Red Hot Part 1

RED HOT.

Cheryl and Leonie Alldis.

Although this book is based on a true crime mystery, the characters in the story are the product of the authors imagination and any resemblance to any person living or dead is entirely coincidental.

About the Authors.

Cheryl & Leonie Alldis grew up in Hamilton Valley where the events of this book took place. They watched in terror as deliberately lit fires destroyed property and livelihoods. They experienced the frustration the whole community endured at the lack of progress in capturing the firebug and watched as hostilities grew and lifelong friends.h.i.+ps fell apart due to unfounded accusations.

The memories of the fear and heartache and the screaming sirens night after night are still vivid. Their own family was thrown into further turmoil when the police charged an innocent relative with arson. The close knit family was heartbroken and determined to fight and bring to justice the real culprit.

Four years of terror, and over 300 fires later, the heartache and endless fear at the hands of a crazed arsonist have resulted in this book - Red Hot.

PART ONE.

19641966.

"If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.

If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you."

Saint Thomas.

1946.

'Stop... please! Please, let me go! Leave me alone!'

The terrified young woman lashed out. Scratching, clawing, struggling desperately to free herself from his clutches.

'You're mine! ...No one else's, do you hear me?!'

His voice was harsh and low, a guttural growl. Saliva foamed in the corners of his mouth, spittle dribbling down his chin.

He tore her clothing, shoving her legs apart with his knee. Her struggles were futile. Holding her down, he thrust into her again and again. Finally, he gasped, collapsing on top of her.

'You'll always be mine!' the sinister voice whispered close to her ear as tears of fear and humiliation ran down her face.

He zipped his pants and staggered away, leaving her lying battered and abused.

'My power, my pleasure, my pain.'

"Fire fear foe awake!"

J R.R. Tolkie.

"Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them."

Rabindranath Tagore He is meticulous, cunning, and he knows every move they make.

CHAPTER ONE.

It was September 1964 and the spring sun had already risen over the valley, bathing everything in its warm golden glow.

Win Miles stood on the back veranda of Kia-Ora, her family home for the past 40 odd years, her gaze sweeping across the surrounding paddocks where freshly milked cows grazed. In the distance, she could hear the throb of a tractor ploughing the paddocks, nearby, the whistling and chatter of the men who were hard at work picking the fruit in the orchard.

Built in the 1920's by Win's parents, Dave and Emmie Mason, Kia-Ora, a large and gracious home, came with a parcel of land consisting of twenty-two acres. Dave had turned most of the land into a prosperous orchard. The remainder was home to a few cows and an old draught horse named Prince.

Dave and Emmie had a large family: four boys and two girls. Sadly, one of their sons died some years ago, leaving behind his wife Dawn and two children, Eric and Eileen. Dawn had since remarried to Jeff Hickson.

Eric had moved in with Aunty Connie and Uncle Sam's place after his mother remarried; it suited him better as he also worked in Sam's orchards.

Sam and Arthur, their two remaining sons, and their families had their own properties within walking distance from Kia-Ora.

That left Karl, a World War II veteran, living at Kia-Ora having never married, and Win, her husband Digger Miles and their two girls, Kathy and Tammie.

Ellie, Win's older sister, had returned to the family home with her son Francis after her husband Denby had died.

Having the old home full of family was exactly what Dave and Emmie loved. It kept the older couple young at heart.

A flock of yellow-crested c.o.c.katoos caught Win's attention as they landed with a screeching crescendo in a nearby gum tree. She laughed aloud at their antics, and with a contented sigh, dragged her attention back to the conversation that drifted from the kitchen where Digger and her elderly father, Dave, were grabbing a quick breakfast before tackling the day's work.

'You know, Dig, we're in for a stinker of a summer this year,' Dave was saying. 'I'm very concerned. Up in those hills there's a lot of dense bush; if it goes up we're in big strife!'

'Yeah, everyone's worried, mate,' Digger said between mouthfuls. 'Nat Willis and old man Johnson up the top end have been clearin' scrub and dead trees all week from around their lot and Sid Jackson's been out with his slasher tryin' ta get rid of scrub. Frank Smith's gettin' his crew together and they're gonna back-burn as far in as they can up there.' He indicated with a nod towards the hills that surrounded the picturesque valley.

Nat Willis owned a large farm tucked away at the top end of Centaur Road. The main road snaked through the valley, the asphalt petered out into a gravel track, dividing into a fork, one side leading to Nat's place and the other to his neighbour's, old Mr Johnson and his wife , Edna, who also had a farm, and Sid Jackson, a widower, who ran a small orchard.

The bush track was lined either side by tall, grey gum trees that ran back into the bush, merging with the scrub in the hills.

In the spring, ma.s.ses of wattle trees bloomed, adding their golden colour to the bush, and magpies would busily build their nests in the tall gum trees.

The farmers and fruit growers were extremely concerned about the denseness of the bush surrounding them, having had been hindered with the clearing by the unpredictable weather.

Tucked away in the outskirts of the southern NSW/Victorian border town of Albury and west of the nearby suburb of Lavington, Hamilton Valley was a rural community with a small population. It nestled in a valley that separated Nail Can Hill and the Black Ranges, the hills that surrounded the valley. The Bungambrawatha Creek wound down from these hills and through several properties, one of which was Kia-Ora. The creek was known to yield many kinds of local freshwater crayfish and yabbies.

Many of the farmers and fruit growers had been there for generations, having had their properties handed down from father to son over the years.

It was very pretty area untouched as yet by urban living.

It was not uncommon to leave doors unlocked. Neighbour always helped neighbour and at the end of every year the whole community came together to celebrate the festive season.

What greatly concerned the whole community were the conditions in the surrounding hills.

Long, hot spring days after an unusually wet season had brought with them not only the threat of a long, hot summer, but also the dread of a bushfire season that was shaping up to be catastrophic.

'Well, it's certainly goin' to be one h.e.l.luva job,' Dave answered, adding, 'I think we're gonna need all the blokes we can to get on top of this.' He folded the Weekly Times, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He liked to keep up with all the rural news and this paper was the voice of the country. Dave, a tall man still quite active for his seventy plus years, and a profitable orchardist who had won awards for his fruit displays, stood leaning back against the kitchen table, a beautiful solid oak table that had originally belonged to Emmie's mother, so it would easily be at least one hundred years old.

'Well, we'd better get out there and get stuck into a bit of clearin' up around the sheds. Karl was gone before daylight. He went down to the orchard to give the boys a hand with the fruit then they're headin' up to Dawn's to give a hand clearin' there.' Digger replied.

A short, dark-haired, stocky man in his forties, Digger had the weathered complexion of a hardworking outdoors man. A bricklayer by trade, he divided his time between bricklaying and working around the Mason property. The outdoors had tanned his skin to a nut brown and a few abrasions from laying bricks marked his hands.

Draining the last of his coffee, he put the mug on the kitchen sink and tucked a bundle of order forms into the top pocket of his khaki bib and brace overalls. Pa.s.sing Win on the way out, he gave her a peck on her cheek, saying to Dave, 'Arthur's told young Robert to come up and give us a hand pickin' the peaches he does b.u.g.g.e.r all! We've ordered five hundred packin' cases from C.O.D. They should be here by the end of the week.'

Dave nodded in approval. 'We can store them in the front half of the top shed. The hay'll be moved soon.'

'Arthur plans to move that old disused dairy of his up here as soon as possible. We can make good use of it for storage. Eric'll haul it up with his tractor.'

Dave scratched the back of his neck. 'He'll have to get a loan on Hickson's big trailer.'

'Hickson'll be back from Melbourne on Friday, he can ask him then. Things'll work out, Dave.'

Things always worked out. Smart organisation and planning along with a flexible routine saw to it.

Summer evenings in the Mason household were spent watching television or listening to Ellie and Francis as they practiced their music. They were both extremely talented musicians, often asked to play at local social events.

Digger liked listening to the serial Biggles, which broadcast every weeknight at 9 o'clock on the wireless. Karl was hooked on Dexter, which was on at 8:30pm. Then he would stay and listen to Biggles with Digger. They would then relay the story to the rest of the family whether they wanted to hear it or not.

The family relaxed and appreciated the easy atmosphere after the heat of the day as well as the delicious dinner prepared by Hazel, the elderly housekeeper. She and her husband, Ted, had been with the Mason family ever since they built Kia-Ora. They were very much part of this large family.

'I'm glad Ellie kept up the piano, Em; I was a bit worried when she lost Denby she might never play again.' Dave's old eyes softened as he watched Ellie at the piano.

Ellie had grieved a long time but now, being back at Kia-Ora with the family, she seemed much happier.

She was a very attractive woman in her mid-forties. Tall, with her fair hair worn in a sleek chignon, she was slender and very graceful in her movements. She had the Hollywood movie star look about her. She earned a modest income from teaching music. She was well respected throughout the community.

In complete contrast to her, Win, in her early forties, was pet.i.te with dark hair that brushed her shoulders in soft waves. A very glamorous woman, she had the look of the roaring forties about her. Although she could play the piano, she was the one who could sing. Win had a lovely voice and often sang along while Ellie played.

Digger took a long swig from his can of Victoria Bitter. 'Not a bad drop, this,' he said. Just released, Victoria Bitter was fast gaining popularity.

'How'd it go up the hill today, Karl?'

'Crikey mate, b.l.o.o.d.y mess; we're sittin' ducks if we get a storm. One strike of b.l.o.o.d.y lightnin' and it'll go up for sure!'

Karl also had a weathered look, strands of grey streaked his brown hair and he was slightly taller than Digger. He had rugged good looks and the Mason's vivid blue eyes. His hands and arms were scarred by cuts and scratches from repairing fencing around the property and pruning the fruit trees.

All the Mason clan had vivid blue eyes inherited from their mother Emmie.

Now in her seventies, Emmie was still very active and no one could pull the wool over her eyes. She kept the family on their toes and was only too happy to have them living with her and Dave in their vast home.

Still very attractive for her age, she never forgot to apply her face powder and lipstick and she wore her silvery hair caught up at the back in a net. She broke her hip when she was in her fifties and it left her with a slight limp, but apart from that she was able to get around quite well.

'Dave and I were talkin' about it this morning. It's a worry alright,' Dig replied. 'I'll come up with ya tomorrow. The pickin's under control here with Robert lendin' a hand now. Hickson's been clearin' near that boundary fence of Dawn's up near her hayshed and someone's gotta do 'round old Harry's place too.'

'I'll get Hazel to pack lunch for you all. Win and I will bring it up as far as old Harry's,' Ellie offered.

Old Harry lived in a hut on Dawn's property at the foot of the hill they were about to clear. Some people thought him eccentric, even senile, but Eileen loved the old man, caring for him, bringing him food and keeping an eye on his general wellbeing.

Eileen had a good heart. A bit of a tomboy, she preferred to be outdoors riding her horse Lightning (named this because of the white flash that zigzagged down his nose) than to be cooped up inside. She was quite attractive, although she didn't seem to realise it. She was tall and slender with fair hair; she also had the Mason blue eyes.

'I'll go up with you in the morning and lend a hand.'

'Not a good idea, Dad. You could bring on a turn with all the smoke that'll be around,' Karl warned his father, touching him affectionately on the arm.

Dave had spent a miserable winter with several attacks of bronchial asthma. He had been warned by his doctor to take it easy.

'Strewth, I'm not past it yet. I want to be up there and see for myself what's bein' done, check the conditions and say g'day to Harry!'

'Best take him with you, Karl,' sighed Emmie, 'or the old coot will just up and follow anyway.'

'Right, then I'll be off to bed. C'mon, Em, early night means an early start. See you all in the morning.'

Taking Em by the hand, he helped her up out of the chair, giving her a wink and a gentle slap on her backside. 'C'mon old girl, let's get to bed!'

'Oh, stop that, you old devil!' Emmie blushed slightly as, hand-in-hand, they headed off to bed, leaving the rest of the family laughing at their antics.