A Bag of Dolls

By Drew Lindsay

It’s just a little bag of dolls. They can’t tell you where a murdered girl is buried in a lonely rainforest, rotting away. Ben Hood is given a little bag of dolls and asked to solve a five year old missing person case. One of the dolls is missing. It may be with the girl, presumed murdered and buried. Can these dolls lead Ben to the hidden grave of the murdered girl and also identify and confront the killer? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Then again...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Apr 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005380649

Drew Lindsay

Drew Lindsay is a dynamic Australian Novelist and Writer. He has travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world. His background includes working as a Policeman and detective, then managing his own private investigation business as well as working in Fraud Investigation Management positions within the insurance industry.Drew is a PADI Divemaster and holds a private pilot's license. He has a great love of entertaining others with his vivid imagination. His novels allow the reader to escape into worlds of romance, excitement, humour and fast paced adventure. Drew lives in northern New South Wales with his wife.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It’s not natural, lying buried in the cold, dark earth, less than a meter underground, especially if the searchers and your family and friends, pushed, punched and scratched their way through tangled vines and jungle plants that stung like hell…and couldn’t find you. Especially when you are dead anyway, and all their frantic scouring for a sign of life, or even a body, was completely futile. They were searching in the wrong place anyway so their police sniffer dogs and all the other equipment they had, was useless…. miss-deployed.

The blue denim jacket, torn open 5 years before, had started to rot in the wet, coolness of the hastily constructed red earth grave. The jacket had been torn open by a horrible man in a fit of passion and rage as he raped and killed this beautiful 18-year-old girl. He had cut off her denim shorts with a knife. He kept her shorts as a memento. He had wanted to keep her bra as a souvenir, but found, to his disappointment, that she wasn’t wearing one, notwithstanding the impressive size of her breasts. He kept her tiny mobile phone but never turned it on. He knew that would be very stupid of him but he wanted to keep her phone…as a memento.

No-one found her body. Everyone knew she was probably dead. No-one knew who had taken and killed her. On a Saturday in late October, she had been laughing and joking with friends on Miners Beach at Port Macquarie on the east coast of New South Wales, Australia. At dusk that evening, she walked alone to the northern end of Miners Beach and was never seen again. Her mobile phone disappeared along with her. She never made another call and attempts to track her mobile phone signal were futile.

An extensive police investigation revealed nothing that could lead to her whereabouts or give any clue as to why she would suddenly vanish off the face of the earth. She had one boyfriend…off and on…and he was in Cairns with his family at the time of her disappearance. They had been fighting and hadn’t contacted each other for almost 2 weeks prior to her disappearance. She had no known enemies. She worked in a small women’s fashion retail store in William Street, Port Macquarie. The elderly female store owner loved her. The two other staff girls loved her. One of them, Sky Metcalfe, had been on Miners Beach with her on the evening she vanished. It had been an impromptu party with just a few friends. She had just wandered off alone to gather her thoughts. That was one of her favorite expressions. Her name was Gabrielle. Gabrielle Snow. Now Gabrielle Snow was dead. She had been murdered and her body was hidden in a shallow grave in a thick, almost impenetrable jungle. No-one knew where she was and no-one knew who had murdered her. She was simply rotting away.

****

CHAPTER TWO

Ben Hood had yearned for retirement. His longstanding employment with the New South Wales Police Department, had ended in what could be described as difficult circumstances due to his alleged heavy-handed approach when dealing with nasty and often violent criminals. His subsequent professional relationship, and later firm friendship with Rodney Reid, had taken him into assignments all over Australia and occasionally overseas. More than often, these VIP protection agency assignments had led him into very confrontational and dangerous situations where Ben had to use his martial arts and survival skills in order to stay alive.

Now he just wanted to retire and scratch around in his rather extensive vegetable patch, catch the occasional fish in the nearby Nepean river and soak up the peace surrounding his huge, ranch-style home near Windsor, west of Sydney…. a long way west of Sydney…perhaps not long enough.

The thing about Ben, is that adventure and danger flowed through his arteries and veins along with the blood. He actually thrived on it although he would never admit this to himself. Digging in his vegetable patch would do for now but it would never last. He thought it would but deep down he knew it wouldn’t…and he was right.

He remained as fit as possible for a man in his late 50’s. Running up to 15 kilometers every second day and enduring the occasional workout with his friend Akira, the Korean fighting master, although Akira’s age and ill health meant that these sessions had to be undertaken with a certain degree of care. Either way, their training sessions were good for both Akira and Ben.

Ben didn’t actively pursue a romantic relationship. In fact, during the past 6 months, he hadn’t been socially active at all. He occasionally visited his friend Rodney and his charming wife Rose. Their adopted wards, Rae and Hunter, had grown and moved away, each to far north Queensland and each employed in ecologically beneficial jobs associated with the protection and on-going upkeep of the Great Barrier Reef.

He wasn’t all that proud of his ability to drink a fairly large amount of scotch whisky without becoming drunk. Whisky simply relaxed him. Alcohol to many others, even fairly small amounts, sent them into fairly uncontrollable rages, or displays of behavior which were totally unacceptable in the circumstances, and usually a complete embarrassment to everyone in the near vicinity, and later the following day, to the drinker.

Ben had a very firm cut off switch where drinking alcohol was concerned. He knew when he had had enough and then he stopped. The majority of other drinkers of alcohol throughout the world, had no idea where their switch off button was located. Many, especially when they were on holidays, simply drank to the point that when they finally got home, they had no memory whatsoever of where they had been. Such a disappointment if you had left Australia for a two week holiday in Bali.

Some who consumed alcohol mixed with a cocktail of drugs, did very bad things. Things they would never have done if they were sober. Some even killed others…even their best friends. Some fueled with alcohol, mainly men, went looking for someone to hurt. Usually, a woman who they would rape first if they could, and kill later if the mood took them.

Then again, there are others, mostly men, who are psychopaths as well as a mixture of other screwed up clinically identified characters, some easy to pick, others almost impossible to pick, that find their way into society and are hardly often discovered until they do something really dreadful, and if society is very lucky, get caught.

Ben often mulled over these thoughts as he sipped his whisky. He mulled over the thoughts because more than often, the horrible, twisted slime bags who for whatever reason, abducted and killed women, in the main, and sometimes little children, were never found and if they were, the slimes somehow managed to worm their way out of spending the rest of their miserable lives in prison, and usually walked the streets again within 15 years for whatever crimes they were actually convicted…free to inflict their horrible, twisted desires on yet another unsuspecting victim.

In prison, they regularly attend church services held by the religious do-gooders who visit the prison, armed with biscuits and cake to entice the inmates to their arranged sessions. They hold their hands in the air and accept Jesus into their hearts, as long as it gets them back on the street early, and it often does.

Ben occasionally mulled over these things. Nothing much he could do about those injustices now, although he had seriously levelled the score with some psychopaths and delusional idiots many times in the past. That often made him smile.

****

CHAPTER THREE

‘Hello Amy.’

Amy Chang squinted through the expensive, burglar proof screen door. She studied the tall woman on the other side of the security wire as best she could and then took a step backward. ‘Why are you here?’

‘It’s been five years ago today Amy. I just thought I’d check in to see how you are going.’

‘Do you have any news about my baby?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Then why don’t you just piss off and leave me alone. Haven’t you people done enough to break my heart?’

‘The police didn’t break your heart, Amy. I didn’t break your heart. We did the best we could to find Gabrielle. You know that.’

‘Do I Senior Constable Connelly. Do I know that?’

‘I’m a Detective Sergeant now,’ said Stephanie Connelly.

‘Well then, you have moved on, haven’t you? Detective Sergeant and all. Probably married with a child of your own I expect.’

‘No. I’m not married and I don’t have a child of my own.’

‘Probably just as well,’ said Amy. ‘Just as well.’

‘May I come in?’

‘Why?’

‘Just a chat. Just to see how you are doing.’

‘You’ve come here quite a few times now.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you feel guilty for not finding my little girl?’

‘No. I did the best I could. We all did.’

Amy unlocked the security screen door and pushed it open. ‘You can’t get past these wire doors you know. Guaranteed prowler proof. Put them in after Gabby went missing. Fat lot of good that did me, eh?’

Detective Sergeant Stephanie Connelly held the open edge of the security fly screen door and stepped inside Amy Chang’s large, white brick house. The view out over the ocean from this house was magnificent. One of the best in what some called millionaire’s row.

‘You don’t need to wear a uniform now I suppose…being a detective and all?’

‘No,’ Stephanie replied. She closed the security door behind her. ‘Sometimes I get to wear thongs. Beach duty and all.’

‘How can you chase a beach criminal while wearing thongs?’

‘I kick them off,’ said Stephanie. ‘Then I can fly. I run very fast in bare feet.’

‘You are much taller than when I saw you last year.’

‘I’m wearing heels,’ said Stephanie.

‘Would you like a cup of Billy Tea?’

‘Okay.’

‘It’s made in India actually, but they claim to have captured all the flavors of the original Billy Tea which our bushmen used to drink.’

‘I’m sure they have Amy.’

‘Except they don’t drop in gum leaves and stuff like that. The old Billy Tea used to taste like shit so the old Aussie fellas tell me, but they loved it. Grew hairs on their chest.’

‘Perhaps it did.’

‘Indians don’t have hairs on their chest, even if they drink Billy Tea. There is a very clear reason for that.’

‘I’m sure there is,’ said Stephanie. ‘I’d like to talk with you about your step-daughter.’

‘Gabby?’

‘Yes.’

‘Her dear departed mother would roll over in her grave if she had been alive to see what happened to Gabby.’

‘Dead people rarely roll over in their graves,’ said Stephanie.

Amy looked at the detective, but didn’t say anything.

Stephanie let the heavy timber door close slowly close behind her. The latch clicked into place. ‘Just a few thoughts if that’s okay with you.’

‘The group she mucked about with contact me every now and then,’ said Amy. ‘They have a way of getting to me, even if I change my phone number. They never let up you know.’

‘What are they looking for?’ asked Stephanie.

‘I have no idea. They are beautiful people, just like my Gabrielle was…aren’t they?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Take good care of themselves…right? Live in the best parts of Port, right?’

‘It would seem so,’ said Stephanie. ‘Some of the locals don’t have a very kind view of them.’

‘I kept telling her not to associate with that club,’ said Amy. ‘I told her they were bad news…out drinking and doing things with the devil and such. Down on Miners Beach in the nude and carrying on like there was no tomorrow. I warned her.’

‘Every member of her group was interviewed,’ said Stephanie. You know that.’

‘Most of them couldn’t lie straight in bed. Did you put them all on a lie detector machine?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not Amy. We’ve been through this before.’

‘They know who killed her and hid her body, don’t they?’

‘I don’t think they do,’ said Stephanie.

‘I bet one of them at least does. That Sky girl does I’ll bet.’

‘She has been interviewed several times. I’ve personally interviewed her. I don’t think she knows what happened to Gabby.’

‘She’s gay you know.’

‘No, she’s not.’

‘Some of that group are gay. Unstable if you ask me.’

‘Some may be gay but most are definitely not unstable Amy.’

‘Yes…well, come and have a cup of tea and we’ll talk a bit more. I’m actually glad to see you, although I didn’t expect you. I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘You were very rude to me when I came to your front door,’ said Stephanie.

‘I’m sorry about that. I was in one of my moods.’

‘Are you still in one of your moods?’

‘No. I’m okay now. Can we talk?’

‘What about?’

‘A man.’

‘What man?’

‘He was a policeman, just like you.’

‘I’m a policewoman Amy.’

‘Yes, well, follow me to the kitchen and I’ll brew up some lovely tea.’

****

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I think my cat is dead.’

Ben Hood opened the fly wire screen door. He recognized his neighbour. She lived in a fairly palatial white timber clad building on the western side of his property, almost completely out of sight from his fairly extensive acreage on the outskirts of Windsor. Her name was Elizabeth. He didn’t know her surname, and wasn’t particularly interested. She was in her mid-50’s, fairly attractive in a plain kind of way, with short cropped black hair and a pretty face. Her husband had left her for a much younger woman some years before. Ben knew this from local gossip. She had visited him once before, asking for assistance when her TV went on the blink. As it turned out, the ariel plug had been disconnected from the wall socket…by the cat. Easy fix. She was very grateful and offered Ben a reward which he had politely refused. She had been sipping sherry and feeling a tad lonely.

‘Did you call the Vet?’ asked Ben.

‘Yes. She’s busy with an operation. She can’t come and check Buster for at least two hours.’

‘Why don’t you drive Buster to the vet?’

‘Because I think he’s dead. Can you come and check him for me? I don’t want to pick him up if he’s dead.’

Ben’s mobile phone rang. It was Rodney Reid. Ben ignored the call and put the phone back in a pocket of his cargo pants. ‘I’ll take a very quick look at your cat Elizabeth,’

‘Call me Liz.’

‘Yes, well, just a quick look and then you have to make your own arrangements in relation to your cat.’

‘Buster’

‘Yes. That’s his name. You can come with me in my car.’

‘I’ll walk,’ said Ben. ‘Your place is only a few hundred metres from here. It’s open ground.’

‘It would be faster in my car. It’s getting dark you know.’

‘Off you go Elizabeth. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

‘If he’s not dead, can you do mouth to mouth resuscitation and things like that?’

‘Um… I’m not trained in veterinary procedures,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll just check him out for you.’

‘I’ll be ever so grateful Ben.’

‘Yes. Off you go then.’

****

CHAPTER FIVE

‘He’s dead,’ said Ben.

Elizabeth held her hands to her mouth. ‘He can’t be.’

‘Well, he is and I’m very sorry for your loss Elizabeth.’ Ben looked back in the direction of the glowing lights in the kitchen windows of his barely visible home. ‘I must be going now.’

‘But what am I to do Ben?’

‘You need to dig a hole and put your cat in the hole. That’s how it’s done,’ said Ben. He began to walk away.

‘You’re a brute, aren’t you?’

Ben stopped and turned. ‘Dogs and cats and all other kinds of pets get buried in the ground Elizabeth. They are not like people you know.’

‘You are such a brute Ben Hood.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Come and comfort me.’

‘Dig a hole for your cat Elizabeth,’ said Ben as he walked towards his home. ‘The earth is fairly soft in this area. Easy digging.’

‘You’re such a brute!’ she called out after him.

‘What do you want?’

‘Oh yes. The delightful Ben Hood,’ said Rodney Reid. ‘All fed up with his lot in life and ready to lash out at anyone who rings him for a chat.’

‘I’m not fed up with my lot in life.’

‘And neither should you be after what I’ve done for you.’

‘What do you want Rod?’

‘Do you remember Doctor Pugh?’

‘The Macquarie Street Psychiatrist you sent me to?’

‘Yes.’

‘The guy who asked me if I thought anyone was sitting underneath my chair?’

‘Yes…that guy.’

‘How could I forget him and his transexual assistant?’

‘She turned you on.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I’m thinking that you should revisit him. My expense of course. Talk things out.’

‘No thanks Rod. I’m just fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘There’s a dead girl in Port Macquarie,’ said Rodney, softly.

Silence.

‘Disappeared around five years ago. Vanished off the face of the earth. Presumed dead. Abducted and murdered.’

‘Was she a transexual?’

‘She was just seventeen,’ said Rodney. ‘What is wrong with you?’

Silence.

‘She wasn’t transexual,’ said Rodney. ‘She was just a beautiful teenager who appears to have gotten mixed up with the wrong people…or ultimately, the wrong person.’

‘My neighbour, Elizabeth, had to bury her cat tonight and I was called to check and see if the cat was actually dead or just having a fairly solid nap.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘It was quite dead actually.’

‘What was?’

‘The cat. Buster.’

Silence.

‘So, I told her to just dig a hole and bury it.’

‘The cat?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, the reason you didn’t answer my first phone call was because you were with a neighbour…correct me if I’m wrong…giving advice as to how to bury her cat?’

‘Not exactly. She wanted me to check first to see that her cat was actually dead.’

‘I have a client who insists on you handling her