The Broken Shore Page #2

His Trust helped hundreds of kids.

Even bailed out the local football team

when your bloody cousin

put them in debt.

Any thoughts on

who would have bashed him?

It'll be some passing hoon

chasing money for drugs.

Whole coast is crawling with them.

But you watch them blame the Abos.

You'd think all the white trash

in Cromarty was at choir practice.

You know, 40 years in the courts,

I've seen more blacks fitted up

than I've had glasses of shiraz.

Bourgoyne's wife's dead?

His whole life has been plagued

by tragedy.

First his wife,

then his stepson Jamie.

I'm afraid Charles

is the end of the line.

Except for his stepdaughter.

I'd like to see his financial records

if I could.

Cromarty Police picked them up.

I thought they were handling this.

Yes, they are.

Jesus, you got the elves working, Dave?

In the rain and all.

Work's work. Can't let the rain stop ya.

- Stops me.

- Pulling your zip down.

That's work for a copper.

Hello? Excuse me?

What the hell is this?

- G'day, Helen Castleman.

- Yes?

Joe. Joe Cashin, from school. I thought

I recognised you in the street.

- Oh!

- How're you going?

Joe.

I don't remember you

being so tall and thin.

- I had a late growth spurt.

- No, no, I remember you.

Uh, what the hell is going on here?

I just bought this land off the Taylors.

Building a fence.

But don't worry,

I won't ask you to pay for it.

Well, that's very generous of you

but, um, it's on my land

so I want to take it down.

The creek is on my property.

Who was your source

for that information?

- Uh, the agent.

- The agent.

Lawyers listening to agents, eh?

No, the creek's been on Cashin land

for 70 years.

Fine. You want to make an argument

about it, I'm getting a survey...

- I'm just telling you it's on my land.

- ..we'll see about the boundary.

It's not an argument.

Work is to cease forthwith. OK?

Oh, sh... Ow!

- What are you looking at?

- You falling over.

- Hey, thanks for your support.

- I'm on her side.

Hey, Bern'. What happened to that wood

you're s'posed to deliver?

Priority list.

Top rung - paying customers.

Bottom rung - cheapskate relatives

that give me a hard time.

- Friday. Maybe.

- Where'd this bluestone come from?

Reputable wholesaler.

You go to the Macca's drive through and

ask 'em where they got their mince from?

What are you charging for this?

Special family price,

50 bucks a stone.

I'll give you a 50-buck delivery fee

to put it back where you found it.

Come on, cuz,

what are you gonna do with 'em?

They've been sitting in the paddock

for 30 years.

Taking food out

of your own family's mouth.

- You been talking to Mum?

- Your mum doesn't visit the Daunt.

Too good for us.

Doesn't want nothing to do

with the blackfella side of the family.

Say 250 bucks delivery.

You caught our beloved

Charlie Bourgoyne's attacker yet?

- What have you got against the old boy?

- Nothin'. He's our local saint.

Sold the family empire off to the Poms

and they put everyone here on the dole.

- Yeah, well, if you hear anything...

- So you already think it's one of us.

- 200 to deliver.

- 50, delivered tomorrow.

With the bloody wood I paid for.

- Piss off!

- Police!

Just taking a nap, mate.

I want you to come out

with your pants up.

- Hey.

- Got some ID?

Yeah, got me driver's and credit card.

All sorts of sh*t there says who I am.

Allan James Morris, Tilditch Road,

Cromarty.

- Yeah.

- Master builder.

Have your friend step out as well,

please.

F***'.

Over here, please.

Not you, Allan. You got some ID?

Wow.

Let's see your real one, unless

you want me to call Mum and Dad

and we'll do this down the station.

What do you reckon, Allan?

You're a big man to be jumping

a 16-year-old in the back of your van.

- Mate, we was just kissing.

- Take your pants off for that, do ya?

Kiss with your bum?

You married, Allan?

- Sort of.

- Sort of?

They got that now, do they?

You do a sort of ceremony

in a kind of church?

Did he threaten you, love?

Did he force you into anything?

- Want to make a complaint?

- No, nothing.

Please, I don't want any trouble.

Alright. Wait here.

Taking a risk, aren't ya?

Stacey Drouin?

Steve Drouin's niece, isn't it?

Please don't tell them. Please, alright?

They will f***ing kill me.

Please.

She's... She's been

coming onto me day and night, mate.

- Well, she's only human, isn't she?

- That's right.

Allan, I'm going to put an alert out

on your van.

So you come to Port Monro again,

you do it to build.

Not to root barely legal kids. We clear?

- Crystal clear.

- Good. Piss off.

- How's your nana?

- Yeah, she's OK.

Yeah? You mind waiting for me

in the car?

- Yeah?

- I went down your way once.

I hear the surfies call Port Monro

Blue Balls Coast.

- It's cold enough.

- Listen, Joe, this Bourgoyne thing.

Commissioner tells me

she wants it handled by proper cops.

Apparently, the stepdaughter's

some Labor Party lawyer.

Who f***ing microwaved the pies?

You don't microwave pies'. Jesus.

- I want you on this.

- Well, hang on, you're...

You're forgetting I'm the cripple

running Port Monro now.

Joe, we're in the middle of a gang war

and all my people are currently

committed to the pointless task

of trying to find which particular prick

killed some other prick

for whose death

we should be eternally grateful.

You're still a member of Homicide.

Mate, your partner's dead and buried.

Not your fault. It's time to move on.

- Forensics come up with anything?

- Very useful. He got bashed.

Alarm was off, no break-ins,

no strange DNA

and one wanker watch missing.

It's a homicide.

The old boy died three hours ago.

- What about Cromarty? Hopgood?

- They're not Homicide, mate. You are.

You're the best man to lead this.

Mental health sabbatical over.

Look, I want you to have a chat to

the stepdaughter, Ms Erica Bourgoyne.

- How's Singo?

- Go and visit him.

Go and sit and stare at

the hospital wall for a couple of hours.

John Jacobs, Orton Private Security.

I look after Ms Bourgoyne.

We're going to need to see some ID.

Doesn't really work that way, John.

I'll ask the questions, mate.

Right now I'll get you to wait out here.

This is a crime scene.

Ms Bourgoyne, I'm Joe Cashin.

I'm very sorry for your loss.

Um... let's make this

as quick as possible.

Of course.

Did your father keep money

on the property?

My stepfather? I... I don't know.

You don't notice anything

out of place here, do you?

Oh, look, I don't think

I can be much help to you.

- I'm pretty much a stranger here.

- You were here last week, though.

Oh, briefly. My stepfather,

we weren't very close.

More interested in art. We met in town.

We're selling some property.

How old were you when your mother died?

Young.

- And your brother?

- Jamie, he drowned in '93, Tasmania.

So you're the sole heir to this estate?

Oh, I don't know. Got no idea.

I don't think my stepfather

really thought about death.

It was something for the common people.

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