Grandad was your typical old man, a loving husband, father and grandfather who was always the clown, making us grandchildren laugh, pretending to pinch and hide our noses, playing with us, coming down to our level with games that we invented.
He prided himself as no male chauvinist, as are ‘typical of his generation’ he would say, ashamed of some of his peers.
“Women showed what they were capable of during the war years.” He would boast on their behalf. “Took over the jobs of us men, farming and factory work only to be sent back to their kitchens after the war.”
After he retired, he helped Grandma with household chores. He bragged that in the time it took to boil the kettle he could have two loads of washing on the line. Grandma would roll her eyes, having given up on suggesting how much better it was to have the heavier things at the front, and where not to peg leaving marks on the clothes. She was a good soul and compromised her Victorian standards for the sake of love. It wasn’t unusual to see Grandad with a wooden peg stuck in the back of the collar of his flannelette shirt, so we knew well who had brought in the washing. He would blow his nose in a huge army handkerchief. Every loud blow would cause him to pass wind! We all looked at each other, quietly giggled but kept straight faces pretending we hadn’t heard. Even as young children we knew it was important for Grandad to keep his dignity.
He was starting to become forgetful, and with Grandma’s recent passing, even more so. They had been so devoted for their sixty plus years. Family was everything. This was a loss he tried hard to hide but the cheeky spark from his eyes had faded.
“It was my fault she died, he would repeat to our mum. I was responsible!”
“No Dad, no! It wasn’t your fault,” Mum would reassure him over and over, but as long, and as much as she insisted he was more determined he was to blame.
“It was a car accident, Dad,” Mum implored. “Crazy circumstances, that no one could have predicted. We know you would never have done anything to cause Grandma to suffer.”
Grandad couldn’t be convinced. He slumped to a shadow of his former self. Ate little and his confusion became more and more obvious until it was impossible for him to live alone. He moved in with our family but our attempts to brighten him up didn’t bring back the light we had always seen in him.
It was a few months later when I heard Mum and Dad having, what seemed an intense conversation. I asked what was going on?
“Dad and I have decided we are going to follow up on the accident that caused Grandma’s death. Although Grandad’s memory is not the best, he insists the accident was caused by him. He has been driving since he was young in the army. We can’t see it being his fault. Don’t say anything to anyone, but we are going to carry out an investigation and get to the bottom of what really happened. Mum’s the word now!” She thumbed her nose, as she always did when she wanted us to keep a secret.
Mark Whitehead had long been a friend of our family. Now that he had opened the Whitehead Detective Agency he was an obvious first port of call. Dad had worked with him in the police force for several years and knew him to be discreet and reliable so he decided he was going to enlist Mark’s help.
Early Monday morning we knocked on the agency door.
“Rob! Lucy! Annie! What brings you here? Come on in.” Mark looked genuinely pleased to see my dad, Rob Archer, who was promoted to Detective Inspector when Mark resigned to open his own detective agency. His work had been a bit slow.
“The trials of starting a new business,” his wife Jenny had assured him.
“Our family has a problem; we need a bit of help, Mate. I’m too closely involved as the people involved are my in-laws – Lucy’s parents!”
My dad sat down in the chair next to Mark’s large desk. Mum and I sat on the couch.
“Lucy’s dad, Raymond, was in a car accident on 17th March – coming home with her Mum, June, from a St Patrick’s Day get together at the Senior Citizens Club. Unfortunately, their car was side-swiped by a 4WD that ran a red light. The driver didn’t stop and no-one got his number plate. Unfortunately, very unfortunately, June’s side of the car was completely smashed and she died at the scene. Raymond was knocked unconscious and woke up in hospital with no memory of what had happened. We thought he was recovering as well as could be expected but lately he is becoming disorientated and fixated on the idea that the accident was his fault.”
Dad waited for Mark to reply. “We’re hoping you may be able to help look into it … perhaps?” He added.
“That’s sad. Poor chap. Did the police investigate thoroughly?” Mark turned to his computer hoping to find news reports of the accident. “Were you involved in the investigation?”
“No, Lucy and I had taken the kids on a trip to Disneyland; I’m on long service leave. We didn’t arrive back in the country till two days later. By that time the local cops thought they’d explored all avenues but had found no trace of the vehicle or witnesses. Forensics identified a Ford Ranger, black in colour, fairly recent model by the paint traces left on Ray and June’s Camry. No doubt gone to ground!”
“Yeah,” Mark replied, “they won’t be driving it around in public that’s for sure, it’ll be hidden on a property somewhere I reckon, probably end up with a change of duco and home made repairs.”
“Cops have searched, not found any trace. No cameras on the lights or nearby unfortunately. Lucy’s worried about Raymond’s mental health. He seems to be losing the plot a bit. Age or feelings of guilt maybe, not sure which? But it’s a worry, poor old bugger. Reckon you can give us a hand, Buddy?”
“Yep, will try my best, meanwhile why don’t you and Lucy bring the family over for dinner on Saturday night? That’ll give me the week to do some checking and Jenny will be glad to see you. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, but is time we caught up anyway.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Dad got up and shook Mark’s hand. “Nice to have friends in the right places,” he grinned. Mum and I waved our thanks, all of us feeling a little more hopeful.
There was silence in the car as Dad drove us home. I didn’t like the silence.
“Won’t that be good,” I said brightly.
“What will be good?” Mum asked.
“We’ll be able to play with Mark’s kids when we go for dinner.”
“Mr Whitehead to you,” growled Dad.
I smiled. At least we were talking.
Saturday night Mark and his wife Jenny welcomed us warmly. Mum handed her a pavlova she had made for dessert. “Come in, Lucy, join me in the kitchen. Mark has told me what has been going on. I’m so sorry about the loss of your mother under such tragic circumstances. Mark is upset too and is determined to find out who was responsible.” She gave Mum a big hug. “Annie,” she said to me, “the littlies can’t wait to see you and your sister, Jodie. They’re out in the garden.”
“Okay, thanks Mrs Whitehead,” I replied.
“Call me Jenny please, if that is okay with you Lucy?”
My mum nodded. Jodie and I left her happily chatting with Jenny.
We had a fun time with the Whitehead kids, Jason and Remy, even though they were heaps younger than us. Dinner was a happy affair too, after which Dad and Mark had a long chat. I couldn’t hear what was said then but in the car driving home Dad must have thought Jodie and I were asleep as he chatted to Mum about what Mark had discovered. Fully awake, I listened.
“Mark made inquiries about the Ford Ranger’s involvement in the accident.”
Mum sighed heavily. “Thank goodness for that.”
“Hang on, Lucy. Nothing is conclusive yet. However, Mark’s investigations led him to a greengrocer, Tony Graziano who was re-stocking fruit and veggies at the front of his shop. He heard an almighty bang, turned and saw the carnage. He dropped everything and ran to your Mum and Dad’s aid but left when the Ambulance arrived. Tony told Mark that, out of the corner of his eye he saw the driver and partially remembered the number plate…”
Dad stopped talking for a moment as he negotiated a busy roundabout. Once safely round, he continued…”Yep, Lucy. His visit to the greengrocer was fruitful – sorry, I’m sorry, bad choice of words!”
Mum gave a soft laugh. “What did he find out?”
Dad drove up our driveway. We were home. I pretended to still be asleep. “From Tony’s information the Police were able to identify the driver of the Ford Ranger!”
“Oh, Rob, that is great. Who is he, this man who is responsible for my mother’s death?”
“The driver was that fancy TV guy, you know the fellow who stripped naked in front of the camera in one of those reality TV shows and caused an enormous furore at the time!”
I heard Mum gasp. “You don’t mean..?”
Jodie woke up just as Mum was going to name the man. I was mad! Why did she wake up right then?’ “Come on, girls,” Mum said.
I pinched Jodie. “What was that for?” she demanded as we followed our parents into the house. I glared at her, but thankful Mark Whitehead was going to find out who was responsible for my beautiful grandmother’s death and make my granddad feel so much better.
It was late and we were tired and fell into bed. New information would take time but a thousand questions went through my head.
Darn Jodie, if she hadn’t disturbed mum she would have confirmed the name of that ‘fancy TV guy’. Hmm, I wonder if she meant Randall Zeebac, who she said disgraced himself on that silly reality show. He has become so full of himself since, trying to hold on to his moment of fame. Could he be the one responsible for Grandma’s death?
Yep, the next morning I found his photo everywhere on social media. Mum agreed that he was the one she suspected. I printed his photo, I didn’t want to upset Grandpa so didn’t show him, but a thought occurred to me.
‘It’s a long shot, but worth a try.’ With one foot on the pedal, I pushed my bicycle down the side path and as I gained speed lifted my leg over and sped down the street.
After twenty minutes I pushed my bike into the rack in front of the hospital. It had been 3 months, since Grandpa had been admitted, but I hoped someone may recall something. I had visited Grandpa in hospital, so knew exactly where I needed to go, and zipped up the stairs two at a time to the first floor. Breathless, I ran into the lovely plump nurse who cared for him while he recovered.
“How’s Mr Booker?” she offered. I looked quickly at her name badge and replied. “That’s what I wanted to chat to you about, Nurse Armstrong. Do you have a minute?” Looking at her watch, she guided me to a nearby lounge.
“I have a moment.” She smiled.
“Physically, he is doing well, thank you but we are very worried about his mental state. He insists he is to blame for the accident, which is not true. The police are following up on new information and looks like an arrest may take place.”
I took a breath as I noticed a look of sadness of her face.
“Does this photo mean anything to you Nurse Armstrong?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied confidently. “We caught him in Intensive Care near Mr Booker’s bed. He seemed to be saying something to him that upset him greatly. We had to contact security and remove him, and medicate Mr Booker.
“Is it possible he was trying to convince Grandpa he was to blame for the accident?”
“I couldn’t be sure, but it is highly possible.”
I thanked her and headed off. My next stop was to visit Granddads’ neighbours, who also confirmed they had seen this man harassing Grandad up to the time he moved in with us.
‘Got ya!’ I thought and headed directly to Mark’s Detective office.
“What a great little sleuth you are,” he said after I told him what I had discovered. “Great work! Another charge we can add to the list. I’ll contact the police immediately and inform them of this latest information. Of course they will need to verify, but sounds like you have done your homework. Perhaps there will be a place in my company for you when you finish school!”
The new information tumbled out of my mouth as I told Mum and Dad what I had discovered. They didn’t understand how I had worked it out, and quite frankly neither did I, but it turned out the lead I had hoped for.
We sat gently with Grandpa and told him what had been going on. He recalled Randall’s angry accusing face but didn’t want to worry us. With Randall’s arrest he was finally convinced he was not responsible. Tears of relief fell from his eyes and slowly, a spark returned to his face.
“Maybe you may follow in my footsteps as a police officer,” said Dad. “Well done kiddo!”
DoubleSpeak 