First Posting

"When he passed me, he cut in quickly, forcing me to take evasive action, and then he carried out a manoeuvre known as brake checking, he slammed on his brakes. I managed to avoid running up the back of his car by swerving onto the wrong side of the road. Fortunately there was no traffic coming from that direction, otherwise his actions would have caused an accident." The dash cam image clearly showed the manoeuvre, and his rear number plate. "If you look closely at the image from the forward facing camera, as I passed his car you will get a clear image of the driver. That driver is none other than the defendant." The image was of George Junior looking at my car before I had managed to stop it.

"Further to this incident, I had previously issued the defendant with an official caution about his driving. If he had taken the time to read that caution he would have seen that one of the conditions was that, if within the next three months he was apprehended driving in a similar manner, he would be charged in retrospect for the original infraction. I so move that this matter be taken into account along with the matter at hand."

There was a hasty conference between Brookman, George Junior and the high priced Barrister, which resulted in an unhappy George Junior changing his plea to 'guilty'.

He was less than happy when the Magistrate handed down a three month prison sentence on the second charge, and a six month loss of licence to go with it. He was saved from doing time when the Magistrate suspended the gaol sentence on him entering into a good behaviour bond. He was however, sentenced to six months community service. Having to mix with similarly sentenced ferals did not go down well.

Things calmed down, but not for long.

Brookman made an appointment with my superiors to complain about my policing. That did not go down well either. "Mister Brookman, has Sergeant Reynolds acted in any way that can be construed as outside the law?"

"He has harassed myself and my family from the day that he arrived in town."

"In what way has he harassed you or your family?"

"He issued my son with an unwarranted caution."

"I feel the need to inform you that all of Sergeant Reynolds records are forwarded to me personally, as part of an ongoing investigation into your town's policing needs. I have here the record of that caution, and that includes the car-cam from his patrol car, let me say that this action should have been taken some time ago. He was lucky to just receive a caution on this occasion, and his subsequent actions would back up that judgement. He got off very lightly. Is there anything else?"

"He has engaged in a vendetta against my bank. Not only that, but he has encouraged others to follow his lead."

"This vendetta, as you call it, has he broken the law at all?"

"No, but he has gone against everything that we have hold dear in my town."

"That's just it, isn't it? Everything that you hold dear in your town. You consider Brookman as some sort of fiefdom where the people have to bow to your every whim. Since you rang me to make this appointment I have been doing a bit of research into the running of your town." His emphasis on the word 'your' should have set bells ringing in Brookman's ears. "You have used your wealth to acquire property from townspeople in hard times when they were cash strapped, you lease them back to the original owners at exorbitant rates, thereby making sure that they cannot earn enough money to buy their property back from you and your bank. You have used your wealth to ensure that the townspeople remain beholden to you."

"That is not illegal."

"It may not be illegal, but it is definitely against the community spirit that should exist in small towns. Brookman, or to give it its official name, Canning Hill, has lost that community spirit. But from my observations, that spirit is returning. And do you know what is bringing it back? Let me tell you, it is coming back because those people that you have exploited over the years, those people who embodied that spirit, like those that you have forced into selling their property because they gave free food to the needy, something that you saw as eating into your profits. These people have seen that they now have a voice, and no longer need to bow to you anymore. What you did was not illegal, but it went against the real spirit of the community. What the community have done is also not illegal, but it has revived the community spirit that the town has almost forgotten."

"But if I gave food away I could never make a profit."

"What do you do with food that is close to its use-by date? You dump it. You would have earned more goodwill brownie points if you gave that food to a charity for distribution. You would not even have had to advertise that fact, in small towns the people would have found out soon enough, and they would have thought that you were a good guy, as opposed to how they look on you now."

Brookman was about to launch into a defence of his actions, but thought better of it.

"Oh, and by the way, in one of your conversations with Sergeant Reynolds, you referred to Judy Stevens as a slut. You are lucky that he chose to let that slide, or you would have ended up in court. While you're thinking on your life and position, I would advise you not to embark on any actions against any individual, or the townspeople in general, that could see you in court."

If Brookman thought that it couldn't get any worse he was very much mistaken. A deputation from the banking corporation descended on Brookman. "We have been going over your business figures over the past quarter, and these figures are not looking good at all. They have reached the point where we have to take stock of the ongoing viability of this branch. The decision of the Board is that we are going to close this branch. Our investigations have shown us that the people of this town would rather use the Foreston branch than do business with you. You, Sir, are costing our bank money and goodwill."

"But things will change, given time the people of Brookman will come back to my bank, you will see."

"The board thinks not. It is not our bank that is the problem, it is you. If the people are to come back to this bank it will not be while you are the Manager. We have looked at appointing a new Manager for this branch, but the damage has already been done, irreparable damage. The doors will close at the end of the month. Our decision is final."

Judy and I were standing in front of my old home. "I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew with this."

"You're not alone, you do realise that don't you?"

"I can't ask you to give up what little spare time you have to help me. It was my decision to buy the place after all."

Before she had a chance to reply a van pulled up. The sign on the side originally said 'Brookman Garden Maintenance Services' but there was a line painted with a wide brush through the 'Brookman' and it was replaced with 'Canning Hill'. "Hey Scott, you look as if you need the services of a good gardener."

"I can't afford you."

"Afford, who said anything about afford. When I was a kid, the number of times your father rocked up to our place with a load of fruit and veg, because we couldn't afford to buy any from the General Store. I'm simply repaying the debt."

"If I remember correctly, you have no debt to repay, your father used to help my father, when he could, manager the vegie garden."

"That wasn't often enough to repay what was given. No argument, I'm doing this."

"I hope that you won't expect me to turn a blind eye to any traffic violations in exchange for your help."

"You won't need to, I'm not a dickhead like young George."

"When can you start?" I was expecting him to say something like next week.

"No time like the present, Brookman's lawns can wait." He nodded down the road, a small tip truck towing a trailer with a slasher and Bobcat appeared. "We'll have all of the undergrowth cleared out and carted away by this evening, and tomorrow you we can work out what you are going to plant and where."

"How much is all of this going to cost me?"

"If I were to charge the hourly rate that Brookman has screwed us down to, not a lot. I've spoken to some of the other tradies and they've volunteered to work on a sort of barter system to minimise prices. We don't expect you to give us anything, or treat us differently to others, so we decided to go easy on you, and make your life easier."

"I'll tell you what, lunches are on me for the duration of the project."

"I can't ask you to do that." I told her.

"I'm looking on this as a promotional opportunity. The money that they save they will spend in town. While they are spending, I expect that they'll need coffee to tide them over until meal time. Can you think of a better place to get coffee than mine?"

"Sounds good to me Judy, you're on."

It was amazing the change that came over Canning Hill. The enthusiasm that replaced the despair of never having enough. People helped people without being asked. When grain crops were harvested Fred Freeman used his harvester, Jim Wallace used his truck to cart the grain to the silos.

When the orchards fruits needed picking and packing, it was all hands to the pump, women and kids all having a great time, laughing and chatting and, at times bursting into song. The only payment for this was that each took enough of the produce for their immediate needs. Stone fruits were either dried or preserved to see the town through the lean winter months. Bill Thomson changed his egg production from battery cages to free range and, each day a group of townspeople descended on the farm to collect and grade eggs.

Brookman's General Store changed ownership and name. It became the Canning Hill Co-operative Store, and a large storage shed was constructed to store supplies, both locally produced and those brought in from elsewhere, or outside, as it was now known.

Where was Brookman while all of this was happening? He was becoming more paranoid by the day. I don't know why he came to think that the town was against him, after all, we did nothing more than ignore him. We did not need his bank, so we had little need to talk with him. He eventually stopped coming in to the police station to bail out young George, who was just beginning his third period of driving suspension.

Young George was having difficulty comprehending the changes to his life. His ex-wife and ex-girlfriend were living together in his ex-house. Rumour had it that one of them had changed her sexual orientation, but that was a rumour that no-one bothered to check out. Meanwhile he was suffering a sexual drought that not even a foray into the big smoke could alleviate. He even made a drunken attempt at Judy, but long ago memories came flooding back, courtesy of a handful of goolies.

As for me, things were looking up. We set up a community garden on spare land next to the house, where people could either grow their own crops, or work with others to produce crops.

The excess was either given to the needy, yes there were some who, for whatever reason, were unable to work in the garden, and the rest sold at the weekly Farmers' Market on Saturday..

Judy had moved in with me, and my love life could not have been better. "My darling man," I had heard the toilet flush and she slid into bed. It was early in the morning and I was just surfacing. I have come to realise that, when she began a conversation like this, I needed to be fully alert.

"Yes, what is it?" A note of caution in my voice.

"I was thinking, I know that you aren't a churchy person, but do you think that Reverend Patterson would marry us?" We had touched on that subject several times, and the consensus was that we didn't really need to get married.

"I could always ask him."

"I think that we should go together, don't you?"

"What has brought this on? You aren't, you know, are you?"

"I am, you know." She had her hand resting on her belly. She looked closely at me to gauge my reaction. She got an even closer look when I crushed her lips with mine. "Go easy there mate, you know how much the dentists charge these days."

"When did you find out?" I knew that she hadn't been to the doctor recently.

"Just now, the stick turned blue."

I kissed her, a little more gently this time. "That's great news. Can life get any better than this?"

"You do realise that this will mean a radical shift in our lifestyle, don't you?"

"I don't think that will be a problem, we seem to have a pretty good support network now."

"We do, don't we. Who'd have thought when you came waltzing back into town a year ago that things could change to the extent that they have?"

It was a while before we were forced by time to climb out of bed and join the real world, me off to work to control the rampart crime in this town, and she to prepare to feed the masses.

Some of the masses had obviously been up and about already because, in the back of her station wagon was a box of fresh fruit, a carton of 24 eggs and a cool box that contained fresh milk and cream, all stuff Judy needed for to make the food for today.

I had a surprise waiting at the station for me. Cynthia Brookman got out of her car as I parked in front. "Scott, could I have a word with you."

"Sure, come in." I was curious, if this was an official visit, she would have called me Sergeant Reynolds. "Have a seat." I sat behind my desk. "What's on your mind?"

"I know that you and my husband haven't seen eye to eye for some time, and, as for that person who I'm ashamed to call my son, well he deserves what he has got from you. The reason that I am here is, I am about to leave George, but before I go I want to do something that will hopefully force him to realise that he just can't treat people the way that he has treated the people of this town."

"I'm all ears."

"I didn't know at the time, but what he did to your parents was completely un-necessary, and illegal."

"Illegal, in what way?"

"Your father hadn't defaulted on his loan at all. George had recorded additional borrowings that never happened. He knew that your father was naïve enough to not question the figures."

"But why? Don't answer that, I think I know why."

"George never wanted that land, he just wanted your father off it. But it gets worse."

"How could it have got any worse?"

"Your father just didn't run off the road and into that tree, don't get me wrong, I think that he was in the right frame of mind to do something like that, but he had a little help. I overheard George giving instructions to some guy to pull his seat belt out and fray it enough that it would break under a heavy impact. When the belt was in its normal position he wouldn't have noticed it. Then he was to give your father's car a little nudge to send it off the road, and after the accident he was to keep driving out of town. Your father hitting the tree was a bonus as far as George was concerned, any evidence about the seat belt would be destroyed by the fire."

"How can we prove this?"

"We can't prove it, but we can prove that George had fiddled the books to show that your father had taken out a secondary loan when he had not." She took a USB stick from her purse. "It is all here and more. He has been screwing the people for years and they never suspected that the upright bank manager that they trusted had betrayed that trust."

"If you knew this, I have to ask, why didn't you go to the police?"

"You know as well as I do that George had him in his pocket."

"What are you going to do now? I need to know where I can contact you should I need to."

"I have a sister who lives in Foreston. I have been leaving clothes with her for the past six months. George hasn't noticed that my wardrobe isn't as full as it has been, and even if he did, I would tell him that I'd given the clothes to charity."

"Give me your contact details." She wrote them down and stood to leave.

"I suppose that you're wondering why I haven't left him before this. Well, I was in no financial position to do that, and he made me sign my life away before we got married. If I left him I got nothing."

"But all that has changed, he can't cut you off with nothing."

"But he can make it very hard for me to get anything. Scott, you are the single best thing that has happened to this town in forever, and I think that you will be able to protect me if he tries anything stupid."

I stood and held out my hand for her to shake, but she would have none of that. She put her arm around me and kissed me, before turning and leaving the police station.

What a turn up for the books. I took the USB stick and stuck it into my computer. A whole bunch of files were listed in date and client name order. I tapped into my parents file. It was there all right. He had copies of all loan documentation except for one. An additional loan was 'approved' that was not supported by a written application, and it was necessary for the documentation to 'disappear', because the repayment schedule showed that Father was ahead in his repayment on the original loan. There were several other loan agreements to other clients that were also unsupported by documentation.

I was on the phone to HQ, to the Fraud Squad. "Good morning, this is Sergeant Reynolds from Brookman, or should I say Canning Hill, police. I have in my possession, computer files that show that our local bank manager has been systematically defrauding the local residents for years. Could I interest you in carrying out an investigation?"

"Yes, can you get the files to us?"

"I'll email them to you but I'll hang onto the original USB stick until you can send someone down to collect it."

"Fair enough, send away. I'll call you when I get the files." I sent them.

It took a day for George to realise that Cynthia was not coming home. He didn't notice that she was not home with a prepared evening meal because he was not home to eat said meal. He didn't realise that she was not in bed because they slept in separate beds and he was not used to checking to see that she was in bed. But when she was not there to prepare his breakfast, he realised that something was wrong. A quick search of the house revealed nothing, her clothes were still there, her make-up was still there, but a check of the garage revealed that her car was not in its usual place. He was not used to such blatant disobedience to his expectations of her.

His first step, before he panicked, was to dial her mobile phone. He heard it ringing in her bedroom. Could it be that she had been kidnapped? How much would the kidnapper ask for her return, and was she worth that much to him? He thought of Patricia Rowan who told him last night that she was prepared to leave her husband for him. He weighed up the possibility of a future with the compliant Patricia, and decided that she would be a viable alternative to Cynthia. The decision would have to wait until the kidnappers contacted him.

When he had heard nothing by noon, he began to consider that her absence just might be voluntary, and if so where would she go? He rang her sister Mary in Foreston, to be told that she was not there, which was true. What her sister conveniently omitted to tell him was that she wasn't there at that precise time, but had been there and was expected to return shortly, as soon as she had secured accommodation elsewhere.

When he had heard nothing by late afternoon, a clearly agitated George Brookman walked into the police station. "Sergeant Reynolds, Scott, I would like to report a missing person."

"Okay, who is missing, and how long has this person been missing, when was the last time that you saw him or her?"

"It's my wife, Cynthia. I haven't seen her since yesterday morning when I left home for work. She wasn't at home when I got in last night, and she wasn't there this morning. I called her sister, but she wasn't there. I don't know where she could be. I've even had the thought that she may have been kidnapped, but there's been no ransom demand. I don't know what to think."