Pat Ritter. Books

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Thank you mzawf. Much appreciated my friends.

'The Bush Detective' - Page 57:

Rollie built a fire to boil the billy. They camped on the bank of the Warrego River with gum trees growing along the bank. Birds chirped their songs.
Allan unrolled some biscuits while Rollie filled the billy with water.
‘You’ve done this before Rollie.’ Allan stated when Rollie threw a handful of tea leaves into the billy; grabbed the handle, swung the billy around over his shoulder. Set the billy on the ground, tapped the side of the billy with a stick for the leaves to settle before pouring the contents into pannikins.
‘We can’t have tea leaves drain through your teeth.’ Rollie smiled accepted a biscuit from Allan, started chewing. ‘This biscuit is great. Did your wife-to-be cook them?
‘If you insist. I rose before the crows this morning. Cooked them myself.’ Allan admitted. ‘Pleased you like them. Do you mind if I ask you a question Rollie?’ Allan asked.
‘Ask away. I have nothing to hide.’ Rollie said removed a small round tin from his shirt pocket, unscrewed the lid, dipped his index finger and thumb into the tin removed a small amount of tobacco. Rollie removed a small piece of paper, placed the tobacco into this paper, made a cylinder shape, licked each side of the cigarette; twisted each end; stuck the cigarette into his mouth, took a twig from the fire to light his cigarette, puffed on the cigarette: smoke rushed through his nostrils. ‘Ah. That’s better.’ Rolled leaned back to rest on a log.
‘Tell me about your life?’ Allan asked.
‘Not much to tell really. Born and bred in this neck of the woods. Went to local school here in Cunnamulla. My father worked as a shearer. Didn’t like school, went to work with my father in shearing sheds at ten years old. Tarboy to start off with; roustabout; then shearer. Been shearing for most of my life. Love the life of a shearer. Never tied down.’ Rollie finished his smoke. ‘We’d better hit the road before the sun gets too hot.’ Rollie rose, gathered the reins for his horse.
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Allan caught Apache; removed the dinner camp hobbles whilst Rollie threw the remainder of the water in the billy to douse the fire; kicked dirt to extinguish the fire. ‘Can’t have a bush fire starting.’ Rollie stated whilst covering the finished fire with dirt using his boot.
After re-mounting their horses; they continued their journey toward Coongoola Woolshed. ‘How far do you think before we reach Coongoola Woolshed?’ Allan asked.
Rollie looked upward toward the sun. ‘Should be around lunch-time. Join the shearers for lunch. If Mr White allows us to sit with his shearers?’ Rollie commented.
‘I’ve never met Mr White.’ Allan asked looking into the distance in the hope to sight the woolshed.
‘I haven’t been here for thirteen years.’ Rollie admitted.

Chapter 8

They rode in silence until arrival at the woolshed. A male person dressed in white, wearing a white pit-helmet approached the two riders when they stopped beside the man. ‘Well. Rollie Cole. Haven’t seen you in since you were a kid. Haven’t changed much.’ This man approached Rollie when he dismounted from his horse. They shook hands.
‘Hello Mr White. Been many years. I want to introduce you to Detective Allan Honor from Cunnamulla Police.’ Rollie stated.
Allan approached the man, shock his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you Sir.’ Allan expressed in a cordial voice.
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‘I’ll camp down at the shearer’s quarters Mr White. If you don’t mind. Yes. After I finish with Detective Honor, I’ll stay for a couple of months.’ Rollie answered with confidence.
After lunch Allan and Rollie mounted their horses rode from the shearing shed south through a couple of paddocks found the boundary fence. They’d ridden almost half-an hour when Rollie stopped. ‘I think this is the place. Long time ago. Looks similar bush.’ Rollie dismounted; took his tobacco tin from his shirt pocket, rolled a cigarette, struck a match to light his cigarette. Drawing on the cigarette, ‘Yeah. Around here somewhere. Those hills look familiar.’ Rollie finished.
Allan looked around the bushland. Thoughts rushed through his mind to re-create the crime scene. Thirteen years ago; a long time ago. Body never found; weapon never found. How did the arresting officer decide to arrest Riley without evidence? Each piece of the puzzle didn’t fit together in Allan’s mind. ‘What’s over past the scrub?’ Allan said.
Rollie looked in the direction of where Allan pointed. Scrub surrounded a small hill. They walked their horses over to the spot Allan pointed, pushed through scrub. They came upon a cave in the side of the hill covered by overgrown scrub. ‘What have we here?’ Allan pointed to an opening, covered by thick scrub.
After pulling, pushing thick scrub from around an opening Allan said, ‘We need light where we’re going?’
Rollie pulled small bushes from the surrounding ground, twisted twigs together, bound them with a piece of leather binding to form a torch. He struck a match, lit the front of the twigs which flared into fire. ‘Come on. We’ll have a look inside.’ Rollie pushed limbs from the mouth of the cave walked inside. Fire from his hand-made torch lit up the cave. Apart from cobwebs; a stuffy odour, Allan followed Rollie into the inner part of the cave.
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'The Bush Detective' - Page 60:
‘Probably used by aboriginals.’ Allan said. Floor of the cave soft. Allan’s foot stepped onto something hard. ‘Wait Rollie.’ Allan bent down on his knees searching for what he stepped on. His hand touched a metal object. Taking hold of this object he lifted to the light. ‘A tomahawk?’ Allan spluttered. He couldn’t believe he found the weapon Riley used to murder Martyr. They left the cave.
Allan suspected Rollie had never been near this area before. Instincts told him Rollie wasn’t being truthful with him. ‘How old are you Rollie?’ Allan asked.
‘Twenty-three. Why?’ Rollie asked.
‘Pieces of the puzzle aren’t fitting together. If you’re twenty-three now: thirteen years ago. You would’ve been ten years old. What are you not telling me Rollie?’ Allan questioned.
Rollie dropped his head. A sure sign Rollie hadn’t been telling Allan the truth. ‘I haven’t told you everything. Sounded good in my head before I told you.’ Rollie stated.
‘You don’t need to be afraid to tell the truth Rollie. What happened?’ Allan asked in a quiet soothing voice.
‘You’re right. I was ten years old at the time. I worked here for Mr White as a tarboy. Riley was one of the shearers. One afternoon when he cleaned his saddle; he gave me two bob to buy him a pint of kerosene. I went to the shearer’s quarters, poured a pint of kerosene into a bottle, returned to Riley, handed him the bottle. Not at anytime did I ever think he’d use the kerosene to burn down the woolshed.’ Rollie admitted.
‘When did you find out about the murder and burning down the woolshed?’ Allan asked.
‘After dark the same day. Noises. Voice like Riley’s voice out the back of the shearing quarters. About the same time; flames coming from the woolshed. Men from the quarters jumped from their beds to help Mr White put out the fire. Too late to save anything.’ Rollie admitted.
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IMPORTANT NOTICE: I'LL BE ABSENT UNTIL 7TH MARCH 2022. ATTENDING APPLE AND GRAPE FESTIVAL STANTHORPE.

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They cancelled the festival. I'm back.

'The Bush Detective' - Page 61:

‘At ten years old you wouldn’t understand how the fire started at the woolshed?’ Allan asked.
‘No. If you must. I almost shit myself. Instead of helping to fight the fire I followed Riley. Because darkness filled the sky; I kept a distance. Followed him along the boundary fence. Same place today.’ Rollie continued with his story.
‘You were brave to follow him.’ Allan said.
‘Bloody stupid. Riley built a fire. He sat beside the fire. Riley produced a bottle. Started drinking from the bottle. Rollie spoke soft. His words loud enough for Allan.
‘How far back from the fire did you sit?’ Allan asked.
‘I hid in the bush.’ Rollie pointed to thick bush. ‘Someone coming along the boundary fence. Couldn’t figure out who. A male voice shouting at the top of his voice. Screamed at Riley who stood holding something in his hand.’ Rollie relayed his story to Allan.
Rollie continued his story. ‘Riley raised his right arm holding a weapon. Looked like the tomahawk you found in the cave. Reflection from the fire. Riley struck the stranger down along the neck with the tomahawk striking him more than once. I slipped out from the bush, hurried to return to the shearer’s quarters. My heart pounded a thousand beats a minute.’ Rollie placed his hands to his face. Sobs erupted from his throat. ‘This has haunted me for thirteen years. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth in the first place. Over the years I’ve seen Riley strike down this other man with the tomahawk in my dreams. I needed to tell someone.’ Rollie consoled himself, stopped blubbing. Took a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiped his face and eyes.
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'The Bush Detective' - Page 62:

‘I’m pleased you told me the truth Rollie. You’re not in trouble. Helps me to understand what happened. Thank you.’ Allan stated.
‘I now realise why you’re called ‘The Bush Detective’. You’re smart to figure this out.’ Rollie admitted.
‘Thank you for your kind words Rollie. A ping goes off in my mind if something is not right.’ Allan admitted.
Following day Allan rode Apache on his return to Cunnamulla having spent the night with Bruce White. After a delicious meal they sat on the front veranda to speak about the investigation. Bruce couldn’t enlarge on the information Rollie admitted to during the previous afternoon. Before leaving; Allan thanked Bruce for his hospitality promised to return.
After arriving at Cunnamulla, unsaddled Apache, placed a bucket of feed in the paddock, Allan walked to the rear of the hotel. Alex sat in the kitchen having lunch. ‘You haven’t eaten everything. Have you. I’m hungry.’ Allan spoke entering the kitchen. ‘By the way, your tenant will not be back. He’s working at Coongoola Woolshed for a couple of months.’ Allan poured tea into his cup, sat beside Alex.
‘Yeah. I thought as much. Rollie only wanted to speak with you about something important. He wasn’t staying long. Never does.’ Alex handed Allan a plate with a couple of slices of bread together with meat. Allan prepared a sandwich covered his meat with pickles. Allan took hold of the sandwich in both hands biting into the soft bread tasting each morsel of food. Wiped his lips. After swallowing a mouth full of tea; he told Alex about his overnight trip.
‘Did you learn anything?’ Alex asked wanting to listen to Allan’s details of what he discovered.
‘Hopefully, I found the murder weapon. A tomahawk. Found by accident when we entered a cave. Something hard under my boot.’ Allan explained.
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'The Bush Detective' - Page 63:

‘You do come home.’ A female voice echo from outside the kitchen.
Allan rose recognized Lynne’s voice. Rushed from his seat to meet her when she entered the kitchen. She swung her arms around his neck, placed kisses on his mouth, face and neck. ‘I’ve missed you.’ She muttered.
‘If I receive this reception each time, I arrive home. I may consider being away more often.’ Allan released his hold on Lynne. ‘I missed you too. Do you want something to eat?’ Allan finished. Lynne nodded. Allan made Lynne a cuppa, placed a plate in front of her where she sat; sliced a couple slices of bread, plus a couple of slices of mutton. Placed them in front of her to eat.
‘This is what I miss most of when you’re away. No one to wait on me.’ Lynne smiled, gathered her sandwich, started eating.
‘I’ll leave you two love birds to catch up. I have work to do.’ Alex excused himself leaving Lynne and Allan alone at the kitchen table.
After they completed their lunch Lynne asked Allan, ‘How long are you in town this time?’
‘I’m uncertain. If I tell you something. You promise not to divulge this information to another person.’ Allan said in a concerned voice.
‘Cross my heart. Hope to die. I promise whatever you tell me will be between you and I.’ Lynne placed her right hand over the region of her heart.
‘Okay. I think I found the murder weapon used by Riley to murder Martyr.’ Allan said.
‘Wow. How?’ Lynne questioned. Her eyes wide in disbelief.
‘We stumbled onto a cave. When I entered, something hard under my boot? Leaned down to discover a tomahawk.’ Allan confided to Lynne.
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