Dead and Gone

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Moths flew around the outside light, banging into the bulb with muffled thumps. Out here at the back of the pub the only other sound was the river gurgling.

‘D-dunno,’ Billy stammered. ‘He’s face down, in the rubbish. He’s not moving.’

‘Did you actually check if he’s alive?’

‘The cops, you know, on TV they say not to touch anything. So I didn’t.’ He shifted from foot to foot, as if he wanted to run away. ‘He... he looks dead.’

‘Have you called them? The cops, I mean. Connor.’ Now I was babbling myself.

‘Yep. Is that OK?’ He gazed at me anxiously.

‘Of course. Did you tell him you’d found a body?’

‘Yep. Don’t think he believed me.’ His head swivelled back and forth and I realised he was hoping his brother was nearby.

‘What made you look in the dumpster? Did you hear something?’

‘No, it was because the lid was open. It’s never usually open. Seemed weird. I dunno.’ His mouth trembled and he turned away quickly.

I made a decision. ‘Look, I’ll stay here. You go back inside, tell Mike what’s happened – and do it quietly. I don’t want half the customers out here gawking. Then keep an eye on the place. Last thing we need is a bar fight as well as this.’

‘Righto.’ Billy made his escape, his face alight with relief.

I stood under the dim halo of light and waited, the moths and bugs flitting around my head and some landing in my hair. I kept swatting them away, and checking my watch. s**t! What was taking Connor so long? Billy might be wrong. Probably it was just a drunk customer who’d thought the dumpster might make a handy free bed.

I knew I should look in the dumpster myself and see if I recognised who it was, see if they needed help, but some gut-deep feeling kept me pinned under the outside light. I knew what a dead person looked like, and I didn’t want to be reminded of Andy. Just as I was about to call Connor again myself, his police 4WD pulled into the car park. I waved, and he drove past the parked cars and on to the grass near me, then jumped out and put his hat on. Official business.

‘What’s up? Billy said he found a body. Was he having me on?’ Connor sounded calm but his voice had an edge of excitement. His usual business was petty theft or speeding tickets.

‘I haven’t checked it out myself. I took him at his word.’ I pointed down the side of the hotel. ‘It’s in the dumpster, apparently.’

‘Any idea who it is?’

‘Billy said face down – he’s got no idea.’

Connor pulled on latex gloves and walked past me; I followed, like he was the Pied Piper and I couldn’t resist. No one said I had to look inside the dumpster...

Above the kitchen’s back door was another dim yellow lamp, just enough to illuminate the area and no more. The lattice fencing was pocked with dark shadows and the smell of rotting food filled the air. Connor got out his torch and examined the area briefly before going up to the dumpster.

‘You’re not going to cordon it off?’ I asked.

‘In a minute. I need to check the person is deceased first. They might be unconscious.’

‘Oh. Right. I should have... I thought...’ I found myself wringing my hands and tucked them under my arms.

‘Bugger.’ Connor was reaching down into the rubbish, his legs dangling. ‘Can’t quite reach.’ He dragged one leg up and over, tottered on the edge and, just as I thought he’d fall right in, he caught himself and managed to step down. ‘Great. My trousers will stink for weeks.’ He bent down and I lost sight of him, could only hear muttering. Then he straightened and grimaced at me. ‘I’m sorry. It’s Big Macca.’

I jerked back, nearly lost my balance. ‘Bullshit. He’s away at a business meeting. Been gone all day.’ My voice croaked, I coughed, tried to breathe. ‘How could it be Macca? Is he dead?’

‘Yep.’

‘Could it be an accident?’

‘Like a heart attack? Doubt it. He’s got two bullet holes in him.’

‘Oh God.’ My knees wobbled and I had to sit down, but there was nowhere, not even a mop bucket. Instead I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, my skin slick with cold sweat.

Connor climbed out of the dumpster, shaking the potato peelings off his shoes. ‘Pongs in there.’

‘It’s a giant rubbish bin. Nothing I can do about it.’ Why the hell were we talking about rubbish? My vision blurred and I blinked hard. ‘Now what?’

‘Now I cordon off the area, call in the big boys. They’ll send a Homicide team up from Melbourne. And the crime scene officers.’ He glanced at me. ‘This is going to be tricky. I know you don’t want to close the pub – it’ll cause a riot – but someone inside might’ve done this. A drunk racegoer, maybe, who tangled with Macca just as he arrived back.’

I gaped at him. ‘I don’t even know where to start with that.’

‘I have to do my job,’ he said. ‘We can’t let anyone back here. And I need to get people’s names and addresses and stop them from leaving, but I can’t be in two places at once. Preserving the scene is more important.’

Good. Something practical I could do. ‘There are a lot of regulars on race night. I’ll try to write them all down for you, and get as many of the out-of-towners as I can.’ I straightened, rubbed my face, turned my back on the dumpster and headed for the side door. ‘I’ll lock this door, OK? And I’ll tell Andre to lock the kitchen door as well. He’ll have to know, or he’ll come barging out with more rubbish to throw in... over... s**t. You know.’

‘Good idea.’ Connor followed me and gripped my shoulder briefly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, fine. Let’s get on with it. Whatever it is.’ I went back into the lounge bar, locking the door behind me. Luckily it wasn’t a fire escape door. The kitchen door was, but that was too bad. I pasted a smile on my face and made my way through the lounge bar, stopping long enough to murmur to Suzie that the side door was locked and had to stay that way, and I’d explain later. She nodded and went back to serving at the speed of light, alongside our other barman, Charlie. By now, most people were well away and not likely to notice anything odd. Someone had put a Queen song on Macca’s vintage jukebox and people were singing loudly and out of tune.

In the kitchen, Andre was bashing pots and pans, and trying to plate up four meals. I stood back out of his way, waiting until he’d put the plates under the lamps and rung the bell for Kelly. He wiped the bench down with impatient swipes. ‘What? Don’t tell me there’s a party of ten coming in now, for pity’s sake. You’ll be cooking for them yourself.’

‘No, it’s not that.’ Tears welled in my eyes and I brushed them away angrily. I had to pull myself together. ‘I have to lock the back door. You can’t go out there.’

‘What do you mean? What am I supposed to do with the rubbish?’ He glared at me and then slowly it dawned on him that something was seriously wrong. Probably it was the sick expression on my face. ‘Spit it out, lovey. What’s up? Must be bad.’

‘It’s Big Macca. He’s dead.’ I waved one hand vaguely in the air. ‘He... he’s out there.’ I couldn’t stop the tears now. ‘He’s in the f*****g dumpster.’

Andre turned nearly as pale as his chef’s jacket and the long, thin scar down the side of his face stood out like a silk thread. ‘What was he doing in the dumpster? Did he have a heart attack or something?’

I shook my head. I couldn’t get the words out. ‘I...ah...’ I coughed, cleared my throat, wiped my face. ‘Someone killed him.’ I held up my hands. ‘Don’t ask me why, or how. I don’t know. Connor’s here. He said keep the door locked, don’t go out there. All right?’

‘Yeah, yeah, of course.’ He picked up a knife, put it down again. ‘Can we close the restaurant now? No new customers?’

‘Yes. No problem.’ Suddenly I realised Big Macca was a couple of metres away, on the other side of the wall, and I needed to get out of there. I steadied myself, and went into the bistro. Kelly was taking another drinks order from Carl’s table, and I was relieved to see Simonetti was on coffee already, so he’d be out of there shortly. Hopefully, he’d go up to his room. When Kelly came over to me, I said, ‘I’m closing the bistro now. Once these people are finished eating, that’s it. You can set up for breakfast.’

Kelly half-shrugged. ‘Sure. Will Suzie need a hand in the bar later then?’

‘Maybe. We can’t afford to be rude so we’ll see how it goes.’

She gave me a quizzical look but even though I knew I wasn’t making much sense, I wasn’t in the mood to explain. She’d work it out later, no doubt. I grabbed the notebook we used for bookings and checked we had everyone’s names and phone numbers. That was a start. But if they wanted to leave, I could hardly bar the doors.

Going back into the lounge bar and acting normally was the hardest thing I’d had to do in a long time. I didn’t want to freak everyone out. Why was I so concerned about the customers and the rep of the pub? Big Macca wasn’t in a position to care. That thought made my throat close up and I coughed. I gulped down a mouthful of my Cointreau – luckily by now the ice had melted so it was half water – used the notebook and scribbled down all the names of people I recognised so Connor would know how to contact them later. Then I went into the other bar and did the same. Lots of strangers, but when I tried asking them for their names and addresses, they brushed me off like I was trying to sell them something. There wasn’t much I could do about that. No way was I telling anyone there’d been a murder. Connor was right about starting a riot.

Finally I rang Joleen and explained there was a problem at the hotel and was it possible for her to keep Mia overnight? ‘No worries,’ she said. ‘Mia’s already asleep and not likely to wake up until breakfast after the amount of running around she did with my two boys.’

‘Great, thanks.’ I hung up before she could ask me what the problem was. Joleen was a great help, but also very nosey.

I was tempted to go out and see how Connor was going, but I knew he’d call if he needed me. If I hadn’t been watching out of the side window I probably wouldn’t have noticed a police van arrive, and then two dark sedans driving around to the rear of the pub. Detectives, I guessed. I wanted to know what was happening, what they were doing about poor Macca, but more importantly they needed to deal with the pub crowd as people were starting to leave.

At least the ones staying upstairs weren’t going anywhere, but I didn’t relish having to tell them what’d happened, especially Carl and his mob. Carl was a good mate of Macca’s. I was tempted to slip him a drink that would knock him off his feet, but he’d fall in a heap soon enough. Mrs Carl had staggered off already, and I was glad to see Simonetti hadn’t lingered in the bar. If any of them noticed the police out the back and came downstairs to see what was going on, Connor would sort them out.

A few minutes later, I heard raised voices coming from the front car park and hurried out to see what was happening. The police Connor had called in had taken over and were talking to people as they left, recording names and addresses. One young man had arced up and was protesting loudly, but his mates were calming him down, their faces worried. Probably about being accused of drink-driving.

The police tape at the rear corner of the pub looked to me like it was made of neon lights but nobody else seemed to notice. I went back inside, glad to leave things to the police, still reluctant to tell anyone. Judi the Big Chicken.

Suzie eyed me hovering at the end of the bar. ‘How come you’re still here?’ she asked, as she stacked glasses in the dishwasher baskets.

I had to tell her but I didn’t want her to create a big fuss. How big a drama queen was she? Not at all, from what I could tell. She chatted a lot from behind the bar, but it was all light stuff about sport and what was on the news and getting the regulars to talk about themselves. She would’ve made a good therapist. ‘Listen, I’ve got some bad news. But I need you to keep it to yourself right now.’