Scrublands(56)

‘No. She must have been calling me about today’s story.’

‘Yeah, I saw it. That slimy TV reporter showed me. That fat cop left a message for you too. They were in for coffee a moment ago. Here.’ She gives Martin a piece of folded paper.

Martin takes the paper, opens it up, reads the message: Fuck you too pal.

‘Not good?’ asks Mandy.

‘Not good.’ He shows her the note, provoking a small smile.

‘Couldn’t have said it better myself,’ she says.

‘Yeah, thanks for that.’

‘Your story in the paper—it’s all wrong.’

‘About Walker? It’s not my story; it’s all Bethanie’s work.’

‘Not that story.’

‘My feature on Swift? What’s wrong with it? He was a man without a past. And the allegation about preying on children is on the public record and the cops have confirmed it.’

‘No. Not that.’ Mandy is looking at him calmly, without rancour.

‘What then?’

‘You all but convict him of killing those girls, the backpackers.’

‘That’s what the police believe. It’s in the article. They say he used to go shooting out in the Scrublands.’

‘Yes. That’s true.’

‘You knew that?’

There’s a silence in the bookstore. Martin can hear the tinkling of the water feature on the counter, the slow movement of the ceiling fan. Liam is silent. Mandy is looking at Martin expectantly.

‘Mandy, tell me.’

‘Byron didn’t kill those girls, Martin.’

‘So you said yesterday. How can you be so sure?’

‘I’ve checked. That night they were taken, down in Swan Hill, he was here, with me. All night.’

‘Christ. You and Byron Swift?’ Martin’s mind spins, recalibrating, accommodating this unexpected information. ‘Are you sure? About the timing, I mean?’

‘Yes. I wrote it down. I keep a diary. Sorry.’

‘Sorry? Why sorry?’

‘Your story. It’s wrong again.’

She’s right, of course. The day before Martin had all but convicted Harley Snouch and today he has all but convicted Byron Swift. But his immediate concern is for her, not his inaccurate reporting. He takes the few short steps to bridge the gulf between them and puts his hands on her shoulders, half anticipating she will push him away. Instead, she moves closer, allowing him to embrace her. And for a moment that’s enough. But only for a moment.

‘You know we can’t keep this to ourselves, don’t you?’ he says.

She nods. ‘Will you write about it?’

‘I’ll have to. But first, we need to tell the police. They’re working on the theory that Byron Swift was involved in the murder.’

‘I guess you’re right. I don’t have to show them my diary, though, do I?’

‘I imagine so. Why not? Are there things you don’t want them to read?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘Illegal things?’

‘No. Just private things.’

‘There are eight people shot dead. They’re going to want to see it.’

The discussion is abruptly interrupted—two journalists and a photographer barge into the store, demanding coffee. Martin asks Mandy permission to use the phone. She nods and starts on the coffees as he makes his way back to the office. He rings Bethanie on her mobile. She picks up on the third ring.

‘Martin? Is that you?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

‘Did you see the story? I was trying to get hold of you all yesterday afternoon and evening. Didn’t you get any of my messages?’

‘No. I didn’t. My fault, but I wish I’d known in advance.’

There’s a pause before Bethanie speaks. ‘Martin, I’m sorry—if he was one of your sources, I mean. But Max made the call, said we couldn’t sit on it.’

‘Understood. I should have been checking for messages.’

‘Are you still staying at the Black Dog?’

‘Yeah. I must have been out walking.’

‘Right. Got a better offer, hey?’ And she laughs. ‘Who’s that cute Melbourne snapper again?’

‘Yeah, I wish. Listen, we’ve got a few problems. I’ve just got hold of some new information that appears to rule out Byron Swift being involved in the killing of the backpackers. Or at least it clears him from being part of their abduction.’

‘Shit. Is that from the cops? They’re still talking to you?’

‘No. It’s not from the cops. I’m going to have to tell them, though.’

‘What’s the problem then?’

‘Just the small issue of my article this morning all but convicting Swift of topping the girls.’

‘How’s that a problem? The guy’s dead; he’s not going to sue. Plus, he did put five people into an early grave. Go tell the cops and we have our yarn for tomorrow.’ Bethanie adopts a mock newsreader voice. ‘The Herald is again leading the investigation into the murder of two German backpackers in the Riverina, supplying police with vital new evidence,’ she says, before returning to her normal voice. ‘Just don’t tell them until late today, okay? They’ve got the shits with us; we don’t want them handballing it to the competitors.’