Murderer's Thumb (19 page)

Adam couldn't stop laughing. ‘You wanker. No wonder they think you're a poof.'

‘Only way to get them off my back. If I got upset they'd just hang shit even more. They're the ones with the problem, not me.'

Before anyone had time to rest Birdie split the group into four. Adam and Matt were in a group together and were sent off with the football to the far side of the field.

‘I'm glad you've come,' Matt said.

Adam wasn't sure what he meant.

‘She t…told me to trust you,' he added.

‘Who did?'

‘She said one day someone would want my key and I had to trust them.'

‘Who said that? Lina?'

Matt looked away. ‘Sky's looking black. Might get a drop of rain.'

Adam smiled to himself. Of course it was Lina who had given Matt the advice, long ago.

On Thursday afternoon the boys got off the bus at the Mount of Mercury stop and, once over the fence, they ran like commandos for the cover of the silo. But its steel legs were too thin to hide either of them. There was an old rusted water trough alongside a windmill. Adam stashed his bag behind the trough. Three gum trees grew nearby. The biggest gave some shade and a trunk thick enough for Snake to vanish behind. He propped his bag at the base of the tree and watched the road.

‘No one coming,' he called. ‘Do you think the Brolga can see us from this angle?'

‘Not if we stay down,' Adam said. He took the torch from his bag. ‘You stay here while I check out the silo.' He crept low, approaching from the side closest to the road.

‘Are you mental? Someone will see you!'

‘Just tell me if a car's coming,' Adam snapped back at him.

One of the silo panels was missing a few rivets. The steel sheeting gaped open. Adam pulled at it, and peered inside. It was too dark to see the walls clearly. He shone the torch through the gap. Specks of dust floated in its beam. Inside was nothing but a hot, empty chamber filled with the nutty scent of grain.

‘Car!' Snake shouted.

Adam flung himself down, wriggled to the nearest tree and lay still in its shadow. They waited in silence as the car drove past.

‘Gone,' Snake said. ‘Find anything?'

‘Nah.' Adam stood, brushing the dust and grass seeds from his shirt. This time he went back and made a careful inspection of the outside walls, craning his neck to examine every surface. ‘There's nothing here,' he said. ‘But I can't see on top. Maybe there's something on the roof.'

‘There's a ladder,' Snake said pointing.

Adam found a set of thin steel bars that were fixed to the far side of the silo. He hauled himself up and was almost at the top when Snake yelled, ‘Car! It's her!'

Fortunately the ladder was screened from the car's approach, but by the time the Brolga drew level or beyond, Adam would be conspicuous.

The car was momentarily hidden behind a clump of trees.

Adam slid down the steps then dropped to the ground, flattening himself in the shade underneath the silo. ‘Shit!' he gasped, rolling over just as the Brolga's car sped past.

‘Don't move, you dickhead!' Snake warned.

‘Has she slowed down?'

‘No. Shit that was close, you idiot,' Snake said.

‘Wait a minute. I've found something,' Adam said, staring at the underside of the silo.

Snake crept to where Adam lay pointing upwards. The words HAT TOUR GREW 5,6 were written in black Texta.

‘What the hell does that mean?' Snake said.

‘I dunno, but I reckon it's a two-word clue with eleven letters, see the five and six. We'd better get thinking before another car comes.'

The boys sat, each propped against a tree, scribbling frantically on scraps of paper salvaged from their school bags.

Snake mumbled as he worked. ‘I've got it— five letters, must be “wheat”. Wheat, wheat…wheat grrout. Doesn't make sense. What about “trout”?'

Adam smiled to himself, folded his paper and put his pen away. ‘What about that?' he said, indicating the water trough.

Snake checked the letters through on his own paper. ‘That's it!' he shrieked. ‘Water trough. The girl's brilliant!'

Adam strode over to the trough and felt along its rim. The metal was hot.

‘Get down lower, mate, another car!' Snake said.

Adam lay in the dirt behind the trough. It was like an oversized, elongated bathtub. At one end there was a drainage point. At the other there was an old-fashioned pumping device, no doubt attached to the windmill. But the windmill wasn't turning and the trough had been dry for years. Adam poked his pocket-knife up underneath the pumping mechanism. Something was lodged in the broken housing. He pushed it free. It was another film container. ‘Look what I found!' he said, holding it up like a gold medal.

Snake rushed to him. ‘This is it Stats. I'll bet we have all the answers now.'

TWENTY

Sunday 24 September

I've finished reading my spell book. I could design a ritual for anything now. Candles are vital, but anything natural works, like water and herbs, twigs and stuff. The book doesn't go into it (because it just deals with white magic) but I reckon the really evil spells would have ‘wing of bat and eye of newt' stuff like in Macbeth. So there weren't any uses for a dead rat, but I think I'm on the right track anyway. It says a lot about trusting your intuition. I've got to meditate on freedom, that's the central theme, and rats can hide better than people.

M.T.

Monday 25 September

Meredith's having a seventeenth birthday party on the seventh of October. With no oldies, except her parents. She's inviting mainly friends from school, plus a few locals. I should ask her if that means Matt, but I don't want to push it.

Granny Bell rang today. It was good to hear from her. She encouraged me to stick it out here. She told me to keep doing cryptic crosswords, to keep my brain agile. That's what keeps her sane when the pain's too bad. She's in a wheelchair all the time now. Can't get out into the streets like she used to, looking for her ‘urchins'. But she still volunteers at the soup kitchen twice a week.

She told me it was hard to get a good séance underway. Too many people want to take control. The way to do it was to release your ego, give control over to the spirits. Yeah right! I can't see Mongrel handing control to anyone.

M.T.

Tuesday 26 September

I rang Granny Bell back today. Told her about Matt and asked her what I should do. How do I make the first move without scaring him off ? She knows about those sort of things: why people act the way they do, how to get the best out of people. She told me to act naturally and not be desperate. If it's meant to be it will happen in its own time. I have to think of some way we can be alone together, away from the farm and Emma, so we can talk without interruptions.

M.T.

Wednesday 27 September

I asked Matt if he'd take me for a ride in his ute last night. He said yes! He's coming by tonight after dinner and we could go down to the wetlands. I can't wait.

I keep imagining being with him. Us alone together. Maybe I should tell him I like him. I want to, but I think he'll get scared and run away. He's such a wild creature: innocent and strong. I'd love to touch him, kiss him. I wonder what he'd do. Maybe I could make a love potion…

M.T.

Thursday 28 September

Bloody Emma. Why did she have to turn up? I wanted to spend time with just him. Not have her tag along. He drove the ute up to the house and I flew outside and there she was, sitting next to him in the front. She did it on purpose, the bitch, just to make sure I didn't get onto Matt.

Still, I pretended I didn't mind and we drove down there. Even though it's part of their property the only way to get there by car is to drive onto the Falcon Ridge Road and turn off at Pattersons Creek.

They showed me the nesting boxes they'd set up. Some are right in the middle of the water. Matt said there were snakes in the summer, tigers and red-bellied blacks. But this time of year we were safe. I would have enjoyed being down there if it wasn't for Emma and my new boots. By the end of our walk they were caked in black muck. I've just spent half an hour cleaning them and now they're drying out in front of the fire.

Emma told me I was a whinging city slicker.

Sometimes she makes me want to smack her in the face.

M.T.

Friday 29 September

Mum rang last night and told me she'd sent some money for the holidays. How considerate! The holidays are nearly over. She always throws money when she doesn't know what else to do. She said she'd come up to Booradoo and meet me for lunch, if I liked—if she could slot it into her schedule. I told her not to bother. She could stick her schedule up her arse. Then I hung up.

M.T.

Saturday 30 September

Last night we met at the shack again. I read everyone's palms. Mongrel scares me. He's got a murderer's thumb, fat at the tip. I didn't mention it though. Just talked about how practical he was. Had a heart line as straight and cold as a spear. I'm glad it's not me marrying him. He'd be a pig of a husband.

I could tell Meredith was interested in her destiny but the boys thought it was a big joke. They only want to drink. We didn't get around to a séance. But we played 500 for hours. I think I'm getting quite good at it now. It helps if you have a smart partner like Meredith.

Mongrel passed around a joint. I haven't smoked for months and I couldn't resist. I told them I did drugs once. Mongrel gave me a funny look, said he thought I must have, the way I handled it. Meredith was freaked out though. We got home around midnight, half cut and starving. I raided the fridge before I went to bed, but I didn't put the jam away. This morning there were ants everywhere. Frank wasn't impressed.

M.T.

Sunday 1 October

I woke up this morning feeling crap. Throbbing head and a clogged up nose, plus I've got my period. Some holiday! Must be the universe telling me to slow down. I spent the whole day in bed and saw Matt go past on his way to milk.

I've been working on the spell to put Mum off. I've got four green candles, some wormwood and eucalyptus leaves for the smell, and a collection of dead insects, beetles and things. I'm going to crush them together and make a stinking circle out of the powder, then meditate on freedom. Soon I'll be free of them. They'll never find me again.

M.T.

Part five lies at the murderer's thumb.
Asymmetric shape in manufactured
home.

TWENTY-ONE

Adam held the receiver away from his ear and grimaced. Snake sneezed again, loud and spluttering. He had hay fever. He said it was brought on by grovelling in the dirt at the silo.

‘The clue, Snake? Did you look it up on the internet?' Adam asked. ‘What did she mean by “asymmetric shape in manufactured home”?'

‘Lots of sites on kit homes…'

‘So no idea?'

‘Nah.'

‘What about the murderer's thumb?'

‘Well that's funny, that is. You know how we just assumed it's some psycho's digit?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, listen to this,' he said, laughing, ‘“…bulbous thumb, also known as a potter's thumb…” Has your mum got thumbs like that?'

‘No!' Adam said, imagining how stupid his mum would look with fat thumbs.

‘There was another site. It said: “Thumb shapes… pointed, square, round, clubbed…” So I read clubbed. “… indicative of a violent nature…fortunately rare…traditionally referred to as a murderer's thumb…”.'

‘That's all?'

‘Yeah, they all say the same thing.'

‘But if it's clubbed then it's still symmetrical, if you slice it down the middle. I don't get it,' Adam sighed. ‘I thought there'd be something else…some other clue.'

‘Well we know she means the wetland paddocks when she says murderer's thumb…'

Adam shivered. The wetland paddocks included the one with the silage pit. He didn't want to go there again, even though forensics were finished with the site and the police tape had gone.

Snake went on, ‘She was probably only going on the shape of the paddock. Her clues aren't that complex, are they?'

‘Yeah…I dunno. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But I can't find an asymmetric shape in the letters of “manufactured home”.'

‘You'll get it,' Snake said. ‘Anyway, I'll be round later with the fake diary. After dark. See you.'

Adam hung up. He wasn't as optimistic as Snake about the latest clue. What did she mean? If only Lina was alive. Adam wished he could ask her why this clue was different from the others. But was she alive?

He'd looked up Trewin in the online phone directory. There were dozens of them. He didn't want to work through the list. Lina would never have gone back to her parents anyway. She was escaping them, like he and Rosemary were escaping Kazek. Perhaps he should try out Lina's spell to put Kazek off. He grinned, imagining himself sitting in a circle of stinking leaves and beetles, legs folded under him, meditating. What a joke!

But Lina took it all seriously. She'd even written to Granny Bell for advice. But who was the old woman? It seemed as though she was a New Age social worker. If Adam could find Granny Bell, surely she'd lead him to Lina. But Lina never mentioned if Bell was her surname or Christian name. She could be any of thousands of old ladies who lived in the suburbs.

The hum of the old Datsun roused Rosemary from her lounge chair at ten past nine. She rushed to the window and peered into the night. Adam was already opening the back door.

‘What's going on?' she demanded.

‘It's Snake,' he said.

Rosemary looked startled. ‘Driving?' she said.

‘Get over it, Mum. He's been driving for years and we're not going far.'