I got on with some auto-wiping while Brad busied himself cutting up a pile of sweet-potato chunks. For wedges, he said. Who in heck he thought would buy them I had no idea. Still, Brad doing something constructive in the shop is an activity to be encouraged.

I spent a few moments filling him in on the latest developments. ‘Natalie’s story must involve Andy Fitzgerald, I reckon. Some kind of exposé? About killing the wife’s dog? Dog murderer: not a great look for a politician.’

‘No, I’d say the story was about something environmental,’ said Brad.

I took a moment to choose my words. ‘Look, son, I appreciate your input, but we all need to face up to the fact that not everyone’s entire existence revolves around the state of the environment.’

‘Well, it bloody should. And who knows, maybe Natalie’s story got her down so badly that she suicided that night. There’s a multitude of depressing articles she could have been working on—just take your pick—we’re in the middle of a huge extinction event, a changing climate and we’ve got a useless government doing nothing at all about it. It’s pretty lonely knowing the planet’s going down the plughole and no one gives a shit.’

I put down my cloth. ‘Brad, it doesn’t help anyone when you start up on the whole I’m-the-only-environmental-crusader-in-town routine. Plenty of people agree with you. No point in being miserable. You gotta grab life by the throat. Don’t let your own happiness whizz on by.’

‘Uh huh.’ He didn’t look up.

‘How’d you get on with the book basher’s phone? Any progress?’

‘I’ll look at it later.’

‘Brad. I need your help with this investigation. Please? Although we’re not calling anything an investigation if you happen to be talking to Dean,’ I added quickly.

‘Well, if you want my help, you’ll listen. Natalie’s story must have been about climate science.’

I sighed.

‘No need to sigh, just hear me out. Given that Will Galang was interested in blogging the story Natalie didn’t get a chance to publish, it has to have been environmental. Just look at his blog—every single post is about climate science.’

‘OK, fair point. But what story on climate science would she have found around here?’

Aha.

‘The solar farm.’ We both said it at the same time.

‘Could Natalie have found out something—some kind of fraud, maybe? Remember how Solar Logic suddenly upped and left Rusty Bore and went to China? Were they running away from something? Did they nick off with some research money?’

‘Mum, the reason they bloody left is because the government is totally uninterested in any type of renewable energy.’

An idea. ‘Could Fitzgerald have somehow cultivated that lack of government interest? Maybe someone paid him off to do it?’

‘Rory Quayle,’ said Brad.

‘Who?’

‘CEO of Gas Solutions.’

‘Wait, I know this…the fracking licences?’

‘Yes. Every one of those licences was granted to that company, which has to be pretty questionable. And they wouldn’t have wanted Solar Logic to do well. People like Rory Quayle will have a lot to lose if renewable energy takes off. If, or more likely when, solar, wind and hydro become base-load energy sources, that’ll be a huge problem for anyone involved in fossil fuels, including fracking.’

‘So you think Rory Quayle might have paid off Fitzgerald to…discourage government interest in the solar joint?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘But why would Fitzgerald do that? He can’t need the money, surely—all the Fitzgeralds are loaded.’

He shrugged. ‘Expensive hobbies?’

‘Maybe. And so, then Natalie found this out and was going to write it up. And what, he killed her? Just over a story about a bit of money?’

‘People kill for financial reasons all the time, Mum. Look at Matthew Wales—it was the reason he killed his parents.’

One of the rare moments where it was a relief to be not well off.

‘Yeah, but Fitzgerald, Rory Quayle, they’re business people. It’s different, isn’t it?’

‘Different, how?’

I didn’t have an answer. Maybe business issues don’t generate quite the same intensity of hatred as family members?

‘Anyway, they’re a bunch of fools. Fossil fuels belong in the past.’

‘Before you head into a planetary lecture, Brad, let me just say I agree with you.’

‘Really?’ He looked surprised.

‘Of course. I’m all for harvesting bucketloads of sunshine, especially given we’re smack bang in the middle of Sunshine Central in this place. The trouble is, I’ve had an awful lot of these conversations. And despite the whole world saying we should get on with it, frankly, we’re not. Well, almost the whole world. Apart from Showbag.’

‘Showbag’s another damn fool.’

‘Yep.’

You know, Showbag only got away with that solar sickness crap because most of us can’t be arsed. I mean, everyone wants the planet saved, kind of. Just not if it requires an actual effort. What we’re all looking for is something symbolic and convenient: Earth Hour, that kind of thing. Something that’ll make us feel better about ourselves, without having to really do anything.

‘Don’t you bloody yep me, Mum. You’re part of this.’ He paused, put down his knife. ‘Maybe it’s a good thing I’ll never get a job in science. No point working in a rational profession when the world isn’t rational. And most conservation scientists live in a constant state of grief. Not that anyone really talks about it.’

I stood still. ‘Never get a job?’

‘Yeah, I know. It’s wrong on so many levels.’

‘What happened, exactly? Why have you been kicked out?’

‘Well, you’d think the journalist would have done some fact checking, wouldn’t you?’

‘Checked what?’

He sat down. ‘I sort of…faked a press release. Saying that all Australian super funds had decided to dump their investments in companies that mine fossil fuels.’

I tried to take that in.

‘It was only a very short market wobble. I mean, everyone realised pretty quickly it wasn’t true. The whole point was just to shake up the system. Someone has to stop this ecocide. We need more Jonathan Moylans in this world.’

‘Is what you’ve done…some kind of fraud?’ I said.

The lines around Brad’s eyes deepened. A bloke that young shouldn’t have lines like that. He folded his hands like he was doing a TV interview.

‘Mum, intergovernmental climate talks have been going on for my entire life. For over twenty years they’ve been saying something will be done to prevent dangerous climate change. And you know what’s been done? You know what they’ve achieved? Nothing. They just keep on talking, while the world gets hotter. Our world.’ His voice sounded tired. ‘All so a few rich men can get richer.’

‘Brad? Is what you’ve done a crime?’

He didn’t seem to have heard me. ‘Someone has to stop them. And the only way to do that is to stop the money.’

‘Bradley! Answer my question.’

He hunched his shoulders like one of those Japanese snow monkeys stuck out in a five-day blizzard. ‘I’ve been charged with disseminating false information.’

‘Is that serious?’

‘Best-case scenario? Suspended sentence.’

‘And the worst?’

‘A fine of 765,000 dollars. And ten years’ jail.’