"'The Lord is coming with fire, his chariots are like a whirlwind; he will bring down his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire.'"

I was back home listening once again to Pastor Reezall's chilling threats of judgment in his final broadcast. His voice was slow and measured but it was also quivering. It wasn't just the natural tremor of an old man. He was angry, and possibly also quite stressed.

But so what? I had gotten absolutely nowhere in my meeting with Go-Go Greene. He knew he didn't have to talk and so he didn't. End of story.

I had reached a dead end. I really wanted to help Miriam. Perhaps this was for my own selfish reasons, but, in any case, I didn't see that I could do more. The police take murder seriously. They would have interviewed anyone who might know anything, and they would employ their investigative and forensic skills and find witnesses. Sooner or later they would probably catch the killer.

It was nine o'clock, and time for Rad Blacken's In Your Face radio program. Knowing the frequency didn't help-the station didn't reach as far as Box Hill. Never mind. It also broadcast over the internet, though I could not imagine who outside Yarra Boss might want to listen. I located the home page and clicked on the "Listen Now" button.

The show had just begun. "Now you'll all remember last night's special guest," Rad was saying. "His name was Johnny Ravine."

I raised the volume on my compact speakers.

"Well, it turned out that Johnny had come to Australia to look for his dad. The dad he'd never met. A soldier by the name of John La Vinne. So I put out a special call for John to contact me. Or anyone else who might know the admirable Admiral La Vinne. And to my complete lack of surprise...well, admit it, Rad, you were just a teeny bit surprised...we have had some response."

I felt myself shivering. I turned up the volume even further.

"Three emails from our global audience. Thanks guys. Maybe we've located Johnny's father. And now let's start the show with some tango from Argentina."

I took my phone and called the station. When I'd phoned the previous evening no one had replied. The lady at the wine bar intimated that no one ever answered. But this time Rad responded almost immediately. "Hi Johnny."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Oh, intuition."

"I want to know about those emails."

"I thought you might. That's why I made that little announcement."

"Can you read them out to me?"

"You're going to have to come to the station."

"Again? You're joking. It's already nine o'clock at night and it's an hour's drive. You know that."

"I've got an extra half-hour to fill each night until they find a replacement for the pastor. And you were one of the most fascinating guests I've had in a while. All right-you were the only guest I've had in a while. Look, I have to get ready for the next song. See you in an hour." He rang off.

I had no desire to be on that program ever again, but I did have a desire-an overwhelming yearning, a need-to learn anything I could about my father. I shut down the computer, got in the Mitsubishi Sigma and embarked on the familiar route through forests, farmlands and wineries to Yarra Boss.

Rad opened the door and led me upstairs to the studio. He pointed to the headphones, which I put over my ears. The music ended and he spoke. "Some of you will remember last night's fascinating interview with private eye Johnny Ravine. Well, Johnny insisted on being with us again, and so, ladies and gentlemen, drum roll please, he-e-e-e-e-re's Johnny."

"Hello Rad," I said with as much politeness as I could muster.

"Last night we put out the call for Johnny Ravine's father to contact us. Well, as you know, we have a global audience, thanks to the world wide web. And we have had a flood of emails. And by flood, I mean three. Here's the first one."

He read from the monitor of a laptop computer on his desk. "Is Johnny tall, dark and handsome, and aged around thirty? If so, he could be my long-lost lover."

"How about it Johnny?"

"That's the message?"

"Yep. Is she talking about you?"

"Look, I thought you have some information."

"We're on air, Johnny. Is she talking about you?"

"Of course not. I'm not thirty. I'm not tall. I'm..."

"Two out of four. Getting close. Now, one more email." He clicked on his laptop, then read: "I knew a soldier with a name that was very similar to Johnny's dad. Rabin, I think it was. Top class military man. Became leader of Israel, as I recall."

I stared at Rad. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Yeah, sure, that one's a bit over the top. I can't tell you some of the weird stuff that turns up in the station's inbox. That's what happens when you're broadcasting on the web."

"But that's another of the three emails? You brought me out here for...?"

He wagged a finger at me. "Remember-we're on air, Johnny. I'll read out the third. Here it is: 'My daughter happened to hear your show and said I should get in touch with you. It seems you have a man looking for his father, a soldier named John Le Vinne. I know this is a long shot, but I was a soldier in the US military, based in Vietnam. I was in love with a beautiful woman who became pregnant. But then I was evacuated, and we were separated. I have often wondered what happened to her and to our baby. My daughter said your guest was from Timor, not Vietnam, but in case there's some kind of mistake I thought I'd write. Sincerely, John Raven.'"

Rad was looking at me. I wanted to leap across the desk and strangle him with his microphone cord. I think I had tears in my eyes. "I can't believe this. I mean, I never thought you would bring me out here just to make fun of me. I really thought you had something important to tell me."

He was silent for a short while, still staring at me. Then abruptly he started some music and removed his headphones. He indicated that I should do the same.

"Sorry mate," he said with unexpected softness. "Yep, you're right. Sometimes my tongue runs ahead of my brain. Most of the time, in fact. I shouldn't have done that." With his hulking figure and long hair he now looked like some kind of tame bear that had been caught out stealing its master's honey.

"I'm always trying to make the show more entertaining," he said. "Seemed a good idea at the time." He went silent again. "Look, I'll play a few numbers back to back and then I'll see what I can tell you. Probably not much. But I'll try."

He flicked several switches then turned back to me. "Look, I don't know much about your murdered pastor. And obviously I don't know who killed him, though I was at the fire, and it's pretty clear that it was murder. Smelt like someone had probably poured some kind of petrol around the house. It wasn't an accident. And, I can tell you, it is not pleasant being a volunteer firey when you have to deal with burnt bodies."

"Yeah," I said. I wasn't sure where this was leading.

"But he was angry at that financial planning firm. Now I don't know exactly why, and I don't know if they have any connection with what happened to the pastor. But I can tell you that that outfit, Go-Go Greene Financial, they've really shaken up this town. They've gotten a lot of people very worked up."

"Worked up?"

"That Go-Go Greene, the guy running the place, he's a colorful character, to say the least. A great talker. And he's going round the community telling people about new ways to make money."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Green investing," he calls it. "It involves carbon offsets. Do you know about them?"

"No, not really. Anyway, I met Go-Go Greene today. But I didn't ask about anything like that."

"He's been signing up half the town. Getting everyone all excited." He waved his large arms in a circular motion in the air, as if somehow to illustrate excitement.

"What would be exciting about carbon offsets?"

"As best I understand it, you actually don't need to do anything. In fact, as I understand it, you don't even need to invest any money. So long as you own property with some trees you're in. People pay you for that. Makes you rich."

"Are you sure?"

"Apparently. And of course round here everyone owns property with trees. Apart from a few working stiffs like me."

The music changed from Latin to African. I waited.

"This is a big fruit and vegetable area," continued Rad. "We supply Melbourne. But who needs to grow fruit and vegetables when you can make money from just letting trees grow. Trees that don't need to be fertilized regularly, or harvested. So there I was, working at the local farm supplies store..."

"That big place down on the corner?"

"That's the one. But a year ago they told me they only needed me on a casual basis, not full-time. I had to move back in with my parents. I had time on my hands so I started this show." He raised a clenched fist in the air, and then shouted: "In your face, Yarra Boss!"

The display of anger surprised me. I'd imagined Rad to be an amiable, laid-back hippy. "This is all interesting," I said. "But I don't really see how it can be connected with the murder. The pastor didn't have money and he didn't own property."

"Maybe the pastor learned that there was something dubious about the carbon offset program."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a possibility, isn't it?" He tapped his nose, to suggest that he had just made a statement of some import. But then he added: "Say no more, say no more. By the way, what did Mr Go-Go tell you about the pastor?"

"He confirmed he was a client."

"So evidently he did have money."

"His daughter says he didn't. She said he lived as if he didn't own any possessions at all."

"Plenty to investigate. Sounds good. You're going to collect a huge fee."

I smiled, and was about to disabuse him when he held up a hand to indicate that he needed to announce the next music.

"I was driving from Healesville to Yarra Boss this morning," I said, after the studio light turned red again. "It seemed there was a fire somewhere around here."

"Up north. Some of the other brigades took care of it."

"The second fire in three days."

"That's just around here. We've got outbreaks all over the Yarra Valley."

"Really? Isn't that a concern?"

"It's a big concern. Though so far they're in pretty remote locations. Most of them are probably contained. We just let them burn and wait for rain."

"When's that due?"

"Good question. We don't know. And that's why local people are scared. Conditions are getting like February 2009. You remember that?"

"I do."

"Dry foliage. The hottest temperatures ever. Powerful winds. No humidity. More than one hundred and seventy people killed. It was unprecedented. People saw things that were only meant to happen in science fiction movies. Giant walls of flame half a mile away that reached their homes in seconds. Fires jumping rivers and fields in an instant. Fires that seemed to be sending comets exploding into the sky."

"You were there?"

"I was there. Though my memories are the charred bodies. People incinerated in their homes and cars. Eight people in one home forming a protective circle around a baby. All nine of them dead. Not pleasant."

The song was coming to an end, but Rad spoke a little more. "Mate, this month is getting to be a rough one for us fireys. We could see something really big."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The call was unexpected.

"Johnny, are you available?" It was Miriam.

I'd been eating my breakfast of sausages and eggs. "Yes, of course."

"I don't want to inconvenience you, but are you coming to the Yarra Valley today? You know, as part of your investigations? To interrogate someone?"

I smiled. People, even friends, thought a private detective spends all day interrogating people. Giving them the third degree. As if. The fact was I'd totally run out of people to question. "I can come round now."

"Johnny, it would be so good if you could. I really need to talk." Her voice was strained.

"What's the problem?"

"Some emails. Early this morning I quickly checked my emails and I...I just don't know what to think. I'm completely confused."

"About your father?"

"Yes. I don't know what to think. I didn't expect anything like this."

"Miriam, what do you mean? It sounds bad."

"It's awful. Absolutely awful. I couldn't believe it. But there are four emails."

"What is it?"

"About Dad. Four emails."

"Miriam, what is it?"

She was silent for a short moment. Then: "Johnny. Wait. There's someone at the door."

I heard muffled voices, before she returned to the phone. "Johnny, it's the funeral people. To talk about the funeral. They've arrived early. I have to hang up. It takes about an hour to get here, right?"