Bloodwood Grove

By George O'Connell

The Australian Outback is unforgiving. Unlawful people seek refuge there. But perhaps the evil of Jekyll and Hyde is already right before them. The small community of Karinya Circle is rocked with a wicked and cryptic crime. Could a local Aboriginal man who is a life-long friend of Ivan the roadhouse manager, solve the tragic mystery?

Trevor, an unusual character from Sydney, says he stumbled upon a dead body. He soon becomes the number-one suspect. Why did he escape to the Outback? It’s on everyone’s minds. Station manager Arch becomes embroiled in the disturbing case along with a retired lawyer who runs a pub in nearby Tibgolders.

Devious activities occur and more dark backstories emerge as the destructive relationships between the cast of characters mushrooms. Jim Walker, an Adelaide detective; Celia, a forensic scientist; and Ivan, work to solve the riddle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Apr 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781922542892

George O'Connell

Stashed is George's second Jim Walker thriller and crime fiction novel.Bloodwood Grove is his first crime novel.George has written a historical fiction, ‘A Special Lady from Hanoi’, which is based on the life of a pioneering Vietnamese ophthalmologist over five decades from the 1950s.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ivan Rankin stood bow-legged before Sid, the tour operator. Ivan’s head throbbed with a hangover. He pulled down his hat to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. Observing yet another bus load of tourists, Ivan welcomed the fresh air, drawing it in through his pointed nostrils.

How many times did they go around in a circle today, Sid? he asked.

Sid shrugged his shoulders and stretched his arms out to the sides. Who knows?

Sid had been asked the same question a hundred times and had lost interest in the matter. He just wanted to keep moving and hopefully arrive at their next destination on time, without incident; he couldn’t care less about anything else.

Another typical day at Karinya Circle had unfolded. Grey nomads milled about the monument of three states while vehicles were parked Indian file waiting to re-fuel. The last of Ivan’s guests were ready to leave, clearly distressed from the flies swarming everywhere and the swirling dust whipped up by the breeze drifting across the enclosure. They all boarded when the bus driver sounded the horn, signalling to his partner that they should leave. Sid climbed into the bus waving goodbye to Ivan and proceeded to do his customary count of the passengers before climbing into his seat behind the driver. Ivan had taught the driver well, watching him proceed slowly toward the main road keeping the dust to a minimum.

Ivan’s knee caused him grief as he headed back to the roadhouse. He hobbled up the steps to the veranda, slid open the door, and sat at his usual spot behind the bar with a cup of freshly brewed tea. His overdue bookwork had been beckoning. His pen almost touched the paper when a sudden noise made him look outside.

A loud, harsh skidding sound, followed by a cloud of dust, smeared Ivan’s view in front of the roadhouse. The sudden noise caught his attention. A vehicle stopped midway between the fuel bowser and the gate on the left leading to the monument of three states. The driver’s side door had small dents all over it, and the front bumper bar hung loosely to one side. Before the dust had time to settle, the driver had jumped out of his vehicle and lunged towards the roadhouse veranda opening the front door with a firm push. Ivan observed the anxious and distressed look on the man’s face.

Whoa! What’s up mate? shouted Ivan, trying to block out the sound of the football game on the television, his head feeling like a lead weight. Several patrons were glued to the television, while attempting to eat their pub meals.

Can I have a glass of water please? begged the man.

Ivan obliged, handing the man a jug of cold water from the fridge. The man gulped down the water without taking a breath. There’s, there is, the breathless man attempted to answer Ivan.

It’s okay ol’ son, take it easy, said Ivan, leaning over the bar and placing another cold glass of water in front of the man. He drained the glass quicker than the first. What’s ya name mate?

Ah, I’m Trevor, Trevor Lamb.

Nice to meet you Trevor, I’m Ivan. Now, what seems to be the problem?

A body … Trevor struggled to make a full sentence. We saw a dead girl by the road about thirty kilometres back. I … um, we didn’t know what to do, so we came straight here, we were coming this way anyway. I’m really sorry but we haven’t seen anyone dead before. What should we do?

Trevor repeated himself with uncertainty, and had a distinct frown across his forehead. Droplets of sweat began to form on his cheeks and under his chin. By this time several customers had heard part of the conversation, and the bar started buzzing with comments.

Ivan glanced towards the vehicle outside, and back again. The time on his phone gave him five past ten, the maximum temperature had been forecasted to reach forty-six degrees, so another scorching day had just begun. Ivan tried to process the jumbled story from Trevor. He’d witnessed other tourists suffering from dehydration, and this could be another one. But, if there was a body on the side of the road, it wouldn’t take long to become ripe.

Ivan removed his hat and brushed back his overgrown grey hair massaging his scalp in the process. His light-blue eyes were wide open behind his tear-drop shaped spectacles sitting awkwardly on his crooked nose. A fist fight or two over the years made him look like a retired boxer. He adjusted his shorts, pulling them up a few centi­metres, before examining Trevor again. Are ya sure it was human? he asked.

The expression on Trevor’s face turned to one of dismay. He placed his hands on the counter and in a loud whisper said, I may be old, but I’m not bloody stupid. Of course it was a human.

Righto, just askin’, replied Ivan, anxiously proceeding to lurch for the phone near the front counter. He hit the speed dial for the Tibgolders Police Station accidentally spilling his paperwork all over the floor, and with one hand on the receiver bent down to retrieve the scattered documents. Stuff me, I’ll have to sort this out again for the umpteenth time, he said, annoyed at himself.

Ivan’s days following his father around Queensland’s north west were a distant memory, until the moment he felt his knee ache. The long drawn out days working for his father shoving large black bulls into a pen, then riding them in competitions, took its toll. His previous job spending years mining for opals at Lightning Ridge were some of his best years, but also some of his worst. He had made a decent living in gruelling conditions, as an underground miner.

It had been a rather subdued morning for Ivan. His mouth lacked any sign of moisture and his lips had faint cracks creating a roadmap like pattern across them. Ivan had had an enjoyable night with the boys the night before, but he was angry with himself for not eating a proper meal. His drinking mates were mainly millennials, and they drank him under the table again, leaving him slung across the hammock at the far end of the veranda.

Constable Reg Smart sat down with his morning coffee. The old stone building had remained relatively cool inside, but he could sense the temperature rising. His day had begun quietly as usual, his sole posting at the station meant no one could hinder him, or tell him what to do; he enjoyed the autonomy and began to nestle in for his daily routines. In a second or two, his cosy domain would change.

He stretched over to turn on the air conditioner, but the phone stopped him mid-way. Swiftly changing direction, he grabbed the receiver before a second ring. Reg couldn’t disguise his excitement when he listened to Ivan’s brief description of events.

Jeez, okay, right. Well don’t do anything, Reg blurted back over the phone. Thirty clicks outside Karinya did you say? I’ll be there in around two hours. On second thoughts, meet me there, but whatever you do, don’t touch anything. Get the guy to go with you, he stumbled with the phone, and before Ivan could speak again, Reg had hung up.

Reg had accepted the transfer from the big smoke a little over two years ago. He took his job seriously and prepared for incidental emergencies such as this. Little had happened in the way of real work for him in the past month, no vehicle rollovers, no one stranded in the middle of nowhere, and even the Friday night mob at the hotel had been behaving. He jumped into his Land Cruiser Patrol, looked around for his water supply, making a mental note of the two full containers in the back before glancing at the fuel gauge, and heading down the main street.

Chapter 2

The soreness in Sergeant Jim Walker’s arm would not abate. The arm-wrestle with tuna poler Tom had finished after successfully forcing his opponent’s arm to the table, but not after a five-minute ordeal. At times, Tom got the ascendency, almost taking away the big prize, a case of beer left over from their trip. Jim no longer had the easy-beat reputation from their school days, providing more than adequate competition for any of his co-workers. The pair looked like ardent body builders, their right biceps bulging, showing the usually hidden veins on the surface of their thick arms.

They had not long returned on Jim’s father’s boat, and the customary challenge usually capped off a successful week poling bluefin tuna. The Great Southern Ocean served as their home for a week, and the catch of around forty ton would net the family some tidy revenue, pay the bills and give them all some rest before heading out again. The month of leave from Jim’s detective work in Adelaide enabled him to unwind and relax, escape the ongoing rigours of his job, and spend some overdue time with his family.

To fill in the holidays, Jim would work on the boat, spending time assisting his father. It was rather like a second job of sorts, although his eagerness diminished every year. He peered through the cabin window towards the jetty, rubbing his arm around the swelling, the thought of a cold pint in his hand spurring him on, before heading home to his mum’s cooking. Jim shook Tom’s hand and parted ways, agreeing to catch up before they set off next time. He’d just stepped across the short gangplank to the jetty when his phone rang. The familiar number from his station in Adelaide caused him to curse quietly to himself.

Jim, it’s Cliff here. We need you back post haste.

It had become all too normal for Jim, receiving calls like this over the past few years, particularly during his annual leave. At least this time, his fishing trip had finished, and his leave would be ending in two days. He answered with, hey Cliff, what’s up? pretending to sound surprised.

Jim had been reporting to Senior Sergeant Cliff Edmonds for over a year. They had a close working relationship and a mutual respect for each other. Edmonds provided Jim with an outline of the unfolding events near Karinya Circle. There’re a variety of possibilities, including foul play, or perhaps another naïve tourist not preparing properly for the outback, Edmonds stated. People just can’t help themselves sometimes, can they? All they want is a holiday in the outback, but completely forget about preparing properly. Anyway, let’s not take any shots just yet, right Jim?

Yeah, right, Jim said, thinking he’d better return to detective mode.

I’ll emphasise that nothing’s been substantiated, so no one’s getting too excited at this point.

Okay boss, all good. I’ll be on the next plane out of here.

Jim’s farewells to the family brought tears from his mum. She didn’t get to see her favourite son often, and the past week had been a whirl-wind, with them all away for a week. Jim kept the excitement of being at sea on his father’s boat to himself. The evening meals and a round or two of rummy had a real feeling of camaraderie. Everyone joined in, making the toiling work and the isolation a little more bearable. The evenings reminded him of boarding school, playing cards in the dormitory and skylarking with his mates. It seemed surreal out there in the middle of the ocean. There is nothing else, only them, although occasionally, at night, they would spot a lone prawn trawler glowing like a Christmas tree.

His father dropped him at the airstrip located a few kilometres outside town, and after a forty-minute trip to Adelaide in the single-engine Cessna, Jim arrived at the city terminal where Edmonds had been waiting patiently. Cliff was keen to deliver the next job to Jim, but only spoke intermittently about the body in the outback as they drove along the motorway. They arrived at police HQ with no further discussion, promptly entering the conference room where Edmonds chaired a formal meeting. Clearly with more than one thing on his mind, he wasted no time getting to the subject at hand.

I need you to charter a small plane and fly with a team to the place where they found the body. It’s near Karinya Circle, which is in the north-east corner of the state, Edmonds instructed, looking directly at Jim.

Right … when? replied Jim, non-plussed about the directness.

Now, or ASAP. This can’t wait, I’m afraid. The body has been by the side of the road, or thereabouts, for long enough as it is!

Okay, I’ll head home now and get things organised. Jim could hear the urgency in Edmond’s voice.

Thanks mate, I appreciate it, and sorry for interrupting your holiday, but there is no one else available at the moment, answered Edmonds graciously.

No dramas, Jim replied, knowing the card his boss would play. There’s always someone else available, but Jim had become fully aware during the past year that his boss trusted him.

Jim’s body ached all over. The arduous work yesterday and the day before, made his arms feel ten times heavier. His only other stint at fishing followed boarding school, when he’d taken a gap year to figure out his career move. He fished for around three months, working on and off the boat, which included doing repairs and maintenance. He also sat for his skipper’s licence, which took all of his spare time and remaining energy.

Ironically, several weeks went by after gaining his licence and he decided tuna fishing wasn’t for him. The tough physical work didn’t bother him so much, but the thought of living so close to family, and being stuck in a small country town for lengthy periods, did. The petty rumours, and everyone knowing his next move, made him agitated and nervous.

Jim made the short trip to his apartment in under fifteen minutes, collected a few personal items, then headed straight back to the office where he planned to assemble a small team for the trip. To Jim’s surprise, the administration staff had already been in contact with forensics and organised a plane, pilot, and accommodation for all of them at Karinya Circle.

Forensics are on the way Jim. They’ll meet you on the tarmac – runway three, near the chopper pad, shouted one of the adminis­trators over the desk.

Nice work. Thanks to all of you, it’s greatly appreciated. Jim marched towards the door.

Call me on the Sat’ phone when you arrive at the scene, bellowed Edmonds from his office.

Will do, Jim replied, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.

Jim walked briskly while he considered the procedures of his job. He mentally checked things over, consciously keeping up with the uniformed constable, who escorted him to the car park. Jim opened the rear door of the police patrol car, and threw his personal items including a laptop onto the back seat.

Airport? The constable joked with a cheeky grin, noticing Jim’s preoccupation.

Uh yeah thanks. Sorry I’m just running some things through my mind. Jim was impressed. His team in the front office had again excelled with their efficiency.

Celia Ribeiro and Brian Stone were waiting on the tarmac beside the plane when the patrol car pulled up. They had been working in forensics together for three years and had teamed up with Jim in the past. Celia’s olive complexion glistening in the light, and Brian’s sun-bleached golden hair made them look like a glamour couple.

Greg, the pilot, also knew Jim. He’d disembarked from the eight-seat Cessna and walked towards them. Jim could feel the heat radiating from the tarmac as he climbed out of the car. The plane looked set to go, and Jim headed straight over to it. He hated procrastination, and felt eager to get going. They were all smiling when they recognised each other. Celia and Brian greeted Jim almost in unison.

Morning Jim, how’s it going?

I’m great, thanks guys. Good to see you both again.

Jim greeted Greg with a handshake. Are we ready?

Sure. Let’s get the luggage in. We’ll be in the air in ten, Greg said, aware that Jim didn’t like to wait around.

What’s new? Jim asked Celia and Brian.

Not a lot, answered Brian for both of them.

Yeah not much excitement around the traps lately, Celia added. But I believe there is something going on at Karinya Circle.

Something for sure, Jim said. Let’s get this bird in the air, hey?

Jim stood back to let Celia climb into the Cessna and held her hand as she boarded. Their eyes met for a brief, uneasy moment.

Greg took the small plane to ten thousand feet, constantly chatting over the intercom. He fiddled with several dials and switches, adjusting the speed and angles before advising the others that a vehicle would be waiting when they landed, somewhere near Tibgolders. The weather looked fine, without a cloud in the sky, and only a slight head wind.

All’s clear, Greg affirmed. We should make reasonable time and arrive in approximately three and a half hours. Good day for sightseeing, he said through the radio.

Jim took this all in while his boarding days simultaneously resurfaced.

You know, Greg … Jim began speaking into his microphone taking Greg by surprise. When I attended boarding school, other kids came from the bush too, and I mean right out in the bush, like, where we are going now; they were similar to me in some ways.

Yeah, right. What were they like? asked Greg, intrigued by Jim’s sudden urge to talk.

They came from all over, a lot from remote stations in the Northern Territory and New South Wales. I knew several lads from Broken Hill and one from Wilcannia who lived on a cattle station. Some of them went back to the farm and continued with the family tradition. Others became lawyers, teachers and politicians, but for me, it was simple really, I think I always wanted to become a policeman. Greg thought about asking, why a policeman, but decided he’d pursue the details of Jim’s boarding mates.

Do you see any of them still?

Unfortunately, no, not really. Jim paused as he thought of one boarder who had difficulty making friends, and was a real introvert. The two got along quite well, funnily enough. Jim felt sure he came from the outback near Tibgolders somewhere. I mean apart from some social media stuff of course … that helps me keep track of a few.

Jim continued to plough through his memory bank and recalled names in alphabetical order: Andrew, Bill, Craig, Dave, Eddy. It wasn’t quite clicking. He arrived at Jim, his own name when something told him to go back and start again. Alec, Anton, Alfred, and then it came to him … Arch. Jim gazed out the port side window. He could just make out the last of Adelaide’s skyline. The plane began to level when the name hit him.

That’s right! exclaimed Jim loudly causing Greg to turn his head sharply. Arch Winslow, a big guy, but very shy. A man of few words too.

Interesting name, Greg said, trying to hide his surprise. Sounds English. Is he from the UK?

No, I’m sure he’s an Aussie. I think his parents are British, originally. Arch told me they ran a cattle station near Karinya Circle, out in the middle of nowhere.

Yep, he’s right there – out in the middle of nowhere, it certainly is! Greg had a very good understanding of the outback, so he could validate Jim’s comment.

I remember Arch had a dark side too. Jim’s memories slowly came back to him. Anytime Arch met a boarder with an English accent, or he knew they were from the UK, it seemed to trigger a disliking for the person. I remember Arch didn’t like introductions and wouldn’t try to form any rapport. He’d just signal in an unforgiving way to everyone that he hated English people.

Well, perhaps he’s changed? You might even bump into him when you’re there, Greg suggested.

Possibly, who knows really. It’s a big area, right?

Sure is, replied Greg, watching the city skyline fade behind them. He re-read his checklist and turned the auto-pilot on.

Chapter 3

Reg Smart left Tibgolders with a plume of dark smoke trailing behind his four-wheel drive patrol. He hadn’t spoken to anyone at police head-quarters for three months, and the thought of calling the main number quickly vanished after realising he’d be put on hold, so he decided to call someone he knew. More so, Reg’s confidence in the person comforted him. He quickly scrolled through the contacts until he reached the Es, then pushed the redial button. The call was answered promptly, just as he expected.

Senior Sergeant Edmonds, the voice was clear and assertive. It sounded just like before, and Reg had trouble containing himself.

Hi Sarge, it’s Reg Smart from up north. Have you got time to talk?

Well yeah, sure Reg. How’s the wife?

Fine, yep, she’s fine Sarge. Look I’m in a bit of a hurry, so bear with me okay?

Everything all right?

Yeah, think so … Reg’s nerves made him stall.

Righto, what’s the problem?

The thing is Sarge, I’ve been told there’s a body on the side of the road, and I’m on my way there now.

Okay, a body? Someone run over, or what?

Not sure, don’t think so. Ivan from the roadhouse at Karinya Circle phoned me with the news. I’m meeting him and some guy who saw the body, other than that I’m not certain. There’re no witnesses, just a dead body.

The conversation lasted only a short time. Edmonds jotted down some notes before ensuring Reg that everything would be taken care of. Okay, best we send a unit out to the site, don’t you think?

I reckon Sarge. Sooner rather than later ‘cause it’s getting hot.

I’ll do my best. A team should be there in twenty-four hours. Someone will need to get them from the flying doctors’ strip.

Great, thanks Sarge.

Reg’s relief in knowing he had backup on the way, as well as being organised at his end, calmed him down. Arriving at the location and beginning his part of the investigation would be all he needed to do. Whatever that was going to be? He ran a check list through his mind: rope, flags, lighting and generator, tent, food and water supplies, flares, digging tools, body bag.

He carefully reached for the glovebox, keeping his right hand on the steering wheel and found his police pistol secured in its holster. He couldn’t think of anything else. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He saw an enthusiastic policeman, but a worried policeman too. His eyes shifted slightly, taking in the rear-view mirror; a large dust cloud mingled with a few dry leaves hovered behind. There had been no rain in Tibgolders for over a year. So the locals jumped for joy when they heard about a short, but quenching storm passing over Karinya Circle recently. To their dismay, the dark clouds disappeared shortly after.

Reg could contact most people with his standard police issue, UHF radio, and he took a moment to consider his next call. He adjusted his unit to the local channel, and smiled when he heard the familiar voice on his first request.

Hi Reg, what’s up mate? You sound a bit wound up. Everything all right? Harry Trubridge, the publican in Tibgolders ran a small vehicle hire and local tour company, to fill in his spare time and pay overdue bills. He didn’t like admitting it, but his small side business helped keep the pub doors open during the quiet spells.

The radio crackled slightly when Reg replied to his friend.

Yeah, all good Harry. Well not sure really. I’m on my way to investigate a dead body, apparently!

Cripes, said Harry, almost choking on his Earl Grey tea.

Yeah, all a mystery at the moment, said Reg, keeping his thumb on the receiver button. Listen mate, I need you to drive out to the strip. There’s a small contingency arriving, and they will need to be taken to where the body is, about thirty clicks this side of Karinya.

Hell! It sounds serious Reg. Don’t tell me it’s the grove again? Harry asked.

Too right mate, it’s serious. Reg went on, ignoring the comment about a grove. Can you pick them up and meet me out there?

No probs, Harry confirmed. On my way.

Thanks mate.

The radio crackled a bit louder when Reg released his thumb, ending the conversation. Reg knew there would be serious costs involved. After all, Harry had to make a living and survive too. Straight after his call to Harry, Reg collected his thoughts, making sure he was prepared for the arrival at the scene. Something nagged at him. Something Harry said left him unsettled.

Chapter 4

Shortly after calling Reg, a concerned Ivan scuttled out of the roadhouse, jumped into his Land Rover and pulled up alongside the fuel pump. He had the tank half full when he noticed Trevor walking back to his car. The engine rattled slightly, alternating from slow idle to fast idle when the air conditioner cut in. Ivan noticed someone sitting in the passenger seat, but couldn’t determine who.

"Hey mate, where are ya going? You can’t