A Pathway of Adversity
Chapter 28
Watson and Charlie pulled up outside of Colleen Smart's bungalow.
"Good morning, Sergeant Buckton! And what brings you and your constable all the way out here on such a lovely morning?" Colleen asked sweetly as she dead-headed some roses.
"Good morning, Colleen. We're making some enquiries about Irene Robert's murder." Charlie replied, quickly. "We are trying to establish why Irene might have been in the woods in the first place."
"Blessed if I know, Pet. I saw Irene the day before; she'd been trying to convince me to spend the day with her in Yabbie Creek, but I told her I was busy tidying my garden! The roses are so leggy this year that I've had to tie them up time and time again! But every time we have a windy day, they're spread all over the lawn again like a lot of dead bodies!"
Watson grimaced at Colleen's phraseology.
"I've been thinking of digging them up and replacing them with some nice blue lupins, but I can't bear to dig up a plant while there's still life in it, can you, Sergeant Buckton?" Colleen continued without drawing breath. "After all, I'm not made of money and plants are expensive these days and..."
"Well, I think that'll be all, Colleen. We're sorry to have bothered you." Charlie hastily put in.
"Are you going so soon? And I was just going to offer you a nice glass of iced tea!" Colleen said, pointing towards the kitchen. "So refreshing on a warm day!"
"That's very kind, but as you can imagine, our enquiries are keeping us hard at it at the moment, so we must be going."
"Okay, Pet. I hope you find the dirty rotten stinker who did this atrocious thing!" Colleen called after them. "They should be locked up and the key thrown away!"
"Thanks, Colleen! We think so too!" Charlie waved.
"And good luck with your roses!" Watson chipped in.
"Thank you dear. The trouble is... I'm not strong enough to lash them tightly... Now if I had a man about the house..."
"Well, you could always ask Hugo, next time he visits you!" Watson called as she opened the car door.
Charlie looked back at the older woman and noticed her mouth hanging open in surprise.
"I think you struck a nerve there, Watson!" She grinned. "She's lost for words!"
Joey opened up a cupboard in her office. She moved some files and unused stationery and sighed. Where on earth had she put her brown, leather briefcase; the one with her father's initials on? She continued to hunt around, not hearing the office door open and someone enter. The visitor watched Joey; bent over as she was; rummaging. The lustful eyes slowly made a mental note of her attractive curves and licked his hungry lips appreciatively.
"You're such a waste to man-kind, Collins!" The visitor smiled.
Joey looked behind, quickly.
"Why the hell are you creeping about like that, Hugo?" She hissed, angrily. "Haven't you got anything better to do than ogle my arse?"
"Now, now, Joey sweet... don't get all aggressive on me. I might not be allowed to touch your cute little dykey-butt, but it doesn't cost a red-cent to look, surely?"
"You're such a wanker, Austen! Why don't you crawl back under your stone where you belong!" Joey suggested, heaving a heavy box from the cupboard.
"Lost something?" Austen asked, leaning against the door with a smirk on his face.
"Yeah, my marbles for talking to you in the first place! Now get out of my face!"
"Now, now, my precious! Auntie Irene wouldn't have liked you saying stuff like that to me now, would she?" Austen scoffed. "After all, I was her favourite!"
Joey dropped the heavy box and flew at Austen, enraged.
"Don't you ever speak about Irene in jest! I know you are involved in all this, Austen, and when I find out how, I'm gonna see you rot in hell!"
"But you know what, Joey sweetheart; I have a good feeling you're gonna get to hell before me!" Hugo grinned and walked out of the office.
Joey fell back in a chair and cried hot, angry tears.
"Marilyn, love; will you do me a favour?" Alf Stewart asked his fiancé.
"Well, of course I can, Sugar Lump!" Marilyn twittered in return. "I'll just re-arrange your toiletry bag and straighten your towels first."
Alf frowned, feeling that Marilyn was fussing a little too much.
"You see, it's like this... I've been thinking about Irene..."
"Now, Alf! You know the nurses have told you that you mustn't get excited because of your blood-pressure!" Marilyn warned, giving Alf one of her toothy smiles.
"Yeah! Yeah! I know all about that, Marilyn love, but this could be important! It's just something that Colleen told me a few days before Irene was murdered. I can't really believe it – I told her this at the time, but what with everything that's happened recently... well, she could have been right! I think I should speak to the Police about it!"
"Whatever did she say?" Marilyn asked; her eyes as large as the moon.
"Well, I'd better not say, love. I don't wanna get anyone in the shit, just in case I... or Colleen is wrong. Besides, I don't want you getting involved! This could be pretty big!"
"Alf Stewart! You and I aren't supposed to have secrets!" Marilyn scolded.
"I know love, but I'm afraid on this occasion, we must!"
Charlie stood over her desk removing articles found at the place of Irene Roberts' murder from a plastic bag provided by the Police forensic team. There were various pieces to be viewed; a comb, a shoe and a handbag, (presumably Irene's) containing several pens. She placed them neatly, side by side on the desk.
"'S'cuse me, boss. Another package from the murder scene has just arrived from forensics." Watson said as she entered Charlie's office.
"Not much is it?" Charlie said, looking at the display on her desk.
"Do you think they were all hers?" Watson asked sadly.
"Probably. What's this?" Charlie asked, taking the latest package from Watson.
Unwrapping the object, Charlie's blood ran cold.
"My God!" She whispered.
"What is it, Charlie?" Watson asked quickly, drawing near.
"Erm... Err... It's nothing. I'll have a better look at these bits and give forensics a call later."
Watson frowned, but knew better than to push Charlie for further information. Instead, she left Charlie's office, closing the door, quietly behind her.
Charlie continued to stare in wonder at the late arrival from forensics. It was a brown, leather briefcase, obviously well loved and well used. The brass initials 'R.C', which were riveted to the flap, glinted in the sun which shone through the office window.
"Oh dear God!" Charlie breathed.