Blood on the Rocks Chapter 11
After leaving Dalton, Frank stopped again at the black ute and wound down his window. There was a beat of silence before the yelping started again. He pulled off the driveway and went to investigate, following the noise to the back of the cottage, where a cattle dog pup was tethered to the trunk of a bush by a well-chewed rope. On seeing Frank it started leaping about, wiggling its butt, straining against its tether. Frank squatted down to pat it.
‘Hey there, girl,’ he said as the puppy rolled over for a belly rub. The fur around its collar had chafed. ‘That’s way too tight,’ he said, loosening the buckle two notches. ‘That better?’
The pup licked his hands, then tumbled over to disappear under a bush, returning dragging a thick tree branch, about the size of a baseball bat. It dropped the stick at Frank’s feet and sat, looking up expectantly.
‘You right there, Diamond?’ Gaz appeared silently beside him, like a submarine emerging from the deep. Frank leapt to his feet.
‘Ah, Gaz, sorry mate. Heard this little fella and came to check she was OK. Yours?’
‘Yep.’
‘Big stick for a little ‘un,’ Frank laughed, bending over to retrieve the stick with the pup hanging fiercely onto the other end. ‘She fetch?’
‘No.’
Gaz wrenched the stick from Frank. Slivers of bark came off in Frank’s hand and he felt a sting of pain from what was probably a splinter. He put his hand into his pockets, wiping the bark off onto the lining; the splinter could wait. Gaz hurled the stick off into the bush behind the shed; the pup strained at her leash to retrieve it, emitting a tiny, frantic puppy bark that Frank found adorable. Gaz did not. He swung a boot at the little creature, who scuttled away before it could connect.
Frank looked him up and down.
‘You do the gardening, too?’ he asked, nodding to where a tall flowering shrub by the veranda had been lopped down to a stump. It was a recent job, the plant’s white flowers and rich red fruit still scattered at its base. He recognised a Hairy Hollybush when he saw one, even in pieces.
‘Get going, Diamond,’ said Gaz.
Once he was off the property he pulled over and extracted the splinter, dropping it into an evidence bag. Then he called Mac and headed into town.
‘Is the Senior Sergeant in?’ asked Frank on his return to the station. Rhonda looked up, smiling.
‘No, Detective, he’ll be out for a while. Can I help you with anything?’
‘Can I use his office for a moment?’
‘Should be fine; can I make you a cup of tea?’
‘Oh, thanks but you don’t have to do that.’
‘No, but I’m offering. Taking my break in five and making one for myself,’ Rhonda replied, holding up a well-worn teapot.
‘Then that would be lovely, thank you. Just milk. When Mac comes back can you tell her where I am, please?
Frank cleared a space on the edge of Mike Henderson’s desk, cleaning it with a sanitised wipe first. Then he carefully pulled out the inside of his pocket, gently brushing the bark slivers onto the sterile desktop, then into an evidence bag. He was gratified to see two fair sized bark pieces, but of more interest was a slight brownish stain on the white cotton of the pocket lining. Not thinking twice, he tucked the pocket lining back in and slipped out of his boots and trousers. He lay the pants on Henderson’s desk and turned the pocket out again, bending low to peer closely at the stain.
It was in this position that Mac found him.
‘Frank, I found–’ She pulled up short in the doorway. ‘You right?’
‘Oh, Mac, good. Come and look at this. Careful, careful,’ Frank said as Mac dumped a printout onto the desk. ‘What do you reckon that is?’
‘Your pants? I dunno – looks like blood. What, did you cut yourself?’ She gave him a look up and down, taking in his white legs and black boxers.
Frank explained about his visit to Clyde and Dalton and the puppy.
‘Dickhead,’ muttered Mac, on hearing about Gaz’s swinging boot. ‘Blokes like that shouldn’t be allowed pets.’
‘But what do you think? It was a Hairy Hollybush offcut.’
Mac moved in closer to Frank and bent down, scrutinising the small stain intently.
‘It could be blood. But what’s the connection between Dalton and Brent?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have one. It’s all a bit random.’
At this moment Rhonda arrived with Frank’s tea. She too stopped at the door and looked Frank up and down, before plonking the mug down with a slight shake of her head and leaving.
‘Thanks Rhonda!’ Frank said to her receding form.
‘Smithy’s on the front desk, Rebecca’ Rhonda replied, over her shoulder. ‘Mike will be back in ten minutes, in case you’d like to be dressed for that.’
Mac straightened up. ‘She made you a cuppa? Man, you must have charmed her.’
Frank sipped his tea. ‘You said ‘random’. That’s the third time today someone’s said that.’
‘And?’
‘It’s rarely random. There has to be a connection.’
‘I don’t see it but you want me to get the stain checked out anyway?’
‘Yep. Do you need Detective Khan to sign off on the costs?’
‘He’s not on till tomorrow,’ replied Mac, looking at Frank with a slight smile. ‘Though you’re going to lose your pants.’
‘Not necessarily.’ Frank took a pair of scissors from the pencil holder and cut the pocket lining clean away, bagged it and handed it over to Mac. He pulled on his pants and buckled up.
‘We better clear out of here before the Senior Sergeant gets back,’ said Mac, gathering their bags and her printout, which she passed to Frank. ‘I got news, too. I tracked Freak to Coffs airport last Friday. I’ve put a request in to all the airlines, but the cabbie reckons Freak was boarding the 17:20 Qantas flight. His neighbours reckon that he went pretty regularly and usually stayed away three or four days. No idea exactly when he was due to return.’
They were heading down the passage to the muster room, Frank reading Mac’s printout and sipping his tea. At her words he stopped.
‘Not random at all,’ he said. ‘Of course not. Mac, I’d put money on him catching the 19:15 return to Coffs. But he didn’t get on. That was my flight. We were delayed waiting for a passenger to board. Whoever it was put their luggage on then disappeared. I bet you that was Freak.’
Mac grinned. ‘Want me to get on to Qantas?’
‘Sure, but there’s a faster way. Let me make a call.’