‘I had a bit of a think about what you were asking this morning,’ she whispered. He leaned in closer and saw her stark expression. ‘I hope I didn’t get us in trouble, but I asked a couple of questions about some other incidents. Did you know there was another suicide at Kippen Bridge twenty years ago?’

Of course he did, so he nodded.

‘Brian Fryer,’ she said, before the name could come back to him. ‘That was in your dad’s time,’ she added, cautiously. ‘Now that he’s retired, there’s talk they might be planning to close the Kippen police station. All the office records were dumped in one of our back rooms before Christmas.’

‘Do you have them?’

She nodded. ‘I also know about a bashing last year, over the border.’

‘What kind of injury?’

‘He was hit multiple times with a baseball bat. There were at least three attackers, and they left him in a ditch on the side of the road near a closed service station.’

‘Did he die?’

‘No. Mark went to live in Sydney.’

‘How do you know?

‘My brother didn’t go to the police. Nobody up here apart from me knows about his... his lifestyle. He said he went to the police but they didn’t do anything about it. The gang is mainly from Queensland, but there are locals that get involved, he reckons.’

James was so intent on listening that the plug of the urn slipped from his fingers and dropped onto his foot. Denise started, then reached for it and tucked it over his arm.

‘Mum doesn’t know about Mark,’ Denise whispered. James put his hand on her shoulder, which set her off sobbing. ‘You don’t need to be comforting me, not today.’

‘Well, the more we talk, the better,’ James said. ‘I have a name. It’s a bit of a long shot, but if any of the Joneses appear in any of the paperwork, we’d have a definite lead.’

She pulled away from him and put one trembling hand up, face grave with recognition, as though taking on any more would bring her physical pain.

‘I can’t lose my job,’ she said. ‘Thanks for taking Mum home,’ she added nervously, even though he hadn’t. Instead of correcting herself she retreated to the driver’s side of the car.

‘Oh, that paperwork from the archives arrived,’ she said. ‘Your dad collected it about twenty minutes ago and said he’d give it to you at the pub.’

Two hours left in town, and:-

There’s only one thing left to do.

It’s the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything.

I’m going to have to confront the retired cop in the family.

Twelve 1985

TWELVE
1985