Arlo went back to the article, seething. Why on earth was Mia holding him back now? He was doing this whole thing for her, wasn’t he?
He forced himself to focus on what he’d written so far and the portrait he’d painted was of a kind, good-natured, community-minded man who adored his new wife and threw himself wholeheartedly into the life of the town. Nothing that would make anyone think any differently to how they already did. It needed more punch to get readers wondering why a man who, even in hindsight, displayed absolutely none of the markers that pointed to domestic abuse, depression or stress, would do such a thing.
What he’d said to Mia had crystallised his thoughts. Separate articles would be best. The information on depression would go in another piece with all the information he collected from the counselling service in Willoughby, Doc and the psychiatrist. Depression was a serious issue and not one he wanted to dismiss lightly. Maybe it should go on top to satisfy Rupe, and what he intended to write about Tony might or might not be linked in readers’ minds. That would be better.
He tried a title. ‘Was this really suicide?’
No good. What about ‘Did the police get it right?’ Rupe would blow a gasket and bring out the handcuffs. Better not go too far. ‘What really happened?’ That would do for the time being.
Riley thumped into the office at about four-thirty. He grunted hello and went straight through to the kitchen, shedding his backpack, scarf and coat as he went. Arlo followed.
‘How are you?’
‘Cold and it’s started raining.’
‘Everything okay?’
Riley opened the fridge. ‘Yeah, fine.’ He took out butter, ham and cheese and started making a sandwich.
‘Do you want to toast that?’ Arlo asked.
‘Okay.’
Arlo took the toasted sandwich maker from the cupboard and switched it on. ‘Chicken curry okay for dinner?’
‘Yeah, good.’
‘School okay?’
‘Yeah. They have a band. I think I’ll start clarinet lessons again.’
‘Did you bring your clarinet?’
‘No.’
‘What about a teacher?’
‘They have some dude who teaches sax and clarinet.’
‘Lessons in school time?’
‘Yeah, but the timetable rotates so I’d miss a different class each week.’
The toasted sandwich smelled really good. Perhaps he should have one as well. Better not.
‘Sounds okay.’
‘Yeah. Can I?’
‘Fine. Should be fun.’
‘Some guy gave me this for you.’ Riley pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket.
‘When?’ Arlo took it from him taking care to hide the shock of alarm. It could be nothing … it probably was … but why via Riley?
‘This afternoon at the bus stop. He just said give this to your father.’
‘What was he like?’
Riley shrugged. ‘He had a hoodie and a scarf. He looked like a homeless guy.’
‘I don’t think there are many homeless people in Willoughby.’ Frowning, Arlo turned the letter over. Nothing on the front or the back. Who pointed out Riley as his son? Who would know?
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Riley put his sandwich on a plate and sat down to eat.
Arlo slipped his finger under the flap. Inside was a piece of notepaper with two words printed on it.
Back off.
‘What does it say?’
He shoved the paper into his pocket. ‘Nothing important. Are you going to ask Mum to send your clarinet?’
‘I already did.’
‘She’ll be pleased.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Want another sandwich?’
‘No thanks, I’ll have an apple.’
‘Okay. I’ve got a bit more work to do before I start dinner. Mia said we can move into the house on the weekend so don’t make plans unless your mates want to help.’
‘Great!’
Arlo left him to it and went to the office. He should call Rupe. He put the note on his desk and studied it. ‘Back off’ clearly meant someone was annoyed by his investigations, but which investigations? He had a strong suspicion it was to do with the council and their money issues. The pothole story had uncovered a mess which had the pong of corruption about it and he’d made no secret of his interest.
The Greenhill application was another possibility but he hadn’t made any public noises about that, and neither Myra nor Ed would spread their stories about, so his suspicion about Tony’s death wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar. Georgia, Mia and Rupe were the only people who knew he was writing about Tony at all.
No, this was sure to be about mismanagement of council money and the fear of exposure. He smiled, but there was one major fault in that assumption.
Why use Riley as a courier? Why not put an anonymous note in the letterbox or make a phone call? Was it to show him that his son was vulnerable? Surely not. Councillors in country towns wouldn’t make veiled threats against the children of their critics or the press. Who would?
It wouldn’t be the man who handed Riley the note. He’d have been a courier too. It was someone who had something to lose and knew who Riley was by sight. Narrowed the field quite a bit but not enough. Anyone with a child at the school or knew a teacher would be able to find that out. Or anyone from Taylor’s Bend.
Should he back off? From what? Road maintenance was a legitimate, growing concern and his article in the coming issue was certainly no secret. If it showed up incompetency and financial mismanagement, too bad.
‘What did that note say, Dad?’
‘Huh?’ Arlo turned. Riley stood in the doorway, frowning, apple in hand.
‘Why won’t you tell me?’
‘If it’s not important why not show me?’
Arlo hesitated then held out the piece of paper. Riley took it and his eyes widened.
‘Wow, that’s a threat. Do you get those very often?’
‘It’s the first since I came here.’
‘Back off what?’
‘I’m not sure but I’ve been asking lots of questions at the council office and around town about those potholes near the bridge. It’s the lead article next issue.’
‘So why would anyone want you to stop writing about that?’ He leaned against the desk and crunched into the apple.
Arlo spoke slowly, emphasising the importance of his words. ‘This is confidential and it’s no joke. You can’t go telling your friends or anyone else. Reporters protect their sources and their information. Promise?’
Riley nodded, solemn-faced. ‘Promise.’
‘I have a suspicion, only a suspicion, that there’s been a bit of funny business with the council finances.’
‘And they want you to stop poking around?’
Arlo nodded. ‘I think so. I’m not happy you were used to pass this on.’
‘Will you tell the cops?’
‘Yes.’
‘If I wasn’t here what would they have done?’
‘Put it in the letterbox maybe, or on my car. Left a message on the landline. I don’t think you should worry because I’m sure you’re not in any danger at all but I want you to be a bit careful. Make sure you’re with friends when you’re out. Don’t walk about on your own for a while, just in case.’
‘Are you going to track down that guy?’
‘I’ll call Rupe and see what he thinks about it. Got any homework?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You do that then after dinner we’d better start packing.’
Arlo picked up the phone. Shannon answered and said Rupe was out but she’d get him to call in. Nearly five. Time to start the curry.
She’d sounded determined to stay but would Mia change her mind and leave? The way she said goodbye had a disturbing ring of finality. A clean break would be her style. She wasn’t the type to mourn and mope over a lost opportunity or a missed chance at love. She was tough and she was used to dealing with disappointment. She’d hardened her heart knowing what they’d both begun to feel wasn’t meant to be. Couldn’t be.
If only he could do the same.
Rupe arrived an hour later. Arlo was packing bed linen into a bin bag and Riley opened the back door before he could stop him. Then he chided himself for the momentary panic. No-one was going to storm in and attack them.
‘G’day, Riley,’ Rupe said as he came in. ‘How are you going? Everything okay at school?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Thanks for dropping by, Rupe,’ Arlo said. ‘Sit down.’
‘No, I won’t, thanks. What’s the problem?’
‘Someone gave Riley this note for me at the school bus stop in Willoughby.’ Arlo produced the envelope. ‘He knows what it says. We’ve talked about it.’ He and Riley watched Rupe open it.
‘You don’t know the person who gave it to you?’
‘No.’ Riley gave the description he’d given Arlo.
‘Any idea what they want you to stop doing?’ Rupe eyed Arlo sternly.
‘I think it’s to do with the road maintenance story.’
‘Dad thinks the councillors are stealing money.’
‘Riley! I don’t think that. Remember what I told you.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Well?’ Rupe asked. ‘What do you think?’
‘That there’s something odd going on but I can’t prove it and I’m certainly not making any accusations. I asked questions about the financing for road maintenance and talked to a number of people about the whole thing. I report what they say. I don’t invent stories.’
‘You’ve upset someone though.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Are you sure that’s all you’ve been doing? Asking about road maintenance?’
‘Yes, but Barry Greenberg, he’s the Greenhill developer, told me one or two things about the council he wasn’t happy with.’
‘I know who Barry is,’ Rupe said. ‘I’ll hang onto this note. We’ll look into it and I’ll let you know. See you later, Riley. Don’t worry about this.’
‘That’s what Dad said. I won’t. Thanks.’
‘Come out the front way,’ Arlo said. ‘Riley, homework.’
Out of Riley’s earshot in the office Arlo said, ‘I’m a bit worried.’
‘It’s a threat for sure but how serious I don’t know. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
Arlo licked his lips. ‘I don’t know anything for certain but I’m pretty sure there’s been some serious financial mismanagement going on. Bribery. Greenhill might be involved but I’m keeping that right out of the road maintenance story and no-one knows about it except Georgia and Mia.’
‘Mia? What’s she got to do with it? I warned you, Arlo.’
‘I know you did. I’m doing a short piece on Tony alongside an article on depression. I have an appointment to talk to Doc tomorrow morning and a counsellor on Monday. I’m taking it very seriously.’
Rupe nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Do you think Riley is in danger?’
‘If we were in some areas of the city with gangs and so on I’d be very concerned but here … it’s hard to believe. The fact you’ve involved us might be enough to warn them off but you never know.’
‘I can’t keep him locked up but I told him not to walk around on his own and to be aware.’
‘Not much else you can do at this stage. I’ll contact the Willoughby station. See what they come up with.’
‘Thanks, Rupe. If it wasn’t for Riley it wouldn’t have worried me.’
‘You did the right thing reporting it. Don’t try to be a hero.’
Arlo grinned. ‘I’ll leave that to you.’
***
Mia waited all Thursday afternoon for the fridge delivery. At five-thirty the company phoned and said they’d had a truck breakdown and it could possibly arrive tomorrow, no timeframe given. Fortunately she didn’t need to be back at work until Monday week having taken three weeks leave to attend to the house. Whether Arlo would get to the bottom of the crimes he’d uncovered in that timeframe she couldn’t tell, nor did she know whether the dream would go if he did prove it was murder. All she knew for certain was that for now, she was staying here in chilly Taylor’s Bend.
At the hotel she went to the bar for a glass of red wine before dinner. It was raining again and she needed something to counteract the cold night and her sense of incarceration. Being Thursday it was trivia night so she ordered and planned to leave before the games started.
Arlo would be expecting the keys. She sent a text.
Sorry. Fridge delayed. Will drop keys later tomorrow.
His reply came ten minutes later.
No worries. Are you staying?
She replied, Need answers, remember?
Arlo: Glad you’re staying.
While Mia thought about a reply the waitress appeared with a plate heaped with mashed potato, peas and delicious smelling beef stew. At this rate she’d weigh five kilos more when she eventually left town.
The bar was filling slowly. More drinkers than diners but not as crowded as previously. Trivia started at seven-thirty. Plenty of time to eat and escape to her room.
More days here? What on earth would she do? Karaoke? Why did Arlo think she was leaving town when she’d told him she was staying for answers?
Shannon and Vicki stopped by her table as she was debating whether to try to finish the mashed potato.
‘Hello, Mia. Are you here for the trivia?’ Shannon asked. ‘Join our team. It’s fun.’
She looked at the two friendly, smiling faces. Much better than more time in her room. She’d had enough of that lately. ‘Okay. Thanks. Please, sit here.’
Vicki went to the bar for drinks including another wine for Mia. Shannon pulled out a chair.
‘Who else is on your team?’ Mia asked.
‘Tim and Connie from the vineyard and anyone else we can rope in. We’re allowed six.’
‘I haven’t met them.’
Vicki returned with two beers and Mia’s wine.
‘I ordered for us,’ she said to Shannon. ‘Is Arlo coming tonight?’
‘Not that I know,’ said Mia. ‘Does he usually?’
‘Sometimes. He knows all sorts of weird things but he’s really good on politics, geography, capital cities and foreign currencies,’ said Shannon. ‘We’ll be counting on you for those because we only know about sport and movies.’
‘I know nothing about sport but I’m okay on politics and books.’
‘Great, we might win for the first time ever.’ Vicki raised her glass.
‘How’s Arlo getting on with his son?’ asked Shannon.
‘Fine, I think. Why does everyone assume I’m an expert on Arlo? I met him last week, you’ve all known him for years.’
‘There’s knowing someone and … knowing someone,’ said Vicki. She and Shannon exchanged grins while Mia’s neck grew hotter and hotter.
Fortunately their steaks arrived and distracted them.
The night rolled on. Tim and Connie arrived and greeted Mia enthusiastically which she was sure had more to do with boosting the collective brain power than her personally. She managed to hold her own with the questions the team deemed to be her area of expertise. She’d had a meeting with the Shadow Treasurer so knew that name, she knew who wrote The Importance Of Being Earnest and who Australia’s Ambassador to New York was, as well as which river runs through Prague.
At the half time break their team, The Try Hards, was coming third of eight. Vicki was jubilant. ‘Best yet,’ she declared.
‘Gosh, this is really competitive.’ Mia looked around the room at the other teams all studying the results board and muttering amongst themselves.
‘Everyone wants to beat that lot.’ Tim gestured towards a table at the front. ‘The Seasoned Seniors. They win every week. Most of them are over seventy.’
‘Closer to eighty,’ said Vicki morosely. ‘You’d think their memories would be shot but they’re not. They’re like steel traps.’
Mia snickered. Tim caught her eye.
‘You should see her on the tennis court,’ he said. ‘Let’s just say she likes to win.’
At the end of the night in a nail biting last round tally, the Try Hards lost by two points to the Seniors. Vicki was disappointed but encouraged by the close score.
‘Thanks, Mia, you were brilliant. Just imagine if we had you and Arlo here. What about next week?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Possibly,’ said Mia. She and Arlo? Were they thought of as a pair already? ‘It was fun. Thanks for asking me.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll sleep well tonight, my brain’s empty after all that effort.’
But she didn’t sleep well. She woke sweating and terrified in the dark, gunshots ringing in her ears, heart pounding and a voice screaming ‘No.’