SO FAR: Divorcee Hope Honeybun has commissioned Nash Carson to write a novel based on her colorful and turbulent life, much of which spans the time she has lived in the valley But as Nash learns more about the development of the valley and about her lusty father and his three illigitimate children. He confirms through his research that this indeed is a Valley of Sinners and becomes entangled in that himself. This interloper and sinner also has the prospect of finding real love as Hope’s youngstest daughter Lisa comes home to be near him. Just when he accepts the novel is becoming Hope’s biography, the extended Bronkovic family applies pressure successfully to have the book cover a history of winemaking in the valley and dwell on all prominent personalities involved. Hope’s house has been burgled and it appears the break-in was to secure all of Nash’s work so far including write-ups of interviews, notebooks and work save to computer disks and the back-up CDs. The intruder or intruders also seriously injured Hope’s beloved dog Monty.
*
Lisa Honeybun who’d just arrived home from Australia rushed from the garage with a piece of heavy plywood and she held it up as Nash gently slid the unconscious terrier Monty on to it. Lisa’s mother Hope came running with a blanket to place over her constant companion. The improvised plywood stretcher was too wide to go into the cab of the pick-up so Hope clambered into the tray and helped with the lift as Monty was placed down beside her.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Nash shouted. “I want to check to make sure no one is in the house. Lisa we’ll leave you here with a loaded shotgun but I doubt anyone will return. I want you to phone the police and when they arrive tell them what’s happened.”
Nash was back within a couple of minutes. “It’s been a specific raid; the intruder or intruders were after my research material so Lisa, come with us as I now prefer you to be with us supporting your mother; leave the door unlocked and phone the police as we go. Come on, run.”
On the way to the village Lisa leaned out the window and shouted back to Hope that Nash believed the house had been raided to everything connected to the book project.
“Who’d do that,” Hope yelled.
“We have no idea – we were expecting you to have your suspicion.”
“I’m sure it won’t be the Bronkovic’s,” Hope shouted. “I’m thinking Tremain Hausman but what would be his motive? There’s no change in Monty.”
The vet confirmed Monty was still alive; it appeared the Jack Russell had been kicked a glancing blow to the head and kicked heavily in the chest. Being such a light dog probably meant the force lifted threw him some distance which would have soften the blows to save Monty from having his ribs caved in to probably puncture his lungs and other organs.
“These terriers are tough little sods,” the vet said cheerfully. “I’ll stitch him up and if we can stop any spread of infection my opinion is he’ll pull through. Hullo, what’s this?”
The vet reached into Monty’s mouth and pulled out a little piece of fawn material.
“I think your plucky guard dog has taken a piece out of the intruder’s pants ,” said the vet.
Nash whispered something to Hope, who looked shocked and said, “Well I insist you take Neven: don’t you dare go there alone.”
“Good thinking, you two go back to the house – call Mimi to give you a lift. Bye.”
He waved and was gone after asking Hope call and brief Neven and ask him to be waiting outside the winery.
Three minutes later Nash arrived at the winery – Neven and Drago were waiting on the roadside. The climbed aboard looking exciterd as Nash planted his foot and the V8 engine propelled the pick-up forward, burning rubber.
“Wow, has this ugly sod of a vehicle has real power,” said the impressed Drago. Nash had long being aware of many unused ‘horses’ under the bonnet – a term used by Hope; now was the opportunity to use them.
“So, if we find Tremain with a dog bite on his leg we know he is our man.”
“We’ll sure will Neven,” Nash said grimly, concentrating on the road ahead.
Arriving at the Hausman Winery they turned beside it in a power broadside, with Drago yelling ‘yippee!’ They rattled over the cattle stop and up the metal track to the Hausman homestead. Nash slowed to a crawl to avoid announcing their arrival.
The charged up Nash led the race around the house and was first through the backdoor by several yards. He saw Tremain sitting on a chair with his ripped moleskin trouser leg pulled up. Catherine was tying off a bandage.
With a roar, Tremain hobbled over to a gap between the dresser and the wall to pick up a small calibre rifle and aimed at Nash. There was no way of knowing if it was loaded.
Neven and Drago burst into the room, Neven turning left and charged Tremain, Drago racing around the other side of the table. Momentarily confused by the suddenness of this second wave of home invasion, Tremain waggled the rifle from left to right and back again.
Neven simply reached out and with his huge meaty hand ripped the rifle from Tremain’s hand, breaking Tremain’s index finger that had been inside the trigger guard. Neven ejected a cartridge from the chamber and pulled out the loaded clip.
Nash and Drago lifted Catherine to her feet; she’d been thrown to the ground by her husband’s charge to get the rifle.
Taking one look at the blood from Catherine’s nose which had run on to her tee-shirt and the angry welt where she’d been savagely slapped earlier over both cheeks, Neven shouted, “You cowardly bastard!” Tremain anticipated what Neven had in mind and threw the first punch, catching Neven hard on the chest. Neven didn’t seem to notice the heavy blow. He hooked his right fist into Tremain’s soft midriff and as Tremain sank gasping towards the floor Neven hit him with his left fist on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.
Catherine fell sobbing into Nash’s arms, saying that she never should have given Nash that long lists of grievances and allegations against her husband.
“The villain has been keeping Catherine virtually a prisoner in her own home,” Nash told the Bronkovic’s. “He rarely let her out of his sight and had her so brain-washed and terrorized that she even refused to go out with him. The guard dog was to keep her in her studio when he was away from the property.”
They sat down with Drago pouring Catherine a brandy and the three men decided to have one too.
Nash continued, “Catherine had given me two long interviews making all kinds of allegations, including Tremain forcing her to sign across assets to him. He could deny all that, of course, alleging that she’d become an embittered woman and was now seeking to destroy his good character. However, the evil get greedy and she gave me copies of three documents which she had managed to photocopy. She also handed across to me two A4 original sheets on which he’d practised copying her signature and unwisely made some incriminating – at least I think they are incriminating – dates and notations between batches of those trial signatures. He also has boasted that he has a wife in Melbourne which requires investigation, as perhaps she is his first wife, never been divorced. But what he really came after today were a folder of copies of pages from his diary Catherine sent me yesterday via a washing machine repair man who’d been called her to fix a fault in the machine. He found a man’s sock jammed in the water outlet pipe by clever-thinking Catherine.”
