‘Yeah, okay. So Nate came to work for me straight from school. Nice to find someone who wanted to, if I’m honest. He sought me out – said he wanted to learn a trade, a craft.’ Rufus tugged at his ear, leaving a smudge of sawdust that drew Rainer’s eye. ‘Everyone else at that school either took off for some university as fast as possible or joined the smelting company. Better pay, see? Either way, they blew town the moment they could. Nate was on minimum wage with me, but he seemed okay with it.
‘Yeah, so Nate used to walk here each day, even though it was six kilometres. I offered him an old bicycle, but he was as stubborn as all that. I think it stretched his time out of the house, if I’m honest.’ Rufus shook his head and paused, as though the recollection was becoming painful. ‘Nah, walking was fine, he said. Kid was like that – got something fixed in his head and nothing would shift it. Nothing. Anyways, he was working fine for me – a little slow, like I said, but thorough. Definitely thorough. Always left the workshop nice and tidy, too. So his big brother, what was his name, now?’
‘Jeb?’ Rainer was surprised he could recall the name.
‘Yeah, that was it. Jeb. Older than Nate, way bigger. Head like a buffalo; nasty attitude. Acting like the king of the world all the time. I know he used to sneer at Nate for his job, you know? Jeb was more the quick, easy-money type. Wheeler-dealer, corner-cutter. Bully.’
‘Bully?’
Rufus tapped the pencil against a blotter. ‘Uh-huh. You could see it if they were ever in the same space. Not that Jeb came here much: this was all too slow and steady for him. But if you ever saw them together, it was like watching a croc and one of them little birds that cleans off the insects for ’em. I mean, Jeb rolled around like he owned everything in town; Nate was flicking around in the shadows, here and there, quiet, trying not to draw attention. Every now and then Jeb would lift his hand – scratch his head, or whatever – and Nate would flinch: like it was coming, you know?’
Rufus stopped, leaned in. Rainer felt compelled to come closer, and their heads were barely half a metre apart when Rufus resumed in a conspiratorial tone, ‘And I tell you, that carried through to here. If you ever had to walk behind Nate for some reason – get a tool or whatever – it was like you’d already doused him in petrol and he was waiting for the match. Yeah, spooked real easy. Real easy. That kind of thing, well, it’s in the grain, if you get my drift.’
Rainer nodded. ‘The period before he left, was there any indication he was going?’
The old man chuckled as they drew back. ‘Oh hell, yeah. He came to see me. Ah, when, now? Spring. Would be late spring. He flew in the autumn, but this was late spring. I’d emptied out a section of that little place over there.’ He pointed to a boxed-in corner, maybe three metres square, which Rainer had guessed might be the toilet.
‘Hmm, he noticed me clearing it out and asked how long it would be empty. Well, I was going to use it to store some wood burners, but they were being hand-cast in Hobart, wouldn’t be arriving for months. So I said he could use it if he needed. The next week, little camping things started appearing. A tent, groundsheet, sleeping bag, and so on. It crossed my mind he was going to camp out right here, hide from his family. So I asked him straight out, said he couldn’t actually live here. He laughed.’
Rufus pointed with a stubby, spatulate finger. ‘I distinctly remember that, because I don’t think I ever heard him laugh other than then. Anyways, he said he was planning a long trip, but he had nowhere to store the stuff at home. Well, that was crap and I knew it – his folks had about fifteen hectares, and a couple of barns. Right there, I knew he was planning to fly, and I thought, “Good for you, son.” Coz that family, they were… hmmm… awkward.’
‘How so?’
Rufus folded his arms and splayed his legs out: Rainer’s girlfriend called it ‘manspreading’. ‘Well, Jeb I’ve told you about. He was about a metre ninety when he was twelve. Little bugger was hard to control once he got big enough. Sly thing, too. Good at sniffing out weakness, I reckon. But then, bullies are, right?’
Rainer blanched at a schoolyard memory.
Rufus continued. ‘The parents – I wanna say Pamela, but that might be wrong; can’t recall his name – they were real God-fearers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying anything against the Church. Just that they, I dunno; it felt like they took it to extremes. They always looked like, what’s those people? Amish, yeah, Amish or Quakers, or whatever. That real old-fashioned thing, like another century. Didn’t see them too often, but they always seemed spooked by the real world. I got the feeling their farm lived about eighty years behind the rest of us, you know? Poor Nate, what a waste.’
Rainer couldn’t bring himself to leave Rufus in ignorance any longer. The old man was talkative enough: there was no need for any more leverage.
‘Sorry, Mr Pringle. Maybe you got the wrong impression there. Mr Whittler isn’t dead. He’s alive: at the station, in fact.’
‘Oh.’ Rufus looked up, eyes shining. He swallowed and put down the pencil shakily, as though he no longer trusted himself to hold anything. He took a moment. ‘That’s… that’s good. A relief. Well. Hmmm. Is he okay? Is he in trouble or something?’
Rainer nodded, touched. ‘He’s being looked after, yes. But we’re trying to piece together some of his past, Mr Pringle. You mentioned Mr Whittler was bringing camping gear into the store?’
‘Mmm, he’d go to the old outdoor store used to be over on Bramston. Behind the cinema that closed? Yeah, once a week – bought something for his trip. Compass, penknife; usually something small. Maybe his family would have spotted him spending anything more. I used to ask him where he was headed. I thought he had a destination in mind – some place he’d always wanted to see, photo he’d cut out of a magazine, or whatever. But he didn’t seem to know. Knew he was going, but not where.’
‘Did he have any friends? Someone he might turn to, or travel with?’
Rufus puffed his cheeks. He flickered when a phone rang downstairs but brought himself back to the conversation. ‘Oh Lord, no; he didn’t do friends. Never saw him with anyone but family. Not sure he was allowed friends, as such. I don’t think anyone would have been welcomed on the farm, that’s for sure. No, he was, uh, what’s the word, “self-contained”? Yeah, I think that’s it. Self-contained. He was his own friend, that kind of thing.’
Rainer had run out of questions, for now. He felt the need to check with Dana; she might have follow-up. He put his hands on his knees. ‘Well, that’s a great start for us, Mr Pringle. Thank you.’
At the foot of the steps Rainer turned and, as he always did with everyone he interviewed, shook hands. Rufus held on a beat longer than needed.
‘Nate: if he needs anything, I’ll stand for him. Will you tell him that? Supplies, whatever; will you tell him?’
Chapter 17
Dana joined Bill in looming over Mike’s shoulder. She was trying not to shake, nervous about what Nathan Whittler’s home would be like. She didn’t want it to look bad for him: squalid, somehow, or amateurish. She found herself hoping the others would look at Nathan’s efforts with admiration. It was proprietorial on her part, and maybe inappropriate, but she felt it nonetheless. It had only been a few hours since she took the call at sunrise, but she was so drawn in that the Whittler case now drowned out almost anything else.
Almost anything.
‘Where’s this feed from?’ asked Mike.
‘Dakota Line,’ replied Dana.
‘Why’s it called that?’
‘Oh, I know that one,’ interjected Bill. ‘Didn’t you do it at school?’