My Island Homicide (22 page)

Chapter 38

Days later, Jonah and I fronted up at the X-ray department for an ultrasound. The screen looked like one of those old microfiche films. At first, our baby looked like a little alien, curled up asleep. Then my eyes filled with tears, and kept filling, and I could only make out a grey, blurred screen. The baby's heartbeat was a fast, eerie echo and I still couldn't believe I was carrying a little life. Jonah interrogated the poor woman operating the machine.

‘The heart beat is too fast,' he said. ‘What's wrong?'

‘It's normal,' she said and explained how a baby's heart beats faster than an adult's.

‘Why is it not moving?'

‘Bub's fast asleep.'

‘Okay, but what about–'

‘Jonah,' I said, ‘just let the poor woman do her job.' I smiled at the woman. Although I knew why Jonah was worried.

‘This is a perfect, healthy baby.'

I was 24 weeks pregnant, 16 to go.

‘Do you want to know if you're having a boy or girl?' asked the woman.

‘No,' we said, together. We'd decided we wanted a surprise and that regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl, the baby would take a fish name, which ‘the girls' would choose.

When Jonah wasn't feeling my belly or telling me to sit down while he cooked and cleaned and even washed up, he was on the internet, printing out articles about the stages of pregnancy. Within days he'd ordered a library of pregnancy and baby books online and paid a premium for express delivery.

‘Shall we tell the girls?' I asked him at about 25 weeks.

‘Not yet. Let's wait. Anything could happen.'

I left it at that, knowing very soon someone would comment.

I think the combination of iron tablets, the Ultimate Energy Boost and unadulterated joy made me feel much more energetic, but I still had a mild headache. At my first antenatal visit, Dr Carla put the headaches down to hormones. She ruled out anything serious after checking my eyes and reflexes.

When I was 26 weeks, Jenny was the first to comment on my increasing girth.

‘Been grazing in the top paddock, Thea?' I didn't understand her so she patted her now flat stomach, having lost 16 kilos. ‘Or are you . . .?'

I grinned. ‘Oh, yes, I'm with child.'

‘You're so lucky,' she said with the slightest touch of sadness in her voice. ‘So lucky. Congratulations.'

It was time to tell the girls. They laughed and cried and kissed us and squeezed us. ‘Did you hear that, Sissy?' they kept saying to each other.

‘We been think you come more bigger,' said Yenah.

‘I'll make her some
zura
. It's good for the baby,' said Mum.

I groaned mentally.

Neither Jonah nor I made any moves to buy baby gear. I guessed he was nervous about buying things before the baby was born. Kuriz's ghost hovered between us, but I could not ask him about her, as much as I wanted to. Thankfully the matter of baby apparel was taken out of my hands when the girls threw themselves into a frenzy of ordering four dozen cloth nappies, twelve singlets, four bunny rugs, four cot sheets, four cot pillow cases, and things I'd never seen before: a cot rail protector, a teething ring, nappy liners and even breast pads! Yenah taught Mum how to crochet and they set to work on the edges of towels, face washers, singlets and nappies with rainbow wool.

I started thinking about a nursery and surfed the net for cots and change tables. And my excitement meant I no longer gave a toss about the marketing prowess of movie companies. I bought colourful wall stickers of
Finding Nemo
characters, which I thought most relevant for a baby who'd be named after a fish. I quite liked ‘Nemo' for a nickname. In fact, I bought 31 character stickers which included Nigel the seagull and Gerald the pelican and a few of their mates, for context, of course.

Life went on as normal. Mum was happy at Yenah's and working part-time at the university. Shay's replacement wasn't due to arrive till early December so we all pitched in to cover the extra work. Jenny continued to lose weight and was now looking toned and athletic, all in seven months. Jack's girlfriend, Kelly, moved in with him into his police accommodation for a month to ‘see how things go'.

In mid-October, Jack was rostered for days off from Thursday till Monday to go to St Paul's Island for an uncle's tombstone unveiling. ‘Don't really wanna go,' he said on the Wednesday at smoko time.

He was pinning up a poster of a Staffordshire–Irish wolfhound cross with a blazing white patch on its forehead. The poster was titled ‘Home Wanted'. It read, ‘My name is Chief and I need . . .' I stopped reading.

‘Why can't you tell your family you're working?' I asked Jack.
‘I mean, you didn't even know this uncle.'

‘You don't understand, Thea. I have to go. I can't tell my family I can't go. We don't do that sort of thing. Oh, by the way, Kelly and I have started a respite service for pets when their parents go away. Will you help?'

‘What?'

‘We organise carers for their pets when they leave the island. We're helping Jacinta. Hang on.' He dug in his shirt pocket and retrieved a photo with handwriting on the reverse. ‘Wanna look after a turtle? She's a northern yellow-faced turtle.'

‘How long is Jacinta away for?'

‘Jacinta is the turtle. Margaret and Steve are her parents. They're away for three weeks and Jacinta doesn't travel well.'

‘Forget it. I've got work to do.' I walked away, laughing.

Jack headed to St Paul's on Thursday morning in his cousin's dinghy. He had to borrow his cousin's because his own dinghy was in the workshop. The wind picked up on the weekend so we stayed on TI rather than go to Friday Island. On Monday morning, while Jonah and I were eating breakfast, my mobile rang and I was tempted to let it go to message bank because Jenny was on call. But it was the work mobile ringing me.

‘You'd better come in,' said Lency. ‘There's an SAR for a dinghy missing from St Paul's.' Then she burst into tears.

There were muffled voices as the phone was passed around. Straightaway, I knew there was sorry business. I was sure I heard Jenny say, ‘No, I can't.'

‘It's Salome here.'

‘Whose vessel, Salome?'

‘Jack's.'

‘What do you mean? Jack is rostered on at eight o'clock.'

Jack told Kelly he was leaving on Sunday afternoon and when he hadn't shown up by six o'clock, she raised the alarm. The search wasn't able to start till first light Monday morning. I told Salome I was on my way.

Jenny was a mess when I got in. Her freckles were pale and her eyes bloodshot. She met me at the front, without a word, and I followed her through to my office.

She sat down and sobbed. ‘He didn't want to go, but he had family obligations. It's how things are.'

‘What do we do?'

‘We wait.'

So we waited. Every available vessel and aircraft was searching – that meant Customs vessels, the volunteer marine rescue, Surveillance Australia aircraft and the commercial flights between the islands. Surveillance Australia kept me updated. The good news was that the search started within 24 hours of Jack going missing, so predictions about his position based on the tide and wind were ‘less inaccurate'. The bad news was that Jack did not activate the EPIRB, the radio beacon every vessel is required to carry. I didn't need anyone to explain the four possible reasons. One, there was no EPIRB. Two, the battery of the EPIRB was dead. Three, the vessel capsized and Jack couldn't find the EPIRB. Four, Jack was thrown from the dinghy and knocked unconscious.

I asked Jenny whether Jack would've been wearing a lifejacket.

‘You've got to be joking. These guys think they know the water. Gee, half the time they don't even have lifejackets in their dinghies.'

My heart sank. I tried to distract myself with admin and disorganised crime, but I kept thinking about Jack being tossed about in the waves. And that made me think of Kuriz.

By late Monday, the wind had dropped to 20 knots. My father called me at work. He'd heard about the search and rescue for the missing police officer. I burst into tears, but once I eventually calmed myself, I told him about Jack.

I got home after five, keen to be with Jonah. I suspected he must've been reliving his own nightmare.

He had gone to the effort of making a Japanese noodle dish for dinner. Both of us picked at the food in silence. Buzarr and Sissy were on the lounge room floor, asleep, back to back.

‘I didn't know the Japanese ate noodles,' I said.

‘They do.'

‘Do you know Jack well?'

‘He's lots younger than me. I was friends with his older brother.'

‘True?'

‘He died a few years ago. Car accident on the mainland.'

I didn't expect more tragedy. But if I wasn't asking questions, the silence was unsettling.

‘Why do you think Jack left St Paul's when he could have waited?' I asked.

‘He wanted to get back to his girlfriend and he thought he knew the water. He didn't respect the sea. He let other things make him
senseloos
.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You gotta treat the sea with respect, read the water and follow what you see. Not your dick.'

‘What do you think happened?'

‘He would have been riding the waves side-on. It only takes one mistake when you're between waves in water that rough to
kapsaiz
, capsize.'

‘Like what?'

‘Engine trouble or just getting swamped. If he was rushing back to his girlfriend, he might not have been thinking straight. If he borrowed his cousin's dinghy, it might have had a
nogood
engine.' Not once when he talked did Jonah face me. He kept addressing his bowl of noodles. We sat, not speaking, for a few moments.

‘Well, we can have these for lunch tomorrow.' I stood and picked up our plates.

He let out a big sigh. I wondered, hoped he might talk about Kuriz. ‘I'll take the dogs for a walk,' he said. ‘Don't wait up for me.'

I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of grey water and crashing waves. I woke to find Jonah beside me, the street lamp casting enough light to illuminate his face. He was staring at the ceiling. I took hold of his hand, wondered what to say and decided to say nothing.

Chapter 39

The next day, Salome, Jenny, Lency and I were on tenterhooks. Each time the phone rang, Lency grabbed it and rushed the words, ‘Thursday Island police.'

If Salome, Jenny or I were in earshot, we'd stop whatever we were doing and wait, hoping it was a call from Surveillance Australia with good news. Otherwise the station was silent, but for the gentle rush from the air-conditioning vents, the whirring of the fax machine each time it spewed out sheets of paper, and the occasional ting-ting of the bell when someone was in reception. By midday, all five of Aunty Doreen's Best Ever Dampers were still on the counter. I decided to buy what didn't sell and stick them in the freezer. And they didn't sell because even members of the public seemed to stay away. Jenny flexed off after lunchtime.

‘I can't stand this,' she said. ‘Kelly just rang. She said she wants to punch the next person at work who asks her about Jack. I said I'd take her to the gym and she can do some damage to the boxing bag. I use it whenever Fred gives me the shits.'

‘You go,' I said.

‘I'll have my mobile on me so call if you hear anything.'

I didn't hear anything.

I was worried about Jonah so was home by five that afternoon. He was at the sink, peeling mangoes, and wasn't wearing his work clothes.

‘I took the day off. Didn't wanna hear people talk about Jack.' He went back to peeling.

I could tell from the bucket of mango skins, he'd started making jam or chutney. All I could hear was the wind rattling the sliding doors and the scrape of the peeler against the green mangoes.

‘How about I make something for dinner?' I said, feeling useless.

‘Already made sushi.'

I had a shower, then made each of us a cup of tea. I hovered in the kitchen, holding my mug, not knowing what to do or where to go. Should I give Jonah space? I knew I couldn't push him to talk. I was still standing, undecided, so I sat at the dining table for what seemed an eternity.

‘Want a hand?' I asked.

‘Nope. Almost done,' said Jonah in a monotone.

It was nearly dark when he packed the mango into large zip-lock bags and stacked them in the freezer.

‘Dinner,' he said in the most uninviting way and he pulled a plate of sushi pieces from the fridge.

Like last night, silence settled between Jonah and me like a heavy fog. Neither of us could eat. Buzarr and Sissy were splayed out on the lounge room floor, twitching occasionally. I decided to call it a night.

‘Come on,' I said, standing up and reaching for our plates. ‘What about a hot shower and I'll give you a massage?'

‘We were married just after I got my carpentry ticket and she got
maitha
, pregnant, straightaway. We saved like hell for a house, me working heaps and crayfishing, and she was sewing for people, clothes for them
kole
ladies and their kids and island dresses for the island ladies. We wanted lots of kids, five or six.'

I couldn't believe it. Jonah was opening up about Kuriz. I realised I'd been holding my breath so I exhaled and lowered myself back into the chair, but he didn't seem to notice.

‘It was her grandfather's tombstone unveiling on St Paul's. He was one of the council members, well respected, so it was a big thing. We had to go so we went in my dinghy. Plenty family come from the mainland and she wanted to stop with them. I came back on Sunday, the day after the tombstone unveiling. Kuriz was gonna come back a week later with her Uncle Ibby and Aunty Raina and their kids. By then, it was blowing 25 knots, nothing Uncle Ibby couldn't handle. He was an ace crayfisherman. He dived that sea between St Paul's and TI. They were gonna come Sunday, but left two days earlier on the Friday. But they didn't tell no-one on TI they were coming.'

He was slumped forward, his hands under the table. The sliding doors were shut, but the wind was whistling through the aluminium frames with an eerie wail. Buzarr was next to Sissy but now was sitting on his hind legs, eyes on Jonah. I was completely still, taking shallow breaths, as if my moving might interrupt Jonah and he'd stop talking.

‘I figured Kuriz had decided to stay a bit longer on St Paul's so I didn't worry. On the Wednesday after she should have arrived, I wanted to talk to her, tell her I missed her, that I'd go over for the weekend and bring her back with me. We didn't have a phone so I went next door, like we did when we needed to make an important call, and gave the neighbours ten cents. What were their names again? Mr and Mrs Christian, that's right, he worked for the courthouse. I called the council office to get the clerk to find Kuriz at her mother's place and get her to ring Mr and Mrs Christian and leave a message. Her mother called back, freaking out. Kuriz been leave with Uncle Ibby and Aunty Raina five days before and was supposed to be on TI. There was a search, but the weather was crap by then, 40 knots. This was 1987 and there were no distress beacons.' He sighed. ‘It was June third when I found out she'd gone missing. That became Mabo Day five years later. Now, when everyone celebrates Mabo Day, I think of Kuriz and our baby still floating somewhere, not at rest.'

‘That's awful.' I wanted to reach out, to hold his hands, but he had them hidden under the table. ‘How did you cope?'

‘I hoped, hoped she go walk through the door any moment. After a couple of days, it hit me.
Em
and
bubba
weren't coming back.' His eyes, when he finally raised them to me, had a spooky, penetrating stare. ‘I kept thinking that her big belly would have made it hard to swim.'

I realised I was at a similar stage of pregnancy as Kuriz when she went missing. Buzarr was now sitting like a sphinx, next to Jonah's chair.

‘After I knew she wasn't coming home, it was like a bad dream. I lay with my eyes open and kept having these flashes of Kuriz drowning. I been fall asleep and jerk awake, night after night. I was wrecked. Then seeing the things she'd bought for the baby in the second room, the cot and the pram, her sewing machine and the half-made dress on her sewing table, it made me
nathakind
wild. I got aggro. I never been in a fight in my life but, every time I walk past the room, I proper wanna smash someone. I closed the door but when I walked past, I could still see them things inside.'

‘What did you do?'

‘I just got more aggro.'

Buzarr got up and rested his head on Jonah's knee.

‘That's when I went to the pub, wanting to fight. I been down scotch after scotch and man, I felt calm, not thinking. That night I slept. So I been drink more to sleep.

‘After a while I had to get away from TI, too many memories, so I went to the Sunshine Coast where some TI boys were. I drank and partied hard for nearly ten years. Drugs, too, not just dope. Acid and coke, anything, lots of it. And women. Drugs, grog and women, they were things that got me through the nights.'

Jonah stayed away for ten years. One by one, his father and sisters came down to beg him to come home. But he refused. They all left, certain he would eventually drink himself to death.

‘Then Mum visited. She told me Dad had cancer and was dying. So I went cold turkey and flew back with Mum. I came back to life sort of while Dad died. He got thinner and thinner and I couldn't do nothing. I threw myself into collecting materials for building the cottage on Friday Island so I had somewhere to disappear to. If Dad hadn't got sick, I'd be long dead.' I reached out my hands. He pulled his from under the table and gripped mine. ‘I don't ever want to lose you. I won't, will I?'

I shook my head.

‘Promise me.'

‘I promise you.'

He closed his eyes and kissed my fingers. ‘You asked me what my story was when we were night spearing. That's it.'