Creaking from his knees and into a standing position, Maxwell squinted down the straight gravel road disappearing into the hot, shimmering distance and huffed, furiously pounding the vehicle with his fist and surprising Butch with his gesture. “Why don’t people stay with their vehicles when they break down or have an accident in the desert?!” Maxwell raged. “Walking in this heat can kill in a matter of hours and quicker if they don’t have adequate water to drink!”
After a few moments Maxwell calmed down, but remained focused on the station access track, “How far are we from Pearl Springs, Butch?”
“About fifty kilometres, Bob.”
“We’d better get a move on or we may be searching for two sun-dried corpses.”
Maxwell went to close the driver door as he walked past, but as he did something lying just under the driver seat caught his eye. He reached under the chair and drew the partially hidden item into the afternoon light and gaped at it incredulously. Bob’s mouth hung open as Butch retraced his steps to where the wily policeman stood.
“What’s up, Bob?”
“Take a gander at this, Butch!”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 68
A murder of crows yarked mournfully in the distant heat haze; their cascading monotonous cry may have been the lament of an empty stomach or just the severe afternoon heat. But no matter the cause, the harrowing call noisily competed with the family four-wheel drive wagon idling in the background, keeping the air conditioned cab at a bearable level for Mishy and the girls curiously watching the movements of the two men. Standing beside the damaged Range Rover, Butch and Bob exchanged incredulous stares, gawking at the intended recipient of a strange package they held between them.
Miss Danica Slater
Pearl Springs via Birdsville
Roadside Mailbox 1284
Pearl Springs Access Road
Queensland, Australia
Turning the package over, Butch read the name of the addressee: Mademoiselle Anne-Claire Couture. “This is from Danica’s friend in Switzerland. How on earth did it end up in this vehicle?” Butch carelessly allowed his thoughts to wander over his tonsils and spill out in the sauna-like atmosphere.
“I don’t know, Butch, but we had better get out of the heat before we fry, and your idling wagon overheats.”
Butch and Bob quickly entered the cool cab and slammed the doors behind them, locking out the cruel and oppressive heat. Mishy glanced from Bob to Butch, her eyes asking a thousand questions, unsure whether they’d discovered anything requiring confidentiality from the children.
“Bob found a package addressed to Danica under the driver seat,” Butch glanced sideways at Mishy.
Mishy stared at her husband in shock while Danica leaned over the back seat in astonishment. “A package for me, b..but how did it get in that vehicle?” Danica puzzled.
“I don’t know, Danica, but with your permission I’d like to keep this for a few days before you open it. Something isn’t adding up here and it may be needed as evidence,” Bob warned.
Danica disappointedly nodded in agreement and then slumped dejectedly against the back seat. “Who’s it from, Uncle Bob?” Danica decided she could at least ask that much.
Bob turned the package over and read the name, “Mademoiselle Anne-Claire Couture.”
“Anne-Claire...! She said she had sent me a package from Switzerland, but that was nearly a month ago and I’d given up on ever receiving it!” Danica pressed determinedly against the front seat again with renewed interest and eyed the parcel in Bob’s hand longingly.
“Well, as soon as I get to the bottom of why it was in that car, you can have your property, honey,” Bob consoled, but felt bad watching Danica’s face fall in frustration.
Butch’s eyes quickly flicked down at the engine temperature gauge, alarming the station owner as the needle languished dangerously in the red. Concerned for the engine’s longevity, Butch immediately selected first gear and pulled away, giving the damaged Range Rover partially blocking the access track a wide berth. He hoped a large volume of fast moving ambient air—although extremely hot—passing over the radiator fins would dissipate the burgeoning heat before the struggling engine overheated and died. Leaving the family at the whim of the burning sun, although they had ample water to survive a prolonged breakdown.
Butch’s mind replayed the images of the damaged Range Rover, wondering how the unknown people had taken possession of something personal belonging to his eldest daughter and what their intentions were with it. He glanced across at Bob’s contemplative expression staring into nothing through the windscreen and obviously tussling with the same question. “I’ll have to come back out here and shift the wreck, Bob. If someone runs into it at night...”
Bob nodded but kept staring, leaving Butch to wonder whether he had actually understood his words.
“Did you find anything other than Danica’s package?” Mishy whispered to Butch.
“No, the vehicle was deserted, but it appears there were two people involved when the accident happened, and after the vehicle broke down they set off on foot. Bob thinks it was some hours ago though.”
Butch’s secretive whisper alarmed Mishy, for she knew all too well what the summer heat could do to an unprotected human body left without water and shelter. “They were headed towards the homestead?” Mishy whispered back.
Butch nodded. “Yes, the tracks seem to lead towards Pearl Springs.”
Mishy stole a sideways glance at Bob before verbalising her next question, but almost certain she knew the answer. “There isn’t much hope for them is there, Bob?” Mishy whispered so quietly he nearly didn’t hear her.
Bob simply shook his head and whispered back, “It would be a miracle if they survived, Mishy.”
The speeding family wagon acted like a dust blower, stirring up billowing clouds of red powder and painting the stunted trees lining the roadside with a pale ochre colour as the airborne grit settled over the gnarled heat of the sunburnt landscape. Constant corrugations noisily reverberated inside the vehicle, playing a symphony of bone jarring crashes, bangs and squeaks while the tyres droned over the rippling gravel road surface, adding a vibrating monotone to the peculiar performance. Many times Bob, Butch and Mishy stared anxiously into the wobbling heat haze, apparently recognising moving human shapes in the shimmering distance, but only to disappear in a watery mirage as the vehicle came closer and the images simply evaporated.
The family had covered an anxious ten kilometres from the wreck site when Bob spotted two circling wedge-tailed eagles high above the track and riding the extreme afternoon heat currents. Their focus seemed continually directed to one particular point. Not a good indicator in the severe desert theatre. All three adults studied the circling display through the windscreen, noticing the same image at the same time and exchanging anxious glances.
“Might be a good idea to pull up well before we come across anything,” Bob’s gravelly basement baritone quietly rumbled into Butch’s hearing.
Butch nodded, affirming his intention. The last thing the girls needed was to deal with the nightmare images of two severely dehydrated corpses on top of the harrowing week just past.
The tense moments drifted into half an hour as the family vehicle continued its vibrating homeward mission, but no further signs of the two missing people presented. The two circling wedge-tailed eagles had dispersed also, giving up on their hunt for an easy meal and taking to the wing far over the red desert wasteland.
“How far are we from the homestead now, Butch?” Bob broke the uneasy silence.
“About twenty-five kilometres, Bob. Is it possible we missed them? Maybe they left the track?”
“It’s possible, but I doubt it. There’s not a lot of shelter out there and even if they were delirious from heatstroke they wouldn’t have a lot of energy and the easiest place to walk and drop would be on the track. Let’s just keep going, Butch, and if we don’t find them we’ll have to organise an
air search team once we arrive back at the homestead.”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 69
Eddie had arrived home, unpacked and groomed his horse, restarted the cranky diesel generator for the homestead power and taken care of a myriad of grinding chores long before the family eventually arrived, bringing a quizzical expression to the Aboriginal elder’s features. But when Bob explained the reason for their tardiness, Eddie was surprisingly less than eager to assist in any search and recovery effort. Death is culturally taboo to the Aboriginal people and even mentioning the name of a deceased person brings all sorts of ramifications for those left behind. However, Eddie was more than happy to assist Mishy in preparing the evening meal with an assortment of bush tucker he’d collected on the way home.
By the time Mishy had settled the girls back into their homestead routine and Butch had unloaded the camping equipment from their weekend jaunt, Bob had been on the phone to police communications, organising an air search over the isolated property. In a matter of hours, a search and rescue team had spotted the victims and recovered their bodies. Acting deliriously and under the influence of severe dehydration, the pair had simply wandered off into the bush and collapsed. Writing coronial reports had become a commonplace situation for the red headed bush copper, but this time it appeared to be accidental and with the proper local knowledge and preparations, the whole debacle would have been avoided and two people wouldn’t have had to perish unnecessarily.
Mishy glanced through the kitchen window and directly down the dark access track, watching a halo of light approaching as Bob and Butch completed the official clean up task. Station life may be isolated, but what they lacked in people traffic made up for in unusual and sometimes dire situations. There was never a dull moment and always something urgent needing to be attended to.
The evening meal around the family table seemed deficient of the usual frivolity and life. Butch and Bob appeared sombre, and Eddie was shovelling his meal, prepared to leave at the first hint of talk relating to the deaths. Jess and Molly were tired and knew something had happened but weren’t sure what, and Danica couldn’t wait for her sisters to leave for bed so she could ask about the troubling incident.
Eddie pushed his chair back from the table and took his dirty dishes to the sink, surprising the silently eating family members, but Mishy knew of Eddie’s cultural taboos and guessed there would be some unpleasant discussion the elder didn’t want to hear once the children had abandoned the table. Mishy offered to wash his dishes and allow him an easy escape to his private accommodation before the discussion even started.
Another casualty of the weekend’s exhausting activity floundered at the dinner table, almost asleep in her meal as Molly’s head slumped over her plate.
“Danica, can you bath Molly and prepare her for bed please, honey?” Mishy requested, noticing Danica had finished her meal.
“Yes, Mum... umm... I have some questions I’d like to ask when Jess and Molly are in bed,” Danica’s eyes darted from her mother to her father and finally settled on Uncle Bob, wondering whether they would permit her to be involved in the adults’ debriefing she was sure would take place.
Mishy’s eyes darted to Butch, concern etched deliberately in her questioning gaze and watching her husband’s reaction to his eldest daughter’s request.
Butch silently gawked at the wiry copper, his expression asking for guidance but Bob just shrugged. “It’s your call, Butch.”
Butch turned his gaze proudly upon Danica. “My baby is almost a grown woman. I think she’s ready to take her place among the adult world.”
Mishy sighed in agreement and kissed Danica’s forehead. She was growing up too fast, but acknowledged her maturity. ”We’ll wait for you to finish with Molly, sweetheart.”
Danica swallowed heavily. She felt like she had reached a milestone and her parents were accepting her as an adult now, but she began to worry whether she really had the stomach for the gruesome facts and if she could ask the questions tugging at her curiosity without feeling queasy.
After baths and dressed for bed, Jess and Molly did the rounds of the adults, soliciting hugs and kisses before turning their weary thoughts to dreamland and a much needed sleep.
“Isn’t Danica coming too, Mummy?” Jess glowered at her older sister, speculating why she was allowed to stay up and obviously play a part in the adults’ conversation.
“She’ll be in soon, honey; we have some things to talk about with her first. Get into bed. Dad and I will be in soon to tuck you in, okay.”
Jess seemed happy at Mishy’s instructions but eyed Danica sceptically and then steered Molly down the passage, ambling towards their beds and away from the kitchen.
Four people took seats around the kitchen table as if in a boardroom meeting, with Danica and Bob sitting opposite Mishy and Butch. Danica’s concerns would be first on the agenda.
In a surprise move, Bob placed Danica’s package on the table and then pushed it towards her. “Talking to police central, they were able to track down the registration of the damaged Range Rover and it belongs to a news channel in Brisbane. Once we contacted the producer, he informed us the two reporters were on a mission to cover the recent murders around the district, but he had no idea why they had your package or why they had travelled six hours from Birdsville and ended up here. I had a hunch and did an enquiry with Sally Long at the Birdsville Post Office, and lo and behold, your package was checked onto the mail flight but they couldn’t find it when they checked off the manifest at Birdsville. I was getting real suspicious by this time and made an enquiry with Mal Kenwood, the pilot of the mail plane, and it turns out our female reporter came in on the same plane and was picked up by her colleague at the Birdsville Hotel in the Range Rover... only it wasn’t damaged then.”
“So this was all just a stunt to get an inside story?” Butch interrupted.
Bob nodded. “It appears that way, Butch. Anyway, Danica, you can have your property back now.”
Danica’s eyes gleamed at the package, but as she took the parcel, she couldn’t help thinking about the events leading up to its arrival, bringing some angst and wiping some of the shine off her pleasure. “So... the people in that damaged car... died, d... didn’t they?” Danica tried not to show her revulsion and put on a brave face as she tore open the sealing flap of her parcel.
“Yes, sweetheart, they died of exposure and heat stroke. Some call it hyperthermia.”
“What’s that?” Danica’s eyes darted from person to person around the table, looking for answers.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 70
While Danica waited for an explanation for her question, she emptied the contents of her parcel onto the table: a smart friendship bracelet from Anne-Claire; a lengthy letter; and a CD of the Sticky Lizards’ latest hits. She turned over the CD cover and ran her eye down the music, but she couldn’t recognise any of the songs.
Concentrating hard and thinking through a short response, Bob cleared his throat, drawing Danica’s attention away from the parcel’s contents. “Well, basically, Danica, our bodies have to maintain a constant core temperature by one or two degrees before we go into meltdown. If our core rises or drops by more than three degrees, it can be catastrophic and we can die. In hot climates like ours, we need shade from the sun and copious amounts of drinking water to survive and help moderate our body’s core temperature. That’s why whenever you go anywhere with your parents in the outback, they always carry two plastic twenty-litre jerry cans of water in the vehicle. Your mum and dad know that one human body requires sixteen litres of water per day at forty degrees Celsius to survive, and more if you have no shelter. The two people who perished had a one litre plastic bottle between them, and they left the shelter of their vehicle. It surprises me they managed to walk twenty-five kilometres before they succumbed, knowing one litre of water would be good for one person for about forty-five minutes. Once a body gets to the stage of dehydrated heatstroke, it needs to b
e cooled immediately, otherwise it shuts down and simply dies.”
As she lay in her bed, Danica’s mind refused to relax, unable to shake off the description Bob Maxwell had given of the two people who had died of heatstroke seemingly just outside their front yard. Keeping the volume low enough so as not to wake her sisters sleeping nearby, the miniature CD appliance played the Sticky Lizards’ music through tiny headphones and brought Danica a slight hint of comfort. Listening to the same music her Swiss friend enjoyed reopened the connection between her and Anne-Claire even if she couldn’t understand the foreign words, but the rhythmic beat seeped into her soul and immediately she found herself being drawn to Niccolo and eventually drifted off to sleep.
Somewhere in her slumber, a troubling conflict quickly formed and played with her dreams, disturbing a deep place in Danica’s heart. She enjoyed the group’s music but an association began to develop, tying the heavy rock music of the Sticky Lizards to the package and the people who’d stolen it from the mail plane and eventually perishing in horrific circumstances—instead of pleasant thoughts of her best friend, Anne-Claire.
*~*~*~*
Butch had been awake for some time and wandered out to the kitchen to make a coffee, unexpectedly meeting Bob Maxwell’s surprised gaze from the kitchen table.
“Pot’s still hot, Butch,” Maxwell offered.
“Thanks, Bob. Couldn’t you sleep without Eddie’s peg?”
“Droll, Butch, very droll!” Bob complained. “As a matter of fact I slept quite well and without the aid of your friend’s childish tricks.”
Just then a sleepy voice entered the kitchen. “Whose friend is up to childish tricks?” Mishy croaked, pulling her dressing gown tie around her waist.
“Your friend, Mrs Slater, and his peg bag of tricks,” Bob teased.
“You have to admit, Bob, it was pretty funny,” Mishy burst into a smile as Butch placed a cup of coffee on the table and pointed to it and then kissed his wife good morning before pulling out a chair for her to sit on.