He shouldn’t have agreed to let Liz come over later. Melanie didn’t need any pressure to talk about the night of the accident. Vince sat in his car a bit down the road from Pickering’s warehouse, where he’d been for twenty minutes. He checked the time. Again. No sign of Pickering or Farrelly, their cars, or for that matter, any movement inside. It was a weekday and it made no sense the place was closed.
Unless you’re really going under.
Somehow he doubted it. Pickering was too cocky at his house this morning. At least until he found out why Vince was there.
The envelope was on the passenger seat. He could multi-task.
He slid a key under the flap and opened it, emptying the contents onto the seat.
Two white, sealed envelopes were inside, along with a set of keys, a mobile phone, and more cash in crisp, one-hundred-dollar notes. Another ten grand or so. The mobile was flat, but his charger fitted so he plugged it in. The keys were a mix, including a post office box key and what might be a house key.
The first envelope was addressed to Mrs McCoy at Melanie’s school.
Unsure whether to open it, he put it down.
Lyndall’s number came up as his phone rang and he grabbed it.
‘That was fast. Before you ask, Melanie is fine. So am I.’ There was humour in her tone and Vince’s heart began to beat again.
‘What’s up?’
‘My farrier called. He’s coming over first thing tomorrow to do the donkeys’ feet so bring that pony of yours up when you get home and he’ll trim hers. She can go in with them for the night. Bit of company won’t hurt her.’
‘She isn’t lonely but could use a trim. I should be home in a couple of hours.’
‘Well we’re about to roll pastry for homemade sausage rolls so don’t you hurry. We plan to make an apple tart as well, so it is in your best interests to let Melanie stay for another three hours. Or more.’
‘Thank you, Lyndall.’
‘My pleasure, darlin’.’
She hung up.
Without her this would be harder. Impossible, because he’d never have exposed Melanie to the police station or Spironi’s. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to keep asking Lyndall for so much help soon. He just had to put the puzzle together.
The other envelope was not addressed to anyone. Inside were two documents. One letter and a copy of a will. It was in Susie and David’s names and dated just three months ago.
His eyes closed. How could he read this knowing it might destroy any chance of him adopting, or even having custody of Melanie? If Susie had decided she’d waited long enough for her father to become a better man…
Melanie needs me.
Was there another copy? Surely they’d lodged it with someone, but their lawyer only spoke of the original from years ago.
‘I won’t let you go, Mel. I promise I won’t.’
He opened his eyes. Assuming this was the only copy he could keep it hidden. Never let it see the light of day. Go through the motions already underway to secure her future.
Fearing the worst, he held it up to read.
A car turned into the street and then, into the warehouse driveway, stopping at the locked gates. A man stepped out, checked his phone, and sank back inside. Vince shoved everything into the glovebox.
What was Richard Roscoe doing here?
The Lexus reversed out and headed back the way it came.
Vince started the motor and followed.
It was a subdued group of detectives in the office when Terry called a mid-afternoon meeting. Many had been up at Talbot the previous night while others were tired from too-long hours working on other aspects of the Hardy case. Liz figured she had it better than some, with her five hours or so of sleep, even if it was unsettled.
A platter of deli goods—cheese, meats, crackers and the like—was in the middle of four tables all pushed together, and everyone was nibbling. Terry was a decent boss. One who knew how to regenerate flagging spirits.
He slowly paced back and forth in the space between the tables and the whiteboard, occasionally stopping when one of the detectives spoke. Like now.
Pete had constructed something out of two crackers with a large piece of hard cheese, sundried tomato, salami, and relish wedged between them and he waved it around as he spoke. Liz couldn’t take her eyes off it as she waited for it to explode all over him.
‘Let me get this straight, Terry. From that whole exercise last night we have nothing. No evidence Hardy has ever visited Roscoe’s property. No prints from the van we recovered. And nothing from Roscoe’s car, or our interview with him.’
Terry nodded. ‘Yup. Yup. Yup, and… yup.’
‘Should have let me interrogate him.’ Pete finally bit into his creation.
‘It isn’t a lost cause. What we know is that someone dumped that van close enough to Roscoe’s property—maybe to make him a suspect in the crash which killed the Weavers. And another someone—probably the same person—made sure we knew it was there.’
‘Yeah, but what nutcase would draw attention to themselves that way?’ One of the detectives asked and several others nodded.
Liz got to her feet and went to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker.
Terry glanced at her but kept talking. ‘No reason to believe Roscoe had anything to do with this. Whoever dumped it there may very well have done so in order to control him.’
She drew a line between individual pictures of Farrelly and Roscoe and above it wrote ‘history of blackmailing others’. Then beneath the line, ‘who is being blackmailed now?’.
‘Care to share your thoughts, Lizzie?’
Not certain I know what they are.
Nevertheless, she faced the room and everyone, even Pete, gave her their attention.
‘A short while ago I spoke to a past coach of the Moe footie club about these men. Back then they were teenagers and Farrelly lived with the Roscoe family after the death of his parents in a house fire. According to the coach, the two of them were blackmailing another team mate and he suspended them from playing in the finals. There’d have to have been a lot of anger and resentment and sometimes that’s enough to bond people.’
‘Who lit the fire?’ Someone asked.
‘It was ruled an accident. However…’ she tapped on Farrelly’s image, ‘his father’s hardware shop burned to the ground two years earlier and he was knocked about as a kid by his dad.’
Pete began creating another cracker sandwich. ‘If the powers that be who regulate law firms get wind of Roscoe’s past, it might cause some issues for him.’ He glanced up with a grin. ‘I’d love to chat to him knowing this. See if Farrelly is using their shared history to get something from him.’
‘And at the same time, a chat with Farrelly, raising those juvenile incidents, might rattle his cage for once,’ Liz said. ‘But what are the stakes? Malcolm Hardy has to fit in here somewhere, but I’ll be damned if I can see where.’
And why were we sent to find the van last night?
‘Liz and Pete, you pick up Farrelly. I’ll get Roscoe.’ Terry surveyed the room with a slight smile. ‘If anyone hasn’t slept since last night then go home. The rest of you get back to going through the footage from the camera feeds from the areas around the two killings and Talbot.’
‘Yeah… but this food won’t eat itself.’ Pete began loading a napkin with goodies.
To Vince’s disappointment, Roscoe did nothing more than drive back to his offices.
The trek across town had eaten into his plans—he’d hoped to take a look at the business David had put the deposit on but time was against him and he headed home.
After a stop at the supermarket he got back to the cottage as the light began to change. Leaving the items from Susie’s house for later, he took the shopping inside and quickly changed into boots and went to collect Apple.
‘I hope you’re not lonely, old girl,’ he said as he clipped a lead to her headstall. She nuzzled his pockets then snorted when no treat was forthcoming. ‘Lyndall says you need some company.’
He unlocked the side gate and she happily followed him out. The gate was Lyndall’s idea years ago when Susie was young and used to ride up to see her. It saved going down to the road and back up and there was a track she could access from a bit further leading to countless acres of riding trails. Not far up there was where he and Susie planted those fruit trees. The land was his but thanks to the steep nature of the back of his place, was more accessible from Lyndall’s long driveway.
It took him and Apple longer than he expected with the pony stopping every so often to grab a mouthful of the grass which must have been sufficiently different from that in her paddock to get her attention. By the time he went around the back of the house, Lyndall was striding across from a smaller paddock with multiple three-sided shelters and half a dozen donkeys munching on a pile of fresh hay.
‘Come on, Apple, they’ll leave none for you if we don’t get you in there.’
‘Hi Grandad!’ Melanie waved from a spacious open deck.
He waved back. ‘All packed up?’
‘Almost.’ She ran back into the house.
‘She’ll sleep well,’ Lyndall said. She opened the gate, gently pushing back one of the donkeys who wanted to greet Apple. ‘Not much she hasn’t done today, other than help me move this lot, but when I did she stayed in sight the whole time.’
Lead unclipped, Apple trotted to the main group, nickering as they looked up. She occasionally spent time with them and did seem happy about being here again.
‘Get everything done?’ Lyndall closed and secured the gate.
‘Not quite. Was side tracked a couple of times but it’s been productive. More information to look at but I think it will be in Melanie’s best interests.’
She gave him one of the long, thoughtful looks which always felt like she knew his thoughts. ‘Having you as her custodian is the number one best interest she has. Melanie doesn’t need fancy. She needs authentic. Speaking of which, there is a homemade apple tart and plenty of sausage rolls to take home and she’s helped with every part of making them.’ They reached the steps to the deck. ‘Like to come in?’
Melanie pushed the back door open, struggling with her good arm to carry an oversized bag.
‘Or maybe not this time.’ Lyndall chuckled as Vince hurried to take the bag.
‘We made the best pie ever!’
‘In that case, we should take it home and try it.’
‘Grandad, not until after dinner.’ Melanie tried to be serious, but her eyes were bright and happy. She threw her arms around Lyndall’s waist. ‘You’re the best, Lyndall.’
If those were tears forming in her eyes, Lyndall made it clear she didn’t want them seen, turning her head away and patting Melanie’s back. ‘You take your grandfather home, darlin’ and remember to put the baked goods into the fridge to keep them fresh.’
One day I hope you’ll share your story with me.
‘Time to go, so say thank you,’ Vince said.
Melanie stepped back. ‘Thank you for having me.’
‘You are most welcome.’
‘From me as well.’ Vince reached for Melanie’s hand with his spare one. ‘I’ll be up in the morning to pay the farrier and bring Apple home.’
‘No rush. She’s welcome to visit. Just like you two.’ Lyndall headed back to the paddock with a wave.
When they reached the path to the fruit trees, Vince pointed it out. ‘What if we go for a walk there tomorrow? See if those trees have anything to pick. Might be something the birds didn’t get.’
‘Where does the track go?’ Melanie peered into the near darkness. ‘I can’t see far enough.’
‘It weaves along the back of the block then up a bit higher so you can look down on our cottage. After that there’s a valley behind the ridge where your mum used to ride Apple. She’d sometimes take a little picnic and be gone for hours.’
‘On the pony?’
‘On the pony.’
‘Apple the pony. And now we have swapped her for apple the pie.’ She began to giggle, and Vince laughed along with her as they headed home.