Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (11 page)

Challis glanced guiltily through the
archway at his father, who was slumbering in one of the sitting room armchairs.
Hed rarely given much thought to the South Australian compartment of his life:
his mother, when she was alive, his father, Meg and Eve, their individual
heartaches and vulnerabilities. Partly distance, and partly that he was a bad
son? Certainly self-absorption wasnt a factor, for he rarely considered his
own heartaches and vulnerabilities but lived inside the crimes and criminals he
dealt with. Now, here, he had things to face up to.

I didnt tell you why I came
through Adelaide.

Meg was busy at the wok, but cast
him an inquiring glance.

Do you remember Max Andrewartha?

The sergeant here when you were a
probationer?

Yes. Well, hes head of the missing
persons unit now.

Oh, Hal.

I read their file on Gavin.

Meg seemed distressed. Why would
you do that?

Could he tell her that a sense of
responsibility was growing inside him, threatening to swamp him?

Hal?

Sorry, miles away.

Forget about Gavin. Thats what Im
trying to do.

The case is still open. Nothing can
change that.

Meg breathed out exasperatedly. Did
you learn anything new?

No. I thought Id ask around while
Im here.

Please dont.

Low key, sis, low key.

She gave him a shove. Out of the
kitchen. Youre in my way.

Challis went through to his father,
woke him gently, and read to him from
Mr Midshipman Hornblower.
When Meg
called, Its on the table, he helped the old man through to the dining room.
Three plates steamed on the table, one of them minuscule and plain, chicken
without soy sauce, cut into tiny pieces, adorned with a spoonful of rice and
what looked like overcooked carrots and peas. Dads dodgy digestion, Challis
thought.

Wine, I think, he said, and went
to his bedroom, returning with a bottle hed packed before leaving Waterloo.

You read my mind, son.

Dad, warned Meg.

The old man ignored her, waggling
his glass at Challis, who poured a tiny measure.

Jesus Christ, son. A bit more wrist
action.

You shouldnt have alcohol, Dad,
Meg said, tucking a napkin into the old mans collar.

Too late.

Challis said Cheers and they
toasted each other and began to eat and talk, their conversation punctuated by
peaceful silences. Early evening, the sun settling, darkening the room but not
removing its essential warmth. Now and then the old man tore a knuckle of bread
from the white slice on his side plate and masticated slowly. The wine, and the
presence of his children, rallied him in contestable ways. Challis found it
exhausting, and was relieved when his father fell asleep.

Meg smiled. The light was soft all
around them and encouraged release and harmony. They murmured into the night, sipping
the wine. Meg examined the bottle. This is good. Elan. Never heard of it.

A small winery just up the road
from where I live, Challis said.

I guess it doesnt really matter if
Dad has a glass now and then. You know...

Yep.

Their father continued to sleep,
diminished by age and illness.

What are Eves friends like?

Nice.

This led by degrees to a discussion
of their own late teens: the heartaches, rituals, mating and courting
indiscretions, and, above all, the waiting.

Weeks
would go by and nobody would ask me
out.

Challis laughed. Weeks would go by
when I didnt have the nerve to ask anyone out.

Meg said slyly, Except Lisa Acres.
You didnt have to wait long for her.

Challis shifted ruefully in his
chair. No one did.

He was being unfair. Lisa
AcresAcres because the first thing she asked you was how many acres you
ownedhadnt really been free with her affections. But she was the daughter of
the local publican and had ambitions to settle down with a rich man. Challis
hadnt been rich, so she must have seen something else in him. It had been
heady fun while it lasted and had broken his heart.

Do you ever see her? he asked.

Oh, shes around. Still stunning to
look at, in a brittle kind of way. The husbands an alcoholic. She virtually
runs the place. Theyd go bankrupt if it wasnt for her.

Shed married a man named Rex Joyce,
who came from old money in the district. Rex had been sent away to boarding
school, Prince Alfred College in Adelaide, at the age of five. Hed suddenly
reappeared one day, in a red Jaguar given to him by his father when he turned
eighteen. Rex, that car, and the acres that came with them, had offered Lisa
more than Challis ever could.

Any kids?

Meg shook her head. Some unkind
people say she didnt want to ruin her figure, others that shes been too busy
keeping the property intact. A lot of farms have gone under in the past few
years.

Meg toyed with her knife, turning it
to catch the light. Are you seeing anyone, Hal?

Was he? At once he was visualising
Ellen Destry, the way her fair hair would swing as she walked, her intensity
when she was working, her sly humour, above all her beauty. She wasnt
straightforwardly beautiful. You had to know her for a while to see it. Shed
once said her looks were average, girl next door, but they were more
complicated and alluring than that.

He wanted her, but was he seeing
her? Not really.

Meg sighed. Nor am I. She paused. The
kids go out as groups of friends these days, rather than as couples, like we
did. Its healthier, I think.

Do you think Eves, you know...

Meg cocked her head. Sexually
active? I dont know about active. Weve talked about it. Shes not a virgin.
She knows she can have a boy stay overnight if she really cares about him and
hes nice to her.

Not like our day.

Meg shook her head vehemently. God,
no.

They glanced at their father again;
how terrifying hed seemed when they were young. Hed wanted Challis to go out
into the world rather than marry a local girlwhich hed said would lead to
stunted opportunities, bawling babies and debt. On the other hand, he hadnt
wanted Meg to leave, or get an education, but marry locally and raise a family.
Shed mostly obliged, marrying Gavin Hurst and producing a daughter with him.

Challis brooded down the years. He
remembered the country-dances of his youth, often in far-flung town halls or
football clubrooms. It hadnt been unusual for him to drive his fathers Falcon
station wagon two hundred kilometres on a Saturday night, Lisa Acres at his
elbow, her hand on his thigh. Hed take her home, pull into the shadows behind
her fathers pub, but not get further than that before the light went on above
the back door and shed say in a rush, Dads awake, Id better go in. It went
beyond birth control: it was desire control.

He could see now that it wouldnt
have worked with her anyway. He had a history of choosing the wrong woman. In
fact, Angie, the woman hed married, had conspired with her lovera police
colleague of Challissto murder him. Shed gone to jail for that. Shed killed
herself there.

As if reading his mind, Meg said, We
both made mistakes, didnt we?

They glanced at their father again,
wondering if he was to blame, not wanting to believe that they might shoulder
some of it, or that many marriages simply ran their course and ended.

Gavin has stopped messing with your
head? Challis asked.

Meg nodded. Nothing in the past
couple of years.

Where do you think he is?

She shrugged. Sydney?

Why would he want to hurt you like
that?

It was a rhetorical question. Meg
shrugged again, then leaned forward, dropping her voice. You wont tell Dad
about the letters?

He shook his head. Hed promised
years ago that he wouldnt. Their father being such a difficult person, one
simply knew not to tell him everything. But now Challis was curious about Megs
motives. Is there a reason why you told Mum but not him?

You know what hes like. He wanted
me to stick around and marry and have kids, but didnt want me to marry Gavin.
It gave him a sense of satisfaction to believe Gavin had committed suicide.
Confirmed what he thought of Gavin. But if hed known Gavin was still alive,
and taunting me, Id never have heard the end of it.

Challis gave a hollow laugh of recognition.
They were silent for a while. Meg said, Rob Minchin is still sweet on me, you
know.

Rob Minchin was the local doctor,
and one of Challiss boyhood friends. And?

And nothing. He calls in to check
on Dad, and thats about it.

I remember he was pretty jealous of
Gavin.

Rob in the grip of passion, said
Meg, shaking her head.

They stared at the tabletop, too
settled to move. Their father snored gently. Soon they would put him to bed,
Meg would go home, and Challis would toss sleeplessly on his childhood
mattress.

* * * *

14

Bucketing
rains came through overnight, preceded by thunder and lightning that seemed to
mutter around the fringes of the horizon, then approach and encircle the house
where Ellen Destry slept, and retreat again. Dawn broke still and balmy, the
skies clear, as though nothing had happened. Spring in southeastern Australia,
Ellen thought, glancing out of Challiss bedroom window. The bedside clock was
flashing, indicating that the power had gone off during the night. She glanced
at her watch6 amand went around the house, resetting the digital clocks on
the microwave, the oven, the DVD player. Then, pulling on a tracksuit and old
pair of Reeboks, she set out for her morning walk.

And immediately returned. Rainwater
had come storming down the dirt road and roadside ditches outside Challiss
front gate, carrying pine needles, bark, gravel and sand, which had formed a
plug in the concrete stormwater pipe that ran under his gateway. The ditch had
overflowed, scoring a ragged channel across the entrance. She should do
something about it before the channel got too deep.

Hal had told her the grass would
need mowing regularly. He hadnt told her what a storm could do.

In his garden shed she found a fork,
a five-metre length of stiff, black poly agricultural pipe, and a long-handled
shovel. She hoisted them over one shoulder and returned to the front gate.
There were signs of the overnight storm all about her: twigs, branches, ribbons
of bark and birds nests littered the road; water-laden foliage bent to the
ground; the air seemed to zing with promise.

Ellen forked and poked at the
blocked pipe, shovelled and prodded. Suddenly, with a great, gurgling rush, the
stopper of matted leaves and mud washed free and drain water flowed unchecked
toward the...

Toward the sea? Ellen realised that
she knew very little about life out here on the back roads.

Finally she walked. She passed a
little apple orchard, the trees heavy with blossom despite the storm. Onion
weed, limp and yellowing at the end of its short life, lay densely on both
sides of the road, and choking the fences was chest-high grass, going to seed.
Sometimes her feet slipped treacherously where the dusty road had turned to
mud. The blackberry bushes were sending out wicked new canes and the bracken
was flourishing. Now and then she passed through air currents that didnt smell
clean and new but heavy with the odours of rotting vegetation and stale mud
revitalised by the rain. Everything;the sounds, the smells, the texturesserved
to remind her of Katie Blasko, abandoned, buried, merging with the soil.

She walked slowly up the hill,
stunned to see huge cylinders of hay in one of the paddocks, freshly mown and
wrapped in pale green polythene. When had that happened? She rarely saw or
heard vehicles, and yet here was evidence of the world going on without her.

Without warning she heard a sharp
snap and felt a stunning pain in her scalp. Her heart jumped and she cried out
in terror. Only a magpie, she realised soon afterwards, swooping her because it
had a nest nearbybut shed hated and feared magpies ever since a long-ago
spring day when shed been pecked and harried across a football field as shed
taken a short cut home from school on her bicycle. Magpies sang like angels but
were the devil.

Windmilling her arms wildly about
her head, and trying to make eye contact with her tormentor, Ellen trotted
home. She missed her morning walks on Penzance Beach with Pam Murphy, where the
world was reduced to the sand, the sea, the sky and a few gulls. Out here on
the back roads there was too much nature. All around her ducks sat like knuckly
growths on the bare branches of dead gums, and other birds were busy, calling
out, making nests, protecting their young, and in the paddocks ibis were
feeding. A strip of bark fell on her, scratching her neck. Challiss ducklings
were down to six, she noticed, as she entered his yard, and she wanted to cry.