Finchie: The Makings of Murder by R J Murdoch

Author:R J Murdoch [Murdoch, R J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zero Press
Published: 2022-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

5

Back in my donga I pondered my next move. I couldn’t afford to give up my job just yet as I had nowhere near sufficient cash to finance a possible wild-goose chase into the wilderness. On the other hand, it was going to be difficult to keep my mind on my work. More as a distraction than anything else, I dug out the two taped bundles of papers from Adolph’s trunk that I had only glanced at previously. They contained some official looking papers in German, including a birth certificate which showed Adolph had been born in 1917. Of more interest were copies of recent tax-returns. Tucked inside one of them was a buff envelope with the words ‘To be opened in the event of my death’ printed neatly across it.

Adolph was dead, so I opened it. It contained Adolph’s will. It was in English and dated 1955. The gist of it was that Adolph had left all his worldly goods and possessions to a certain Leopold Baxter. The name ‘Baxter’ rang a bell. I went back to Adolph’s diary and re-read the entries directly following the war. Adolph had been billeted with a family of farmers in the English midlands under the prisoner-of-war labour scheme. The family’s name was Baxter. Adolph’s keenness to sign his motorbike over to me now made sense because whoever ended up as executor was unlikely to place much value on an old motorbike in a remote corner of Australia.

The next thought that came to me was ‘Did Adolph have anything of value other than the motorbike?’ The tax returns showed he made a modest but comfortable income from his employment. They also showed he made a second modest but comfortable income from his investments. ‘Investments’ – I liked the sound of that.

According to his 1978 tax documents, he had one hundred and twenty-seven thousand five hundred and seventy-two dollars and nineteen cents in a savings account with the Commonwealth Bank. No other investments were listed. Knowing Adolph’s experience with the mining fraternity, I wasn’t surprised that he’d shied away from shares or other risky places to put his cash.

I spent a restless night thinking about Adolph’s will. It was about twenty-five years ago that he signed it. Anything could have happened to Leopold Baxter in that time. He might be dead, and the money would end up in the hands of someone that Adolph never knew. It didn’t seem right to me. It then occurred to me that a fitting use for Adolph’s money would be to develop his secret gold mine, which he had asked me to do. Finally, I settled on a plan. It would require the cooperation of Adrian to make it work, but I had a feeling he would be happy to oblige, given his current financial and domestic situation.

The next evening I caught up with Adrian at the canteen, just as he was leaving. He was happy for me to call in after my meal, provided I brought a few beers.

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