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  ‘You’re not helping her?’ Mark’s voice rose in surprise and Dave could hear the judgement.

  ‘I’ve started at work today.’

  ‘Ah. Yes, I understand. Some people have to work for a living.’

  Choosing to ignore the implication that he wasn’t helping his wife enough and only failures had to work, Dave asked politely, ‘How is Ellen?’

  ‘She’s well. We had the grandchildren here this morning, so she’s a little tired, but she’s fine.’

  ‘Good to hear.’ An uncomfortable silence stretched out along the phone line before Dave said, ‘Well, I’ll just get Melinda for you.’ Without waiting for an answer, he put down the receiver and went back into the bathroom. ‘Your dad’s on the phone.’

  Melinda’s face lit up and without a word she got up and jumped over the box and ran to phone.

  Dave tried not to listen to their conversation, but he could hear her describing their arrival into town yesterday and the distaste in her voice. Her comments about the house were less than enthusiastic, and when he heard her say, ‘Oh, no, Dad, don’t even think about that. Dave would never accept it,’ he wondered what Mark was offering. To buy them a new house? To make a ‘donation’ to their bank account. Indignation as well as a little rush of fear ran through him. What if she didn’t settle here? Would their marriage be doomed form the start because he’d dragged her to the middle of Western Australia so he could become a top-notch detective and make it onto the stock squad? Would he have to put his aspirations aside again? Surely not—he’d already had his boyhood dream of becoming a farmer dashed by his father.

  The little voice inside himself, which he was beginning to learn to listen to, told him no. They’d talked long and hard about the move to Barrabine, and Melinda understood why it was important to him, although naturally she’d had a lot of misgivings about giving up her own job. Especially after all her study. He hadn’t wanted to come here by himself, but he would have if she hadn’t agreed; eventually, after lots of thought and discussion, she’d told him she was up to the challenge. He’d been so relieved.

  ‘I’m a bit over all the political bullshit that goes on at Princess Margaret Hospital,’ she’d said. ‘You know, having to deal with second-class equipment because the money isn’t there to replace it and nurses being given jobs that doctors should do.’ She’d wrapped her arms around his neck and stared up at him. ‘Tash says country nursing is a lot more fun—loads of different things to try. She spent a year in Margaret River, remember? Having a couple of years in a country hospital will look good on my resume when we go back to the city. I don’t like the idea of going out there without a job, but I guess I’ll just have to hope something comes up.’ Reaching up, she’d given him a kiss before whispering, ‘So let’s do it.’

  Her brave words seemed to have deserted her now and no matter how much explaining he did, Melinda still seemed to think that Dave had asked to be transferred here. In fact, it had been the powers that be who had told him he was coming. So, whether she’d agreed to come or not, Dave would still have been transferred to Barrabine.

  ‘You’re going to be a great detective, Dave,’ Terry O’Laughlin, his mentor, had told him. ‘That’s why I’m going to recommend you have a stint in Barrabine. You’ll learn a lot there and it’ll give you a lot of experience that you’ll need as a detective. I’m partnering you with Spencer Brown. He’s a good bloke, been there a few years and he’ll help you get to know the area.’

  ‘Barrabine, sir?’ Dave had paused. ‘That’s a long way away. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I know. We’ll make sure the house is comfortable for you and your new wife, and this posting, well, it’ll be your step up into the stock squad. I know you want to head there and we can use a bloke with your background as the lead detective. You know how to connect and talk with farmers and that’s important.’

  ‘The stock squad would be my ideal,’ Dave answered, a bubble of excitement starting in his stomach. It was what he’d been aiming for since his dad had kicked him off the farm.

  ‘Again, I know that. Barrabine for a year or two and then I’ll get you shifted over. All right?’ He’d nodded and then left the room. It had been a statement, not a question, and Dave hadn’t been able to stop grinning for the rest of the day. If he were honest, he wasn’t sure how much thought he’d given to Melinda’s feelings about it all. He wanted to get into the stock squad and this was the way he was going to do it.

  He focused on Melinda’s phone conversation again. ‘The garden is non-existent,’ she was saying and there was silence while her father made a comment.

  ‘Just lawn and a few garden beds without anything in them. I’d think it’s too hot to grow anything right now. The seedlings would wither under the heat no matter how much water you gave them.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And, Dad, you should’ve seen it yesterday when we drove into town. Rubbish everywhere. The whole place is just so dirty, whether as a result of dust or garbage.’

  There was silence again.

  ‘No, it’s okay…Honestly, Dad, it’s fine…No, don’t come and visit yet…I know, I know. Me too.’

  Not wanting to hear any more, Dave let himself quietly out of the laundry door and went to have a look in the back shed Melinda had told him about earlier.

  In the setting sunlight the whole sky seemed to be glowing pink. He’d heard the sunsets out here were spectacular. Maybe he’d take Melinda up to the lookout one night, with a bottle of wine and a beer. They could watch the sun sink below the edge of the earth together.

  He sniffed the air, which was still and calm, and the temperature seemed to be dropping—just slightly.

  The door of the shed creaked loudly as it opened and he peered into the dim light, seeing nothing but the dust and cobwebs Melinda had talked about. Well, he’d be able to store his camping gear in here no problems. And the suitcases. Just need to buy a padlock, he thought.

  ‘G’day, mister.’ Dave heard Ernie’s voice from over the fence and ducked out, shutting the door.

  ‘Hi, Ernie,’ he answered with a grin. ‘How’re you?’ He waved a couple of stray flies away from his eyes as Ernie gave him the thumbs up.

  The back door slammed and Melinda came out, pulling her long copper-coloured hair out of her face. Wearing clean denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt, she looked cool and beautiful, but Dave could see she’d been crying. He wished Mark hadn’t called.

  ‘Hot day,’ Ernie answered, seeming to ignore the question. ‘Hotter tomorrow. No wind, see?’

  Melinda beckoned to Dave without leaving the back steps.

  ‘I see, so because there’s no wind, it will be even hotter tomorrow than today?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Yeah, mister,’ Ernie nodded, his hair bobbing up and down in time with the motion. ‘Flies too. Lotsa flies. Need fly net. You buy a fly net.’ He let out a loud cackle.

  ‘Yeah, the flies are a pain. Never seen so many. Anyway, good to know about the forecast, mate, ’cause it was bloody hot today.’ He took a couple of steps towards the house. ‘Better get going. Still got a lot to do. Catch you later, okay?’

  ‘Sure, sure,’ he nodded and seemed to slide below the fence.

  ‘All done?’ Dave asked Melinda. He wasn’t sure whether to mention her red eyes or not.

  ‘Yep.’ There were those one-word answers and thin lips again.

  He decided not to do anything but take her hand and press it to his lips. She yanked it away from him and turned to stalk into the house and out the other side.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ Dave muttered to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.

  Inside the pub there was a roar of laughter and voices. Dave felt Melinda press close to him and he realised there were mostly men in the bar. Last night the front bar had been empty save four old blokes who had had their eyes fixed on the TAB TV screen. They hadn’t taken any notice of the couple when they’d walked in for dinner. Tonight was different.

  ‘What would you l
ike?’ asked the bartender who looked in her sixties. She put her elbows on the bar and fixed Melinda with a stare. ‘New around here, huh?’

  Nodding, Melinda ordered a white wine and Dave a beer.

  Without another word, she went to get their drinks.

  ‘Want to sit where we sat last night?’ Dave enquired, after glancing around, looking for tables.

  ‘I’ll go through.’ Melinda seemed keen to get away from the front bar. Or perhaps it was from him. She hadn’t said a word in the car.

  ‘If you like. I’ll grab the drinks.’

  Watching as Melinda weaved her way quickly towards the dining room and the men followed her with their stares, Dave yet again wondered whether he’d done the right thing.

  ‘Haven’t seen you around before.’ An unshaven, dirty-faced man came up and leaned on the bar next to him. ‘New, are you? Welcome to Barrabine.’

  ‘Yeah, just joined the gold squad. Detective Dave Burrows.’ He held out his hand.

  There was a pause before the other man slowly put out his hand. ‘Jeremy Maddison.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Ah, another one for the infamous gold squad. You detectives are well known around here. Do a good job, but I wouldn’t go letting too many people know what you do, mate. You lot aren’t our favourite people.’ He took a long pull of his beer and looked at Dave over the rim.

  ‘Miner, are you? Work for a company or yourself?’ Dave asked, trying to work out what he should say so he didn’t put his new acquaintance offside. Spencer hadn’t warned him about this type of reaction.

  ‘Something like that,’ Jeremy said with a wink. ‘I own a few leases up north and have me own smelter. That bloody Spencer Brown came and searched me shed a while back, but he didn’t find anything. All the gold I had there was me own. Bloody git, he must think I’m stupid.’

  Dave wasn’t sure which type of stupid he meant—that he was silly enough to steal gold, or that he’d keep what he did steal in his shed.

  Jeremy gave a nod towards his friends. ‘Best get back, but I’m sure we’ll see each other from time to time. You boys never seem to be able to stay away from me.’ He walked back and said something in a low voice to the other men and there was loud laughing and two of the men looked his way before raising their drinks.

  Dave wanted to turn away, feeling uncomfortable, but instead he raised his own hand in a way of cheers and gave a nod. Those fellas wouldn’t get the best of the new bloke in town, Dave decided.

  ‘’Ere you go.’ The barmaid was back with the drinks.

  ‘Thanks,’ Dave answered and took out a fifty-dollar note, gave it to her and waited for his change. ‘I can take these through?’ he asked, indicating to the dining room.

  ‘Knock yerself out, love. I’ll be in to take your order in a mo.’ She smiled and walked off to another customer who was watching them curiously.

  ‘I think we’ve made an impression,’ Dave said as he set Melinda’s wine down in front of her.

  ‘I wish I’d worn a different shirt,’ she said, pulling at the non-existent sleeves.

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  ‘I feel like everyone is undressing me.’

  ‘They’re not,’ Dave said with a smile, wanting her to relax. ‘They’re actually looking at me. Wondering why a detective from the gold squad is in the pub. Apparently it’s not the place for me. I just met some of the boys Spencer likes to keep an eye on.’

  Reaching across the table, Melinda smiled. ‘You always seem to know the right things to say.’

  ‘That’s my job,’ he answered, raising her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.

  This time she didn’t take her hand away. She kept it against his lips.

  Chapter 3

  After a week of bad coffee Dave had finally discovered the best place to go for his daily fix was at the Mug café. When he’d been told the name it had taken him a moment to work out whether his work colleagues were having a joke with him. Apparently not.

  Now it was two weeks into his posting at Barrabine and the young girl behind the counter was already asking if he wanted his ‘usual’ and calling him by name. That made him feel good. Accepted. As if he belonged. He knew Melinda wasn’t feeling like that yet, but she hadn’t been out much. He hoped that’d change soon.

  Last night, as they’d done most nights since arriving, they’d sat on the steps of their house, drinks in hand, and chatted about the day. Dave had asked what Melinda had done all day and her reply had been, ‘Stayed in the house. Too hot to go outside.’

  ‘Haven’t caught up with Kathy again?’ The one-word answer of ‘No’ had made him fall silent. He really wanted to ask her why she wasn’t interested in making a new friend—in Perth she would have jumped at the opportunity. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to do the same here.

  ‘What do you do all day?’ he wondered out loud.

  She looked at him. ‘I phone my friends,’ she said. ‘Tash and my sisters. Mum. I do a lot of talking.’

  But that’s not helping you fit in here, he wanted to say.

  Instead, he’d told her Spencer had taken him around to all the pubs within a fifty k radius and he’d been introduced to the owners. She shrugged and said, ‘It’s all right for some. You get paid to be introduced to people.’

  For the millionth time, Dave wondered if he’d done the right thing by accepting the posting which would advance his career. Not that he’d had much of a choice. It seemed a long time ago that she had walked down the aisle with anticipation and a smile on her face. In only two weeks, it seemed like she’d lost weight and the fresh glow had gone from her cheeks.

  ‘Here you go, Dave.’ Layla broke into his thoughts.

  ‘Thanks, Layla,’ he said as she handed over the flat white in a large mug.

  ‘Anything special on the go today?’ she asked, ringing up his purchase.

  ‘Not that I know of. I’m beginning to think all the stories I’ve heard about Barrabine and gold stealing are just tall tales!’ He grinned, holding his hand out for the change.

  ‘Uh-uh. No way,’ she said. ‘About three years ago there was a big police raid on the house next to where I lived.’ Her face lit up as she remembered. ‘It was really cool to watch—most exciting thing ever. I wasn’t supposed to see…’ she dropped her voice, confiding in him, ‘but I couldn’t help it. All the police car lights were flashing, making these funny shadows on my ceiling, so I had to go, didn’t I?’

  Dave smiled and nodded his agreement.

  ‘So I snuck outside and peeped over the fence. The police were knocking the door in, and there was yelling and shouting. Then out comes the neighbour in only his shorts, with his hands handcuffed behind his back.’

  ‘Sounds pretty exciting,’ Dave said, taking a sip of his coffee and making a mental note to ask Spencer about it. ‘Do you know what happened?’

  Layla shrugged. ‘Mum said he got charged with something, but I dunno what. I heard from one of my friends that he murdered someone who was on his mining lease, but another person told me that he only threatened to shoot them, so it wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘No, I guess not,’ Dave muttered, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. Civilians seemed to think there was a world of difference between threatening to shoot someone and actually doing it. Dave knew there wasn’t. There was only about two millimetres—what it took to squeeze the trigger. ‘Well, I’d better get on. Thanks for the coffee.’

  ‘See ya tomorrow.’ Layla flashed him a large smile, showing a set of perfect teeth.

  ‘You will,’ he promised and walked over to his normal booth at the front of the shop. He had seventeen minutes before he needed to be at the office, so he opened the newspaper that was sitting on the table. His day started at seven in the morning and yet he left his house every morning at six, to walk to the Mug, get a coffee, sit and read the paper, before leaving to walk to the office. Him walking meant Melinda had use of the car. Dave had been promised a work vehicle, but an endless amount of
paperwork had to be processed first and Spencer had said it could take a while.

  It wasn’t bothering him too much right now. The walk was pleasant, the heat not as intense and he enjoyed the fresh air and peaceful start to the day. Having been raised on a farm, he was an early riser, so it wasn’t hard for him, whereas Melinda found it a challenge to get out of bed before seven.

  Today he’d woken her and spent a few minutes talking, encouraging her to go out with Kathy or one of the other policemen’s wives.

  ‘Spencer said Kathy asked you to go to lunch and you said you were busy.’

  Sleepily she’d nodded. ‘I still have things to do to organise the house.’

  ‘It can’t get any more organised, honey. Why don’t you want to go?’

  ‘I just don’t. Please don’t push me, Dave. All I want is you at the moment, okay?’ She’d reached out and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He’d ended up being a little late in leaving the house, but he had the promise of lunch with her at one of the delis.

  He resolved to talk to her then about the need to make friends. It seemed to him that if she did, she’d be happier. Although he did wonder whether she was content to wallow in her misery. Make him suffer a little for bringing her out here. She’d snapped at him last night at dinner, saying it was his fault they were in this one-horse town, then she’d immediately apologised. But if she made these accusations she’d been thinking them, Dave had realised later that night. She’d only been apologising for saying them out loud.

  He glanced at the newspaper headline. He didn’t care much about politics or the entertainment pages. He’d rather be reading Farm Weekly and catching up on stock and wool prices or agribusiness news, but it had been a while since he’d read that newspaper.

  Glancing at his watch, he realised that being late out of the house this morning had made him late for the office, and if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be there before Spencer.

  Beating Spencer to work was important—it showed the older detective he was keen and he’d need Spencer’s good opinion if he was going to make it to lead detective in the stock squad.