Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Read online

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  Next day Greg came into the office with two uniformed constables in tow. “Uh oh” I said, “here comes more trouble. You’re starting to outlive your welcome here Greg. What do you want this time?” “Don’t worry, we’re not asking for help, we’re looking for the man known as Neville Sneider. Have you seen him at all?" "Known as? You mean that’s not his real name?" "No it’s not. The British Police identified his fingerprints; his real name is Stanley Croaker. They’ve been looking for him for ten years for armed robbery and assault, but he must have slipped out of England just before they caught up with him and he must have been hiding over at Whitebait Bay all this time. The British Bobbies also suggest he might be sitting on a stack of cash that’s never been found. I’ve got a warrant for his arrest, but as you know he’s disappeared again, so we’re just asking around town to see if anybody has set eyes on him.”

  Tim butted in “If he had come here his tinny would be tied up here somewhere, and I’m pretty sure it isn’t. I’d have recognized it if it was.” “How can you be sure you’d know which boat was his? Those aluminium boats all look much the same to me.” “His has a big spill of blue paint on the port side. He must have dropped a can of paint on it sometime and never bothered to clean it off. If it was anywhere around here I’m sure I would have seen it by now.” Greg turned to me. “If he’s not been here I suppose he could have gone anywhere, right up the river to Windsor or somewhere like that. He could be anywhere in Australia by now.” “Yes, or he could be up at Surfers Paradise, staying with what’s his name, Con Esposito” I said. “No, we’ve been looking out for Mr. Esposito, but he’s been out of the country for the last month, and nobody seems to know when he’s coming back. Anyway I’ve got a search warrant for the shack over at Whitebait Bay, so we’re going over there now to take the place apart. You’ll be pleased to know our launch is up and running. Unfortunately it means another bloody boat ride for me.”

  He went off with the constables and soon after we saw them slipping their boat into the water. As they hit the starter button some very unfortunate noises were heard. “Sounds like they’ve broken a piston.” said Tim, “they won’t be going anywhere for a few days.” Soon after Greg re-appeared in the doorway. “Don’t tell me” I said, “you want us to run you over there in Lizzie.” “Well I wouldn’t bother you again, but it is urgent, and you blokes seem to be the only ones with a boat at the ready.” “Your bloody bill’s starting to mount up you know.” “All right, all right, don’t keep on about it! You’ll get paid, eventually.” “Yeh, ‘eventually’ is what I’m worried about. There are three of you and Lizzie only carries four so I’d better go. Stay here boys". The police and I trooped off along the wharf and climbed into Lizzie. I took the wheel, and we cruised sedately across to Whitebait Bay. It was a beautiful spring day, the water calm, the sun was shining and not too hot. A couple of dolphins leaped and plunged alongside us for part of the way. Even Greg almost seemed to enjoy it as he sat there puffing away on a cigarette.

  We moored at Neville’s jetty. I was having trouble thinking of Neville as 'Stanley'. I noticed his runabout was still absent. We walked along the jetty to the shack and Greg banged loudly several times on the door. All was silent inside. “Force the door constable.” said Greg. A large boot took aim and the door splintered inward. That awful stale smell came out again. “Wait outside Ted” said Greg, and he and the constables donned rubber gloves and went in. While they were inside I went round the back of the shack out of curiosity. Near the back fence under a big bush I noticed a rock with freshly disturbed earth around it. The police were inside for quite a long time, and when they came out they were carrying several plastic bags. “Find anything?” I asked. “Oh not much, mostly porno pictures. We found hiding places under the floor and up in the roof, but there wasn’t much in them. However we did find one pair of girls’ panties. That was very careless of him.” He held up the evidence bag with the underwear inside. “Well there’s something out the back I think you should take a look at”.

  We went round there and the constables rolled the rock over. In a hole underneath was a metal cash box. “These cash boxes aren’t as strong as they look” said Greg, “the metal’s quite thin. If you’ve got a screwdriver on your boat I’ll soon get it open.” Greg carried the cashbox back to Lizzie and I found a screwdriver in the tool kit. With the application of a little brute force Greg had the box open in a few seconds. Inside were bundles of bank notes with a ‘Bank of England’ design, all in large denominations. Greg flipped through a couple of bundles. “The British coppers said he might be sitting on a big stash of cash from his last robbery. Still, he’d have had a hell of a job unloading these,” he said, “they’re all new notes with consecutive serial numbers. The Bank of England would have been looking out for them as soon as they were stolen. Constable, put the whole lot in an evidence bag and seal it please.”

  On the trip back to town Greg was deep in thought for a bit, chain-smoking his cigarettes. He said suddenly, “I think I’ve got it all sorted out now. The couple picked up the drug shipment, then decided to steal it and double cross the drug gang. They knew about Whitebait Bay and came here, and they cut Neville’s phone line so he couldn’t tip off his mates in Queensland, which is why there were no calls from his phone. They probably threatened Neville to keep quiet, and being the tough bastard he is, he must have decided to get even. He waited for his chance, then whacked this Tony bloke, but perhaps he hit him a bit too hard. His record in England shows he’s not too fussy about doing that sort of thing. The girl must have seen what happened and locked herself on their boat. He realized she knew too much, and he’d have to get rid of her as well, so he broke open the cabin door. Then he thought he’d have a bit of ‘fun’ with her before he killed her. What a psychopath he must be.”

  “Only one snag with that argument” I said, “I still don’t believe he’d have been stupid enough to chuck the girl in the river at Whitebait Bay, knowing she’d float up past the Island." "Well I’ll just have to find the old bugger and ask him about it, won’t I?”