He was about to leave when he noticed a copy of last week’s Kippen and Wishaw Times on the next table, Andy Jones’ round, rosy face staring back at him from the top of a back-cover advertisement for Jones and Son stock and station agency. No image of the son, though, just a series of unimpressive homesteads, acreage and auction dates.

The list prices varied, but a one-thousand-acre property that looked about the same vintage as Deloraine was going for almost half a million dollars.

James snorted in amazement and checked to see if anyone had noticed, flipped the edition over and flattened the front page with his hand. At the top of the teaser column he found it.

Kippen Bridge suicide: latest details.

The red kicker strapline sported the words ‘lonely local death’, the way any old-school sub-editor would have pitched it. Just a follow up, no details. Only the man’s name, ‘identified as Tony Brandt, 40, formerly of “Deloraine”, Kippen,’ was published, and no hints about the time his body had lain undiscovered. James noticed one typo and two literals, and that the last paragraph was a straight repeat of the first.

But there was one crucial element missing. Someone had laid out this typical sensationalist story without adding a by-line. That meant only one thing: the story was basically a re-hash of the police report.

At the bottom of page four he found the contact details of whoever put the thin edition together. It wasn’t a Kippen address; this was a regional weekly published in the city by the main competitor of James’s company. Nothing about the lazily-copied police report would trigger the allocation of a city journalist to agitate the Kippen cops in case more details came to light about Tony’s death.

James flipped open his phone and redialled his father’s number. As soon as the answering machine kicked in, he hung up. He’d just have to question Dad after the funeral.

Back in town for twenty-four hours, and:-

I don’t feel like going to the funeral (I’d rather have a look around the Jones farm because I bet that ute with the dog cage is parked right in the driveway).

I’m pretty sure I’ve uncovered a murder.

Actually, Dad probably had a murder on his watch back then.

That’s two unsolved murders (and this does feel like I’m in a crap novel).

Tony’s body should go back to the morgue, not into the ground.

Eight 1985

EIGHT
1985

Tony knew his hair was springing up in all directions even though he’d tried pushing it down whenever no one was looking. Mother even licked her hand and pressed his fringe flat as they piled into the car after the wedding rehearsal at the church. It was bad enough that Leanne noticed, but at home Mother went completely overboard showing his fiancée into Deloraine like she was Princess bloody Anne.