Novels 02 Red Dust (7 page)

Chapter 11

At the Port Pirie police station, Ian Paver and Geoff Hay had just returned from Adelaide, where they had picked up Dave Burrows and Craig Buchanan from the Western Australia stock squad. They talked all the three hours back to Pirie and continued the conversation when they arrived at the police station, discussing what had happened with the wethers, the rumours that had come to the attention of Ian and Geoff when they had undertaken their initial investigation, and the anonymous phone call that had been made to Pav shortly after the investigation had started.

'I think we have an organised stock-stealing ring happening here, fellas,' said Geoff. 'We have unconfirmed reports of stock missing over the past two years, all in the same area. The disappearances seem to follow a similar pattern. One night when the owners aren't home someone goes in with a truck and pinches the stock. Mainly sheep but there have been reports of cattle. Has to be premeditated and researched – the use of a truck confirms that. I can't see anyone taking a truck into a property that wasn't theirs without prior knowledge of the farm's stock and knowing for sure the owners weren't going to be there.'

'Absolutely. I couldn't agree more,' Dave Burrows said. 'You mentioned that you have a suspect. Have you got a profile on him?'

Geoff passed over a red folder. 'Yeah, although we've got a bit of a problem. The guy we had in mind is dead – but it's too big an operation to be the work of one man. Adam Sinclair – or Sinny as he was known to his friends – crashed his plane on the twentieth of January this year.' He referred back to his notes. 'His wife, Gemma Sinclair, is still running the family station, and we're not yet sure if she is involved or not. When we made some initial inquiries, we went to Billbinya – the Sinclairs' station – and she seemed to be genuinely shocked when we questioned her. Since then, we have interviewed a few other neighbours and found that they believe they have had stock go missing but hadn't reported it because they weren't a hundred per cent certain that they just hadn't mustered a paddock properly or something like that.

'Gemma Sinclair rang us on Thursday of last week. She didn't state what she required; just that she wanted to talk to us. We haven't followed up on that phone call for three reasons. One,' he ticked the reasons off on his fingers, 'before she rang we had an anonymous phone call. We're pretty sure it was a male voice, but it was muffled. Now this guy must have intimate knowledge of what goes on because he suggested that Adam was involved in getting the information of stock movements and passing it on to someone else. Number two, you blokes were due over within a couple of days and we didn't know which way you wanted to play it with Gemma. After this tip-off phone call, she has to be classed as some sort of suspect. Number three is the principal reason we didn't call her back. It is obvious these sheep have been stolen. They've been taken from the yards, so there can't be any thought of miscounting or not mustering properly. Adam Sinclair is dead, so who's doing it?'

Dave crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, thinking. 'Good point. We need to focus on who is
now
doing the stock rustling and then we'll be able to fit Adam into it, if he was involved. Well, I guess we need to get a feel for the area, people and such. Where is stock mainly sold here?'

'The livestock sales are at Dublin, about threequarters of an hour out of Adelaide, and the abattoirs are in Lobethal, Murray Bridge and here in Port Pirie. Then there are a lot of butchers that kill small amounts of livestock, just to fill their shops and niche markets. There are a couple of big feedlots in the Spalding and Murray Bridge area. They buy in and feed cattle. I haven't been able to track down any lamb feedlots that buy in sheep. They all breed their own.' 'Okay, is there any more info?' Dave asked.

'No,' replied Ian.

'Craig'll keep a low profile. I'll get him to monitorhe live market sales and maybe do the rounds ofsome abs. I'll stay here and get a feel for the lay of theland and talk to some of the graziers who have beenaffected,' Dave said.

'Why are you keeping Craig out of sight?' asked Ian.

'Just in case we need him to get in with the locals.

Since he's the younger of us and a bit of a magnet togirls with those biceps of his, he can usually infiltratethe pub scene pretty well. Get the trust of the youngguys around the place,' Dave explained.

'I'm just the nice guy who gets to have fun withthe natives!' Craig smiled, showing his perfectlywhite teeth, his blue eyes twinkling. Geoff made up

his mind to keep his nineteen-year-old daughter awayfrom the pub for the next few weeks.

On Wednesday night, as Gemma was preparingdinner for herself and Patrick, who was due anytime,the phone rang.

'Hello?'

'Gemma, it's Dave Burrows from the WA stocksquad calling. How are you this evening?'

'Fine, thanks. How can I help you?'

'Gemma, I'm just doing a ring around of a few graziers in your area to see if we could have a bit of a catch-up meeting sometime in the next couple of days. Just to talk through what happened with the young wethers last week. I'd like to come out and meet you all – put faces to names and just ask a couple more questions.' Dave sounded very laidback.

'Sure, when would suit you?'

'Could I come out sometime tomorrow, or is that too soon?'

'Tomorrow would be fine.'

'How's four o'clock sound?'

'No worries, see you then.' Gemma put the phone down just as the dogs began to bark, alerting her that Pat had arrived.
Should I have told Dave about the
wethers in our paddock?
she wondered. No, she decided. Tomorrow would be soon enough for the problems to surface.

'So, sis, what's happening?' Pat's usual greeting came through the door as he pulled off his boots to come into the house.

'Ah, here you are. How's it going at Mum and Dad's?'

'I'm not talking work until you feed and water me. What's for tea?'

'A hearty beef casserole. Does that suit? And I've also tried out my cooking skills on a cake. I think it's even edible!'

'I'll eat it even if it's not. I'm dying for some cake. All Mum had in the cupboard were some shop-bought biscuits. She's slacking off in her old age.'

Their friendly banter continued throughout dinner. It wasn't until they were doing the dishes that Patrick turned to face Gemma and said, 'I've got a fiancée.'

'
What?'
Gemma stopped what she was doing and looked at him in shock. 'Who?'

'Kate.'

Gemma gestured impatiently. 'More information.'

'I've known her since boarding school and I've been going out with her since I've been in Queensland. What's that, about eight years? She's a horse breaker too and we're in partnership.'

'Eight years? Eight years and you haven't told us? What is it with you?' Gemma asked, dumbfounded.

'Well, I didn't want to say anything till I was sure.' Pat shrugged casually. 'We reckon we'll get married sometime next year, but we'll see how the old man is. I'd like him to be there, so if we have to bring it forward then we will.'

'Pat, that's wonderful news. I'm so excited for you. I can't wait to meet her – though you need a flogging for keeping her to yourself for so long. Where will you get married?'

'Probably up there; that's where she's from. Anyway, enough about me. What's going on down here?'

Gemma sighed. 'Let's go into the sitting room with a pot of tea and I'll tell you the whole story.'

Chapter 12

Gemma sat on the couch and tucked her feet up under her. 'I haven't told anyone this, Pat, not even Jess. I've got a queer feeling about it.' She stared into her mug of tea then said, 'When Adam's plane crashed I was there. He was mustering from the air and I was in the ute on the ground and he was radioing me if I'd missed any cattle or whatever. Then he crashed. No warning or call on the radio, which in itself is strange. Anyway, I got to the plane before he died. I tried and tried to get the door open but I couldn't. I could see that his chest was pushed up against the front controls of the plane and he was bleeding from the mouth. He couldn't breathe properly.' Gemma stopped, and took a breath. 'He said something to me and at first I couldn't hear through the windows, but I managed to bash in the little window near the front with the sledgehammer I had in the back of the ute. Anyway, Adam was gasping and saying that he wasn't going to make it, he was in trouble and they might come after me once he was dead and I was to sell the station. I have searched this place from top to bottom – the house, the sheds and shearing shed – looking for some kind of clue about what sort of trouble he was in, but I can't find anything. Then Ned tells me that Adam had signed a contract for three hundred steers to go to a feedlot. I don't have the steers to fill the agreement, so that's a bit weird. Next thing I know the Kettles, Carters and Smiths have had wether lambs stolen out of their yards, about a thousand of them all up, and I get a visit from the police asking if I've seen a spare thousand floating around. The next morning Bulla tells me he found a thousand wether lambs that weren't ours out in Reimer's paddock. Now I'm beginning to wonder what on earth Adam was involved in. In the meantime, I've got the stock squad coming out here tomorrow to "ask a couple more questions". Doesn't that all sound a bit odd to you?'

Pat raised his eyebrows. 'Bloody oath.'

They were both quiet for a while, mulling over what she'd said.

'So,' Pat said finally, 'why do you think there were a thousand wether lambs dumped on Billbinya? That's the most concerning thing. I mean, giving Adam the benefit of the doubt, he might have just annoyed the TAB man or something. He might not have done anything too wrong – although knowing Adam he'd have been into something. But the wethers on Billbinya puts you in a pretty nasty spot. Are they still here? Did you tell the stock squad guy?'

'Well, no and no. And what do you mean "knowing Adam", anyway? Bulla went back out to Reimer's paddock the next morning to bring the wethers into the yards and they were gone. I was going to tell the stock squad guy tomorrow.'

'Have you told Mum and Dad?'

'No, I've really only realised that something weird is going on since Dad got crook. They were stolen the night of Dad's heart attack.'

'I think you need a lawyer.'

Gemma looked at Pat in horror. 'I haven't done anything wrong!' she exclaimed.

Pat shook his head. 'Doesn't matter, sis; you've had stolen stock on your property. They could put you away for aiding and abetting or something, I don't know.' Pat stood up and started to pace the room. 'I don't think you understand how serious this could be.' He stopped and looked at her.

'I haven't done anything wrong,' she said again in a smaller voice.

'Doesn't matter – unless you can prove that then you're in deep manure. Do you know a lawyer?'

'No! I've never needed one. Believe it or not, I'm usually reasonably law-abiding.'

'Okay, well Jess will. Give her a call in the morning before this stock squad guy gets here, and don't talk to him until you've had some legal advice.' He looked at his watch. 'I'll stay tonight and we'll sort out a plan in the morning. Can I sleep in the spare room?'

'Yeah, of course. I don't think I'll sleep though.'

'Me neither, but we should try.' Pat looked at Gemma. 'Don't worry, sis, we'll get it sorted.' He patted her on the shoulder as he left the room.

Later, in Gemma's spare room, Pat sat on the edge of the bed and thought. Adam was a funny bugger. It wasn't that Pat hadn't got along with him; he had, especially on nights that they had pub crawls planned, or some sort of party in mind. But after he'd moved to Queensland permanently, he really had lost touch with Adam – and when he did come home, the pub crawls and partying weren't the same. Gemma and Adam were married, and up to their ears in debt. Debt was a killer, especially with interest rates as high as they were and stock and wool prices low. The last time he was back at Hayelle and Billbinya, some twelve months earlier, Patrick had sensed a subtle change in Adam. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but it was as if he was slightly cockier than usual. Like he knew something no one else did. Jess had mentioned something about it as well, he remembered. He hadn't taken her concerns seriously at the time. Jess got along with Adam for Gemma's sake, but hadn't ever liked him. Now he wondered if he should have paid more attention.

* * *

The next day Patrick was up bright and early. He and Gemma had breakfast together before Patrick headed back to Hayelle, promising to be back before the stock squad arrived.

As soon as he was gone Gemma bolted for the kennels and then the ute. She had to get away from the house, into the wide open space. She checked the calving cows, then drove out to check the ewes and lambs that they had marked in previous weeks, before heading to the creek. There she sat on a rock in silence, thoughts racing around her head. Patrick and Kate, weddings, Adam, wether lambs and the stock squad. None of these thoughts made any sense to her, they were all too jumbled.

'But Adam. Adam, what had he been involved in?' Gemma looked at the scenery without seeing. Her eyes narrowed, deep in thought. Had he given any clues? Not that she could think of. He was still the caring, loving husband he had always been. Busy? Yeah, they all were. Distracted? Maybe a bit. Trustworthy? Yes. He returned stock to neighbours and always rang if an animal had got through a fence – even if it was a tiny lamb. Gemma shook her head. She hadn't noticed any change in him. He couldn't have been involved with anything illegal. He was too honest.

But soon the fresh air and peaceful surrounds worked their magic, and she could hear the magpies singing and the sheep calling to their lambs. Feeling the sun on her skin, she leaned back gratefully and closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep right through her.

When Gemma arrived back at the sheds at lunchtime, she was surprised to find Bulla waiting for her.

'G'day, I thought you were over on the top part of the place getting cattle in for marking,' said Gemma.

'Haven't seen much of you since before you went away, so I thought I'd better see how things were. Heard anything from the police?'

'Yeah, they rang yesterday evening. Some guy from the stock squad is coming out today at about four, so I'll tell him about the wethers then.'

'Well, Gaz and me will be in the shed if he wants to talk to us. Do you want Jack around?'

'Yeah, I s'pose he'd better be in case this guy wants to ask him where he was on the night of blah at such-and-such a time.' Gemma smiled, trying to make a joke of things.

'No worries. Are you coming up to the yards? We could do with a hand.'

'I'll just grab a sandwich and be right with you.'

Gemma spent the rest of the afternoon chasing calves up into a raceway to where Bulla would push them into a calf-marking crush. The calves were pinned so they couldn't move or kick, then Gaz would deftly slip a rubber ring around the testicles – so they couldn't reproduce – and then earmark them, claiming them as Billbinya bred and owned. Jack then pulled the calf crush open and the calves would jump out with a bawl, then scurry towards the mums who were standing in a big yard bellowing loudly, waiting for their babies to return.

At last the mob was finished and Gemma looked at her watch. 'Shit,' she swore. 'I'm going to be late. See you all back at the homestead.' It was only as she was driving back that she remembered she hadn't rung Jess to find out about a lawyer. She shrugged. Surely she didn't really need one.

She arrived back at the house to find a muddy white four-wheel-drive wagon and a guy leaning up against it. She drove through the gate and stopped behind his car. Jumping out of the ute, she held out her hand as she walked towards him.

'Sorry I'm late. I'm Gemma Sinclair.'

The tall man shook her hand and said, 'No problem. Dave Burrows from the stock squad. Thanks for seeing me.'

'So you found me okay? I did mean to ask if you needed directions. Come on inside.' They turned and walked towards the house.

'Geoff and Ian, the two officers who came to see you last week, gave me the heads up as to where everyone was. It's always hard going into a new area. You learn to read maps pretty quick.' He flashed her a smile.

Making coffee, Gemma glanced at the man sitting at her table. He was wearing a light-blue shirt with the stock squad emblem on it and denim jeans, and he'd left his dark brown R.M. boots at the door. His dark hair was cut short in an army style and his skin was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. His notepad lay on the table in front of him and Gemma could see it was full of scribbles from other interviews with her neighbours today. She could see a name written in capital letters and underlined, and as she put the coffee down she was shocked to read, upside down, ADAM SINCLAIR.

Shit shit shit,
she thought. Where the hell was Patrick? Gemma pasted a smile on her face and said, 'Would you excuse me a minute?', then headed towards the office. Frantically she dialled Pat's mobile, but there was no answer. Then she noticed the answering machine light flashing. She hit the play button and Pat's voice filled the room.

'G'day, sis. Been held up, had to pull a calf. See you as soon as I can.'

Gemma swore under her breath.

An uncertain female voice followed Pat's message. 'Um, hi Gemma, it's Paige here. I was wondering if you might have time to catch up for lunch or something. Anyway, you've got my number. I just thought I'd say hi. Um, seeya.'

Gemma made a mental note to call her back later and headed back to the kitchen.

'So, how can I help?' asked Gemma, sitting down at the kitchen table and picking up her coffee mug.

'Well, I've just been talking to a few people in the

area and getting some information. Just thought I'd see if you've got anything to add. Really, I'm just here to help everyone and see if we can get to the bottom of what's going on.'

Gemma smiled weakly.

'So, the guys that were here talking to you before said that you were on the road the night that all these wethers disappeared, is that right?'

'Yep, I had a phone call from my mum saying Dad had had a heart attack, so I drove in to the hospital at Port Pirie. I really wasn't concentrating on what was happening around me, so I don't think I can tell you anything more about that night.'

'Is your dad okay now?'

'Yeah, but he'll be in Adelaide for a while. My brother Patrick is over giving us a hand on Dad's farm, Hayelle, so that helps me with my workload.'

'How long have you been living on Billbinya?'

'Oh, coming up nine years. I moved out here when Adam and I were married, and I decided I wouldn't sell when he died. I don't really know anything else other than farming; I need the space. And I'm a local through and through. My parents' farm is about fifty k to the south of here.'

Dave smiled. 'I can understand that. It must be hard though, out here by yourself – and it's not like stock prices are great, and wool prices are in the doldrums.'

Dave was very friendly and Gemma was beginning to relax in his presence. 'No, it's not easy, but it's my life. I was taught that you don't give up just because things are a bit tough. I'm still here, and I hope I will be in years to come.'

'So you've been in the area for a while – have you ever heard of any stock stealing going on around here before?'

Gemma shook her head. 'No, this is a first. I feel so sorry for everyone involved; it would be devastating to lose some of your livelihood that way. And I know the people who have had the stock stolen – they're nice families.'

'Do you know them well?'

'Well, I have known the Kettles ever since I was small. We're not close, but we're neighbourly, if that makes sense. We've had them over for tea occasionally.'

'How recently?'

'Oh, last year I think. I can look in my diary and see if it's written there, but if it was impromptu it won't be. Sometimes Adam used to run into people on the road and would invite them back or just call in to see them and they would end up back here. It was my worst nightmare – I'm not a great cook and never have a huge amount of food in the house.'

'So you'd have socialised with local station owners pretty regularly?'

'Well, about a year and a half ago Adam started up a Best Farmers group. It involved quite a lot of farmers around this area. We used to get together once a month or so and talk about what we were doing on the stations and if someone had a good idea we would look at the pros and cons of it and see if it was worth implementing on other places. So yeah, we had a fair bit of contact with our neighbours.'

'Could I grab your diaries and take them back to the station to have a look at? I'd really appreciate it.'

Gemma shrugged, not really seeing the point of it. 'Sure.'

'So can you think of any information that might help us?'

Gemma shifted in her seat. 'Well, actually I think I may have something. I rang the police about it but no one returned my call.'

Dave looked up from his notes expectantly.

'After I got back from the hospital in Pirie, one of my stockmen, Bulla, told me that there were about a thousand wether lambs in one of our back paddocks.' Dave's eyebrows shot up. 'But when we went to run them they were gone. Like I said, I did try to get in contact with the Port Pirie police – and I want to stress that there is no way anyone on Billbinya could have been invol–'

Dave broke in over the top of her. 'Were they the stolen sheep?'

'I don't think anyone could say. We didn't get them in the yards, so we weren't close enough to see the earmarks. They weren't ours because Bulla would have known our sheep.'