"Go-Go Greene arrived in town a few years ago," she said. "He started promoting all these different investments. He's got a real manner. But the one he said was best was this carbon offset program. I'm sure that when he arrived in town no one had heard of carbon offsets. Now we're all experts."

"I hadn't heard of them until this week. And I'm becoming an expert too. But I'm still not completely clear how Go-Go Greene's program works."

She looked at her son and winked. "Should I tell him?"

"That's why I've brought Johnny here. It's hardly a secret."

"It's a bit of a secret." She giggled. "Here in Yarra Boss most of us own reasonably big properties. Small farms, five-acre blocks, whatever. Many people have a lot more. And of course we have lots of trees. And trees are good for the environment. We were all taught that at primary school. Arbor Day. Plant a tree. Did you have that?" She looked at me. "I'm not sure where you're from."

"East Timor. No we didn't plant trees." The enemy used to napalm trees to expose our hideouts, I could have said.

"So Go-Go-I love calling him Go-Go, I tease him about his name whenever we meet-he said that rich people around the world need to buy carbon offsets so they can travel on airplanes with a clear conscience, things like that. And trees can be used as offsets."

"Just like that?"

"We all have to be part of some sort of financial program. We're registered. And if you don't have enough trees yourself then I think Go-Go was joining several properties together."

"So you're getting paid to grow trees? Or even just to have trees growing on your property?"

"Yes, pretty much."

"But I understood that something more was required. Technically it's called"-I tried to remember what Rohan told me-"I think it's called additionality. Have you heard of that? Lots of people have trees. You need to show that without the money being paid-the carbon offset money-you wouldn't be growing the trees. Something like that."

She smiled. "This is where I think Go-Go has been a little naughty." She looked at Rad and smiled conspiratorially.

At that moment his cellphone rang, playing a samba melody. He answered. "Yeah, sure. Sure." Then in a loud whisper he said to us: "I'll talk outside." He went out the door, to join the still-yapping dog.

His mother watched him leave, then she said in a low voice: "What about being a private detective?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What sort of job is it?"

I shrugged. "It has its moments."

"Rad needs a good job. He was effectively laid off by the farm supplies store-he's just casual now-and he hasn't had proper work since then. That's why he started that silly radio show. To give himself something to do. He used to sit in his room listening to his CD collection all day and night, then someone told him they were looking for people for the station. Do you listen?"

"I'm in Box Hill. I can't pick it up."

"You can get it on the internet. I think that's where most people listen. I don't know anyone local who does. But he's got a lot of fans around the world. He's always getting funny emails."

"Yes, apparently."

"And he calls the show In Your Face. That's his own private joke, showing what he thinks of all the locals after he lost his job. He acts all aggressive, but he's really just a big kid. A bit too passive. I think nowadays he's happiest when he fights fires. He kind of loses himself in it all. He needs to try a bit harder to make something of his life. Maybe you could train him to be a private detective."

"Yes, sure, I'm happy to talk about it with him."

"You know, it's actually very sweet music that he plays. It's not rubbish-not all that loud head-banging stuff. It's music from lots of different countries. You should listen. You're from abroad."

"Maybe I'll try." Was she trying to divert me from my questions?

"He needs a good woman too. Thirty-two and still living at home. I think I ought to hire you to find him one. Are you expensive?"

At that moment Rad walked back in.

"Johnny was just saying he'd be happy to talk to you about becoming a private detective," his mother said to him.

"My mom's always trying to sort out my life for me."

"Thirty-two and still living at home."

"Yes, Mom. No, Mom." He sat down.

I returned to our original conversation. "You were saying that Go-Go Greene has been a little naughty. Concerning the carbon offset money."

"Oh yes. That's right. Well, what's happened is he's arranged with the Yarra Boss council to designate all our properties as suitable for land clearance."

"What do you mean?"

"There are pretty strict rules around here about cutting down trees. But I think Go-Go went and had a quiet word with people at the council-and of course they all own land here as well-and they quietly changed the land-use designation for us."

"So now all your properties are designated as suitable for land clearance?"

"Yes, that's it."

"So you can chop down all your trees if you want?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"It doesn't sound naughty. It sounds illegal."

"No, no. The point is, no one's going to chop down their trees. Why do people come to live in Yarra Boss? Because they love nature and trees. They want more. And then if you chop down your trees you won't be eligible for the payments from Go-Go's program. In fact, thanks to the program, people are growing more trees than ever before."

"Instead of fruit and vegetables," muttered Rad.

His mother ignored him. "What the council's done is absolutely irrelevant, practically speaking. It's just on paper. Not even on paper. Somewhere on the council's computer. It's a council regulation or bylaw or something. I don't know what they call it. But it means we can claim our trees as carbon offsets. And it's all legal."

"But no one knows about it?"

"We all know about it. Everyone who's involved. Though I think most people aren't bothered with the details. They're just happy to be getting the money. And that's the way Go-Go likes it."

"But..." I struggled for the words. "It doesn't seem ethical. Getting paid to grow trees, which you're doing anyway. Changing the rules just for that purpose. Pretending your land might be subject to some kind of clearance, when that's never ever going to happen. And then getting money from people who think they're helping the environment."

"It's all legal," she said, ignoring my suggestion that it was unethical. "I'm sure if you spent a few hours at the council chambers going through all their records you'd find out what they've done. It's in the public domain."

I thought hard.

"So I wonder if this is what the pastor was planning to expose."

"Nothing to expose. The council can change the rules. As I just said, it's got to be there somewhere, on some bylaw or council minute or something."

"But it wouldn't have looked good for Go-Go-Mr Greene-if it became known what he was doing."

"It possibly would have brought him more business. Who knows? Though, yes, I doubt that Go-Go would have wanted it on the front page of all the papers." She paused. "You're not suggesting that Go-Go had something to do with that pastor's death, are you?"

"Do you know that the pastor-shortly before he died-was quite vehemently threatening to expose Go-Go Greene? On Boss Radio? He seemed to be implying that he knew something the regulators would not be happy about."

"It sounds like blackmail. Are you suggesting it's what led to the pastor's murder?"

"I'm just wondering aloud. I have to think about all the angles."

"You should talk to my friend Debbie. She's also got an investment with the carbon offset program. She works during the week, so you won't be able to talk to her today. But tomorrow's Saturday. I'm sure she can make some time. She said she did it because Pastor Reezall told her to."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"What's the point of living in the Yarra Valley if you don't enjoy the wine?" said Debbie, refilling glasses with a local chilled chardonnay. I wondered if this was a dig at me. I was sticking to lemonade.

She had met us at the door of her home with a half-empty glass in her hand and quickly escorted us onto a backyard patio with spectacular forest and mountain views. "It's not every Saturday morning that I have three handsome men arrive on my doorstep," she had declared. "I might not allow you to leave."

Now we were discussing Pastor Reezall's death. "That was really scary," she said. "People say that the house burned down in minutes. And took a lot of trees with it. We don't like to hear about that kind of thing around here." Whitney Houston sang from The Bodyguard soundtrack over a pair of mounted speakers on the patio.

"It was deliberately lit," said Rad. "I helped put it out. Someone poured petrol around the house."

"It's still scary." Debbie was a straw-haired thirty-ish tax accountant, driving forty minutes to Melbourne's eastern suburbs each day for her work and relishing the country lifestyle at weekends. She lived alone in an old home on land surrounded by young trees.

My journalist friend Rohan was also with us. When I told him about my meeting the previous day with Rad's mother he had insisted on tagging along. He spoke: "Now, the point of our visit"-his deep baritone engendered impressive authority, as if he were delivering a speech at the United Nations-"we believe you're one of the lucky winners of the Go-Go Greene carbon offset bonanza."

She smiled. "I think everyone in town is involved. Everyone who owns property. You don't pass up a chance like this. Make money for doing nothing. So long as you don't chop down your trees. Which no one is doing anyway. People like me move out here because of all the trees."

Somewhere in the distance, near the mountains, I spotted what was likely an eagle or a hawk.

"Let me confirm," said Rohan. "The local council has passed some kind of new regulation declaring that you are allowed to clear your land, chop down all your trees, whatever, whereas previously you couldn't."

She shrugged. "I leave all the small print up to Go-Go. But I believe it's something like that." She had a winning smile. I wondered how come Rad's mother hadn't hooked her up with Rad. Possibly something to do with all the wine she was consuming. She was wearing a low-slung blouse and I could see a large red rose tattooed on her upper back.

Rohan sipped his wine. "You have some kind of document from the council? Something that changes the designated use of your land? That says you're now allowed to cut down trees?"

"I don't have anything like that myself. Go-Go Greene, he handles all those details. He says it's all arranged at the council."

"So what do you get?"

"There's a whole lot of forms to fill in. Then I think I have a certificate that shows I'm a participant in the program. It's in a drawer somewhere. I'd have to go and look. And every six months I get a payment from Go-Go."

"Minus his fee."

"Oh sure, he charges a commission. Quite large. And a fee for setting the whole thing up. Go-Go Greene's not running a charity. We all know that. But it's money we wouldn't have otherwise. For doing nothing. Or, in my case"-she swept her arm around her property-"planting lots more trees. So who's complaining?"

"And Pastor Reezall? He advised you to do all this?"

"What?"

"That's what Rad's mother told us. That you entered into all this on the advice of Pastor Reezall."

She burst out laughing. She looked at Rad. "Your mum's quite a character. And, if you don't mind my saying so, she has something in common with me-she enjoys her wine."

"Who wouldn't, if you lived out here?" said Rohan.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It was quite recent. I was having a long chat with Go-Go about various matters and I happened to mention something about my girlfriend whose son Rad was on Boss Radio each night. Go-Go asked me if I also listened to the pastor, who came on afterwards. I said I listened occasionally, and he told me that the pastor had a big investment with him. That's all. But I've never met the pastor. Never spoken with him."

Rohan and I looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"My mother's always mixing stuff up," said Rad.

"That's not true," said Debbie. "She's a very smart lady. But I remember when I was talking to her about this it was at a long, boozy and noisy lunch. She must have misheard."

"Did Mr Greene say what sort of investments the pastor had with him?" I asked.

The woman thought. "No, I don't think so. Maybe he did, but I wouldn't have noticed."

"You didn't think it odd that a pastor has a big investment? You didn't ask Mr Greene?"

"Look, I probably was hardly listening." She shrugged and flashed her smile. "But yes, now that you mention it, it's not what you expect. But who knows what goes on nowadays? I'm a tax accountant. You should see some of my clients. Old guys who look like they've been sleeping on the streets, but with half-million-dollar share portfolios."

"As far as we know, the pastor didn't own land, so we doubt that he was involved in carbon offsets," I said. "But we suspect he might have had a big share portfolio with Go-Go Greene. Do you know anything about that?"

"Guys, guys, all these questions. I was hardly listening when Go-Go mentioned the pastor. It was just a kind of an aside. Nothing of any meaning. I don't think I can help you anymore. But it's not often I have three handsome men in my house, so you don't escape easily. Wait, I'll get more wine."

I watched as she wobbled back inside. Whitney Houston was singing about love denied.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

"Follow the money," said Rohan to Rad and me. We were back in one of the Yarra Boss coffee shops. "That's the trick in my business. So the pastor had a big investment with Mr Greene, according to our new friend Debbie. We kind of assumed that already from the papers that Johnny found at the burnt-down house. And we know where the money came from. But was it just greed on the part of the pastor, and if so why wasn't he living it up? There has to be a purpose for his investments. And did it get him killed? Follow the money."

"You have an exciting life," said Rad. "I met one of the journos from the local Yarra Boss weekly. He spends most of the time in the pub."