Page 117 of The Vet from Snowy River
The Codys stared at her, open-mouthed.
‘Well, hell,’ said Hannah.
‘Yes. Could this have been a scheme your grandparents were considering, only to change their mind and leave the building to you?’
Josh shook his head. ‘No, they couldn’t have. They were neither of them alive then. Probate of their estate took a few years because our parents were driving the Gibb River Road and never stayed in one place long enough to sign all the relevant paperwork. They were the executors. The timing is all wrong.’
‘The building was vacant then. It had been empty since our grandmother was moved into Connolly House.’
Vera shrugged. ‘Somebody at Kestrel must have thought they had a chance to start an approval process before they owned it.’
‘I ran my practice from Mum and Dad’s place when I first started vet work,’ said Hannah. ‘Before they bought the caravan and started their grey nomad trip, they had a house just out of town.’ She looked across at Josh. ‘Moving in here on my own was a big step. I took my time about making it, so the place was vacant for a few years.’
‘And when did the offers of purchase start rolling in?’ said Vera.
Hannah pushed a strand of hair back from her face. ‘After probate. After I moved in, I suppose.’
‘Maybe whoever owns Kestrel Holdings got a nasty surprise when you moved into the building.’
Josh frowned. ‘And an even nastier surprise when I moved in too and the practice grew even more … because that’s when the nuisance complaints started arriving.’
Vera nodded. ‘Follow this line of thought through … you then stick up a noticeboard out front, letting the world know not only aren’t the Codys shifting out anytime soon, they’re wanting to sink money into the building … what happened then?’
‘An arson attack designed to scare the dickens out of us but not damage anything structural.’
‘Bingo,’ said Vera. ‘And here’s the kicker … Kestrel Holdings owns the building next to you.’
‘The gift shop?’
‘It’s a gift shop on the ground floor, tenanted, and the guy says his landlord’s pretty shady about doing repairs. Upstairs flats are empty gathering dust. The building is much smaller than this one of course, but it explains why your property was of greater interest to them than other ones that have come on the market. Shared driveway, shared common space, corner position—it would have made a studio apartment proposal very attractive.’
Hannah nodded. ‘Now I think of it, with all this talk of a new ski lift going in, and the road upgrade from Cooma, there’d be dozens of city buyers keen to snap themselves up a ski weekender.’
‘So how do we find out who the hell is behind Kestrel Holdings?’
‘It’s a shelf company. Actually, it’s one in a string of shelf companies. They’re a bit like termite mounds: every time you think you’ve found the inner nest, a mud trail leads you to a new one. Fortunately, I have a contact at a private investigative firm back in Canberra. I rang her and asked if she’d do a corporations trace for me using her software, and she found a couple of items of interest.’
‘We’re all ears.’
‘One is a joint venture between a related entity of Kestrel Holdings and the developers putting in the new ski lift. The other big find was the names of the directors of the innermost nest.’
‘Who are they?’
‘A guy by the name of Brian David, and a woman. Paula? No.’ Vera rifled through until she found the page she was looking for. ‘Pamela Hogan.’
‘Pamela Hogan!’ said Hannah.
‘You’ve heard of her?’
‘Lawyer. Signed her name to a dozen requests to buy the place, but she always said she was acting on behalf of an unnamed client. Meg—you know, the local cop—has interviewed her, but she said her client’s name was privileged information and she wouldn’t be sharing it.’
Josh picked up the extract from the company report Vera’s investigator had emailed through. ‘Well, ifsheis the client, she can’t hide behind herself, surely? This is gold, Vera. There is no way Pamela is not up to her neck in this. We need to get Meg here and explain all this to her.’
‘Being the pushy director of a company doesn’t make you an arsonist,’ she said.
‘Meg’s no fool. If there’s a link there, she’ll find it. Thank you, Vera, for doing this.’
She swallowed. ‘No need for thanks,’ she said, her voice dry. She’d probably talked more this morning than she had in months.
