Mia lay on her back, eyes straining wide, knees drawn up, consciously controlling her breathing, waiting for her heart rate to settle, her overheated skin to return to normal. Was it her own voice or had she heard it in the dream? She couldn’t tell. Was the voice her subconscious response to the growing conviction that it really was a double murder?
She let out a shuddery breath. How much longer would this go on?
Far from waning, the intensity, if not the frequency, had increased since she’d arrived in Taylor’s Bend; as if the dream was evolving as more information was revealed.
Were these newer versions confirming her decision to see this through, to trust Arlo? She’d come here hoping for some kind of resolution, for answers. If nothing was resolved before she had to leave she wouldn’t get them, although Arlo would keep probing and searching. He wouldn’t stop. He was doing it despite her desire not to cause trouble and any trouble that might rebound on him. He was fearless on behalf of the truth and on her behalf.
She’d asked for his help so she had to trust his judgement, and he deserved her support.
***
Arlo’s phone pinged with a text just after Riley left for the bus on Friday morning insisting he didn’t need a parental escort to walk across the road.
Had dream again. Sorry about yesterday
He shot a reply back.
Breakfast here in fifteen mins?
Hers came in instantly. He smiled.
Yes, please. Twenty. I’m still in bed.
He quickly cleared Riley’s mess and wiped the table of crumbs and drops of milk, prepared the coffee ready for brewing for when she walked in, and reset the table. He’d only had toast and coffee to keep Riley company while he shovelled down breakfast.
That dream was persistent. Had it been worse this time? Something must have changed her mind about what he was doing.
Mia arrived carrying an umbrella against the drizzle. She propped it by the back door and came in shedding her outer layer. He took her coat and hung it up, busying himself with the small task to avoid making an idiot of himself by hugging her.
‘How are you?’ he said which was also idiotic. She was on edge, pale faced.
‘I had the dream.’ Her voice rasped and she cleared her throat.
‘Anything different about it?’
He went to the kitchen and started the coffee. She sat at the table, eyes shadowed with tiredness. He turned to face her, leaning against the bench. ‘Eggs? Toast? Cereal?’
‘Just toast and coffee, thanks. The dream was the same except at the end there was a voice. Someone screamed no.’
‘Man or woman?’ He put two eggs in a saucepan to boil.
‘Woman. I thought it might have been me.’ The words trembled slightly.
‘In the dream or for real?’
‘I don’t know. I woke up. I thought it might mean I now believe it was a double murder rather than … something else. Something unknown.’ Her eyes sought his, wanting comfort, reassurance of her sanity. This was outside his expertise. Maybe she should accompany him to the counsellor’s office on Monday, or see Doc.
‘So is that what made you change your mind about what I’m writing?’ he asked slowly.
‘Yes.’ She pressed a hand against her mouth and yawned. ‘Sorry. Coffee will wake me up.’ Her voice gained strength now as she spoke. ‘I realised that I had to stop it and if anything was going to be resolved it would happen here. I came here to finalise the house and that’s done but the dream is worse.’
‘Did you think it might go when you’d fixed up the estate?’
‘I hoped it might but not really. It’s not about that, is it?’ Again the dark eyes sought his.
‘Doesn’t seem to be.’
‘I wanted you to help.’
‘I am.’
‘I know. Thank you.’ A little smile twisted her mouth momentarily then disappeared.
The eggs began boiling. Arlo put bread in the toaster. The coffee was ready and he poured two mugs and handed her one.
‘Have you definitely changed your mind about the article?’
‘Yes, I have. Do what you think best. It might disturb someone—apart from me.’
‘Someone already has been,’ he said.
‘How?’
He told her about the note and her eyes widened.
‘But that’s awful. Is Riley worried? Are you?’
‘Of course, a bit. Rupe and I don’t think he’s in danger and Riley’s under strict instructions not to go around on his own.’
‘What about after this article comes out? What then?’
‘We’ll see.’
He nearly added his thought that she should make an appointment with the counsellor too, then decided not. Telling him about the dream seemed to have cheered her a little.
The toast popped. He transferred it to a plate and added more to the toaster. She took a piece of toast and spread butter and marmalade.
‘You can start moving your things into the house over the weekend,’ she said. ‘But you might not have a fridge.’
‘We could always borrow a truck and pick it up ourselves,’ he said.
‘Vicki has one,’ Mia said suddenly. ‘She offered to help me move stuff at karaoke night.’
‘There you go. See what the delivery people say and we can call her if we need to.’
He was rewarded with one of her glowing smiles.
‘If you smile at me like that,’ he said, ‘I’ll be forced to kiss you.’
‘Arlo …’
He sighed. ‘I know. Not a good idea.’
She picked up her coffee, frowned, concentrating, mind elsewhere. ‘What does back off mean exactly? From what?’
He brought his boiled eggs and the extra toast to the table and sat down. ‘Good question. I assume it means from poking around in council business. Some of their financial affairs look a bit suspect. That’s what I told Rupe.’
‘So you don’t think it’s to do with what Ed and Myra told you?’
‘I doubt it. Who else knows we’re thinking about murder?’
‘Carl at the real estate agency.’ The words burst from her lips.
‘Why would he think that? He’s as convinced as anyone that it was suicide.’
‘I told him.’ She sounded as shocked as he was.
‘Why on earth did you do that? When?’
‘He said you’d rung. I asked him if you’d asked him if he thought it was really suicide.’
Arlo sucked air in through his teeth. What possessed her? God knows what Carl would think of that. ‘What did he say?’
‘He asked if that’s what you thought and I said I didn’t know. He told me not to let your wild ideas upset me.’ A little smile flashed on and off.
He didn’t smile as suspicion swirled. ‘Do you trust him?’
‘He was Dad’s friend.’
‘That’s not what I asked. Could he have more to do with Greenhill than as an agent?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose so but he’d stand to make a fair bit out of it if he’s the sole agent.’ Her voice tightened. ‘His daughter is in Riley’s maths class.’
‘The link?’ Arlo nodded. ‘Easy for him to point Riley out to someone. If it was him I’m less worried about Riley’s safety.’
‘But why would Carl threaten you?’
‘Money? As in losing it or wanting more. Pressure from elsewhere?’ He shrugged and cut the top off an egg. That would be the real story, if it was an external source using Carl.
‘So this is really about that development?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Keep digging.’
She finished her toast and took another slice.
‘Do you think that man, Carmody, who was at the hotel is connected? Or his friend Farage? We know he was here at the right time.’
‘Possibly but I don’t know for sure. Carmody could have just been on the anti-Tony team. Are you frightened?’
She hesitated but said firmly, ‘A bit, but I want justice for my dad and Glenda, and I want the dream to go away.’
‘Okay then. We keep going.’
‘You wouldn’t stop if I said to, would you?’ She eyed him, knife poised laden with marmalade.
‘No.’
‘No matter the consequences?’
‘I think the truth is more important.’
Mia spread the marmalade on her toast. Was he right or was he being reckless? And was she aiding and abetting him in some crazy, dangerous and ultimately futile activity? She’d already upset Glenda’s relatives just by being here, not to mention other locals. And they’d both had warnings, not only well meaning ones from Rupe but those other more sinister ones.
But it wasn’t just external factors involved. She’d asked for help because her sanity was at breaking point. The warnings proved Arlo was poking at something rotten and her father’s death was central to whatever that was. He and Glenda had lost their lives over it. The truth was important.
‘I agree,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said but he’d moved on from that topic. ‘I have an esky. I can fill it with perishables and leave it on the back step. It’s plenty cold enough.’
‘It’s up to you. I should go and let you get to work.’
‘Thanks. I’ll discuss it with the boy when he gets home.’
‘I want to check the house so I’ll drop the keys in later.’
***
True to his word Giorgio had finished the interior work and left only the sharp tang of new paint behind. The rain would have prevented the next stage, painting the eaves and window frames but that wasn’t urgent.
She walked through the rooms looking for any personal bits and pieces that should be removed but saw nothing. What had been a warm, happy home was now a furnished house for rent with only Glenda’s personality lingering with the red couch in the living room. Of her dad there was nothing.
Where was the house in her dream? Was it real or a fantasy? Why was the stained glass panel such a feature? She saw lots of those in her suburb in Sydney but this one had extra meaning, felt significant in some way she couldn’t identify. Why was that and why would she dream about a house she didn’t recognise? She’d lived in her current home since she was young. Why not dream about it? There must be something or it wouldn’t have lodged in her subconscious.
She closed the door behind her and paused on the porch to raise her umbrella. The rain was heavier now. She’d secretly laughed at Arlo walking in the rain that first day but now it was natural. Why would you drive such a short distance? Nevertheless she’d still go straight to the hotel rather than via Arlo’s with the keys.
A long wet day stretched ahead of her. Lunch and a movie in Willoughby would fill the afternoon nicely. She hadn’t been to a daytime session for years. The theatre, she’d noticed on her visits to the town, was an old style building with ornate scrolls and columns and promised a trip back in time as well as entertainment.
In her room she checked the sessions and found a likely looking Australian comedy showing at 2pm. Perfect.
***
On Friday morning Arlo sat in Doc’s waiting room under the curious eyes of Penny who was pretending to work but really wanted to grill him. He flipped idly through a magazine deliberately avoiding her eye because if she had the slightest encouragement she’d start asking questions and Mia would be at the top of her list.
He should have known better.
‘I hear you’re moving into Glenda’s old house,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought that was appropriate.’
‘Why?’
‘Taking your son into that place. Considering what happened there.’
The phone rang and she answered, still with her disapproving gaze fixed on Arlo. He concentrated hard on the article the magazine had opened on. ‘Is the Royal Romance Over Already?’ He tossed it back onto the table. He shouldn’t allow Penny to make him angry but it was her superhero ability, regardless of the topic.
With any luck Doc would be free before she was.
He checked his phone for messages. Nothing new. A sudden burst of heavier rain drummed down outside. Too much of this and there could be flooding. Georgia and her camera might be needed.
Doc’s door opened and elderly Dot from the general store emerged clutching a prescription.
‘Morning, Arlo,’ she said.
‘Hello, Dot. I hope you didn’t walk. It’s pouring down out there.’
‘I’m not afraid of a bit of rain,’ she said.
‘I’ll run you home if you can wait. I won’t be long.’
‘That’s very kind. Would you?’ She subsided onto a chair.
‘Of course.’
Doc ushered him in and closed the door.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, I’m fine. I’m writing an article on depression for the paper and I wanted to ask you about it. Symptoms, for example. How common is it in the area and which groups of people, what treatments you prescribe and so on?’
Doc studied him. ‘Is this about Tony?’
‘Not specifically, no, but yes he was the initial factor. It’s an important subject.’
‘Yes, it is. My next patient is due at eleven so talk fast.’
‘Fine.’
Twenty minutes later he rejoined Dot who was deep in conversation with Penny. Neither noticed he’d appeared.
‘Ready, Dot?’
She turned. ‘You were quick.’
‘Twenty minutes.’
‘Goodness, how time flies.’
Particularly when you’re engrossed in gossip with Penny who was second only to Beryl in the information distribution network. Why Doc kept her on as receptionist he had no idea but he did know that if she ever divulged patients’ private matters she’d be out on her backside in no time.
‘I’ll just run across the road and get the car,’ he said.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to be any trouble.’
‘Dot, you’ll be soaked if you walk in that. I won’t let you.’
Five minutes later he was back. He helped Dot on with her coat and, out in the downpour, ran ahead of her to open the car door.
‘I had no idea it was so heavy. You’re very kind, Arlo. Would we be able to call in at the chemist first?’
‘Sure. Is everything all right?’ He started the car and did a U-turn.
‘I’m fit as a fiddle,’ she said. ‘Just getting my blood pressure pills renewed.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘How’s your boy settling in?’
‘I’m fit as a fiddle too. Riley’s enjoying school but he’s feeling the cold. Sydney’s much warmer in winter.’
She laughed then said, ‘So you’re moving into Tony and Glenda’s house.’
‘Don’t you approve either?’
‘Don’t take any notice of Penny. Laurie and I think it’s a good idea. That house shouldn’t be empty and with all the work done on it it’ll be a different place. Much bigger for the two of you. Makes sense to us.’
‘Thanks, Dot.’
‘Mia’s a lovely girl,’ she said.
‘Have you met her?’
‘She likes chocolate,’ she said with a sly little smile.
After visiting the chemist and depositing Dot safely outside the store, Arlo headed for Willoughby for a chat with Carl. He’d thought about the approach he’d take and decided to ask about the land at the Bindubi site as a prospective buyer. He wouldn’t mention the note or his suspicions unless Carl brought up Mia’s comment.
The rain was just as heavy in Willoughby, streaming down in miserable grey sheets, the only benefit being people weren’t out and about and the streets were relatively empty. Arlo parked right outside the real estate agency but still managed wet hair and shoes in the few steps to shelter.
Carl was discussing something with the receptionist when Arlo came through the door, sodden and dripping.
‘Sorry,’ Arlo said as a puddle expanded around him.
‘No worries, Arlo. Kelly will take care of it.’
Blank-faced, Kelly got up and went through a door.
‘What brings you out on this horrible day?’ Carl said with a beaming smile. Trying too hard? Guilty conscience perhaps?
Kelly reappeared with a mop and a handful of paper towels. She gave Arlo the paper towels and began wiping the floor with the expression of someone cleaning up the mess left by a puppy that wasn’t housetrained.
Arlo gave his hair a few rubs and dried his face.
‘I’m interested in those Bindubi lots.’
Carl’s smile gave way. ‘Come into my office.’
Kelly took the damp bundle of paper and dropped it on the floor to finish her work.
Arlo closed the door behind him and sat down opposite Carl.
‘In what way are you interested in that land?’
‘As a buyer.’
Carl studied him for a moment, self-interest tussling with suspicion.
Arlo leaned forward slightly with his earnest face on. ‘Having Riley come to live and renting Mia’s house temporarily, made me think I should perhaps be looking to buy into something myself.’
‘Mia might be willing to sell,’ Carl said.
‘She is but her neighbours have already expressed interest and she’s promised them first refusal. No. I’m thinking of a new house. It would be an investment if nothing else.’
He sat back. Carl’s expression had returned to normal. Arlo as prospective buyer would override any suspicions he may have of Arlo, journalist and snoop.
‘I have the plans and the different options here,’ said Carl. He opened a glossy brochure and began outlining the three choices of house plan on the five-acre blocks.
‘Are they selling well?’
‘A little slow at the moment but there’s been some interest.’
So not selling at all.
‘When will work begin?’
‘The infrastructure will go in soon—access roads and so on. The blocks are marked out. Have you been to look at the site?’
‘No, but I know the area. Do you have a completion date in mind?’
‘We expect that from signing the contract until you receive the keys would be a year at most. Six months at best. There are a lot of variables, of course, supplies, weather. You know the sort of thing. Being in the country doesn’t help.’ He laughed expansively.
‘And what sort of price are we looking at?’
‘The blocks go from $450,000 for a two bedroom, one bathroom house up to $600,000 for four bedrooms two ensuites and a guest bathroom.’
‘And a three bedroom?’
‘One ensuite, one guest bathroom. $525,000.’
Arlo nodded. ‘All inclusive?’ Sounded expensive for a rural estate.
‘There are standard fittings in a choice of two colours—tiles and carpets etcetera but if you prefer something different of course you pay the difference.’ He flipped through the brochure to the colour choices. An insipid pale green or the pale grey of a foggy morning.
Arlo stood up. ‘Thanks, Carl. I’ll need to think about it but it’s a tempting prospect.’
‘Take your time, Arlo, but remember, if you get in early you get first pick of the blocks.’
‘Something to keep in mind.’
‘Let me know when you want to go out there.’ Carl handed him the brochure and shook hands. ‘I must say I’m a bit surprised by your interest.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought you had other things on your mind.’
‘The paper, do you mean?’
‘That and a certain young lady, perhaps?’
‘Mia? We have seen a bit of each other recently. To do with the house,’ he added. Had match making always been such a feature of this area or was it just because he was the object of interest? Everyone seemed to be at it.
‘She’s getting herself in a tangle about Tony’s death, poor girl. I thought she’d have accepted the suicide by now but she seems to think …’
‘To think?’ prompted Arlo when Carl stopped short.
‘She has some crazy notion that he and Glenda were murdered. Didn’t she mention it to you?’
‘Yes, she did, but the evidence seems conclusive, doesn’t it? Anyway, she’s leaving soon so it hardly matters what she thinks, does it?’
‘No, I suppose not but it is upsetting for some people.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, Glenda’s family, her friends,’ he said.
‘She has had some nasty comments directed her way,’ Arlo said.
‘Has she?’
‘Not by Paul or Lorraine,’ Arlo said hastily. ‘It makes me wonder what people are afraid of, though.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, Carl. I’ll be in touch.’
***
The movie was exactly what Mia needed—a light, entertaining laugh. She sat in the large theatre along with about a dozen elderly matinee goers and ate her way through a small bucket of popcorn. The rain still poured down when she emerged into the dim late afternoon light so she drove slowly, lights on full beam when she reached the outskirts of town. Too dangerous and no need to go fast on this road. She’d driven it a few times but with the fading light limiting visibility, shrouding trees, puddles and slippery, winding surface it was a tension-filled experience.
Twenty kilometres along the road the flashing lights of emergency vehicles cut through the gloom. A car slanted at an odd angle, nose down into the fence, its front wheels embedded in the thick grass having left a trail of churned mud on the steeply sloping verge. The rear lights gleamed red and the headlights illuminated the soggy ground. Ambulance officers were leaning over the driver in the car while a policeman held an umbrella over them.
Safely back in her room at the hotel she called Arlo.
‘It’s me,’ she said. She swallowed. Her throat felt odd. The last thing she needed was to get sick, dammit.
‘Hi. What’s up?’
‘On my back from Willoughby I passed an accident,’ she said. ‘Someone ran off the road.’
‘Was it bad?’
‘I don’t think so but the ambulance was there.’
‘I’ll follow it up. Could be worth using. Thanks.’
‘It was an awful drive home and you’re right about the road. It’s bad. I think I’m getting a cold. My throat’s raspy.’
‘Riley came home with a sore throat and a headache. You should stay in bed and get them to bring dinner up for you.’
‘I think I will. Poor Riley. Give him my best wishes.’
Mia put the phone down. Why had she phoned Arlo? Superficially she could tell herself it was because he was a reporter and this was a local incident on a road that he was interested in.
Was this what having a significant other was about? Someone you called to tell things or to talk things over, trivial or significant? She wasn’t used to doing that, why do it now? Was it to do with his obvious attraction to her? Kissing her? Kissing him? Why couldn’t she let that go, that memory? She was usually very good at preventing herself becoming entangled in a romantic situation that was ultimately going to be unproductive. Much better to stop before it was too late.
Shouldn’t have called him, shouldn’t encourage him. He didn’t seem to think a short-term fling was a problem, he’d probably had them all over the world. What was one more?