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‘Yes, but you’re on holiday. Look, I’ll organise everything, then come get you from the house around seven-thirty.’

•

It was a cool, bright morning, and Chief showed his usual pleasure at walking towards the water and his enemies, the ducks. However, as they drew closer to the river, for once the shepherd didn’t stay close to Baxter but instead ran about in wide circles and constantly sniffed the air.

Finally he ran down to the jetty, pointed his nose at
Flora Jane
—and growled.

Baxter ran over to stand beside his dog. ‘What is it, mate?’

The shepherd kept growling, clearly disturbed. Baxter looked down at the river, where
Flora
was bobbing gently on the run-in tide. She didn’t look any different, and as far as Baxter knew, nothing out of the ordinary had happened to her. After the trip to the Islands, Steve Lewis had run her home and Jane had gone to Riverview and picked him up.
Flora
had been at her mooring for the few days since then.

But if Chief thought something was amiss, then as sure as blazes it was.

Had the boat been tampered with, or had something incriminating been planted on her? Baxter decided to contact
Ian Latham as soon as he could. In the meantime, he certainly wasn’t taking his mother anywhere near
Flora
, but he didn’t want to worry her—or to explain everything. As he hurried back, he came up with a white lie.

‘Sorry, Mum, I can’t oblige you this trip,’ he told her, sitting down across from her at the kitchen table. ‘Something’s gone funny with poor
Flora
’s engine. Must’ve happened when I took that fishing trip to the Islands over the weekend—she had a bit of a cough by the time I got back. I’ll have to get my mate Steve to take a look.’

Baxter knew his mother wouldn’t ask any questions, because she was even more hopeless with mechanical things than him.

‘What a pity,’ she said, ‘I was looking forward to a nice cruise on the river. It’s such a lovely, tranquil stretch of water.’ She was putting on a good show, but he could tell she was secretly relieved—a white lie to answer a white lie! ‘Oh well.’ She yawned and got up to make a cup of tea. ‘It’s quite old, isn’t it?’ she asked over her shoulder.

‘Do you mean the river or my
Flora
?’

‘The
boat
, Greg,’ she said, raising her eyes heavenward.

‘She’s not young, but she’s a decent enough runabout.’

‘Well, the boat obviously has a problem, and Julie says it’s a bit small for ocean fishing. Will you allow me to buy you a bigger one?’

Baxter’s eyebrows lifted—his mother’s generosity never failed to surprise him. Of course, he had his fingers crossed that his boat wasn’t permanently damaged, and he didn’t want
her to waste her money. ‘What’s with this sudden interest you have for boats? I really thought you hated them.’

Frances nodded. ‘I did. Your father took me out when I was pregnant, and I was violently ill. I thought I might lose you. It was out near the Islands and there was a big swell running. That experience put me off the water for some time, but not long ago I was taken for a lunch cruise up Middle Harbour, and I had no trouble whatsoever. This is such a quiet river that I think I’d be right as rain. Perhaps the next time I come down we’ll take Julie for a cruise and have lunch somewhere?’

‘That sounds great, Mum, though I’m quite happy with
Flora
. She’s plenty good enough for river fishing, and we can use Steve’s boat for outside trips.’

‘No, I insist—for my own comfort! And we can call it a birthday present.’

Baxter sighed and gave her a fond smile. ‘All right, Mum. Thanks.’

‘You find the boat you like and let me know how much it is. I shall expect you to have it here next time I come down.’

‘When do you reckon that will be?’

‘Hopefully no more than a couple of months. In fact, how about I come down for your birthday? We’ll have a small party, although this house is hardly ideal for entertaining.’ She glanced around. ‘Honestly, though it’s much nicer than when we bought it, it
is
a tiny bit cramped, isn’t it?’

Baxter felt a prickle of annoyance. ‘This house suits me fine, Mum. I didn’t pick it with entertaining in mind—I came here
to write. And if it’s a fine night, you couldn’t ask for a better outdoors site. I’ve had lights installed and it’s a magical place.’

‘Yes, dear, I’m sure it is.’

‘They’re not cheap, you know,’ he put in, not wanting to rehash their discussions about the house.

‘What aren’t?’

‘New boats.’

‘The one I was on was very nice,’ Frances said. ‘It had a kitchen and a bedroom
and
a shower.’

Baxter’s eyes widened. ‘Lord above! Were you on Packer’s yacht?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Just a nice comfortable little boat.’

‘I don’t need a boat like that. I’m not aiming to travel very far, or even stay out at night unless Steve and I go bream fishing.’

‘A boat with a kitchen and a bedroom could be very romantic,’ Frances said lightly. ‘I think it would offer definite possibilities.’

The extent to which his mother was prepared to go to get him married now became very clear to him.

‘You shock me, Mum. You really do.’

‘Sometimes you need to push things along, darling.’

‘Not with Julie Rankin, you don’t. She’s very much her own person.’

‘Well, whatever happens, I think a new boat would be an excellent investment in your future. You seem to be keen on
fishing, and a boat and fishing go together.’ She paused and raised one eyebrow. ‘But if you
should
invite someone to go out on a boat with you, it would be helpful to have congenial surroundings.’

‘I’ve always recognised that you were a good businesswoman, but not that you were such a schemer.’ Baxter chuckled. ‘Oh well, it’s your money. I’ll talk to Steve and see what he has to say about what boats are on the market.’

‘Thank you, Greg,’ Frances said, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

Baxter shook his head. His mother was the living embodiment of the fact that you never knew how a woman would behave. Just when you thought you had her sorted out, she would do something entirely contrary to your expectations. It was best not to try and out-think a woman, Baxter felt, but instead hang loose and wait for developments.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

As soon as his mother’s car pulled out of his drive, Baxter walked inside and put in a call to Ian Latham: ‘Southern delivery for L.’

A few minutes later, Latham rang back.

‘What’s the problem, Greg?’ the detective asked.

‘Chief’s behaving very strangely about my boat. He’s staring at her and growling, and he loves that boat. We go out on her all the time.’

‘He’s a terrific dog, champ, but maybe you’re taking him too seriously?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Chief has always been reliable—he definitely knows something’s not right. I think you ought to take a look.’

‘All right, I’ll have someone there inside the hour. And I probably don’t need to tell you this, but just in case—don’t go near your boat.’

‘No worries. I haven’t even gone up the jetty, in case of footprints.’

‘Good to hear. While I’ve got you on the line—I spoke to Dr Rankin, but it’s good to hear things from the horse’s mouth—how did your grilling go at the station?’

‘Tough for a while.’ Baxter gave Latham a brief rundown.

‘Don’t worry, Greg,’ the detective said, ‘it was a put-up job. The Sydney detectives didn’t suspect you for a single moment. We just have to be very careful because of you-know-who at the station. We’ve got one of our own in on the Drew case. We reckon that Campanelli or one of his men killed Drew, but if we arrest the kingpin for that we’ll blow the whole drug operation.’ He added, ‘I didn’t tell you that, so keep it to yourself.’

‘I’d like a few minutes alone with Campanelli,’ Baxter said fiercely.

‘We want him alive, not dead!’

‘What about half and half?’

‘Nix to that, champ,’ Latham said tightly. ‘Stay right away from Campanelli, or you might end up the next one sleeping with the fishes. We’ll nail him soon enough.’

‘You
hope
. What about Liz Drew? Julie says she’s terrified.’

‘I can understand how you feel. Just hang fire for a little
while and we should be able to put Campanelli out of circulation for quite a few years.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Baxter said, a chill in his voice. ‘People like him always appear to have an escape alley.’

•

Baxter didn’t have long to wait. A cream-coloured, half-cabin launch drifted in and tied up about fifty metres on the upriver side of Baxter’s jetty, and not long after its arrival Latham’s disreputable panel van pulled up beside the house.

The detective walked down to wait with Baxter and Chief beside the jetty, while his colleague—a sharp-eyed, grizzled man named Mal, whom Latham described as a forensics expert—inspected first the jetty (‘No footprints!’) and then the
Flora Jane
.

After only a few seconds, Mal climbed out and up onto the jetty. The grim smile on his face told Baxter that he’d been right to call Latham.

‘You should give your dog a feed of steak tonight,’ Mal said. ‘There’s a bomb inside the engine cover.’

Shocked, Baxter shot Latham a look, and saw that the detective didn’t seem to share his surprise.

Mal continued, ‘It’s wired up to explode when the ignition is turned on, and there’s enough explosive there to blow your boat to Kingdom Come. More than enough.’

‘Can you defuse it?’ Latham asked.

‘Of course,’ Mal said, looking offended. ‘And do you want to try for prints, Ian?’

‘I certainly do. We can’t pass up the chance to nail the bugger.’

Mal nodded and headed to his launch, returning with a small case of tools. He called out to Latham, ‘You’ve been undercover too long, mate. Get that civvie and his pup out of here!’

Latham and Baxter grinned at each other, then headed back to the house with Chief. They sat on the verandah, drinking coffee and watching Mal at work.

Baxter spoke about his suspicions. ‘I reckon they wired my boat after they were told the police were letting me go. Sounds like inside information to me.’

‘Yep, sounds that way. They tried to make you the number one suspect, and when that failed, they opted for the bomb. They want access to this property and they know you’re out to make things as difficult for them as possible.’

Baxter’s hands clenched, his knuckles white. ‘I can face anyone head-on, but this underworld stuff is tough. These fellows have no ethics—they’re just grubs.’

Latham nodded grimly and sipped his coffee. ‘Tell me about it.’

Emerging from the boat, Mal put his fists in the air and called out, ‘Victory!’

‘Glad you’re still in one piece,’ Latham called back. He and Baxter had a chuckle and the mood lightened a little. They
went down to the jetty and stood yarning while Mal attached a towrope to
Flora
.

‘Until you blokes have sorted all of this out,’ Baxter said, ‘it looks like I’ll have to stay put here with Chief. They could plant a bomb in my car next.’

‘That might be the safest course for the time being,’ Latham agreed. ‘You and Chief ought to be able to handle anything here. Keep that old shotgun handy and your eyes skinned. And maybe you could arrange for someone to bring out your tucker.’

‘I’ll talk to Julie,’ Baxter said. ‘Assuming it’s all right for her to know the story?’

‘That’s fine—but she’s as far as it goes, all right?’

Mal gave the signal that he was ready to head off, and they called out thanks before he zoomed upriver,
Flora
swinging back and forth a little in his wake.

‘We’ve got a shed in town,’ said Latham. ‘We’ll go over your boat there.’

‘For as long as it takes, Ian. And thanks.’

‘Be seeing you, champ. You did the right thing calling me.’

When Latham had left, Baxter phoned Julie Rankin, who was quite agreeable to bringing out his meat and groceries when he told her about the bomb. In fact, she was uptight about it. He could hear she was genuinely concerned for his safety—and despite the real danger, it gave him a nice feeling to know that she was worried about him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Whether it was wet or fine, Baxter always took Chief for a final romp around the house before he went to bed. Baxter had wet-weather gear, of course, and Chief had a raincoat so that he didn’t bring too much wet into the house.

It wasn’t raining this night. The moon was out, with the river a long stretch of polished silver. Somewhere far away, a mopoke was repeating its monotonous call.

Baxter was strolling towards the big shrubs with Chief just behind him. Out of the silence, the dog growled.

Baxter didn’t wait. He leapt sideways, performed a standing jump of three metres and followed it up with a lightning-fast somersault that brought him to his feet. Two men stepped out from behind a camellia, carrying what appeared to be iron bars.

One glance was all it took for Baxter to weigh up the situation. An iron bar could break an arm or paralyse it, while a hit to the head could knock a man out—or kill a dog. One man with an iron bar was bad enough, but two was more than even Baxter and Chief could handle. The only solution was to separate the men so he could deal with them one at a time.

Signalling Chief to stay still and silent, Baxter sprinted for the closest shed, guessing that one man would follow while the other ran to block him. Then he ducked beside the shed and put out a leg to trip his follower. He hit him once very hard, and the man went down and stayed down.

Baxter picked up the man’s iron bar and turned as the other man came around the corner of the shed. He pulled up when he saw Baxter with the bar, the large German Shepherd running to stand beside him, and his partner flat out on the ground.

‘Put the bar down, buster, you’re out of your league,’ Baxter said harshly. ‘I learned this game from the people who invented it.’

Chief gave a loud bark.

The man backed away and, when he was clear of the shed, looked to the jetty.