My Island Homicide (11 page)

Chapter 18

The quiet of Easter Monday was unsettling: no cars rattling past my unit, no padding of joggers' feet, no mobile phones blaring muffled music, no dinghies buzzing into Back Beach. Maggie called over to say she was going out in a boat with a friend and to raise the alarm if she wasn't back by six. As I was leaving for the station, I put Sissy in the small backyard with a bowl of water, dish of Komplete Krunchees and her towel. I closed the screen door and she began whimpering. By the time I got to the front door, she was howling. I couldn't leave her. We walked to the station, Sissy straining ahead as I struggled behind her, holding her two empty bowls, the bag of Komplete Krunchees, her towel and the two bags of files.

Even though I was supposed to be working, I kept thinking about Jonah. I just couldn't help it. If I was reading a file or an email, a thought about Jonah would materialise for no reason and I would recall his smile and his dimples and his bright eyes and his strong hands and the pale pearl shell stingray that hung from a leather necklace. Then I couldn't remember what I was originally thinking about. It was absurd in one way but exciting in another.

Robby emailed me the complaint he was about to send to the Minister for Education, which contained damning evidence against Dave. Attached to the complaint were supporting statements from three teacher aides, Billy Billa, Tonny Gava and Rachel Isaacs, whom Jenny and Jack would interview this week. Jenny rang to say she ran into Bobby Arua at Triple F and he identified those carvings as his from the evidence photos Jenny showed him.

‘He said he traded them for ganja, then he corrected himself and said a few packets of smokes,' said Jenny, laughing. ‘He'd never smoke bad stuff, he reckoned.'

I took Sissy across the road for a walk on the beach. She bolted towards a woman jogging on the road, slowly, as if it involved great effort. The woman waved. It was Jenny. She was certainly serious about losing weight.

My first thought on waking on Tuesday morning was,
Jonah's coming for
dinner
. From 6am, I sat on my little verandah and watched the action – the joggers, walkers and cars along the road and the dinghies arriving from neighbouring islands – while I ate a whole red pawpaw from my garden. Then I remembered an iron, a necessary evil for police-issue clothes. I went next door and borrowed Maggie's. She said I'd be able to pick one up from IBIS.

‘Iron from a supermarket?'

‘Oh, yes. They have a whole range of electrical appliances or you can try the newsagency. Hey, would you like to join me for dinner tonight?'

‘I've got something on tonight. How about tomorrow?'

‘It's a date.'

Not long after I got to work, I was distracted by shouting from the interview room. ‘Praise the Lord. Tell the truth, my boy, for the children of the Torres Strait.'

I crept out for a squiz. Jack faced the door, taking notes. On the other side of the table were two men, with their backs to me. One was slim and twentyish, the other portly with grey hair. Billy, the teacher aide, and his dad, at a guess.

The older man picked up a book and waved it in front of the younger man. ‘My son, God will protect you for exposing sin.'

‘It's okay, Uncle,' said Jack. ‘Billy, what was the name of that student that Mr Dave said had a hearing disorder but you don't think did?'

Jenny came from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. ‘Billy's father is intimidating. If only he'd stop waving the goddamn Bible around.' She walked in and handed the mugs to Billy and his dad.

At midday, Jenny said she was heading uptown to buy a kebab from Frankie's Cafe, which ‘did healthy stuff'. I went along, insisting she drop me at the pharmacy first.

Just as I suspected, the pharmacy had a range of make-up for darker-skinned women. I chose a blusher, mascara and a lipstick called Captivate, which was what I wanted to do to Jonah. I checked the colour. It was maroon, just like the Queensland State of Origin team. The blusher, called Allure, was the same maroon as the lipstick. Hopefully, Jonah was a loyal Queensland supporter! I carried the make-up off in a white paper bag, wondering how I could broach the subject of Jonah with Jenny. I wanted to make sure he wasn't married or hooked up before I set out to captivate and allure.

Jenny was waiting in the car with the air-conditioning running, while our lunches were being prepared. We were in for a 15-minute wait.

‘What did you buy?' she asked.

‘Just stuff.'

‘Sorry. It's probably personal. There I go being
matha paipa
again.'

I didn't want her to feel bad so I pulled out the three shiny black items.

‘Make-up? What on earth for?' Now I felt bad, thinking I had just made a terrible mistake. Her face twisted into amused curiosity. ‘You're styling up for someone, aren't you? Who?'

I told her I was having dinner with someone that night and she laughed. ‘You don't waste any time, do you? What's his name? Come on. You'd better make sure he's not married or seeing someone or you'll get drilled by an angry wife or girlfriend, they won't worry that you're the OIC of police.'

‘His name is Jonah and his mum lives at Back Beach.'

‘Oh. My. God.' I didn't know whether that meant he was wanted by police in four states, he was gay, or he was happily married with eleven children. ‘You. Are. Having. Dinner. With. Jonah?'

Shit.
That must mean all of the above.

‘Wait here.' Jenny jumped out of the car and I was left with the chill of the air-conditioning and the quiet throb of a pulse deep within my brain.

She returned and handed me two hot wrapped items. ‘I'll tell you about Jonah.'

She pulled up on the waterfront in the shade of a sea almond tree. There were three other cars with people eating inside. Something about the intervening silence made my appetite vanish.

‘Gee, you certainly know how to pick 'em,' she said, peeling the greaseproof paper from her kebab. ‘Jonah is a mate of Fred's. He plays pool and almost always beats Fred. Actually, I think when he loses to Fred, he does it on purpose.'

‘Just tell me. Is he married?'

She looked at me, stopped chewing and eventually shook her head. ‘Not anymore.' She started chewing again, still shaking her head. The suspense was killing me. ‘Twenty or so years ago, he was married and his wife was pregnant with their first child.' She stopped to take another bite and chewed. ‘Their only child. It was awful. I only know this because Fred told me.'

‘Jenny, get to the point.'

‘Yes. Okay. Well, she died. She drowned. Well, it's presumed she drowned. She was travelling in a dinghy with family from one of the outer islands. It was bad weather and the dinghy never turned up.'

‘Was her body found?'

‘Nothing. Mind you, in those days there were no distress beacons so no-one knew they were in trouble. In fact, no-one knew they had left, so it was days before the alarm was raised.'

‘How awful. Is he with anyone now? Has he been with anyone else?'

‘To answer your first question, I don't know. And to your second question, yes. He's hooked up with lots of different women – nurses, teachers, police officers. God, one cop was distraught when he lost interest. Cried on my shoulder, asking me to ask Fred to talk to Jonah. She wasn't young either, but she carried on like a silly teenager. Ridiculous at her age. But it's like he's never got over losing his wife and he's just up for a bit of fun every so often.'

I peeled the greaseproof paper from my kebab, the ripping sound making a choking cough.

‘You've gone quiet. So, how did the dinner date happen?' asked Jenny.

‘He offered to cook a fish for me tonight.'

‘Be careful.'

‘What do you mean, be careful?'

‘He's a great bloke but he's not a keeper.' She turned to me, serious. ‘He's broken the hearts of all the women who've fallen for him. Don't let your heart get broken.'

‘As if I am going to fall for him. At my age.' I tsked. ‘I just need an excuse to put on a bit of make-up, you know, style up a bit.' I felt sick to the stomach and took my first bite of the kebab. It was tasteless. There was no way I was getting involved. In fact, I should probably call off dinner.

‘If you're styling up for someone, I won't invite you for a run then,' she said with a wink.

After that, each time I thought of Jonah and his soft voice, I willed myself to lose interest. Till a few minutes later when I thought of the soft curls that had sprung free from his ponytail when he rescued me from the rain on Friday and the pale streaks, like the inside of an oyster, in the hair at his temples. Then I thought he was probably just another bastard like Mark and Aaron and the Elders sales rep. Till I thought of Jonah's smile and chocolate brown eyes and the way the rainwater dripped off his long lashes.

A part of me wanted to cancel dinner but as I didn't have his mobile number I'd have to go over to his mother's place and that would be too embarrassing. Then I reasoned that if he didn't come for dinner, it would just be Sissy and me eating tinned tuna, not fresh fish. And besides, he might explain how his mother knew my mother and that could be interesting. I might get a dinghy ride out of it. In the end, I thought of many reasons not to call off dinner.

Chapter 19

After work, Sissy and I went to the IBIS supermarket to try and find an iron. I bought her more Krunchees (she'd eaten almost half the bag)
and some delicious-looking dog polony.

To my surprise, there was a hair accessory section. I chose a pair of brown combs decorated with leather plaits. And if I was going to style up properly, I would need a hair dryer to tame my crazy mane. In the far aisle was a range of electrical appliances, some stacked on the half-empty shelves and others on the floor. A thin film of dust coated all the boxes. In between the rice cookers and electric jugs, I found a hair dryer. The brand name, Candy, was new to me. It had a Made in China ring to it. Then I found just what I was after, an iron, also by Candy.

I lumbered home with my purchases, struggling as Sissy pulled on her lead. The unit was like an oven from the late afternoon sun beating into the lounge room. I was on edge. As much as I chastised myself for carrying on like those silly women Jenny mentioned, I couldn't help it. It was as if Jonah had put a spell on me and I was a victim of
maydh.

My yoga mat was still resting upright in the corner. Tomorrow I would do yoga. Right now I needed to get out so I could stop thinking about Jonah. Sissy and I headed up Greenhill. Some sort of terrier ran out from one of the houses and came along for the walk. And soon after, another dog was in tow, this one small and black. Within ten minutes, not only did I have two additional dogs in my wake, but I was standing on the top of Thursday Island, complete with nineteenth-century cannons, built in 1890 to repel a Russian invasion, according to the tourist display. There was no end to surprises on this island. I was mesmerised by the view, the glassy sea dotted with lush islands, some ringed with pale beaches and reef. Sissy ran in circles and figures-of-eight, following then chasing her two new friends. I sucked in the cool breeze and let it wrap itself around me like a lover's arms. I thought of Jonah and his arms wrapped around me. In bed. We were . . . oh, I had to stop this.

A communications tower rose from the far end of Greenhill, the top piled with sticks, the nest of two sea eagles. They were perched on it, like royalty. The larger bird launched itself into the air and circled the slopes of Greenhill. I watched in awe as it appeared suspended in mid-air.

By the time we got home, Sissy's friends had trotted off and I had 20 minutes to get ready. I panicked. I washed and blow-dried my hair and for 30 seconds experimented with hairstyles. I settled on a twist held with one comb. I found a black singlet given to me by my mother, which went well with the pink sarong. I sucked in my stomach, again. I'd forgotten the make-up and it was already seven o'clock. I rushed out and rummaged through my backpack. I rubbed in some blush, whacked on the lipstick and nearly poked my eye out applying the mascara. A voice called from downstairs. Jonah. My heart was doing that thing again, racing in heavy beats that made me light-headed and dizzy. I quickly studied my reflection. Now I could understand why women wore make-up.

‘Come up.' I tried to sound calm.

There was a thunderous stampede on the stairs as Buzarr rushed to Sissy, who'd bolted to the top of the internal stairs.

‘Out of the way.' I moved around to see Jonah holding a wok filled with containers and two dogs scrambling around his feet.

‘Sissy,' I growled and she bounded towards me. I braced myself for the sight of Jonah. My legs trembled. Jonah was talking to Buzarr, trying to push past him. He didn't sound nervous or flighty. He was so handsome. Instead of wearing his hair in the ponytail, ringlets sprouted from his head like a fountain, reaching just below his jawline. I'd never seen hair like that. I became aware of the silence between us and I tried desperately to think of something clever to say. He was smiling, holding out the wok. His teeth were so straight and white and his smile lit up his gorgeous face.

‘Hi,' was all I managed to get out as Jenny's words echoed in my head:
Don't let your heart get broken
. And I made up my mind in that instant: I would let Jonah smash my heart into a thousand pieces as long as he smiled when he did it.

He wanted to put Buzarr outside but the dog ran under the table and flopped on his stomach in a sulk. I insisted he stay. Jonah placed the wok on the bench and set to work, opening a Chinese container of rice and another of flour, a jar of oil and a press-seal bag of green leaves. He wanted to know where the rice cooker was and I kicked myself for not buying one at the store earlier.

‘What do you mean, you don't have a rice cooker? All Islanders have rice cookers.'

‘I don't cook, really. If I had to cook rice, I'd do it in the microwave.'

He had his head in a cupboard and pulled out a small saucepan. ‘I'll learn you to cook rice on a stove. But you'll have to get a rice cooker. Sunbeam one,
wat
. Not any other brand.' He poured the rice into the saucepan, and added water using his finger to measure the depth. ‘Mum taught me how to cook rice on a stove. She made me promise never to use a microwave.'

He found a chopping board and a knife and sliced the herbs. A rich, sweet perfume floated in the air, like the notes of a love song.

‘What's that?' I asked.

He held out some strips of the fragrant green leaf for me to smell. I touched his hand as I leaned in, so soft. ‘Coriander.'

He chopped bird's eye chillies, basil and mint, and talked about his garden on Friday Island, but I was only half-listening. I was too entranced by the way he concentrated as he chopped and smiled as he talked.

‘Hello. Any soy sauce?'

I pointed to the cupboard.

‘Great. Now these herbs have to soak in the soy to get the flavour. There's a word for soaking food with flavours I heard on
MasterChef
. I just can't forget it. I mean I can't remember it. Do you know it? Probably not if you don't cook.' He looked up with expectant eyes and I wanted to melt.

‘Infuse?'

‘Yeah, that's it. I'll give you some coriander, basil and mint. It grows well. You do have a garden, don't you?'

‘Yes, sort of. I inherited one from the last tenant.'

‘I'll have to take a look,
bambai
, later.'

To calm my butterflies, I started asking questions. Was he born on TI? Yes. Had he always lived here? No. ‘What do you do at QBuild?'

‘I supervise the apprentices. Make sure they do their training, monitor them. And make sure they turn up to work. And relieve when other staff are on rec leave.'

I watched him slice the fish into pieces. I became mesmerised as the sinews of muscle moved under his chocolate-coloured skin. I had the urge to reach out and graze my fingertips along his forearm, over the sparse curls of hair. I was distracted again.

‘Ebithea, how do you light the stove?'

‘I haven't used it yet.' I got up and dug out a lighter from my backpack.

He lit the gas and poured oil into the wok. While it heated, he asked me what I ate if I didn't cook. When I told him tins of tuna and crackers mostly, he said with a devious smile, ‘I'll learn you to cook.' He had flirting down pat.

‘That'll be quite a challenge,' I said, raising my eyebrows.

‘However long it takes, mark my . . . mark my, what's that word?'

‘What word?'

‘Like when you say you'll do something, mark my . . .'

‘Word.'

‘That's the one.' He tossed the fish into the smoking oil and beamed at me as the steam rose.

As soon as we sat down at the dining table to eat, the dogs squeezed between our feet. The meal was delicious: golden fried fish and rice drizzled with soy sauce infused with herbs. Then again, a bowl of watery gruel probably would have tasted as divine as long as Jonah was dining with me.

‘
Matha nice
.' He pushed his plate away and leaned back. ‘So, are you running away from something by coming here?'

‘Sorry?' I almost choked on a fish bone.

‘Plenty of people who come here are running away from something – man or woman trouble, money problems, crazy family, drugs.'

‘Right. Well, I wanted a simpler life, not having to drive to work, that sort of thing, I guess.'

‘Anything else?'

I hesitated, but I did want him to know I was single. ‘I broke up with someone six months ago. And I want to learn more about my mother's culture because she's never told me much about her life here.'

‘I can help out with culture. We can start lessons on Thursday night when I am back from visiting the outer islands.'

I had to stop myself from falling off the chair.
He wants to see me again
. ‘What's on the curriculum?' I asked in my calmest voice.

‘Night spearing.'

He explained that he would use a long bamboo spear to pole a dinghy over the reef as the tide rose and fell, and then use that same spear to hunt fish and squid. He learnt night spearing from his father as well as fishing and hunting deer and pigs with a rifle and bow. I could have listened to him all night as he talked about the thrill of catching a large fish or stalking a deer for hours, only to release the arrow and hit a tree. His hair rippled when he laughed and I imagined his large, soft hands on my body.

‘Would you like a tea or coffee?' I asked, hoping to keep him to myself for a little bit longer.

He glanced at his watch. ‘It's eleven. I'd better go. Tomorrow morning I have to catch the six o'clock ferry to Horn Island. Come on, Buzarr.'

He'd offered to wash up but I'd told him not to worry about it. I needed something to do because I knew I wouldn't fall asleep easily. I was well and truly under his spell.