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‘Got someone there, have you?’ Baxter asked. ‘Who sent you . . . Campanelli?’

There was a shot—very loud in the silence of the night—and the man staggered and then fell. The shot was followed by the sound of a boat engine starting up.

‘Watch him, Chief,’ Baxter commanded as he ran for the jetty. He could see the small boat out on the silver water, but not well enough to identify it.

Baxter retraced his steps and stopped beside the badly wounded man. He tried to give him first aid, but it was clear he wouldn’t last long.

‘I don’t think much of the company you keep, buster,’ Baxter said. ‘You might not be up to much, but getting shot in the back is a poor way to die. Was it Campanelli?’

‘Camp—’ the man gurgled, and then he died.

Baxter walked to where the other fellow was still out cold. He made him as comfortable as possible. ‘Keep watching him, Chief.’

After phoning for an ambulance, Baxter put in a call for Latham. ‘Don’t touch anything, champ,’ the detective said. ‘I’ll have a team there as soon as possible.’

Inside the hour there was a flotilla of vehicles at Riverview. Julie came with the ambulance in her capacity as medical examiner. She said that the downed man was in a coma and there was no telling how long he’d remain in this condition.

‘Are you all right, Greg?’ she asked, her forehead creased with concern.

‘Yes, they didn’t touch me. Once I’d split them up, I knew I could handle them.’

‘The big question is whether that shot was meant for your trespasser or for you,’ Latham said. ‘Maybe the Big Chief who runs this racket doesn’t like loose ends.’

‘All I got out of him was “Camp—”, and then he died.’

‘Better him than you.’ Latham’s smile was thin. ‘You’re going to cost me a lot of money, Greg. I’m going to mount a watch over you and this place—’

‘Is that really necessary?’ Baxter asked, while Julie exclaimed, ‘Good idea!’

‘—until we have Campanelli behind bars,’ Latham finished. ‘You and Chief clearly make a great team, but I’ve decided it would be irresponsible of me not to give you some back-up. I’ve asked my superiors and they’ve come up with the funds.’

After providing his official statement and saying goodnight, Baxter started walking back to the house past Mal and a few other overall-clad forensics officers.

‘Anything worthwhile?’ he asked Mal.

‘Not much so far, but we haven’t checked the bars for fingerprints.’

‘You’ll find mine on one of them—I didn’t touch the other.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A concerned Liz Drew rang early the next morning—Julie had relayed some of the night’s proceedings.

‘I’m fine, Liz,’ he said. ‘Not a scratch on me.’

‘You’re amazing, in other words. Any other man would have fallen to pieces. But aren’t you still in danger?’

Once Baxter had reassured Liz as much as he could, she asked, ‘Can I come out and see you, Greg? I want some advice and I trust you more than anyone else.’

‘All right, Liz. Come round now and we’ll have a cup of tea.’

He could see that the day was going to be a non-event for his writing, because Julie had told him the night before that she’d be heading over for lunch. Two female visitors in one day—his mother would have been thrilled.

•

In her smart new blue jeans and a cream blouse, Liz looked terrific, but her eyes were tired. She’d been up to Riverview only once before—just quickly to pick up her car—and this time she gave both the property and Chief quite a few compliments.

Baxter made a pot of tea and they sat out on the verandah in the usual spot.

‘I need to know whether you think I’m doing the right thing,’ she said nervously, tucking a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m planning to sell my house and go back to my property in Queensland.’

‘Ah, right.’ He was surprised by the surge of disappointment he felt at the idea of her leaving.

‘The thing is, I’ll never feel safe here while Campanelli is on the loose. He could send a couple of his men for me, and once I’m on his yacht anything could happen.’

Her hands were shaking so much that she had to set down her tea.

‘Are you sleeping, Liz?’ Baxter asked.

‘Julie’s given me sleeping pills, but they’ve got their problems too. I don’t want to be too out to it, in case I don’t hear Campanelli’s men coming for me.’ She put her face in her hands. ‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing by selling up and running away?’

‘Please don’t think of it like that—it’s a sensible plan.’

Liz reached out a trembling hand and he took it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

‘In the meantime,’ he said, ‘I’d get a security mob to fix up all your windows and doors, and maybe install an alarm. It might cost a few bob but it would give you great peace of mind.’

‘I’d thought of that—Jack left me a few thousand—but I don’t know who to trust around town. Except you and Julie, of course.’

‘I reckon Steve Lewis at Moondilla Motors could do it for you, or give you a recommendation. Julie and I trust him, so you can too.’

Liz turned tear-filled eyes on Baxter, her hand still warm in his. ‘All right.’

‘Immediately, Liz.’

Just then, Chief gave the bark that let his master know someone was coming up the drive. Baxter walked around and saw it was Julie, running a little early.

•

If Julie was piqued to find Liz with Baxter—and he hoped she was—she managed to hide it very well.

For lunch he served the women corned beef, creamy mashed potatoes and salad, followed by rhubarb pie and cream. The three of them chatted about everything but the dire situation in Moondilla, with Julie and Baxter making a particular effort
to keep the mood light. By the time Liz headed off, she seemed a lot more relaxed.

Then Julie turned to Baxter, her eyes serious. ‘Greg . . .’

‘What?’

‘You might consider going back to live with your mother in Sydney until Ian gets on top of this drug business.’

Baxter tensed. ‘I’ve never run from anyone in my life.’

Looking pained, Julie got up from the table and walked over to the window, staring out with her back to him. ‘You’re the only man I feel anything for, and I don’t want to lose you.’ He could tell how much it cost her to admit that.

‘But you don’t want to marry me?’

She turned to give him a warning look. ‘Remember your promise not to try anything, Greg.’

They stared at each other until Baxter looked away.

‘What’s with the fellow I dropped?’ he asked. ‘Still in a coma?’

‘Yes, with a police guard.’ Julie’s voice had turned professional. ‘He could be out for days, weeks or months—or he might not recover at all.’

‘The police will be crooked on me for causing them to use up valuable resources.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ she said, her expression softening. ‘Well, I’d better head back to the clinic.’ She picked up her handbag. ‘Thanks for the bonzer lunch. You know, a sandwich would have been enough today.’

‘My mother would never forgive me if I gave you a sandwich.’

Julie grinned, her true warmth breaking through. ‘Nothing wrong with a good sandwich, especially if it’s multigrain bread.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

On one of his long evening walks with Chief, Baxter decided to head across to the old dairy building. This dated back to Riverview’s origin as a dairy farm with a noted Jersey herd. When the farm had been subdivided, decades ago, Harry Carpenter—who’d married the daughter of the adjoining dairy farmer—had acquired fifty acres.

The old dairy building was still quite sound, with a solid concrete floor and its roof in fair condition. Possums played in the building at night, and it was occasionally visited by a masked owl in search of mice.

Baxter climbed the small rise between his house and the dairy building. From this vantage spot he scanned the river and the surrounding countryside with his binoculars. There was another jetty farther upriver that he picked up clearly,
but he couldn’t see a single boat out on the water—well, not unusual for this time of night.

He left the rise and walked across the paddock towards the old building. He’d inspected it a couple of times and had been pondering how he could utilise it. He decided to take another look, but Chief’s low growl checked him.

Baxter stiffened. He knew for certain now that Chief never growled for nothing. The shepherd was infallible. Baxter looked at his dog, whose eyes were fixed on the old dairy. ‘Steady, Chief,’ he muttered under his breath.

The dairy was divided in two: a long room where the cows had been milked, and an adjoining room where the milk had been treated and stored in big vats. When Baxter stepped into this room, he saw that someone had been using it—a swag, a portable stove and a lamp sat in one corner, and the windows had been bagged over.

Chief growled again, louder now, as a tall, dark-haired man stepped through from the other room. He put up his hand and smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, Mr Baxter. I’m with Ian Latham. The name’s Lester. Tell your dog I’m on your side.’

Lester was dressed in dark jeans and a khaki shirt, and he too was carrying binoculars. Baxter took him to be a fellow not much older than himself.

‘It’s okay, Chief,’ Baxter said, rubbing his dog’s ears. ‘So you’re the one keeping watch over me?’ he asked Lester.

‘That and other things. And there’s two of us—we take it in shifts. Ian reckoned you wouldn’t mind us using the old dairy.’

‘It’s all right, though I would’ve preferred to be kept in the loop. So what’s doing?’

‘Things are finally coming to a head.’ He sounded optimistic. ‘We reckon they’ll transfer the big drug shipment in three or four days. What we don’t know is where they’ll drop it. We do know that it won’t be at your place, and now we’re thinking it may not be anywhere along the river.’

‘I noticed there’s a jetty farther along.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ve got them all pinpointed. The road in to that one is bad—virtually unusable in wet weather.’

Baxter nodded, relieved. ‘But have they got anyone watching my place?’

‘Not that we know of, and I doubt they could do it under our noses. But there’s other things on their minds right now . . . like several million dollars’ worth of drugs.’

‘I hope you can keep those bastards from getting their hands on a cent.’

Lester grinned. ‘That’s the idea.’

‘You need anything?’ Baxter asked, casting his eyes around the room again. ‘This is a pretty rough camp.’

‘It goes with the job,’ Lester said and smiled thinly. ‘I’ll manage. I don’t expect to be here much longer.’

‘You could always come to the house and I’d cook you a decent meal.’

‘Thanks, but you can’t watch things from inside a house. Ian would have my hide if I slipped up on this job. We hope to put Campanelli away for a good long stretch.’

‘That’s a worthy goal, but he and his ilk exert influence even from inside prison.’

‘True enough. The Mr Bigs are a constant concern for us, and the lure of big money will always ensure that there are Mr Bigs. But we do what we can.’

‘Too right. And I appreciate you looking out for me.’ Baxter glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better be getting back. Ian calls me every night.’ He grinned fondly. ‘He can be a bit of a mother hen, but he’s all right.’

‘He’s a top man,’ Lester said with an answering grin. ‘One of the best. And you know, he’s got a personal stake in the drug business.’

‘What’s that?’ Baxter couldn’t remember Latham mentioning anything.

‘He might not like me telling you this, but I think it’ll help you fully trust him. When he was a boy, his older brother died from an overdose. It nearly killed Ian’s parents. Cost them their marriage, too. So Ian’s real crooked on drug pushers.’

Another tragedy caused by the rotten stuff. Baxter felt sick to his stomach. ‘How awful. What a great bloke he is to be taking them on like this. And of course I’ll keep it in confidence—no worries on that score.’

So many lives lost to drugs: Julie and Jane’s brother, Andrew. Rosa. The undercover policewoman and her sister. Latham’s brother. Then there were the lives of their loved ones, forever marred by their deaths.

Just as Baxter was about to say his goodbyes and go, he turned back.

‘Something else worrying you?’ Lester asked.

‘Did they do any good with my boat? I mean, did they lift any fingerprints?’

‘One good set. They belong to Yat Lee, one of Campanelli’s hoods.’ Lester crooked a smile. ‘He wasn’t too careful. I suppose he reckoned that when the boat blew up, there wouldn’t be any fingerprints to lift. So we now have clear evidence of his involvement in a crime, and it’s unlikely he can slip through our net, whatever happens.’

‘Yat Lee, eh. I’ll remember that name,’ Baxter said grimly. He looked forward to the day when he could meet up with this creep.

‘He’s a bad egg, Mr Baxter.’

‘Aren’t they all?’

‘No, really,’ Lester insisted. ‘If you meet up with him, don’t give him any slack. He’d shoot or knife you and not think twice about it.’

Baxter nodded. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ As he walked out the door, Chief at his heels, he said, ‘When this is all over, you should come and have a meal with me.’

‘I’ll keep you to that. See ya, mate.’

Walking back to the house over the lush paddocks of mixed grasses, Baxter took deep breaths of the fresh night air. It felt very strange that a member of a massive police investigation was living in Riverview’s old dairy.

Baxter remembered Latham’s words:
You’re going to cost me a lot of money, Greg.
That made him think about what it was costing taxpayers to try and control the drug problem. It seemed no matter how much effort the authorities devoted to drugs, they would never eliminate them. Human inventiveness knew no limits, and Australia’s vast coastline made things even more difficult.

But this time, at least, the police appeared to have the upper hand. That creep Yat Lee had incriminated himself, and he and Campanelli and all of their associates would soon be going down.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Between six and seven a few evenings later, Baxter was fishing from his jetty. In case someone managed to get past Lester and take a shot at him, he wasn’t sitting right on top but on the loading ramp to one side—he didn’t feel in danger, though. The sun was going down behind the mountain range to the west, and everything was very quiet along the river. It was the best time of the day for fishing, and Baxter had two good flathead in his sugar bag, tied to a pylon.