Dark Christmas – Back to Nature

All the words listed below were provided by readers of the Dark Series, and my task was to write a Cooper and Quinn Christmas story containing every one of them.

Enjoy!

Word list:

“Holy crap!” Cooper stepped from the air-conditioned car and immediately wished he hadn’t. “It’s got to be close to forty degrees out here!”

“I did suggest you might want to leave the long pants at home, boss.” Quinn climbed out of the driver’s seat and tucked the keys in the pocket of his cargo shorts without bothering to lock the car.

“I can’t wear shorts to a murder investigation, Joe. Not even in a place like this.”

This was Freely Holiday Camp. The place was once billed as a lifestyle resort, but it had long since lost its lustre. It also wasn’t a lifestyle Cooper had any experience with. 

Quinn responded by pointing to the faded sign covered in sad-looking tinsel at the entrance – ‘clothing optional’. “I don’t think they’re too fussed about what you wear here, boss.”

“Murder in a nudist colony,” Cooper muttered under his breath. “I’ve seen everything now.”

“Naturist resort,” Quinn corrected. “They don’t like to be called nudists anymore, I believe.”

Cooper shook his head, wiped the sweat from his brow, and headed for the office. Maybe it would be air-conditioned in there. It was late in the afternoon, and after a full day’s driving he was keen to get on with the investigation. Three days before Christmas he should have been helping Liz buy presents and wrangle their four excited kids through the festive season, not investigating a murder eight hundred kilometres away in the middle of nowhere. 

Pushing open the door Cooper was greeted with a blast of warm air from a pedestal fan that had seen better days. With no air-conditioning in sight, it was almost hotter in here than it was outside.

“Hello?” he called out, before sticking his head over the counter to confirm his suspicions. There was no-one in either the small office or the attached house, if you could call it a house. The whole building looked like it was in danger of crumbling at any moment. Cooper returned to the searing heat of the late-afternoon sun.

“Over here, boss,” said Quinn, pointing around the side of the building.

Cooper swatted at flies as he followed his partner around the side of the house to a cleared area backing onto bush. He counted four tents circled around a large tarp, underneath which was a selection of chairs, cooking equipment, and other camping paraphernalia. A number of people were seated under the tarp having an animated conversation, but they weren’t close enough for Cooper to catch what was being said.

There was another, much smaller campsite set up further toward the bush, and in between the two campsites was what they’d been searching for – the crime scene. A small building that looked like an outhouse, it had been shielded from view of the campsites by a large canvas screen tied between a tree and a police car. An ambulance was parked off to one side, its paramedics lazing in the cab no doubt with the air-conditioning blasting. Lucky buggers.

Two police officers stood guard beside the outhouse, and one of them held up an arm to wave Cooper and Quinn over. Cooper noticed their uniform included shorts, and he again rued his decision to dress formally for this investigation.

“You the detectives from the city?” asked the younger officer as Cooper and Quinn approached. He was the one who’d waved, and was definitely the more animated of the two. The other one hadn’t moved yet, and if his eyes hadn’t been open Cooper would have sworn the guy was asleep standing up.

“Detective Sergeant Charlie Cooper, this is Senior Constable Joe Quinn.” Cooper tilted his chin toward the outhouse. “Body in there?”

“Yeah.” The young constable introduced himself as Blake Osmond, and his partner as Sergeant Jardine – no first name. Jardine’s eyes narrowed and his head moved in the tiniest of acknowledging nods. Not a fan of detectives from the city, then.

The outhouse door was propped open and Cooper could see activity behind the canvas tarp. He recognised the tall slender frame of Garrett Byrnes, his favourite forensic pathologist. Things were finally looking up.

“Hey, Garrett,” he said, leaving the locals to their post and stepping behind the canvas. “Oh, nasty,” he added on catching sight of the victim.

“Yeah, poor bugger. Helluva way to go. You guys just get here?”

Cooper nodded. “Nine hours on the road. Still don’t know why we couldn’t have flown up with you.” Garrett and his assistant, Jake, had hitched a ride to Bourke with the Royal Flying Doctors. They’d travelled in the ambulance out here to the holiday park, apparently about eighty kilometres from Bourke and nowhere near anything resembling civilisation.

“There was no room,” said another voice Cooper recognised. Zach Ryan emerged from behind the outhouse, torch in hand and camera slung around his neck.

“I thought you and Nora were driving up?” Cooper asked, looking around for Zach’s partner. The two of them were the best forensic technicians Homicide Squad had, and although he was happy to have them on the investigation Cooper was beginning to think the Sarge must have had it in for him and Quinn, making them drive all this way.

“Nora had a family emergency, and we couldn’t get anyone else this close to Christmas, so it’s just me, Coop. You guys had already left and Munro didn’t want me driving alone, so I took the last seat on the plane. Have to come back with you two, though. No room on the return flight.” Zach glanced at the body as he said this, and suddenly Cooper didn’t envy anyone on that plane.

The victim was Jack Freely, owner and manager of the Freely Holiday Camp. In life, Jack had clearly practised the ‘clothing optional’ suggestion of his facility; he was sitting on the toilet completely naked. At least what was left of him was naked. There was an enormous hole where the man’s head should be, presumably inflicted by the twelve-gauge shotgun lying on the ground beside him.

“First thoughts, Garrett?” Cooper asked. He was still harbouring hopes of suicide so they could be out of here quickly.

Garrett quashed that dream. “Not suicide. Not with this damage and where the shotgun was found.”

“Someone could have moved it,” Cooper wondered out loud.

“True. That’s your job to figure out. But I’d be very surprised, Coop. It’s almost impossible to get a gun like that into the right position to do this much damage. I’ll know more when we get him back to Sydney, but from my initial examination he was shot in the face at close range.”

“While he was…” Cooper pointed to the toilet.

“Again, that’s your job to figure out. He has defecated, I can tell you that much.”

Cooper screwed up his nose. “Time of death?”

“Between nine and eleven o’clock last night. Decomp is quick in this heat.”

“Tell me about it.” Cooper leaned in for a closer look at the body, covering his mouth and nose to mask some of the smell. Bugs were beginning to take up residence in what remained of Jack Freely’s head. “Anything else you can give us before you pack him up, Garrett?”

The forensic pathologist shook his head. “Nope. Shot in the head at close range sometime between nine and eleven last night, and he died instantly. What more do you want?”

Cooper shrugged. What he wanted was to go home. He and the bush didn’t get on. He left Garrett and Jake to the body and turned his attention to Zach.

“What have you got?”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Zach replied. “There are a bunch of fingerprints all over the place here; apparently it’s the only bathroom for the whole camp. So that’s not going to help us. I checked the shotgun for prints, but it’s been wiped clean.”

“Damn,” said Cooper as his last hope for suicide faded away. Jack Freely certainly didn’t blow his own brains out and then wipe down the gun. “Anything inside the outhouse?”

Zach shone his torchlight into the back corners of the small building, but there was nothing there besides dirt, leaves, and a disturbing amount of brain matter.

This was not going to be an easy case.

Cooper peered around the tarp toward the larger campsite. The people gathered there had stopped talking and were watching him.

“Time to interview the campers, boss?”

“In a minute, Joe. Let’s find whoever’s in charge first and get the key to our room. I need to change clothes.”

Quinn and Zach both raised their eyebrows then burst out laughing. “There are no rooms out here, boss.”

“What? Where are we setting up then? The nearest town is miles away. We can’t run a murder investigation at that distance.”

Quinn smiled. “That’s the other reason we drove. I’ve got everything we need in the boot of the car.”

Oh no. This was turning into Cooper’s worst nightmare. He said a silent prayer, but it was to no avail.

“We’re camping, boss.”

With the help of the two paramedics, who’d finally prized themselves from their air-conditioned cab, Garrett and Jake removed the body from the outhouse and loaded it into the ambulance. They left for Bourke, the nearest town with an airport, leaving Zach behind to carry on processing the crime scene. 

Cooper stepped away from the bloodied mess and took a moment to call home while Quinn went to speak with Jardine and Osmond.

“Hey,” said Liz when she answered the phone. “You arrived safe then?”

“We did.” Cooper could hear singing in the background. “Where are you?”

“Carols by Candlelight. Last minute decision to get the kids out of the house. They’re loving it, by the way. Charlotte and Grace just belted out Jingle Bells like there was no tomorrow.”

Cooper smiled as he pictured his three-year-old twin daughters singing at the top of their lungs. “How are the boys coping?”

“Pretty well. It’s in a park and some people have brought their dogs down, so Patrick is in heaven. Michael is playing big brother to the girls, telling them what to do as usual. And Leo has come along and brought some of his mum’s homemade mince pies. We’re all good here, Coop. How are you doing?”

Cooper pictured Leo’s mum’s homemade mince pies, a favourite gift the young man had brought the Coopers every Christmas since they’d met him. “I wish I was there with all of you.” He gave her a brief rundown of the situation before he spotted Quinn, Jardine, and Osmond making their way back to him. “I have to go Liz, just wanted to check in and tell you I love you. Give the kids some cuddles from me.”

“Will do. Take care, Coop.”

He breathed a sigh of relief after hanging up. Talking to Liz always put things in perspective. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow again before waving Zach over to join them and turning his attention to the two local police.

“Right, what can you tell us?”

This time it was Jardine who spoke.

“Jack Freely was shot in the face with his own shotgun while he was on the shitter last night.”

“We know for sure it’s his gun?” Cooper asked, ignoring the colourful language.

Jardine nodded. “Same one I confiscated last year when he was shootin’ at a local dingo.”

“If it was confiscated, why did he have it back?”

A shrug. “Was just tryin’ to teach him a lesson. He learnt it.”

“Right,” said Cooper. “So who else is here at the camp? Who are our suspects?”

Osmond jumped in, counting on his fingers as he spoke.

“There’s Jack’s wife, Rhonda Freely, who lives in the main residence with him. Then there’s their son Ben, who arrived yesterday to spend Christmas with them. He lives in the city.”

“Sydney?” Quinn asked, taking notes.

Osmond raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “Bourke. The large campsite has three couples and a single woman, all regulars, they come here at this time every year.”

“Names?” asked Quinn.

Osmond reeled them off from memory. “Martin and Lisa Hawke, Tom and Beth Bagshaw, Robbie Galloway and Renee Harris, they’re together but they’re not married, and Annalise Barrett. She’s the one on her own.”

Cooper turned to stare at the large group. “They’re all set up together over there?”

“Yeah.” Osmond pointed to the smaller site. “Those are a young couple name of Ruiz, never been here before. Arrived a few days ago. She’s pregnant.”

“And that’s it?” asked Cooper. “No-one else out here?”

“That’s it,” Osmond replied. “It’s pretty isolated, and none of them saw anyone else. So unless they’re lying about that, my guess is one of them killed Jack.”

Cooper took a deep breath. At least they were dealing with a limited suspect pool. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out which one was the murderer. Maybe he’d be home for Christmas after all.

“Who found the body?”

“Ben,” said Osmond. “Says he went out to see what was taking his father so long on the toilet.”

“Timing?” asked Quinn.

“It was Jack’s habit to spend some time in the outhouse after dinner. Rhonda and Ben were watching The Amazing Race on television. From what the other campers have said re their own toilet habits last night, we figure it was close to nine o’clock when Jack went in. Ben says it was well after ten when he noticed his father hadn’t returned and went out to check.”

“And no-one heard the shotgun blast?” Cooper was struggling to see how a man could be shot on the toilet in the middle of a campsite and no-one knew who did it.

“Rhonda had the television in the house turned right up, so she and Ben claim they heard nothing. The rest of the campers were – well, you can interview them yourself. But they all say they were busy.”

Cooper didn’t know what that meant, but Osmond was right about one thing. He would interview the other campers himself.

“You obviously knew Jack,” he said to both Osmond and Jardine. “Any thoughts on who might have wanted to kill him?”

Jardine smirked. “Jack was a special type of arsehole, Detective. I reckon the answer to that is anyone he came into contact with.”

Cooper looked to Osmond for confirmation. 

The younger cop nodded reluctantly. “I’m surprised it took this long.”

With no internet and limited phone service out at the camp, Cooper had asked Jardine and Osmond to take Zach with them back to Bourke for the night. Zach needed the internet to function, and among other things Cooper wanted him to do background checks on all the suspects. 

Once they were on their way it was finally time for Cooper and Quinn to interview the suspects, starting with Rhonda and Ben Freely. The victim’s wife and son had been sitting out with the rest of the campers when Cooper and Quinn had arrived, but they were now seated with the detectives around a tiny dining table in the equally tiny kitchen of the main house.

Cooper started with the wife, who didn’t appear to have shed a tear over her husband’s brutal death.

“Rhonda, we’re very sorry for your loss. I know it’s a difficult time, but I’m afraid we have to ask you and your son some questions. Are you okay with that?”

Rhonda shrugged. “I guess. Do you want some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“Mum’s in a bit of shock,” Ben explained. He was a large man, in his late thirties at a guess.

Cooper had seen people in shock. None of them had looked as relaxed as Rhonda Freely, but he didn’t contradict Ben.

“Can I ask what Jack was doing in the camp outhouse last night?”

Rhonda laughed. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“I mean why was he doing it out there? I was under the impression that facility was for the campers.”

“Oh, right. Nah, we all use it. The one in the house keeps gettin’ backed up. Jack was supposed to have it seen to, but…”

“Dad wasn’t the best at organising maintenance around the place,” Ben explained.

“He was a tight-arse, you mean,” said Rhonda.

“Mum…”

She waved a hand at him. “No point hiding it, Benny. Your father was a cheapskate. He knew everyone was coming for Christmas and he fixed nothing. He was a total Scrooge.”

“How did he get on with the campers?” Quinn asked. “I understand most of the folk here at the moment are regulars?”

Ben answered before his mother could speak. “This is one of the only naturist camps in New South Wales, and it’s definitely the cheapest. People can comfortably be themselves here, which is why the regulars keep coming back every year.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” said Cooper.

“It kind of does. I’m saying they came back for the privacy and affordability, not necessarily Dad’s company.”

“Jack rubbed people the wrong way,” Rhonda added. “He had no time for all this political correctness and such.”

“Did you kill him?” Cooper asked. Sometimes the direct approach was called for.

Rhonda roared laughing. “Did I kill him? No, Detective. I couldn’t stand the bloody sight of him sometimes, but I didn’t kill him. Why would I bother? He had cancer. Doctor gave him six months about twelve months ago. Jack was on borrowed time.”

This was clearly news to Ben.

“What? Cancer? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rhonda shrugged, then, finally seeming to realise the gravity of the situation, reached for her son’s hand. “Your father didn’t want to bother you. There was nothing they could do, so he didn’t see the point. He didn’t want a fuss. He was a cranky old bastard, Benny, but he loved you. He just didn’t know how to say it.”

A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Maybe Rhonda Freely wasn’t as hard as she wanted to come across.

“Who else knew he was sick?” Cooper asked.

“Only me and his doctor,” Rhonda replied. “Last time we saw the doc was about a month ago, and he said the cancer had progressed. It wasn’t going to be long.”

“I had no idea,” said Ben, shaking his head. “He looked old the last couple of times I visited, but he didn’t look sick. I just thought he was being lazy.”

“He hid it pretty well,” said Rhonda with a sniff. “Wasn’t too hard, he always was a lazy bugger.”

After a few more questions about Jack and the camp, Cooper got the impression Jack wasn’t the only one living on borrowed time. The camp was clearly being run into the ground, and it wasn’t surprising to see only a handful of regulars and a couple of backpackers in residence. It was also approaching the height of summer, and personally Cooper couldn’t see the attraction of camping at this time of year at all.

“What sort of things do people do out here?” he asked.

“Well there’s the stream down the back,” said Rhonda. “Most get down there for a swim a couple of times a day. Tom and Martin try their hand fishing in it, but they don’t have much luck.”

“There’re the horses, too,” said Ben.

“One horse,” Rhonda corrected. “We lost Turkey a few months back.”

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“He died,” said Rhonda, as if it was obvious. “We just have Buck now.”

Cooper figured the clothing optional situation complimented swimming, but wondered whether it applied to fishing and horse riding. He decided he didn’t want to know.

“Okay, we’ll leave it at that for now,” he said. “We’d better get down and interview the rest of the campers.”

They left Rhonda and Ben discussing Jack’s cancer diagnosis and went out to the car. Cooper had given up on the idea of getting changed, as it was finally starting to cool down now that the sun had almost set. But if they were going to be camping for the night they probably should make a start on setting up.

“All right, Joe, show me what you’ve got.”

Quinn smiled as he opened the boot of the car. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Bought myself a new swag recently,” he said as he pulled out a large green canvas bag and threw it on the ground. “Lucky for you I haven’t got rid of the old one yet.” A smaller, faded bag landed next to the new one.

“Lucky me,” Cooper replied. He pointed to the big cooler taking up half of the boot space. “That a portable fridge?”

“Sure is. Got some drinks in there, and a couple of steaks to barbecue later.”

“Seems like you’ve thought of everything, Joe.” Cooper had to admit he was somewhat relieved. If they had to do this, at least his partner was prepared.

“Not my first rodeo, boss.”

“Clearly. I do have one question though.”

“Shoot.”

“If the toilet in the house isn’t working, and the outhouse is a crime scene, where are we supposed to…”

Quinn smirked as he reached to the back of the boot and pulled out a small, folding tool.

“That’s where this comes in, boss.”

Oh shit. A poo-shovel.

Cooper left Quinn setting up their swags and walked over to the larger group of campers, who were thankfully fully clothed. They were sitting around a campfire now, even though it was still close to thirty degrees. A billy hung from a triangle apparatus above the fire, and whatever was in it smelled delicious. 

One of the men stood when Cooper approached.

“Good evening, Detective. I’m Martin Hawke, this is my wife, Lisa.” He held out a hand, which Cooper didn’t shake. Martin pulled it away awkwardly before introducing the rest of the group. All the people Constable Osmond had listed were assembled here, with the exception of Ricardo and Mel Ruiz, the occupants of the smaller campsite a hundred or so metres away.

“Have you arrested Ben yet?” asked Tom Bagshaw.

“Why would I do that?” said Cooper.

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it? Ben wanted his father out of the way so he could turn this place into one of those posh farm stay things. Got all sorts of plans, that one. Twenty years we’ve been coming here, but that doesn’t mean anything to young Ben. Can’t wait to see the back of us all.”

“Now now, Tom,” his wife Beth chastised. “Don’t tell the detective how to do his job. I’m sure he’ll investigate and arrest Ben soon enough.”

Cooper glanced around the circle. “This what you all think, is it?” There were approving nods all around.

“Ben’s been itching to develop this site for years,” said Annalise. “His father wouldn’t have a bar of it, though.”

“We don’t know whether that was out of loyalty to us regulars or because he was just lazy, but either way Jack was adamant Freely’s would stay as it was while ever he was alive.”

“So Ben must have killed him,” said Lisa, folding her arms as if that was the end of the matter.

The only ones who hadn’t pronounced Ben Freely guilty yet were Robbie and Renee. Both in their mid-to-late forties, Cooper remembered Osmond describing them as a couple who never married.

“What do you think?” Cooper asked them both.

Robbie shrugged and adjusted his Akubra hat. “Try not to get involved in the politics, me.”

“But someone shot him,” said Renee. “You saw the body, Robbie.”

“We all saw him,” said Beth, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. “I’ll never get that image out of my head. And at Christmas, of all times. Poor Rhonda.”

Annalise laughed. “Poor Rhonda? She’s probably glad to see the back of the old bastard.”

Both Lisa and Beth tutted. “Really, Annalise. You can’t speak ill of the dead like that.”

“I can speak however I want about whomever I want, and you can’t stop me. That’s part of the reason we come here every year, isn’t it? To get away from the rest of the world and live how we truly want to live? For me that means speaking freely as much as it means wearing what I want to wear.”

“Or not wear,” said Renee.

“Exactly.” Annalise turned to Cooper. “Are you going to question us all individually?”

“As soon as my partner joins me,” said Cooper. “For now I’m just trying to get an understanding of who you all are. Have you been coming here long?”

“Thirty years for Lisa and me,” said Martin proudly. “We were the first visitors when Jack and Rhonda opened the place.”

“We met here twenty years ago,” said Beth with a sidelong glance at her husband. “Been here every Christmas since.”

“You don’t celebrate the season with family?” Cooper asked.

“Didn’t get around to having any kids,” said Tom. “No, we like it here. Jack could be a grumpy old bastard at times, but he had a good heart deep down.”

“Way deep down,” said Renee. She turned to Cooper. “Robbie and I have been coming here for fifteen years. We like the peace and quiet, and of course the price is right.” 

Annalise stood and used a long-handled fork to lift the lid on the billy. “I’ve been coming for about as long and Robbie and Renee,” she said. “This is just about ready. Would you like some, Detective?”

Cooper was intrigued by the smell of the hot liquid. “What is it?”

“Wassail,” Annalise replied, as if he should know what that was.

Cooper stared at her until she explained.

“It’s a mulled cider drink. My family used to make it at Christmas. This stuff and s’mores are the only decent recipes I ever learnt from my mother.” She scooped some into a mug and handed it to him.

“Annalise’s family are from Canada,” Tom explained.

Cooper took a small sip from the mug. The wassail was delicious, but it was clearly alcoholic and he was still on duty.

“Thanks,” he said, handing it back and turning to see what was holding Quinn up. The big detective was finally making his way over. “Right, we’d better get these interviews started then. Who wants to go first?”

After interviewing them all separately, and then again together around the campfire, Cooper and Quinn finally ascertained that the close-knit group of campers were all busy down by the stream last night at the time of Jack’s murder. 

Apparently one year Tom had introduced the group to paintball, which they agreed was good fun but had its drawbacks. It was hot in all the protective gear, and the paintballs still hurt when they hit. Not at all ideal for a bunch of naturists in the Australian summer.

So they modified the game over the years to suit themselves, and their version – which they played at least once every Christmas except the year of the flood when it was impossible to go anywhere near the stream – involved food colouring, modified water-pistols, and no clothing whatsoever. It was best played under the stars, according to Annalise, so they’d got themselves ready and headed off down to the stream two nights ago shortly after eight pm. They claimed the game was so engrossing no-one heard the shotgun blast.

“Explain to me again how it works?” Quinn asked once they were all together again around the campfire. He had his notebook out as always, pen poised.

“It’s just like paintball,” said Tom. “We work in pairs, except Annalise who prefers to be on her own.”

“I’ve never needed a man for anything else,” Annalise chipped in. “Why would I need one for this?”

Tom ignored her. “Each team has a different colour. We mix food colouring with flour and water so it sticks to the skin, but coming from the water-pistols it doesn’t really hurt when you’re hit.”

“Are you together at all times?” Cooper asked.

“Each pair sticks together, yes,” said Tom. “Then we hunt the others. At the end of the allotted time we come together and check each other’s wounds, so to speak. The team with the most hits on other teams is declared the winner, then we all wash off in the stream. It really is a lot of fun.”

Cooper refrained from rolling his eyes. He had a different idea of what constituted fun, but that wasn’t the issue at hand. “So as couples you stick together, but you don’t necessarily know where the other couples are at any given time.”

“That’s correct,” said Martin.

“So any of you could have snuck off and killed Jack in the outhouse.”

A barrage of protests followed, with couples proclaiming their innocence because one would have seen the other, and Annalise calling the whole idea that one of them killed Jack preposterous. They weren’t going to get any further here.

“That’ll be all for tonight,” Cooper said, taking a step backward out of their campsite. “We’ll interview the other campers now. Oh, no-one has any plans to leave, do they?” It was more of an instruction than a question, and the group seemed clued in enough to get that. No-one said anything. “Good. See you in the morning, then.”

Cooper and Quinn walked the hundred metres over to the other campsite, where the young couple were waiting for them.

“About time,” said Ricardo Ruiz. It looked like they’d begun packing up their camp.

“Apologies for the delay, Mr Ruiz. As you can imagine it’s been quite a busy day,” Cooper said once he’d introduced himself and Quinn. “I trust Constable Osmond and Sergeant Jardine spoke to you earlier today about the tragedy in the outhouse?”

Ruiz backed down. “Yeah. Sorry to hear. The old guy seemed all right. Gave us a good rate.”

Cooper indicated the state of their camp. “Going somewhere?” The chairs and a small table were still out, but everything else had been packed away into a barely road-worthy campervan.

Ruiz shrugged and looked at his wife. “We were supposed to stay for Christmas, but Mel’s been having some pains and we don’t want to risk it. We’re a bit far from the hospital out here. And with what’s happened…”

“I don’t think I’m too far off,” said Mel, one hand cradling her bulging abdomen. “If we stick around here much longer I might need to make use of that stable,” she added with a laugh.

“Couple more days and you might get three Magi turn up,” said Quinn, getting in on the joke.

Cooper looked at him sideways.

“Three wise men, boss. You know, Christmas, baby Jesus in the manger, all that? Haven’t you ever seen a nativity scene?”

“Can we focus on the job at hand please?”

“Sure. Sorry, boss.”

Cooper turned back to the couple. “I believe this is your first time out here at Freely’s camp. What brought you here?”

“We’ve been coddiwompling,” said Mel, as if Cooper was supposed to know what that meant. This place just got weirder.

“Coddiwompling?”

“It means to travel purposefully toward an unknown destination. That’s our lifestyle, Detective. We’re travellers. We happened upon this place and decided to stay a while. Like Ricardo said, the Freelys gave us a good rate.” 

“What about work?” Quinn asked.

“Ricardo is a photographer, and we just pick up work along the way when we need it.”

“Having a baby is going to complicate things,” said Cooper.

Mel shrugged. “I don’t see why it should. We’ve got plenty of room in Wanda.”

“Wanda?”

“Our camper,” said Ricardo. “We’ve done a lot of work to get Wanda all ready for three passengers instead of two. As Mel says, there’s plenty of room. We don’t need much.”

As a father of four kids Cooper struggled to understand how and why you’d want to live in a tiny campervan with even one of them, but as he was coming to realise everyone was different. And it probably had nothing to do with Jack’s murder.

“Where were you between nine and eleven last night?” he asked, getting back to the task at hand.

“In Wanda,” said both of them in unison.

“Asleep,” added Mel. “It was a hot day yesterday, and as soon as the sun went down we opened all the windows, turned on the fans, and went to bed. I was exhausted, so I was well out by nine.”

“And I was right there beside her,” said Ricardo.

Cooper judged the distance between the outhouse and the campervan to be roughly three hundred metres. “Did you hear the shot?” he asked.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” said Mel. “But I always sleep like a log.”

“What about you?” Cooper asked Ricardo.

The photographer shook his head. “We play music through the night,” he replied. “It helps me sleep. I struggle a bit more than Mel, but once I nod off that’s it. And Wanda is pretty good at keeping most noise out. Once you get inside with her all locked up and the music playing, it’s like you have your own little world in there.”

Cooper watched as Quinn made notes. There was something not quite right about these two, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He checked his watch; it was past ten. Time to call it a night and start fresh in the morning.

“We’ll need to speak to you again tomorrow,” he said to the coddiwomplers. “So I’m going to have to ask you to stick around.”

“I really think Mel needs to be closer to…” Riccardo began to protest, but Cooper held up a hand to stop him.

“She’ll be fine for one more day. Besides, we can get an ambulance out here in plenty of time if necessary. And Joe here is more than capable of delivering a baby.” He had no idea if this last bit was true, but it was time to get one of his own back on his partner. “Just stay here tonight and we’ll re-assess the situation first thing in the morning.”

They agreed, and Cooper and Quinn finally headed for their own campsite.

“What do you think, boss?” Quinn asked when they were out of earshot.

“I think this place is weird. Do we have any food?”

Quinn pulled two T-bone steaks out of his portable fridge, then proceeded to set up a mini outdoor kitchen. As he prepared the meal the two detectives discussed each of the suspects.

“I think the Ruiz’s are hiding something,” said Cooper when they got around to the self-professed coddiwomplers.

“Agreed.” Quinn turned the sizzling steaks on the hotplate. “They’re definitely lying about hearing the gunshot.”

“Yeah. She said they opened all the windows to go to bed, then he talked about having the van all locked up with music playing. Someone’s not telling the truth.”

“Why didn’t you throw that back at them straight away, boss?”

Cooper shook his head and pulled two beers from the fridge, handing one to Quinn. “I want more information on those two before I let them know I’m suspicious. Same goes for the rest of this motley crew. We’ll see what Zach’s been able to find out in the morning and take it from there.”

“Good call.” Quinn served up the steaks with a pile of salad on the side, and Cooper realised how hungry he was.

“This is great. I thought you were going vegetarian or vegan or something, Joe. What’s with the big slab of meat?”

“I’m not being strict about anything, just trying to eat more vegetables and less meat most of the time. But some occasions call for a big-arse steak.”

Cooper laughed for the first time since leaving Sydney. “Fair enough. Well you cook a great steak, partner. I’m impressed.”

After the meal Cooper helped Quinn clean up and pack away the cooking gear, then squirmed a little as Quinn headed off into the bush with a torch, a roll of toilet paper, and the poo shovel. Cooper hadn’t had to go there yet, and hoped he wouldn’t have to at all. More incentive for getting this case solved as quickly as possible. He took the opportunity to call home.

“How’s things?” he asked when Liz answered the phone.

“The kids are still pretty hyped up after the carols, so I’m fighting a losing battle trying to get them to bed. Right now they’re all sitting around looking at the tree waiting for Santa.”

“It’s still three days until Christmas,” Cooper said with a smile. He could just picture Michael, Patrick, Charlotte, and Grace all sat in a ring around the tree staring at the decorations, the girls trying to pull them off and Michael telling them not to touch.

The Cooper family Christmas tree had gone up at the beginning of December, and for the first time Michael had been tall enough to reach the top. Naturally the kids had argued between an angel and a star for the focal point of the tree, before Liz had received unanimous support for a Christmas fairy.

“Are they behaving?” Cooper asked. “Besides not going to bed, I mean.”

“As well as can be expected. They miss you, Coop. Do you think you’ll be home by Christmas Eve? I’m not sure I can help Santa with all their presents by myself.”

“I’ll do my best, Liz. I’d better go. Love you all.”

“Love you too, Coop. Come home.”

Cooper wished he could do just that. Hopefully tomorrow would bring a breakthrough in the case. As he crawled into the sleeping bag inside his swag he watched the lights from the regulars’ campsite sparkle in the night, and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning did indeed bring the breakthrough Cooper had craved. Zach called first thing with information on all of the suspects, including some enlightening news about Ricardo and Mel Ruiz.

“Coddiwomplers my arse,” Cooper said under his breath when he ended the call. “Come on, Joe. Those two have some explaining to do.”

“What about breakfast?”

“Later.”

Quinn grabbed his notebook and followed Cooper to the Ruiz camp, where Mel and Ricardo were waiting for them.

“Guess you found out then,” said Ricardo. He didn’t seem too perturbed.

“You guessed right,” Cooper answered. “You didn’t just happen upon this place and decide to stay, did you?”

Ricardo shook his head. “Sorry. I should have told you straight up, but he offered me an extra five hundred not to say anything.”

“You didn’t think a murder changed things?”

“Again, sorry. We talked about it last night after you left. I figured you’d find out anyway, but if you didn’t we were going to come clean this morning.”

Quinn looked confused. “Um, boss? You wanna fill me in?”

“Sorry, Joe. Ricardo here is a photographer, as he mentioned yesterday. But the Ruiz’s coming to Freely’s was not happenstance. They fully intended to come and stay here.”

“Why?”

“To take pictures,” said Ricardo, as if it were obvious.

“Of?” Cooper asked. All Zach had managed to find out was that Ricardo was a freelance photographer for hire, and Ben Freely had contacted him on a number of occasions before the Ruiz’s set foot on the property. He didn’t know why.

“Ben wanted us to spy on the regular campers,” said Mel. “He paid us five hundred dollars to come here and take photos of them, and another five hundred to keep it quiet.”

“What sort of photos?” Cooper asked, cringing. This was a naturist camp. What was Ben Freely playing at?

“Anything we could get,” said Ricardo. “Ben is convinced all those couples are cheating on each other with each other, if you know what I mean. He wanted proof of infidelity amongst them, so he asked us to come here and camp and take pictures.”

“We really are coddiwomplers,” Mel added. “This is our lifestyle. We just came to this particular camp on a job, that’s all. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Cooper. “We’re going to need your camera.”

Ricardo handed it over to Quinn, who turned it on and started looking through the photos.

“Did you get any evidence of this supposed infidelity?” Cooper asked.

Ricardo shook his head. “We’ve been here a week, and from what I can tell none of these people are unfaithful. On the contrary, they all actually seem quite enamoured with their own partners. It’s not at all what I expected.”

“Maybe there’s something to be said for the naturist’s way,” said Quinn, not looking up from the camera.

“Maybe,” said Ricardo. “Look, I’m sorry I lied yesterday. You’ll see from those photos I wasn’t asleep with Mel at the time of the murder. I was hiding down by the stream, trying to get some snaps of that silly game they were playing.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Quinn. The big detective finally looked up. “Might have something here, boss.”

Finally, thought Cooper. “All right. We’ll need to take the camera for now, Mr Ruiz.”

“Can we go yet?” asked Mel.

Cooper shook his head. “Stay put. You’re still suspects.”

“What have you got, Joe?” Cooper asked once they were alone again.

“I need a bit more time to confirm it, but from the timestamps on these photos I think we can rule a lot of the suspects out. Especially if Garrett can narrow down the time of death window.”

“Good. He should have done the autopsy by now. I’ll give him a call shortly. Zach’s on his way out with Osmond, should be here in half an hour or so. He can help you look through the photos. In the meantime let’s go and see what Ben Freely has to say for himself.”

As it turned out Ben Freely had a lot to say.

“Yes, I hired the Ruiz’s to take photos,” he admitted, to his mother’s obvious shock.

“Ben! Why would you do such a thing?”

They were again seated at the small kitchen table, but no cups of tea had been offered this time.

The young man sighed. “Dad used them all as an excuse not to do anything with this place. As long as they kept coming here every Christmas, he wouldn’t let me go forward with the development proposal. So I had to figure out a way to stop them coming.”

“By spying on them? I don’t understand.”

“They’re all having affairs,” said Ben. “They must be. Getting around with their clothes off all the time. It’s not natural.”

“Ben! I don’t believe you. Where is this coming from? Wearing clothes is what’s not natural. Your father and I have lived most of our married lives as naturists. What’s got into you?”

“Nothing’s got into me, Mum. I’ve always hated it.”

“We didn’t force you to be a part of it. You always had a choice. You always had clothes to wear.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get a choice in having to watch you and Dad wander around naked all the time. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Rhonda was close to tears, closer than she had been yesterday when her husband had been murdered, a fact that wasn’t lost on Cooper.

“The point is this place is falling apart. You’re losing money when you could be making it. You deserve better, Mum. But Dad was so stubborn. I thought if I could find a way to stop those people coming here he wouldn’t have any more excuses. We could do so much here. This place could be a thriving camp again.”

“For people with big caravans and motor homes with televisions and washing machines and all the trappings, you mean. I’ve never understood that. How are you ‘getting away from it all’ if you take it all with you?”

“For people of all kinds, Mum. This place could thrive with all types of travellers.”

“With clothes on.”

“Yes, with clothes on.”

Cooper pulled them up before the conversation got out of control. He couldn’t care less whether campers came to Freely’s with clothes or without, with hundred-thousand dollar caravans or with a swag and a billy. He just wanted to find out who killed Jack.

“Ben, why did you hire Ricardo Ruiz to take photos of the regular campers?”

“I thought if I could get evidence of infidelity I could use it to dissuade them from coming back,” Ben answered, head hung.

“You mean you wanted to blackmail them,” Cooper interpreted.

Ben nodded. “But I didn’t. I met with Ruiz when I got here and he said he didn’t have anything. I asked him to give it one more try that night, then we’d give up. That was the night…”

“The night your father was murdered,” Rhonda finished.

Ben burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Mum. I should have left it alone. I should have let you and Dad do what you want with the property. It’s your home.”

Cooper signalled to Quinn and the two of them left the mother and son to grieve.

“They didn’t do it,” Cooper said once they were out of the stuffy little kitchen.

“No, I don’t think so either,” said Quinn. “What now?”

A police car came up the driveway. “Perfect timing. You and Zach finish analysing the photos on that camera, and I’ll call Garrett. Hopefully we can get the suspect pool narrowed down even further.”

Garrett had concluded the autopsy, and was able to narrow the time of death window to just half an hour between 9:30 and 10pm. Together with the photos, they were left with only two possible suspects – one of them the heavily pregnant wife of the photographer, and the other a regular camper who’d known Jack Freely for many years.

If he were a betting man, Cooper’s money would be on the camper.

His conversation with Zach all but confirmed it.

“You sure about that?”

Zach nodded. “Nora called me on the drive out here.”

“I thought she had a family emergency?”

“Turned out to be a false alarm, so I had her working on the background checks all night. It’s the only thing that makes sense, Coop.”

“Agreed. All right. Let’s get it done.”

Cooper, Quinn, Zach, and Osmond made their way over to where the group of campers had moved their chairs into the shade of a large eucalyptus tree. Cooper felt like he was in an Agatha Christie novel, where Hercule Poirot was about to reveal the murderer amongst them. Or perhaps an episode of Death in Paradise, where the lead detective describes the elaborate way in which one of the suspects committed the murder in order to avoid detection, but they made one crucial mistake which was their undoing.

But Cooper wasn’t one for grandstanding.

He stood in front of the suspect and motioned for her to rise. “Annalise Barrett, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Jack Freely.” He read her her rights, to the shock of her camping companions.

“Are you serious?” asked Martin as Cooper handed her over to Osmond, who placed handcuffs on her wrists.

“I don’t joke about murder, Mr Hawke.”

“But… I don’t understand,” said Beth. “Why would you?”

Annalise said nothing.

“How could you do that to Rhonda?” said Lisa.

Annalise raised an eyebrow, but still said nothing.

“Freely was a harmless old man,” said Tom.

That got her. “You’re kidding yourself, Tom. You know that guy in the van over there is a photographer, right? Jack hired him to take photos of us. He was going to sell them. After all these years, he was going to double cross us. I did it for all of us.”

“Jack wouldn’t do that,” said Renee. “And besides, who would want pictures of us anyway? We’re hardly famous models or anything. We’re just a bunch of people who like to get their kit off.”

“You might not care, but I do,” said Annalise. “I’m respected at my firm. If this got out, how I spend my spare time, I’d be a laughing stock. I’d never be able to set foot in the office again. Jack had no right to hire that photographer.”

“Jack didn’t hire that photographer,” said Cooper.

Annalise opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“That’s right,” said Quinn. “You killed a man based on false information.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” said Cooper. “Take her to the car, Constable Osmond. We’ll be there shortly.”

Osmond led Annalise away, and Cooper turned back to the assembled group.

“I still don’t really understand,” said Renee. “Why would Annalise do such a thing?”

“She thought Jack was going to use photographs of her here at the camp in some way that would expose her holiday lifestyle to her peers,” said Cooper. “I’m not sure what gave her that idea, but she couldn’t let her colleagues know what she did in her spare time. We discovered she was up for a large promotion at work. She believed she wouldn’t get it if they knew the truth.”

“Plus she grew up on a farm, knew her way around a shotgun,” said Zach, earning him a stern look from Cooper. “Sorry.”

“Is she really that ashamed of being a naturist she’d kill to keep the secret?” asked Beth.

“It would seem so,” said Cooper. He’d seen some strange motives for murder in his time, but he had to admit this was one of the more interesting ones.

“Was Jack really going to use photos of us without our permission?” asked Tom.

Cooper shook his head. “Jack had nothing to do with the photographer. It was Ben who hired Ricardo.”

They all spoke at once.

“Ben?”

“What?”

“Why?”

Cooper held up his hands. “I’ll let Ben explain, but rest assured no compromising photographs of anyone will leave this camp. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to pack up and head back to Sydney.”

As he, Quinn, and Zach turned to leave, Beth caught Cooper by the arm.

“Thank you, Detective,” she said. “Jack might not have been a pleasant man but he didn’t deserve to die like that. Thank you for getting justice for him.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Tom. “Are you sure you need to rush off? We were just about to serve a Christmas lunch of sorts.”

“Yes, please join us,” said Robbie. 

“Thank you,” said Cooper, “but it’s a long drive. If we hustle we’ll be home before midnight.”

“At least eat something before you go,” said Beth. “A ham sandwich? Or maybe some pudding?”

Cooper shook his head and turned to leave again, but again Beth caught him by the arm. She handed him something wrapped in foil.

“Yule-log,” she explained. “A Christmas specialty. My mother’s recipe, but I’ve made a few changes over the years. It’s gluten and dairy-free now.”

Cooper thanked her, thanked them all for their cooperation, and caught up to Zach and Quinn who’d managed to walk on ahead.

“What’s that, boss?” Quinn pointed to the foil-wrapped package.

“I have no idea. For the love of Christmas, Joe, take me home.”