Novels 02 Red Dust (20 page)

'Absolutely,' Jess said, her mind working overtime. 'I have a contact in the head office of the Inland Development Bank. I'd rather try and find the statements of Adam's than use her, but I'll call on her as a last resort.' Jess stood up, stretched and looked at her watch. 'Drinks all round, I think,' she said, and then looked at Gemma. 'Oh, except for you, Gem. Can't drink with your painkillers. Want a beer, Ben?' she called over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen.

'I should probably be getting home. It's a long drive.' Ben got up from the couch. 'I'm really pleased we've sorted that contract, Gem.' He smiled down at her and reached out to touch her shoulder. Gemma brought her hand up to cover his. His hand stilled and he looked at her longingly until they heard Jess coming back and dropped their hands.

Jess stood in the doorway with a Scotch and Coke, looking knowingly at them. 'Well, Ben, thanks for your help. Will you give us a call on Monday when you've got the account number?'

'Yeah, no problem.'

Gemma got off the couch and swayed slightly. Ben quickly put his arm around her waist to steady her. 'You stay here, Gem,' he said softly. 'I'll be back soon.' He squeezed her waist, helped her back to her seat and sauntered towards the door.

When Gemma woke the next morning, she felt better. She was up and tottering around the kitchen when Pat burst in. Without saying anything he strode over and picked her up in a bear hug.

'Ow, Pat, my arm!'

He released her immediately, looking sheepish. 'Sorry, sis. You okay?'

'Much better today. Coffee?'

They sat at the kitchen table and talked about all that had happened in the last few days.

'The weirdest thing,' Gemma concluded, 'was that as Jack was leaving he turned around and said, "Ever get the feeling you're being set up, Gemma Sinclair?" What am I being set up with?'

'Morning all,' said Jess from the doorway. 'Is there any more coffee?' Gemma handed her a cup.

'So how can I help?' asked Pat.

It was Jess who spoke. 'We need to search this place high and low and find those bank statements.'

'Jess, I've already done that. I didn't find anything,' Gemma said.

'Where did you look?' Pat wanted to know.

'Um, in the ceiling, all through the drawers, under all the furniture in case something was taped there . . . Nothing.'

'What about outside? Have you looked in the sheds?' asked Pat.

'No, I've only done the house.'

'Worth a shot then, eh? You girls take the machinery shed and I'll do the shearing shed.'

'Dunno how we're going to find anything here, mate,' Jess said. 'There's crap everywhere. Do you actually use everything in this place?'

'Mostly. There's so much stuff needed for fencing, fixing machines, utes and all that. And it's a bloody long way to go to town if you need something. Better to keep it all on hand if you can.'

'Where do you keep all the manuals for the machines?'

'Over there on the bench in that tin box. Garry likes them at his fingertips.'

Jess walked over and opened the box. She sifted through the contents while Gemma looked behind the boxes of parts, tins of oil and jerry cans full of petrol.

Pat wasn't faring well in the shearing shed. Hours had passed, during which he'd searched through the drawers where all the stencils and wool books were, pulled open cupboards and run his hands along the tops of the thick wooden wool bins. He'd already searched through the wool packs, lifting each one up to make sure nothing had been slipped in between them; there weren't any hidey-holes or sneaky corners.

Sweat began to trickle down the back of his shirt. It was humid after the storm and the shed didn't let any breeze in. Sighing, Patrick switched off the light and the shed fell dark. The echo of the tin slider door reverberated around the shed as he left.

He walked into the machinery shed and burst out laughing. Jess was up a ladder looking behind the shadow board. Her hair was covered in cobwebs and her hands were filthy. She'd obviously been sneezing and had rubbed her nose, smearing dirt and grease across her face. Her clothes were dirty and she must have sat in some oil at some stage as her shorts were stained black across the rump.

'Bet ya look like that every day after work, Red,' Pat said. 'Suits ya.'

'Nick off, Patrick,' Jess retorted mildly.

Gemma came out of the smoko room. 'Find anything?' she asked hopefully.

'Not a brass razoo,' Pat said. 'There's nowhere to hide anything in a shed like that. No nooks or crannies. Guess you haven't found anything yet either?'

'Nup.' Jess started to climb down the ladder. 'I haven't been through that section over there, Pat,' she said, indicating the corner where the fencing gear was. 'Can you do that?'

They worked quietly together for the next couple of hours, sifting through dust, cobwebs and old machinery parts. Finally, Jess stood up and said, 'I've had enough for today. My back's killing me and it must be time for a Scotch. Whaddya reckon?'

Gemma looked at her watch. 'Far out, today has gone quickly. I'm stuffed – but at least my body isn't as sore today. I think I'll give the painkillers a miss and have a drink instead!'

'Good idea,' Jess said.

Patrick's head appeared from behind an old rusty combine. 'Did I hear the word drink? Lead me to the fridge!'

Gemma felt better as the ice-cold rum slipped down her throat. Hearing a dog bark, she got up off the couch and looked out the lounge-room window. She could see a mob of woolly sheep being herded down the laneway by Bulla's faithful kelpie, Roady. 'Lucky for me I've got those two,' Gemma murmured.

'What's that, lovely?' Jess asked.

'Lucky,' Gemma said, turning towards Jess and Patrick. 'I'm very lucky. I've got two wonderful stockmen who would do anything for me, I've got a brilliant friend who would do anything for me, a brother who is basically okay and most likely would do anything for me . . .' She grinned and poked her tongue out at Patrick, who raised his rum glass back at her. 'And maybe a guy who likes me. I just know that we'll find those papers.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Jess, raising her glass in a toast. 'Now how 'bout I get us some tea?'

Pat finished his dinner and pushed his plate away. 'Right, I'm sick and tired of you girls twittering away. I'm off to have another crack at the shed without you lot getting in my way.'

He grabbed a torch and went back over to the machin ery shed.

The spotlights flooded the shed and a couple of frightened mice scuttled back under the fencing gear. Pat poked around the smoko room and walked the perimeter of the shed. Scratching his head he looked around. He really didn't know where to start. It seemed they had already been everywhere today. Maybe Adam didn't keep anything; maybe he didn't keep the papers here. Maybe he had a safe deposit box somewhere and they didn't have a hope of finding anything. Too many maybes, yet the outcome if the papers weren't found was too worrisome to comprehend. 'Think like Adam,' Pat muttered to himself. Lifting his gaze to the tin roof he couldn't see anything worth investigating – until his eyes fell on the cavity above the smoko room's ceiling.

Jess would have looked up there,
Pat thought.
No point. Wonder how she'd have got up there
though. Too high for a ladder.
He looked around and at the edge of the shadow board four pieces of wood caught his eye. One of them had a jimmy bar hanging on it but as Pat looked up he could see that they could be used as rungs to get to the cavity. If he climbed up them and walked across the rafters, he'd be able to look on the roof. 'Nah,' he thought. 'Too hard for Adam.' After fossicking in the shed for another hour, he looked again at the pieces of wood that could make the rungs of a ladder.
Can't see anything better to try,
he thought and grabbed his torch. He hoisted himself onto the bench and placed his foot onto the bottom rung to test it with his weight. Slowly he climbed to the top with his torch tucked under his arm and looked over the ceiling of the smoko room. Dust, cobwebs and dirt covered everything. 'Should've known it wasn't worth it,' he muttered as he directed the torch's beam around the small space. He was about to start his descent when the torchlight caught the glint of something shiny towards the back of the cavity. Stopping, Pat squinted towards the glimmer. He climbed onto the rafter and crawled over into the hollow.

Gemma and Jess sat next to each other on the couch, each with a drink in hand. At the sound of the dogs barking, Gemma got up and went to the window. She watched as a set of lights came up the driveway and pulled in at the shearers' quarters. Shearing again tomorrow. Thankfully some normality would return to life.

Jess asked, 'So you think someone is setting you up?'

'It looks that way.' Gemma was upset. 'I don't know who it is or why, and it's getting really scary. What do they want with me? What could I possibly have done to them? I mean, for Jack to talk about a set-up makes it sound personal.'

Jess listened thoughtfully then jumped up. Grabbing Gemma's hand she said, 'C'mon. I've got an idea. Our research methods could do with updating – poking around in sheds is
so
twentieth century.'

'What? What do you mean? Where are we going?'

'I've got one word for you, Gem: Google.'

They went into the office and Jess fired up the computer. She opened the internet browser and typed in the address of the search engine. 'Okay,' she said. 'What should we look up?'

'How about "Jack Marshall"?' Gemma suggested.

Jess typed in the name, then groaned. 'There's over nine hundred hits. I'm going to need another drink to get through that lot. Want one?' she asked, leaving the office.

'Sure,' said Gemma absently, taking Jess's place at the computer and starting to type. 'Bloody hell, Jess? Jess, get in here!'

Jess came running back into the office. 'What's wrong?'

Gemma was staring at the screen in horror. 'I added stock stealing to the search term,' she explained.

Reading over her shoulder Jess read:
Rustling
Charges Dropped.
As she read the newspaper article from outback Queensland, her hand flew to her mouth.

The Queensland Stock Squad have today decided
not to pursue the case against Brad Manstead
and Jack Marshall, who had been accused of
stock stealing.

Following a three-month investigation it appears
there is insufficent evidence to charge the brothers.

Brad Manstead said in a statement, 'Although
I am pleased with the outcome, I'm very angry
that we have had to submit to this fruitless
investigation. Neither myself nor my brother are
guilty of the alleged crime.'

Bob Pergot from the stock squad believes
there still is a case to answer. 'Unfortunately we
just can't find the evidence we need to lay the
charges. This case won't be closed, but we are
scaling down the inquiry.'

The investigation started when station owner
Gordon Green reported 400 cattle missing from
his property in northern Queensland. An investigation established the stock had been trucked
south, but the stock squad lost the trail soon
after the truck crossed into New South Wales.

Mr Marshall had been working on Mr Green's
station at the time the cattle went missing.

His brother, Mr Manstead, admitted to owning
a part share in an abattoir in South Australia,
but categorically denied any involvement. 'The
fact that Jack is my half-brother and I have a part
share in BJN Abattoir is circumstantial evidence
at best. We are innocent of all allegations.'

The girls stared at the screen, speechless. The kitchen door slammed and they heard Pat's footsteps coming towards the office.

'What's goin' on in here?' Pat asked as he stuck his head through the door. He looked at their faces. 'What's the problem? You both look like you've seen a ghost.'

Gemma waved her hand at the computer screen.

Jess's face grew red. 'That bastard,' she spat. 'That lying mongrel bastard. Print it off, Gemma.' She turned and stormed out of the room.

Pat approached the screen. 'Well, bugger me,' he said. 'So that's the Jack who worked here then, eh?'

'Yeah,' Gemma said faintly. 'And Brad is Jess's ex-boyfriend. She dumped him on Monday after he was horrible to me at a dinner on Saturday night. A little coincidental, wouldn't you say?'

'You're jokin! She's been going out with this Brad?'

'Mmm.' Turning to look at Pat, she realised he was hold ing something. 'Have you found something?' she asked hopefully.

'Y'know, I reckon I might have,' Pat said, looking very pleased with himself. 'Although maybe you should go see how Jess is.'

Gemma found Jess sitting in the lounge room with a fresh drink.

'The bastard,' Jess spat again as her friend entered the room. 'I can't believe it. He's done this before. He must have got together with me to get at you for some reason. I'm trying to remember all the questions he asked about you. I thought he was taking an interest 'cos you're my best friend. He owns a bloody abattoir and you've got a dead husband and stolen stock on your property. He's a bloody crim.' Jess leapt off the couch and began to pace the floor.

'Pat's found a box,' Gemma said.

Jess paused in her pacing. 'You little ripper,' she said. 'What's in it?'

'Haven't opened it yet. Thought Gem should do that,' Pat said, walking down the couple of steps into the lounge room. He set the box on the coffee table and they all looked at it silently.

'I know what that box is,' Gemma said suddenly as recognition hit her. 'Tim Milton gave him that box. He made it for Adam's twenty-first. It was before Claire's accident. Adam was going to ask Tim to be best man at our wedding but he was dead by the time we got married. Where did you find it, Pat?'