Mia had doubts about the wisdom of coming out to the pub even with Arlo. Nothing would have lured her here by herself. She’d intended to keep a low profile, only interacting where necessary, but this bar was the heart of the town judging by the rate people were pouring in. How many of them were the ones Arlo had referred to? The ones best avoided?
She glanced at Vicki nattering to the group at the other table. They didn’t look her way at all. The couple at the table on Arlo’s left hadn’t done more than glance and say hello to him. Maybe she was being overly concerned. Maybe most people didn’t know or didn’t care who she was.
By seven-thirty the place was packed and Mia was failing to eat her way through a mountain of roast lamb, gravy and potatoes. She admitted defeat and placed her knife and fork neatly on her plate.
‘What time do they start?’
‘Eight or thereabouts. They get most of the food out of the way first.’ He waved to someone behind her. ‘Do you mind if we share the table?’
‘No.’
‘It’s Gina and Bill. They were the ones who said I should come and start up the paper.’
Bill was slim, grey-haired and nattily dressed in a red velvet jacket and cravat. Gina wore a form-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline, black stockings and a thick shawl woven from naturally dyed wool in earthy colours. Silver earrings dangled from her ears.
‘Hello, Arlo darling.’ She gave him a theatrical kiss and smiled at Mia from under a thick fringe of black hair. ‘You have the most beautiful aura,’ she said.
Bill was more restrained in his greeting with a quiet, ‘Good evening.’
‘Please join us,’ said Arlo. ‘This is Mia.’
‘Thank you. We’re a bit late,’ said Gina and settled herself on a chair. She studied Mia at close quarters. ‘You must be Tony’s girl. How are you, darling? We’re so sorry about what happened. Such a tragedy.’ Her expression morphed into sympathetic misery as she placed a be-ringed hand on Mia’s arm. ‘We’re Gina and Bill. If there’s anything we can do, just say so.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’ Kind but rather alarming with it.
‘Forgive Gina, Mia,’ said Bill. ‘She can be a bit dramatic.’
Gina turned with an imperiously raised eyebrow. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’
Bill winked at Mia and said, ‘Can I get you a refill, Mia? Arlo, what’ll it be?’
Mia nodded.
‘Two house reds, thanks.’
‘I’ll get a bottle,’ said Bill. He threaded his way through the crush towards the bar.
‘Gina and Bill started the local music and drama society last year,’ said Arlo. ‘They did Gilbert and Sullivan and it was a smash hit.’
‘What’s next?’
‘We’re in rehearsal for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,’ said Gina. ‘It’s a stretch to put on a musical every year so we thought we’d alternate with a play. We open July 21st.’
‘That’s a great play,’ said Mia. ‘I’ve only seen the movie version though.’
‘Isn’t it wonderful? Elizabeth Taylor is sublime. And Paul Newman? Such a handsome man. Those eyes.’ She clutched her hands to her chest.
Arlo caught Mia’s eye and smiled. Blue eyes too. Just like handsome Paul Newman.
‘Are you in it, Arlo? Playing Big Daddy?’ she asked.
‘Good Lord no,’ said Gina. ‘We rely on him for our reviews and our press releases.’
‘It’d look like bias if I wrote it up and starred in it as well,’ he said.
‘Who says you’d star?’ asked Gina. She turned to Mia. ‘Our cast is wonderful. Such talent is hiding out here in the countryside. Bill and I love winkling it out from under the haystacks and cow poo.’
‘That’s true,’ said Arlo. ‘Vicki, for example.’
‘Oh yes, that girl can sing. And what a find Abbie Forrest is. Fancy an artist of her calibre living out here and happy to design sets for us for free? She’s done a fabulous southern mansion set.’
‘The landscape artist?’ Mia turned to Arlo. ‘She’s married to the policeman.’
‘Yes, and she’s Georgia’s mother.’
It was Abbie’s husband who’d done the terrible things Georgia had told her about. She drained her wine glass. What horrible secrets they’d both uncovered. Had anyone held Abbie responsible, thought she must have known about her husband’s crimes and protected him? Would she have if she’d known? He’d been a serial rapist. The memory flashed into her mind from the media reports. He’d been at it for years. How could Abbie not have known? The answer came just as fast. Because he’d been devious and clever and a wife wouldn’t automatically assume her husband was a rapist. Why would she? No-one ever truly knew another person. Impossible to know all their secrets and dreams.
Bill reappeared with a tray and unloaded a bottle of red, a gin and tonic and wine glasses.
A waitress came by and cleared away the dinner plates but not before giving Mia a thorough scrutiny and Arlo a grin.
Five minutes later a large man with a shaved head, a beer belly straining over a heavy metal T-shirt, tattoos and a microphone stood on the small stage and launched into a raw, pulsating version of ‘Black Betty’.
He finished to whistles and cheers. When the noise died down he waved a piece of paper and said, ‘Evening, folks. We’re all here to have fun so don’t bugger it up. Don’t forget to put your name down. If you’re not on the list you’re not singing. Maximum two songs and that’s only if we have time. More if you’re Vicki or Wayne and definitely only one if you’re Wal, Stuey or Davo.’
Applause and cheers greeted that announcement.
‘First up Beryl with, you guessed it—‘Leaving On a Jet Plane’.’
‘What music do you like?’ Arlo asked quietly so Bill and Gina couldn’t hear. Not that they would anyway with the music blaring and the crowd joining in the chorus.
‘Random things, nothing in particular, although I do like classical music when I hear it. What about you?’
‘I find classical music soothing but I like country music.’
Beryl’s song ended. A series of singers ranging from woeful to reasonable followed then Gina got up. ‘I’m on,’ she said and draped the shawl on the seat of her chair.
She took the microphone and stood still, eyes closed. She began to sing softly in French. Mia could only catch some of the words but she knew the song, ‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien’. She was brilliant, spellbinding and she had the audience captivated. Her applause went on for ages with foot stamping and whistles thrown in. Gina bowed and blew kisses then returned to the table to down some wine and receive her praise.
‘Who’s following that?’ asked the MC.
‘Vicki,’ yelled someone.
‘We’ll take a ten-minute break, folks. Don’t go anywhere except to the bar or the toilet.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to sing after your performance,’ said Mia.
‘You’d be surprised how much a few drinks can boost the confidence,’ said Bill.
‘Vicki will sing. She’ll blow your socks off,’ said Gina.
Arlo was talking to people at the next table. Someone came up to talk to Bill and Gina. Mia watched the activity with something that felt a tiny bit like envy. This really was a community. Everyone knew each other, knew their strengths and weaknesses and their foibles. They’d come together when necessary and they’d support their own.
Arlo was new to town but he was part of it, as were Bill and Gina, and Vicki and Shannon. Georgia and her mother were newcomers but they’d found their place. Mia hadn’t and never would but there was no reason why she should. It was her dad’s choice to live here not hers. She was only visiting to fulfil an unpleasant duty.
So why did the reality of her position unsettle her so much? Why did seeing such a close-knit community in action make her feel as though she didn’t belong anywhere? She had her life and her friends in Sydney. She’d be back amongst them as soon as this, whatever it was, was over.
‘Hello, Mia.’
She turned. A vaguely familiar, round, Asian face. A solid body in a dark blue jumper and jeans. A friendly smile. The police constable. Shannon Chu. The name popped into her head.
‘Constable Chu? Hello.’
‘Call me Shannon. How are you?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Any problems?’
‘No.’ Did she mean with people? Or the house?
‘If anyone gives you any grief let me know.’
‘Okay, thanks, but who would do that?’
‘I was a bit concerned about Glenda’s parents,’ she said.
‘I haven’t seen them. Arlo ran into Lorraine though and she knew I was here. I won’t try to visit them, don’t worry.’
‘Don’t let Arlo stir anything up while you’re here.’
‘He won’t do that, will he?’
‘He’s a journo, they all do that.’
Mia smiled. Bit of an exaggeration. ‘You needn’t worry, everyone I’ve met so far has been very kind.’
‘Good.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate your concern.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Shannon turned back to Vicki and their companions.
The night continued on its increasingly inebriated way. Vicki sang three songs and as predicted nearly blew the roof off. Where did that enormous voice come from?
After her, the much maligned Davo mangled the old song about cheap wine that the whole audience knew, then another two men who were equally and enthusiastically bad did crowd favourites.
By eleven Mia was yawning surreptitiously but not secretly enough to escape Arlo’s eye.
‘Ready to go?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘But you stay.’
‘No, I’ll walk you home.’
‘Thanks.’ Another nice gesture.
Out on the street the chill of the still night air was a shock after the warmth inside and she shivered as she got her bearings and steadied herself. How many glasses of wine had she had? How many bottles had Bill bought?
Cigarette smoke hung around the doorway in a noxious cloud from a pair of smokers huddled a few yards away. The next singer launched into an ABBA classic and they stubbed out their cigarettes and went back inside with an innuendo laden ‘Have a good night’ to Arlo.
‘Frost tonight,’ Arlo said when they’d gone.
‘Frost now by the feel of it. That was fun. Thanks for the invitation.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She got her feet moving in the right direction, the heels of her boots ringing out on the footpath as the pub receded behind them. A car roared towards them and passed in a blur of white.
‘Idiot’s speeding,’ he muttered.
‘When the painter comes in I’ll move into the motel,’ she said. ‘Paint fumes make me feel sick.’
‘The Crown has rooms. They’ve been done up recently and it’s closer. The motel’s on the edge of town.’
‘Okay.’
Arlo took her arm and guided her across the road.
‘When’s Riley coming?’ she asked.
‘On Saturday. That reminds me. I have to enrol him at the high school.’ He released his hold. Why had he done that? She liked the feel of her arm tucked into his, the warmth of his body warming hers.
‘He won’t mind if you forget.’ She smiled.
‘His mum will. It’ll be another example of my uselessness as a parent.’
‘You’d better not forget then.’
‘No.’
‘Want me to phone and remind you?’
‘Yes, please.’ He stopped and she walked a pace or two before she realised.
She turned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I really enjoy being with you, Mia.’ He sounded surprised.
‘That’s good because I like being with you too.’ She smiled.
He laughed and took her arm again. ‘How much wine have you had?’
‘Not sure.’ A cavernous yawn escaped. ‘More than usual.’
‘You need sleep.’
‘Yep. I do.’
A few minutes later, maybe more, or less, he led her up the path to her front door where the porch light sent a yellowish glow over the steps. ‘Key?’ he said.
She foraged in her bag for a while and eventually came up with the gold and black key ring. Arlo took it and opened the door.
‘What’s that horrible smell?’ Mia almost gagged as the stench hit her nose. She turned and stumbled out into the fresh air, dragging in deep breaths as she steadied herself against the verandah post.
Arlo disappeared inside. Moments later he reappeared and stood beside her coughing and spluttering.
‘What is it?’
‘A dead animal, half rotten. A rabbit I think. It’s in the hallway near the kitchen.’
‘How on earth did that get there?’
‘Someone put it there. Who else has a key to the house?’
‘No-one as far as I know.’
‘Glenda’s parents?’
‘They left her keys here at the house when they took all her things.’
‘But you don’t know they were the only copies.’
‘No.’ Mia looked at him in shock as the full meaning of his words sank in.
‘You should stay with me tonight,’ he said. ‘We’ll call Rupe in the morning. There’s not much anyone can do now.’
She didn’t need convincing. ‘I’ll get my things.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Mia drew a deep breath and went in with Arlo close behind.
***
Arlo lay awake for a couple of hours after Mia had settled herself in the spare room and gone to bed. Between them they’d hastily packed her clothes and bathroom gear into her suitcase and risked driving her car the two blocks to his place figuring neither Rupe nor Shannon were likely to appear with a breathalyser.
‘I’m not leaving it here. I don’t want to find a dead animal in it, or flat tyres,’ she said when he queried her current driving ability but agreed it’d be safer if he drove.
He couldn’t figure out who would do such a despicable thing or why. It was a pointless act as far as he could see. Whoever it was had key access to the house because the cursory check they’d done from the outside didn’t reveal signs of a break-in and both front and back doors were locked. The police could do a fingerprint check in the morning.
And another thing, they must have known Mia was out. But a good chunk of the town had been at The Crown tonight and still were. All it needed was a phone call from someone inside the pub to someone else. Or for that matter, an evening stroll would show no lights on in the house and a quick check from the front and back yards and down the driveway would confirm no-one at home watching TV or listening to the radio. Or reading in bed.
Too easy if you had a key. Mia said the same one fitted the front and back locks. Nip down the drive with the carcass in a plastic bag, in through the back door, dump it and leave. Be back on the street within five minutes, innocent and ordinary, having a brisk pre-bedtime walk.
Had the same thing happened the night Tony and Glenda died?