‘Yes, no doubt.’ Mick glanced into the empty hallway. ‘These were regarding the transfer of some land for a property development.’
‘Who told you I know anything about it?’ A note of indignation in his voice.
‘Do you know anything about it?’ Goodenough eyeballed him.
Streeton frowned. ‘Did Dianne put you up to this? She’d better not be making accusations.’
‘No, it wasn’t her.’ He could only imagine the sparks flying at council meetings. ‘If you know anything, Adam, say so and I’ll be on my way.’
Unconvinced, the councillor leaned back in his chair and poured a glass of water from the jug on his desk. ‘You’ll need to be more specific. There are property development applications in all the time, even in a town this size.’
Mick closed his eyes and smiled. ‘Are there any properties you’ve been involved in lately with Councillor Curio?’
Streeton coughed mid-sip and water ran down his chin. He shook his head.
‘No sensitive land transfers going on in Moorabool Council that you know of? That might be of interest to others on the council?’
Streeton wiped his chin and cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but Mrs Curio is the last person I’d ever be involved with in any deal.’
‘How many councillors are there on the—’
‘Six.’ Streeton lifted a finger, cutting him off. ‘And unlike some, I didn’t get on the council to feather my own nest.’
‘No one’s suggesting that.’
‘Mind you, I’m not out to rock any boats either.’ This was slightly more placatory. ‘As long as it’s above board, other councillors can do what they damn well please.’
‘Including burgling filing cabinets?’
Streeton huffed dismissively. ‘It’s hard enough to get anything of importance through this council, let alone after pissing people off. And no, I don’t know anything about any missing files.’
Checking his watch, Adam Streeton got to his feet, squeezed around his desk and ushered Mick to the door with all the patience of a man whose bladder was bursting.
In the doorway, Goodenough scribbled a number on his card and held it out. ‘Should anything jog your memory, any little detail, give me a call, councillor.’
Streeton refused it. ‘I know the cops’ number. Small town.’
‘You don’t know my after-hours number.’ Goodenough wasn’t budging.
Streeton snatched the card and banged the door in his face. Mick walked out to reception, crestfallen. Sent on a wild-goose chase by some busybody who should take up knitting instead of telling policemen silly tales.
‘Constable Goodenough?’
And there was Eileen covertly waving him to the counter. She’d got his name right this time.
‘Did he tell you?’
‘All due respect, but what’s it to you, Miss Murchison?’
Eyes darting, she whispered, ‘It was me who called you.’
He eyeballed her. ‘Why did you send me to Mr Streeton? He doesn’t have a clue about the files.’
Eileen stared down the corridor, her violet eyes hooded. ‘Oh he doesn’t, does he?’ Suddenly she didn’t seem half as colourless as she had before. ‘He was furious when I told him what those two are up to now.’
‘Which two?’
‘Councillor Curio and her husband. She intends to put that memorandum, the one about the land transfer, to the vote next council meeting, and she’s talked the other four councillors around. All except Adam. He was planning to rally the other four into voting against her too—he was all fired up about it last week.’
‘Then he’s changed his tune,’ Mick said, bluntly. ‘But how does that relate to the missing files?’
Eileen looked over his shoulder and checked the front window. ‘The land transfer—the Curios want to build a subdivision.’
‘For the council?’
‘For themselves.’ Her fine nostrils flared. ‘On twenty-five acres of prime land that’s currently disused. It has an old caravan on it and a creek running through it.’
‘Trickling through it, I’d say.’
‘You know it then?’
Mick smiled. ‘To be honest, a development there doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.’
‘It might not be.’ She leaned closer. He glimpsed the outline of her breast and was suddenly aware of her scent, something subtle and musky. ‘If it wasn’t already owned by someone. They’re claiming it’s a deceased estate, that the whole family are dead. They’re not, there’s one person left. But no one knows where he is.’
‘And who’s that?’
‘The land was last owned by the estate of Mr John Falls. That’d be his surviving child, Donald.’
‘Why don’t they just locate the son and see if he wants to sell?’
Eileen gave a knowing smirk. ‘Be a lot cheaper if they couldn’t find him, don’t you think? He disappeared eighteen years ago, after his father killed the rest of his family. You’ve heard about the Falls murders?’
Mick nodded grimly. ‘Bits and pieces.’
‘Yeah. Sad business…Well there’s been no rates paid on it since 1948 so it owes the council a bit of money. Mrs Curio’s plan is to pay the outstanding monies and have the council turn it over to them as a compulsory acquisition.’
Mick smiled and shook his head. ‘How do you know all this stuff, Eileen?’
‘I had to witness her signature on three files, so I read as much as I could. Did a bit of research off my own bat, too.’
‘I’m impressed.’ By her initiative as much as her sense of justice, he thought. ‘So, if there’s no one to object, the land goes to the council, who will rubber-stamp Mr and Mrs Curio’s claim and Curio Developments will get their special project through for a song.’
‘That’s right. And Curio Constructions will build it, like they do everything else in this town. He can’t vote on it, not being a councillor, so it’s officially Dianne’s pet project. She’ll put it up for subdivision, and he’ll do the rest.’
‘Subdivision?’
‘Fifty houses. Shopping centre. Swimming pool.’
Mick let out a low whistle. ‘We could use a new pool. But where are they going to get fifty buyers in this…fine town?’
‘Well. They did a similar thing in Armidale a few years back. It made them a lot of money and some powerful allies.’
‘So if Adam’s withdrawn his objection…?’
‘They’ll get it for bugger all,’ she said, disgusted. ‘And if it means getting new stamp duties and rates into the coffers, plus the supermarket and pool, the council won’t care. Not to mention how they’ll keep the local builders going. Most of whom work for Curio Constructions.’
Mick exhaled through his teeth. ‘Dodgy, all right. Still, I’m not sure it’s illegal.’
Her hand smacked the counter. ‘It is if somebody already owns it, Constable Goodenough.’
He smiled thinly. ‘Only if they’re white.’
She looked at him for a moment. Nodded. ‘Too true, unfortunately.’