Murder would be the primary topic for discussion today. Whodunnit, basically. According to Riley, Barrymore was convinced it was Cal. After I heard this latest theory I was sorry I hadn't given my permission for Cal to go at it with Detective Barrymore. I reckon if it came down to it the old man could beat the pulp out of the likes of Barrymore, no worries. The useless bastard reckoned Cal was jealous of Jim and angry that he was growing old while his son appeared to have the world at his feet. According to Barrymore it was a textbook psycho case, happens all the time, so he said.

Little shoe impressions obviously didn't count for much. I hoped like hell that this wasn't going to be a case of Barrymore solving an isolated outback murder quickly so that he could come out a hero. A psycho motive would obviously be a whole lot less messy than trying to match little shoes to a little murderer. Out here there'd be no one to question him. That's why I figured Riley and I had better come up with something real soon, even though we probably wouldn't be good for much until after Jim's funeral. I didn’t dare tell my Grandma what Barrymore had said about Cal and fortunately catching up with Evan had kept her occupied enough during the past few days that she hadn’t been out to ‘The Cedars’.

Today, our trip would serve its purpose and I was actually looking forward to finding some little place to eat. Lunch would probably be fresh chicken and ham salad sandwiches made with the thickest and tastiest country bread ever made. Bread always was one of the best reasons for coming home, I reckon.

"Have you heard from Riley, dear?" I heard my Grandma ask. She must have been still wondering about the blown-up picture of Melanie that we had seen on last night's six o'clock news.

"Ah, no. I think he's getting a bit frustrated at not being able to find Melanie. He reckons the local coppers have just about turned Coff's Harbour upside down and there's no sign of the Teague family."

"It's very strange, that she would just disappear like that, I mean."

"Yeah. Do you know if Melanie and Jim were having any problems, Grandma?"

          "Heavens no, dear. I already told you we were all expecting a

wedding very soon."

          "I know, I know. It just doesn't add up, that's all."

      "What doesn't add up?" Grandma had taken a hand-held wooden fan out  of her purse and was now gently fanning herself. There were delicate cherry blossoms painted on the back of the fan and now they swayed gently to and fro in their own little dance. This was just Grandma's way of saying she didn’t put much stock in new-fangled air conditioners. I smiled as I thought that people don't put much stock in new-fangled anything out here.

        "Ah… well, I seem to be getting conflicting reports about Melanie."I had to cough away a tingle in my throat. "Everyone in the family obviously thinks that she is an absolute angel and that they couldn't wait for Jim to marry her. But, I heard on the grapevine that Melanie and Jim had been seen fighting in public and that they had in fact split up. There are questions also about Melanie's so-called work practices and the man she works for." 

          "What kind of questions, dear?"

          "Well, I gather it's all to do with all this new development and bringing people out here from the city and so forth. Seems Mr O'Dooley, Melanie's boss, is not above using intimidation if he wants to get his hands on a particular piece of land. Melanie is the advance scout, as it were, sent in to find out people's weaknesses and to sweeten them up as much as she can. Then, if she can't win people over, O'Dooley comes in with guns blazing. I believe he even used some Sydney thugs to scare old Mrs McDowell late at night. They circled her house and howled like dingoes for nearly two hours and when the old lady tried to phone the police the phone wires had been cut. I don't know how she found that out, but it was Alison Rutan who told me that one. Remember Alison, Grandma? Alison wasn't exactly complimentary of either O'Dooley or Melanie. And, I can't for the life of me think why Jim would want to take up with someone like that, especially if all that stuff is true. Oh, that's only a small part of it. You want to hear the rest?"

          People I hadn't seen in ages just kept materialising out of nowhere and pretty soon the whole of Wilga Street was full of cars. The unofficial Clovelly Carpark stretched up into Munnell Street, down past the swimming pool and almost to Bourbah Street. Clumps of people stood around on the footpath, on the verandahs, on the back lawn, wherever there was a space basically. As I moved from group to group I listened to the dry humour that sometimes is all that keeps people going in places like this. Evan was probably the worst offender in this department. Get him going and the old bugger could bait the Pope himself.

          "I hear that simple boy of Slim Groat's is workin' for the undertaker these days," I heard Evan say.

          "That's right," replied Bob McDuff, "He's a real worry too, that boy. I heard he sometimes forgets to screw the screws into the coffins."

          "Blood oath, he does," Kev Baxter piped up, "I know that only too well, mate. I got the shock of me life when they tried to plant me muvver-in-law and jest as they was lowerin' her in there… the bloody top 'alf slips off the coffin and the old girl spit straight in me eye. Gawd's truth…"

          "Now don't you go worrying' about nothin' like that, " Jilly O'Reagan said as she smoothed the pleats of her best Sunday suit. "I've got that covered, right here." With that Jilly tapped the large tapestry purse she had slung over her left arm and the old men nodded knowingly, apparently somewhat reassured.

          A few minutes later I asked Evan what Jilly had meant and he laughed out loud, "She got a screwdriver in her purse. Reckons she checks all the coffins before the ceremonies… just in case one of 'em is like to come back and haunt her!"

          Just before two o'clock the mourning cars came to the little house in Wilga Street to collect us. Cal, May and Annie went in the leading car and Grandma and I went in the other. Everyone else in town was already at the church when we drove up. The church was only a few streets away and we could have walked there like everyone else but I was informed that that would not be the done thing. Yeah, we had to do things right, for Jim. I felt like a misplaced dignitary as the big black limousine rolled into its parking space beside the church and we were ushered into the front entry.

          I wasn't prepared for the sight of Jim's shiny mahogony coffin resting on a stand in front of the altar, surrounded by a swathe of flowers. The little white wooden church seemed to be filled with a hazy sunlight that afternoon and the coffin was positioned so that a shaft of sunlight caught the coffin like a spotlight in a theatre. I was only vaguely aware of the sea of faces anxiously following our progression as we were led to our places in the front pew.

          Showtime, Jimbo.

          Don't ask me what happened next. A lot of it just didn't make it upstairs, if you get my drift. I was concentrating so hard to keep from losing it that I didn't even hear what the Minister said about Jim, but by all accounts he did Jim real proud. Apparently the singing and the music were pretty cool, but then they always are in this little church where even blokes like me who are tone deaf can come out singing like angels. I could feel Annie beside me, quivering like a little joey who had just lost its mother. I remember wondering how I could have thought all those bad things about her; and about what a scumbag I was. I remember reaching over to take my Grandma's hand and at that time I actually prayed for the first time in a long time. I prayed that Jim's killer was nowhere in sight that afternoon. I prayed with all my might.