Free Through a Camel's Eye by Dorothy Johnston

went fuzzy.
    â€˜Does he have a record?’
    â€˜Stealing cars.’
    â€˜Looks a bit old for that.’
    â€˜Some men never grow up.’
    Chris shot a glance at Anthea, but her eyes were firmly on the screen.
    â€˜I’ll print this off, will I? It’s something to go round with.’
    â€˜Good,’ Chris said again. ‘Print out the convictions too. I don’t suppose there’s a horse float among them?’
    Anthea laughed and said, ‘No such luck.’
    â€˜Don’t play silly buggers with me, Frank. Where’s your trailer?’
    â€˜You know what, Blackie? You’ve turned into an aggressive little shit since you acquired that lass with the pretty arse. I might have to get my solicitor to remind you of my rights.’
    Chris rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. ‘Go ahead, Frank. But I’ll be round here every day until I get an answer, so you might as well co-operate and save yourself the trouble.’
    The farmer scowled, then said gruffly, ‘My son’s got it.’
    â€˜Jim?’
    â€˜Some of us do have families, you know.’
    â€˜What’s Jim doing with your clapped-out trailer?’
    â€˜Moving a horse.’
    â€˜Where is he?’
    â€˜Well, I couldn’t say for certain, not to the nearest metre.’ Frank made an exaggerated show of checking his watch. ‘Somewhere between Lorne and Apollo Bay would be a rough estimate.’
    â€˜I’ll need it back. Today.’
    â€˜Don’t know about that. Mightn’t be possible.’
    â€˜Tomorrow, or I’ll charge you with obstructing a police investigation.’
    Chris knew Frank was laughing at him. But whether it was guilty laughter, or pleasure at having got the better of the local law enforcement, this he couldn’t say. He was annoyed with himself for over-reacting.
    If the grapevine had done its usual work, Chris was sure Frank Erwin knew all about the Bentons’ stay at the McIntyre’s van park, and what had brought it to a premature end. The whole town would know that the murdered woman had been in Queenscliff last summer; they’d be watching with curiosity to see what happened next.
    Chris told himself that he could chase Jim up, go back to Frank and find out what he was driving, get the rego details. He could ring the stations at Lorne and Apollo Bay and ask them to keep a look out. There couldn’t be that many horse trailers on the Ocean Road today. But he felt in his bones that it was too late.
    He wasn’t surprised when he picked up the phone an hour later and there was Frank on the other end, a Frank much chastened and apologetic. He was terribly sorry, but there’d been an accident. His trailer had gone over the side of a cliff, around a nasty bend.
    â€˜You know that really bad stretch just before you get to Wye River. And it’s blowing a gale down there today.’
    â€˜So the trailer came loose. Where is it now?’
    â€˜Over the side, like I said.’ Frank sounded aggrieved. ‘And thanks for asking after Jimmy. He wasn’t hurt, by the way.’
    â€˜I’m glad to hear it.’
    Chris had no authority to order any kind of salvage operation, and James Erwin would have made sure that pieces of the trailer were scattered far and wide. He began typing another report, outlining a connection between the missing camel and Margaret Benton, but stopped when he realised that he wasn’t even convincing himself. He knew that the trailer would remain at the bottom of whatever cliff it had conveniently fallen over, until it was washed away by the spectacular high tides that were famous along that stretch of coastline.
    He put the half-written report aside and rang to ask about the lab results on the hairs. After being put on hold for what seemed like forever, he was told they’d once belonged to a palomino pony.
    When Anthea came in, flushed from her door-to-door, Chris