Murderer's Thumb (20 page)

‘I wish you'd told me about this…'

He cut her short. ‘It's because you go off that I don't tell you anything.'

‘You're under age, both of you. If the police…'

But Adam had slammed the door and didn't hear the rest of her speech. He was racing for the passenger side door but Snake was in it, motioning for Adam get in the back. Toot was driving.

Adam bundled into the back of the car and closed the door. ‘What's going on?' he said echoing his mother's words.

Toot twisted round, reversing the car, and met Adam's furious glare. ‘Don't get precious,' she said. ‘I'm in on this too, now.'

‘What!' Adam roared, directing his anger at Snake. ‘What have you done?'

‘It's OK, Stats. Don't stress.'

‘Don't go sick at him,' Toot said. ‘It's not his fault. I punched it out of him.'

They drove past the milking shed, up the track that led along the ridge. Adam could barely control his contempt. ‘This is bullshit! You know we had to keep this secret.'

‘You can blame yourself for that. You're shit at keeping things underground,' she said. She switched off the ignition and got out. The boys followed her to the fence. Toot had the sense to carry a torch which she flicked on. She slipped through the wire and strode towards the shack without waiting for them.

Adam was puzzled by her words. ‘What's she on about?' he asked.

Snake took a moment to answer. ‘Well she reckons we've been acting suspicious all week. It was obvious we were up to something.'

Adam sighed. ‘What did you tell her? Everything?'

‘Kind of…no I…I told her we were laying a trap for Loody and Mongrel. She wanted in. She hates those bastards.'

‘Does she know we've got Lina's diary?'

Snake prised the wire apart and ducked through. ‘No… no I didn't tell her. I reckon she knows though.'

‘Shit! How?'

‘Intuition? Stats, cool it, will you! She won't talk. She's fine.'

Adam wasn't convinced. From his experience women always screwed up. Of the six times they'd shifted house, Rosemary's female work colleagues had let slip to Kazek information about their location four times. ‘Since when did women keep quiet?' Adam said.

‘You're unreal, you are,' Snake said incredulously. ‘I thought you were progressive…being the city kid and everything. Not like the idiots round here anyway. But then you shock me with the dumbest, sexist comments.' He walked off, leaving Adam on the Thackeray side of the fence.

Adam was stunned into silence by Snake's criticism. Was it true? Was he just as bigoted and opinionated as the Falcon Ridge hicks he derided? But how could he trust Toot? He couldn't just take Snake's character references as gospel. Of course he'd stick up for his sister, blood being thicker than water and all that crap. Then again, Snake had been right every time so far. Maybe Adam
was
being sexist. And he had to admit, he did like her. She was so measured, so unflp-pable. Even the time he'd told her to piss off, she didn't freak out and overreact.

‘Come on,' Snake urged. ‘She's probably at the shack by now.'

Adam threaded through the wires and charged after them.

‘Hurry up!' she called. They could hear the groan and creak of the door as she forced it open.

The boys reached the ramshackle building and followed her inside. The air smelled musty. Toot's torch illuminated an interior cramped with wooden pallets and plastic drums. The old tin heater and the car bench seat were pressed into a corner against the wall. There was no sign of the wooden chair or table.

‘So what have you come up with?' Adam asked.

Snake took a small notebook from his back pocket and handed it to Adam. A bit too small for a real diary, but it would be fine for what they needed.

Toot stood beside him with the torch. ‘Like it?' she asked.

Written inside, in Snake's unusual elongated script, were about five pages of entries, all listed as early October. Adam skimmed a few pages and saw the references to ‘Mongrel the Moron' and ‘Loser Loody'. Adam cracked a smile. ‘What made you write this shit?' he asked Snake.

‘I dictated it,' Toot said. ‘Thought it needed a woman's touch, authentic feel about it.' As she spoke her hand crept across his back and shoulders. It made his skin prickle. He was thankful Snake was inspecting the drums and pellets.

‘It's good,' he said.

‘I thought you'd like it.' Her words were also thick with double meaning and she pinched him then, hard on the waist. So hard, he gave a startled gasp.

Snake swung around. ‘What is it?'

Adam and Toot doubled up laughing. ‘Nothing,' Toot said. ‘I just stood on his toe.'

‘Uh, right,' Snake said suspiciously. ‘Well where should we plant it?'

‘The pallets?' Toot said.

‘No,' said the boys together.

‘Why not?'

‘I have it on good authority that they weren't here when the diary was hidden,' Snake said in a pseudo professional tone. ‘I say we slip it into the car seat.'

‘Sounds all right,' Adam said. He handed him the diary. ‘You can plant it yourself.'

Snake took the torch and scrambled over the pallets to the old seat. Adam stood in the dark, sizzling with anticipation. Would she touch him again? He could smell her beside him, a peculiar mixture of mechanic's solvent, which he liked, and deodorant, which he didn't. Her fingers tangled with his, she leant against him and whispered, ‘I've been watching you.'

‘I know.'

‘Do you want to…we could…you know…'

The torch light swept the room and they sprang apart.

‘Done it,' Snake said. He leapt from the pallets onto the floor in front of them and gave them a strange look. ‘Ready?'

‘Yeah, whatever,' Adam said, his voice sounding choked. He felt cheated, her warmth snatched away. He wanted to touch her again, but what would Snake do? Would he freak? Did it matter if he did? He wasn't mental about his sister like Matt had been about Emma.

They walked back to the car in an awkward silence. Snake was in the middle, still holding the torch. ‘It's only half past nine,' he said. ‘Do you want to go for a drive?'

Adam didn't object. The more time he spent with Toot the better. ‘Where to?' he said.

‘How about the silage pit,' she said challengingly and she gave the keys to Snake. ‘You're driving.'

The instant she mentioned the silage pit, something in Adam's gut twisted. He had to put them off. ‘I thought you weren't allowed to drive on the road,' he said.

‘We're not. Dad thinks we're in one of our back paddocks. We won't let him know.' He opened the door and got in.

Adam and Toot brushed together, both reaching for the back door. ‘Sorry, you can sit in the back,' he said, moving away.

‘No, you.'

‘Just get in, will you!' Snake said. He started the engine.

Adam hesitated, then slid in beside her.

‘What is this? A taxi service?' Snake asked.

‘I'll get in the front if you like…' Adam said, but Snake was already driving down the track to the milking shed. He babbled on, outlining the plan to hook Loody's interest tomorrow.

Adam was only half listening. His knees stuck out either side of the driver's seat. Toot's leg was touching his, sending waves of anticipation to his head. Would she take his hand again? Would she lean against him? Maybe around the bends…

The first turn onto the Redvale-Booradoo Road had Adam against the door, then there was the big curve around the murderer's thumb part of the farm that held him there. Even when they went into the paddock it was still a left-hand turn, and someone had to get out to open the gate. Toot emerged as soon as Snake stopped the car. No arguments, no delay.

They drove through and Toot returned to the back seat with Adam, which surprised him. He thought she'd take the front now she had time to get in.

‘OK Snake, fang it!' she said and instantly Adam fell sideways onto her as Snake curled the car round in a full throttled roar, wheels spinning and soil flicking, showering over the roof. Then he swung it in the opposite direction and Adam thudded against the door, with Toot on top of him laughing and shrieking. His arms went round her and he gulped in the smell of her hair and skin, his face grazing her neck for an instant. Then they were thrown in the other direction as Snake continued his circle work. Adam's left hand was jammed under Toot's bottom and once again his face was against her hair. The thrill of her so close, her hip pressed into his groin gave him the biggest jolt, and the biggest hard-on. He fought to suppress it, think of something else…water troughs, fried eggs, old boots, silage.

‘That's enough folks,' Snake said and he slowed down and drove to the gate.

Adam righted himself and caught his breath. His pulse was thumping in his neck. Had Snake noticed what was going on in the back?

Toot straightened her top and gave Adam a funny look. She got out and closed the gate behind them. She sat in the front on the way back to the Thackerays. Did she know he'd had an erection? She must have. Was he too rough, or too weird, grabbing her arse and sniffing her neck like that? She didn't push him away, but then why didn't she get in the back with him again? Snake drove the car up to the old farmhouse.

Adam got out and said goodnight.

‘Bye,' Toot muttered. She didn't smile at him; she didn't even look at him. Had he totally screwed up?

TWENTY-TWO

The next day Matt drove Adam to the Selwyn football ground. Adam's stomach was writhing. It wasn't that he didn't want to play. It was the thrill of the first game. Would he prove himself, or play like a total reject? He wanted to perform well, keep a place in the side, earn some respect for his game, but would his eye hold up for four quarters? Or would he start playing two footballs by half-time? It depended on how hard he went in and whether he was on the ball a lot. Too much concentration and his vision would double, his head throb. He'd be punching fresh air, looking a total dickhead.

Adam hadn't said anything to Birdie about it. He didn't want to appear a whinging hypochondriac. Plus he didn't think he'd have to tell them; they'd pencilled him in as a half-back on the team sheet. If they kept him there he could rest a while, he wouldn't be on the ball the whole game, and he could play to the best of his ability. In the ruck he'd be burnt-out before half-time, fumbling around for a phantom football. The crowd would be horrifled.

He said little for the thirty-minute drive, while Matt filled him in on the history of the Selwyn football club. Matt's ability to retain trivia amazed Adam. He knew how many premierships Selwyn had won and when, and which players were the major goal kickers and best on ground. Adam thought Matt would be great on one of those television quiz shows where the contestant gets to choose their specialty subject. Except he'd need extra time to get the answer out while he stammered in front of the cameras.

They reached the oval half an hour before the first bounce. Due to Selwyn's large population, the football ground was better resourced than the Redvale-Falcon Ridge ground. It had big wrought-iron entrance gates and a cyclone fence around the perimeter. The clubrooms were bigger too. They even had the scorer's box set into the second storey, so club officials were never far from a hot pie and a beer.

They parked next to Mongrel's white Rodeo. Adam noticed the sticker on the back window: Ferals Must Die. Ferals and native wildlife, Adam mused. Especially defenceless joeys.

They left the car and walked towards the clubrooms. Mongrel met them at the door, his piggy eyes squinting in the sunlight. Bullnecked, he stood with his arms crossed, like a bouncer at a nightclub.

‘All set for the game, Stats?' he asked.

‘Yeah.'

Mongrel jabbed Adam playfully in the guts. Adam didn't see it coming. He flinched.

Mongrel doubled up laughing. ‘You got to be ready for 'em, mate.'

He only spoke two languages: bullshit and fight. Adam strode past him. How did Matt's sister ever fall for such a jerk?

In the centre of the room Birdie was giving out footy jumpers. ‘I saved a big one for you, Stats!' He handed him a scratchy red vest with a huge number eight sewn on the back.

‘Thanks,' Adam muttered.

‘Hey Stats, all ready, are you?' Snake called from the doorway. ‘Should be a laugh.'

‘Yeah.' Adam didn't feel like laughing. The churn in his guts felt like a concrete mixer. He grabbed the team's supply of sunscreen and started squirting it down his arms.

Soon the room was full of men, players and supporters, all shouting.

‘Carn fellas.'

‘Show 'em how it's done.'

‘Let's go.'

‘You can do it, fellas.'

The players jumped on the spot nervously or waved their arms around, warming up. Adam hated this part of the tradition: the pumping up, the testosterone fix, preparing for battle. Like Matt, he wasn't the warrior type. Footy for Adam was all about fitness and stamina, not punching heads.

Adam ran onto the ground surrounded by his teammates, a swarm of red and white. After two hours on the field, they would have heat stroke.

The first quarter went well. Adam got a few touches and they trailed by only eight points at the siren. Birdie revved them up in the huddle, raved on about ‘keeping your eye on the ball', ‘picking up the loose man' and giving ‘one hundred and ten percent'. That expression irritated Adam. It was like saying ‘I want you to do something that is totally impossible.' Then Birdie shouted out specific team changes, and to Adam's horror, he'd been shifted to the ruck. There was backslapping and more ‘come on fellas' and then they were dispersing over the field, tagging their opponents and shouting encouragement to one another.