Previous books by the same author

Melody Beaucello (speculative fiction–Zeus Publications)

Australian Historical Fiction Trilogy–Pursuit of Happiness,

Out of the Shadow, Dappled Sunshine–Balboa Press

Serendipity Murder–Echo Books, 2022

Inspector Cole’s Cadavers

Neill Florence

First Published in 2023 by Echo Books

Echo Books is an imprint of Superscript Publishing Pty Ltd, ABN 76 644 812 395

Registered Office: PO Box 669, Woodend, Victoria, 3442.

www.echobooks.com.au

Copyright ©Neill Florence

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry.

Creator: Florence, Neill, author.

Title: Inspector Cole’s Cadavers

ISBN: 978-1-922603-21-0 (ePub)

Book and cover design by Peter Gamble, Canberra.

Set in Garamond Premier Pro Light Display, 12/17 and Americanus Regular.

www.echobooks.com.au

This story is fictional and the people in it are fictional and that any resemblance of anyone in the story to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover images, Shutterstock.

Table of Contents

Foreword

Drummond Run

The Body in the Bedroom

Death at the Meatworks

Death of a Violinist

Bus Shelter Murder

I Wish I’d Said That

Lovers in the Brigalow

Murdering Pines

Death in a Bar

Come Along the Beach

Blessing a Restaurant

Romany Curse

About the Author

Foreword

The protagonist in my novel Serendipity Murder is Frank Coleman, a retired Police Inspector from Rockhampton who moves to the Serendipity Retirement Village in Brisbane to pursue interests that he hasn’t had time for during his working life, including publishing a selection of the cases he investigated.

The police Department, however, persuades him to be their undercover agent in the village to investigate a break-in there, and then there is a murder. He has no time for writing. Falling in love with a neighbour in the village is also a distraction, particularly when he knows that there is a bond with his former wife, killed when crossing the road, that ties him to her even after her death.

Frank writes a story for his fiancé to read that clarifies the seemingly impossible hold his former wife has on him and she is very supportive and they go off on their honeymoon.

Back in Serendipity his manuscript gets started with a story that related to his entering the police force and 40,000 words later ends up with a story about his trip to Italy after retiring from the police force. It’s supposed to be a relaxed holiday, but of course among other things there is a serial killer at large in Italy who needs to be incarcerated.

Frank wants to live a quiet life at Serendipity with his new wife. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he is the celebrated Inspector Coleman from Rockhampton. In the book he writes he calls himself Inspector Cole and the book itself is entitled Inspector Cole’s Cadavers.

Drummond Run

A career in the Police Force had to start somewhere. For me, Frank Cole, it started after spending three years in the Public Trustee’s office in Rockhampton. I learnt a lot there about managing estates, making wills and auditing and so on, but the work was repetitive and I craved workday mobility. Investigating crimes by piecing together the probable version of events leading up to the crime and then handing over the evidence I’d collected to the prosecutor, struck me as an ideal way to satisfy my need to be physically active and contribute to the safety of the public at the same time. I filled in the police application form and handed it in at the Police Station in Denham Street.

A fortnight later I was strolling down East Street wondering what I’d do with the month I had free before presenting myself at the Oxley Police Academy in Brisbane. The answer as it turned out was right in front of me. Roger Prentis was striding towards me with his hand outstretched.

‘Well, I’ll be hog-tied if it isn’t Frank Cole,’ he said shaking my hand as he started the conversation that filled in the five years since we’d known each other at school. When I got to my career change and the month that was going begging before I started at the Police Academy, Roger sounded as if he’d discovered a pearl of great price with his solution.

‘You will spend a month with us at Drummond Run. Mary is going to be so eager to meet you when I tell her you’re coming.’

Since I didn’t know Mary and she didn’t know me I wondered what Roger had been telling her about me, but it didn’t stop me accepting his invitation. I’d been there once from school when Roger’s parents ran the property and I thought then that it was a magic place with its plateaus and valleys yellow with waving grass and grey-green with patches of scrub and all blue in the distance where the property lost itself in the Drummond Ranges. And of course, there were all those Santa Gertrudis cattle. Roger wasn’t hard to take either. He was always the center of what was going on at school, full of enthusiasm, wit and good humour. It must be lonely for him now with just the two of them and a couple of station hands with diminutive Bogentungen as the nearest neighbour.

‘Mary’s friend is holidaying with us at the moment,’ Roger said after I’d happily accepted his invitation.

‘I hope there are no ulterior motives, Roger,’ I said bluntly. ‘I don’t want to be paired off with some rapacious female. Really, I’m not up to it.’

Roger laughed. ‘You wouldn’t be so lucky, Frank, but to be quite honest with you,’ he said, ‘Mary does have an ulterior motive. Her friend Lissette has made an absolutely devastating career choice. Mary’s always looking for allies to help talk Lissette out of doing what she does.’

‘What does she do?’ I said, mystified.

‘She’s a whore mistress.’

‘A what!’

‘She runs a brothel, Frank.’

My response was a little slow in coming.

‘Are you still there, Frank?’ Roger said.

‘What does Mary think I can say to her?’

‘She doesn’t want you to say anything in particular. She just wants Lissette to have a taste of normal life with normal people around.’

‘But I’m going to be a policeman, Roger. The police have been cracking down on brothels lately all over Australia. You must know that. As soon as she finds out I’m going to be a policeman, she’ll freeze-over.’

‘Oh God, don’t let on you are going to be a policeman, Frank, and don’t talk about brothels. Normal people don’t talk about brothels.’

‘I hope her brothel isn’t anywhere near the Police Academy.’

‘She operates in Sydney, Frank, she won’t be targeted by the Queensland police.’

‘All right, Roger, I’ll come, but tell Mary not to expect me to have any influence on her friend. She’s not a Brothel Madam because she has some secret predilection for normality.’

∂

When I met Lissette, I was surprised to find that she was in fact the picture of well-groomed and appealing normality. I had expected a chintzy garishness of dress and a hard face patched over with Helena Rubenstein, not trim fitting jeans and T-shirt and just a suggestion of lipstick to complement a natural and wholesome complexion.

She greeted me with a polite reserve that contrasted noticeably with the easy outgoing relationship she had with Roger and Mary. When we were left alone together conversation all but dried up. I had the uneasy feeling that she was aware of my identity, a feeling that was soon confirmed.

‘It’s not in my nature to be secretive,’ she said. ‘I do know who you are, Frank, and I want you to know that I don’t hold it against you. In my profession all men are treated equally, and confidentialities are respected. We’re going to find ourselves alone together quite a bit over the next month and it would be a pity if we couldn’t carry on a normal conversation.’

‘Well that certainly clears the air,’ I said. ‘Roger is keen to have our day-to-day conversation as normal as possible.’

‘I know where he’s coming from,’ she said. ‘I’m used to people being wary of me, but I’m not a predator. Men come to me to have their needs satisfied and I open doors for them, but I don’t prey on them, and I don’t have a siege mentality.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘There’s no need for me to be typecast out here either.’

Conversation got under way then. We covered a range of topics from the tourist potential of the Drummond Ranges to the meaning of infinity with a little foray into what the hell art is all about. We were so comfortable with each other that we grew a little careless forgetting the barrier that existed between us. Our relationship struck an awkward patch, however, when she added a political statement to an observation that she’d made.

‘Economic rationalism is a disaster,’ she said. ‘The government is walking away from its duty of care for the less fortunate people in society.’

It was the same old story. She saw herself as part of the caring industry that she imagined was being neglected by government. She probably even thought she should be getting a grant to provide the service she was providing.

‘The government is doing what governments should be doing,’ I said. ‘It’s butting out and letting society regulate itself.’

‘I’m sure a free for all would suit the criminal element,’ she said pointedly.

‘I wasn’t thinking about crime. I’m on holidays. Anyway, regulations don’t stop crime. Crime exists because regulations are easy to ignore.’

‘If you say so,’ she said.

‘I’m surprised that you’d want a lot of government interference in what you do,’ I said.

‘Who said anything about interference?’ she responded. ‘What the world needs is compassion and government at the moment is only interested in big business making money.’

The tone of her voice suggested that she considered money to be the root of all evil.

‘You name one problem that can’t be fixed with money,’ I said.

‘What about all the people consigned to the scrap heap while money is being made?’ she said. ‘And don’t tell me about dole payments. What puts people on the scrap heap is the loss of self-esteem and the breakdown of relationships that follow. When it comes to picking up the pieces of shattered lives, economic rationalism is a disaster.’

Her hypocrisy surprised me, and I didn’t feel inclined to let her get away with it.

‘Well, there’s a fine example of the pot calling the kettle black,’ I said. ‘You’re the cause of more relationship breakdowns than you can poke a stick at. Don’t tell me you can’t see that you create division and hate in the family circle.’

‘I’m sorry you see us that way,’ she said, her former enthusiasm for her argument deflating visibly. ‘We have our problems, I admit that, but our main agenda is love.’

‘Love,’ I said. ‘Is that what you call it? The world can do without your idea of love.’

Fortunately, Roger and Mary joined us just then and drove the conversation in a different direction. Obviously though the accord that had been developing between Lissette and me had dropped right away.

The next morning, Roger organized horses so we could ride out with him to check on some fencing that his two station hands were working on. I think it was more than the fencing he was concerned about. The station hands had had a falling out and he wanted to reassure himself that they’d patched up their differences. Mary, who was a champion on a horse, decided not to go with us. Not putting her pregnancy at risk was a number one priority for her these days so it was just the three of us who saddled up as a cool early morning fog was giving way to some glorious sunshine.

Just as Roger was bending down from the saddle to open the gate of the homestead enclosure, Mary called from the house that he was wanted on the phone. That left Lissette and me alone again and communication between us, which had cooled considerably the previous day, had not warmed with the sunshine of the new day.

It was Lissette who had got the conversation going the last time we were left alone together so I decided it was my turn to do a bit of ice breaking.

‘You are obviously at home on a horse,’ I said, conscious of my understatement. She actually looked terrific.

‘Mary’s the real champion,’ she replied. ‘I always came off second best in the pony club events when we were kids.’

She talked a little more about her childhood then and it saddened me to think of her now doing what she did in Sydney. No wonder Mary was devastated. Roger came back looking concerned.

‘I’ve got to hang around and wait for another phone call,’ he said. ‘It’s an important one. You two go on. See that rocky outcrop at the edge of the plateau to the west there. Head for that. The view from there is breathtaking. I’ll catch up with you if I can.’

I wasn’t keen. ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘I’m only a learner under instruction; on horseback I’m not ready to go solo.’

‘Solo?’ he said. ‘You’ll be with one of the best horse riders in the business.’

‘Sorry,’ I said to Lissette. ‘I didn’t intend to deprecate your expertise.’

‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep an eye on you.’

We set off at a walking pace while she gave advice to improve my seat, and instill other horse management techniques. It felt good being with her. She didn’t appear to bear any grudge over the way I’d maligned her over that political statement I didn’t agree with. I wanted the reconciliation to be up front.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ I said. ‘Some of the things I said must have been hurtful. Being judgmental is one of my weaknesses.’

‘We all have that weakness,’ she said. ‘Being judgmental is sometimes the same as stating the truth as we see it and the truth can hurt. What you said about creating hate and division hurt me because I know there’s an element of truth in it.’

‘That’s no excuse for me using my perception of the truth as a weapon,’ I said.

She looked at me searchingly. ‘You’re very perceptive,’ she said.

‘Perceptive enough to know that we should steer clear of politics and sex for the time being,’ I said.

‘Or religion,’ she said adding the third taboo of the trilogy.

‘Or vocations,’ I added.

She laughed. ‘We’re not going to have much to talk about.’

But we did have plenty. Conversation continued on in shouted exchanges as we cantered across the plateau in the brisk sun filtered air of the winter morning. The rocky outcrop grew larger as we approached it. It appeared to define the edge of