39

One side of Garmin Street was lined with jacaranda trees; the other with tall, sweeping yellow-flowered gums. I drove past a grey-haired man sitting on a bench, a little radio parked on the seat beside him. Singing away to himself, smiling. I don’t know why some people think they have the right to look so relaxed. Still, maybe if I sat around on more park benches, I’d have a chance to cultivate that kind of mood as well.

I drove slowly, peering at the houses, looking for number thirty-four. Federation spires and verandahs in abundance. A multitude of roofs bristling with solar panels.

‘Cass, it’s here,’ said Madison.

I pulled over. We sat there in the car for a moment. Thirty-four was out of character with the rest of Garmin Street’s tree-lined grace. A dilapidated stripy blind over the front window. Long grass out the front. A Land Rover that looked like it hadn’t been driven in decades husking down in the driveway. It was difficult to believe anyone actually lived here. Anyone who wasn’t in desperate financial circumstances, that is. Did Morris have money problems? He had his job at the Cultivator though, didn’t he?

‘You sure you got the right number, Madison?’

She nodded.

I got out of the car, the others following. Some Ernie-grunting noises as he heaved himself out.

I walked up the two cracked concrete steps to the front door. Knocked firmly, hoping it wouldn’t cause the door to fall in.

The door opened. A woman stood behind it, looking out at us. Blinking, as if she hadn’t seen daylight in some time. She had long grey hair flowing over her shoulders. A purple paint-spattered smock; maybe she was an artist. Living in this joint, it would probably help if you were happy to spend prolonged periods living inside your head.

‘Yes?’

‘Is Morris in?’

‘Who’s asking?’

Madison elbowed past me. ‘We’re friends of his. Got a message for him from Jacinta.’

‘He’s not home.’ The woman’s mouth pulled down. Maybe the art wasn’t going well. Some kind of painting block, perhaps.

‘Actually, Jacinta’s quite worried about him,’ said Madison. ‘Would you mind if we came in?’

‘No point. He isn’t here.’ She didn’t budge.

‘Oh? Where is he?’ I said.

‘Are you from the paper?’

‘No, no. We’re friends: we know him through…’ I paused, searching for inspiration.

‘The Northern Mallee Ferret Club,’ said Madison.

‘Really?’ The woman looked puzzled. ‘I didn’t realise Morris was into…’

‘Oh, Morris has a wide range of interests,’ I waved a hand. ‘A young man constantly in search of new experiences. Still, you’d know all that. Living together, I mean.’

‘We’re not living together,’ she snapped.

‘Of course. I didn’t mean…’

‘I’m sick of people presuming I’m some kind of cougar. Or his bloody mother.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, people can be terribly annoying.’

‘Morris went out this morning. I haven’t seen him since. Anyway, I need to get back to work.’ The door started to close.

I stuck my foot in the gap.

‘Can you move your foot out of my doorway?’

‘In a moment.’ I smiled sweetly. ‘You don’t happen to know where Morris was last night, do you? It’s just that he was supposed to meet us…’

‘At the ferret expo,’ added Madison.

No response; the woman just shoved harder at the door. I spent a moment worrying whether my toes might drop off, then she sagged against the door. ‘Look, I don’t monitor his every movement.’

‘Course not. But you’d probably notice if he went out?’ I said.

‘He was here all night, glued to his laptop. Too busy with that to load the dishwasher, of course.’

There was a dishwasher in this dump?

‘Now move your foot from my doorway right now, unless you want me to phone the police.’

Fat lot of good that would do her.

Ernie leaned over my shoulder. ‘You listen to me, young lady.’ His voice was a snarl. ‘There are a lot of people worried about Morris. Worried he might do something stupid…like hurt himself.’

‘Ha. As if.’ But her face was pale.

‘So you might want to flaming well help us out here.’

A pause. ‘He left about an hour ago.’

‘He say where he was going?’ I said.

‘No.’

I looked over at the falling-down carport, devoid of cars. ‘He took his car?’

‘Well, obviously.’

A thought. ‘You don’t, ah, happen to know what he was doing on the night of the twenty-eighth of January, do you?’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘I know it’s a while ago it’s just that…’

Madison spoke up. ‘Tamie, Mr…Smith’s prize-winning ferret, went missing that night—and, well, it’s just horrible the things people insinuate, isn’t it? But there are some who’ve suggested Morris might have…’

‘For God’s sake. I’m sure I would have noticed if he’d brought an animal home. Morris does a lot of stupid things but even he’d draw the line at stealing ferrets.’

‘What time did he come home that night?’ I said.

‘How would I know?’

‘It was the flaming Australia Day weekend,’ said Ernie. ‘That help you place it?’ One of his metal-melt glares.

‘Um. We had a party here that night. Morris sulked as usual. Anyway,’ she waved a hand, ‘he won’t be hard to find—he’s probably floating around this ridiculous festival. Or having a coffee somewhere with one of his stupid friends. Maybe with that, what’s his name—Will—Morris was ranting on about him last night.’

‘Will Galang?’

‘Maybe. Look, I’ve got a deadline, so bugger off, will you. And when you find Morris, tell him to pay his bloody share of Foxtel.’

She kicked my foot away and slammed the door. We stood beside my car a moment, a forlorn type of Famous-Five huddle. It didn’t require a mastermind to see that Morris wasn’t out having a coffee with a dead bloke.

‘That was a total waste of time.’ Brad, the uber-optimist.

As if to spite him, the sun came out from behind a cloud. You could almost feel all those roof-top solar panels in Garmin Street perk up. And not a single headache anywhere in sight. Not among goats, anyway.

It also seemed unlikely Morris was hanging around the festival out where Glenda might see him, given that he’d chucked a sickie.

‘Anyone got any bright ideas on where to look next?’ I said.

Silence. A small dog in a leopard-skin coat trotted by.

‘I’d better get Timmy to the vet, Cass. Our appointment’s at one-fifteen.’

We grabbed a quick sandwich and then I dropped Madison, Brad and Timmy off at the vet; a bright yellow and blue building in Muddy Soak’s main drag.

Ernie and I sat in the car a moment, digesting. Just assuming we’d been told the truth and Morris was at home, glued to his laptop all last night…who exactly left Preston’s head on my doorstep?