Page 40 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘Did you find anything new?’ Charlie’s weary eyes sparked with hope.

‘Sorry, Charlie. Penelope seems to have disappeared just like your brother, Harry.’

‘If Charlie’s brother is wanted for murder,’ said Dex, ‘it would’ve been easy to hide in those days. Did they even have security cameras back then? All I know of the sixties is women wore miniskirts.’ It would have been nice living in a world without big brother watching over his shoulder, like Dex had to deal with in his line of work.

‘We’re talking about the other end of the sixties, lad. Colour photographs weren’t that common, and miniskirts weren’t a regular thing until around 1966. I remember that time well.’ Charlie sighed wistfully over his tea mug. ‘And there was no such thing as an eft-possy-what-not machine back then, either.’

‘Which makes it nearly impossible to find anything new about this cold case.’ Porter rubbed at his forehead, the frustration showing. ‘My sergeant has suggested that I check out the crime scene, which is why I’m here. I want to take a fresh set of images and take new metric measurements. Everything in the original file is in inches and feet. I could do with a hand, Dex?’

‘Nah,the lad’s injured. He’s gotta drag that oxygen tank around with him like a shopping cart.’

Dex scowled—yes, he scowled once again, feeling like himself. ‘I’m not helpless.’

‘Dex can hold a tape measure. And he’s mechanically minded. I’m not good with measurements.’ Porter shrugged at Dex. ‘Maths wasn’t my thing. But I’ve seen how easily you can calculate the ratios on car engines and work out their fuel consumption in seconds, back when I was here giving Pandora that roadworthy test.’

‘I can do that. And don’t you say no, Charlie. You’re not my old man.’ No one was Dex’s boss.

‘Hmph. And what will I do?’ grumbled the old stockman. ‘Play tea lady?’

‘You can both help me.’ Porter dragged out a notebook and clicked his pen.

‘Well, let’s go then.’ Charlie pushed up from his seat.

‘Slow down, Charlie. I’m re-interviewing the witnesses—those I can find—and I thought I’d start with you.’

The old stockman plonked heavily into his seat. ‘Sure, ask me anything.’

Again, Porter clicked on his pen, all official like. ‘Did you know Harry was having an affair with a married woman?’

‘Nope. If I did, I would’ve walloped some sense into him. Even if Harry was my older brother, I would’ve beat him.’

The only member of Dex’s family that he couldn’t beat was Ryder. Only because his older brother had some sneaky military moves and had the advantage of reading Dex like a darned book. One day he hoped to win the title—just not today. And not with a stinking oxygen tank sitting beside his leg like a dog.

Which reminded him, Nurse Kitty was expecting the second tank to be almost empty. He did some quick mental calculations and estimated he had just over nine hours of oxygen left to consume. Which should make Nurse Kitty happy.

Even if he wasn’t happy, slipping on the stuffy oxygen mask, meetingPorter’s look of pity with a scowl. Nurse Kitty, he could handle. It was Bree who’d be on his back if he didn’t follow doctor’s orders.

‘Do you remember these people, Charlie?’ Porter showed more images of strangers.

Charlie took a long look at the photo of a woman in her early thirties. She was pretty, but nothing like Nurse Kitty.

Hmm, would Nurse Kitty purr like a domesticated kitty? Or could he get her to bring out her claws like a fierce feline and have her scream his name while he got savage and—Flipping hell.He wiped his brow as if to rid his mind of the thought.

Sophie was sneaking into his head a lot more than she should. Especially when he’d sworn to steer clear of women. Period.

‘Penelope Price was an older woman. Quiet thing she was.’ Charlie put the photo back on the table. It sat beside an image of a man wearing an old-style Akubra, with a sun-hardened, no-nonsense look about him. ‘Mrs Price did the cleaning for the farmhouse and some camp cooking when needed. Her husband, Jack, was head stockman and a tough taskmaster. He ruled our stock camp—and his household—with his fists, if you get my drift.’

‘Jack hit his wife?’ Policeman Porter arched an eyebrow.

‘We couldn’t do nothin’ back then.’ Charlie gave a shameful shrug. ‘Me and Harry, even Darcie, had heard it a few times when they lived here in the cottage. When we spoke to Darcie’s old man, he said it was none of our business what went on between a husband and wife. Back then, that was law.’

‘Where were you living if Penelope and Jack Price were here in this cottage?’

‘At Dex’s place, the stockman’s shack. Hey, those girls cleaned it up already. Bree’s got the first coat on the walls.’

Dex dropped his head, to bite back the groan. The woman had taken over his life. Bree was his torturer, not his girlfriend. How could Sophie think such a thing?

‘So, you were working with Jack before he died?’ Porter asked, while scribbling down notes.

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