Suddenly it seemed that this cold case file came with layers: a father dead, the mother at the Lodge, the son missing—what was going on at Dixby Downs?And why hadn’t Porter said anything about this sooner when he put the cold case file on the table?
Was Porter deliberately setting her up to fail?
Or had he held back… to let her form her own opinion?
‘Rohan fell off the back of his ute,’ continued Tilly.‘In his younger days, like most stockmen, my husband would’ve just brushed it off and got on with it.’
Reminding Amara of the silly stockmen playing the game of Hold-My-Beer in the pub’s car park.
‘Being an older man, the fall would’ve hurt Rohan, sure.But it shouldn’t have killed the man, not when he was as tough as saddle leather.’
‘My grandfather fell off the back of the truck once,’ said Amara.‘He slipped, lost his balance, and broke his hip badly.They forced him into retirement.’
‘But he didn’t die now, did he?’
‘No.’She shook her head.But she remembered it killed her grandfather’s spirit when they moved him to a home, he gave up.
It made her take another look around the room, at the elderly stockmen and the station owner before her.‘Do you like it here?’
‘Was the first to sign up for a room before they’d even poured the foundations.’Tilly tapped her long cane on the floor.
‘Why?’asked Amara.Tilly may have the grey hair and the deep lines of someone who’d lived a long life under an outback sun, but the station owner seemed too young, too full of life, to be here.
‘We’re all the same here.We’ve all lived this town’s story, and we all share the same love of the Territory’s outback.She’s a wild beast, this here country is, but she’s beautiful and there’s nowhere else like her.Even if some of us are forgetting…’ Tilly nodded at Esther playing the piano, smiling as she sang.
‘I admire Esther’s courage for wearing a ballgown and tiara, because she can.’It was playful.
‘Esther’s like the director for fun in this place.’Porter grinned at Esther, then shared that same smile, a softer one, with Amara.It was a smile that made her belly spin in ways it shouldn’t.
‘You forget the part where she can be annoying when you want to be a grouch in the corner.’Tilly may be complaining, but the cheeky glimmer in her eye gave her away—or was that her response to the sly wink from Porter.‘Where were we?’
‘Your husband had died,’ offered Amara, getting them back on track.
‘Blunt-force trauma, they said.’Tilly scowled at Porter.‘Along with a bunch of Mumbo-jumbo for saying he hadrocks in his head.But how?Not when his flamin’ hat would've cushioned the blow—especially if he was workin’ on the back of his ute.The man never left the house without his hat.None of us do.’
Amara glanced between them.‘What’s his hat got to do with it?’
Tilly’s jaw tightened.‘It was still sittin’ on the dash—right where he always kept it while drivin’.For almost fifty years, I never once saw that man step into the sun without puttin’ it on first.Not once.’
Her hand tightened on the long cane resting beside her, as the silence settled around them like dust after a storm.
‘If he’d had that hat on, he might still be here.That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.’Tilly’s gaze then shifted to Amara.‘You know about hats, Constable?’
‘I make them.’
‘You do?’Porter arched an eyebrow at her.
‘Why?’Tilly demanded, screwing up her nose.‘I get they don’t make ‘em like they used to anymore, but hat making, now that’s a lost skill.’
‘It was something my mother and I did at the station.We’d make our own hats, and fascinators, especially for the race meets.You should’ve seen the elaborate ones for Melbourne Cup Day…’ She sighed, looking back at Esther in her ballgown.‘My mother and I would get all dressed up for the cup, even if it was just us, standing in front of the telly at the station.’
‘Oh, how I do miss a good frock.You know the Ironbark Ball is coming up.You goin’, Porter?’
‘I’m rostered to patrol the roads to ensure people get home safely.’
‘Pity.’Tilly aimed her cane in Amara’s direction.‘You should take this girl ‘ere and show her a good time.’
‘Amara’s probably going with her boss already.’Porter’s grin was pure torment, as if playing on her pet hate of anyone thinking she was sleeping with her boss.
