The Cooktown Grave

by Carney Vaughan

  Salazar could have killed her then but he needed the list and above all he needed the bloody fulfilment which was now the focus of all thought. He waited another half hour. Convinced she was alone he climbed the stairs to her front door…

  “Officer Gomez, please, come in.” She sparkled.

  “Good evening Miss Johnson…Elaine.” he corrected himself. “You’re early, I’m cooking a dinner for us, it’ll be a little while yet

  though.” She led him down a hall into a dining area where a table was laid for dinner. “Give me your coat and relax for a while. I’ll get you a drink; you must be finished for the day, surely.”

  He closed his fingers around the knife in his coat pocket and transferred it to his trousers. “Yes, I’m finished, I’ve nothing more to do today. Do you have the list?” He asked.

  “It’s there on the sideboard, officer.” She looked him in the eye and felt a slight chill travel her spine, “I’m getting cold feet,” she thought. She took his coat and turned to go, his hand accidentally brushed her breast, she looked back into his eyes and was reassured. There was a spark of lust, born there the moment he realised she wore no brassiere. “Must I call you Officer?” she asked, almost breathlessly.

  “Please call me Robert,” he said and scanned the list, “you mentioned friends of the aides.”

  “I don’t know them, you’ll have to ask Mick and Harry about that,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared towards the front of the house with his coat.

  “This one will remove her own clothes,” he told himself; he decided to let the night’s events unfold at their own pace.

  Elaine hung the Colombian’s coat on a hanger on the bedroom door knob and examined her face in the dressing table mirror. Under her make-up it was flushed but her eyes were absolutely sparkling, “You don’t look half bad, kid,” she said as she moistened her lips with her tongue and shivered in anticipation of a night of adventure. She eased her nickers off and kicked them under the bed, she returned to the dining room.

  Salazar was seated at the table. “You look more like a Roberto than a Robert, Robert.” she laughed as she reached across his shoulder and placed a glass of wine in front of him. This time the firm pressure of her breast on his arm was not accidental and he enjoyed a little stirring of his penis, “Dinner will be a ready shortly,” she said.

  Throughout the meal she chatted and he listened. But he learned nothing which would bring him closer to his prey. When they had finished eating she switched on the television. It was a ruse which allowed her to lead him to the sofa and they sat to watch a rerun of an old movie. He was coldly enjoying the leisurely pace of events, knowing for certain as the evening unfolded how it would end. She was nervously employing strategy which would cause him to respond to her blatant sexual overtures.

  The sofa was Elaine’s strong ally, it sagged in the middle and after fifteen minutes the entire lengths of their bodies were in close contact. He must be aware by now, she reasoned, that she wore no underclothes. She got up and turned out the light. She moved to the television set on the pretext of adjusting the picture and stood, legs apart, the thin summer dress the only barrier between Salazar and her naked body. She turned and approached him, the brightness from the television screen behind her highlighting her trim figure through the thin material. “Would you like another drink, Robert?” she asked.

  “No Elaine. It’s time for something else.” He started at her ankles. He ran his warm palms caressingly up the outside of her legs, over her hips to finally cup a soft breast in each hand. He fondled the hard little pebbles which were her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It was a manoeuvre causing her dress to be raised. He put his lips on her navel and pushed his tongue into its shallow depth.

  “Oh Robert.” she whispered, his mouth travelled downwards in a wet slide until his tongue was tantalising her.

  Salazar stood and drew the young woman to him. She would be a willing participant in any sexual play. There would be no coercion necessary and he promised her in his own mind a reward. A swift death.

  He removed her dress; she stood naked, trembling in anticipation of a night of ecstasy. He kicked off his shoes and socks, slipped his shirt over his head and motioned to his trousers. She took the cue and knelt before him undoing his belt. She drew his slacks and his boxers down to expose a slim, athletic waist and muscular legs and more importantly, a penis of satisfactory proportions.

  Salazar reached for his pants and took his knife from a pocket; he concealed it in his hand. He picked her up and carried her towards the front of the flat until he located the bedroom. He lay her softly on the bed. She spread her legs and he entered her easily. She looked up at him in gratitude, he had been very gentle. He stroked her to orgasm and while she was still on the crest he entered her anus. Her eyes opened wide and she cried “No Robert,” but her token resistance was easily overcome. Salazar turned the girl and positioned her on her knees. He forced her to crouch, this time there was no protest as he again entered her. Her next orgasm and her death spasms coincided as the knife flashed and she died. When the girl’s convulsions began the Colombian’s own eruption took over and he collapsed on top of her body.

  He showered and dressed and pulled the door closed behind him as he left. It was midnight.

  Chapter

  50

  “Where did you get to last night? I needed some help.” Cade mildly admonished Salazar when he arrived late for breakfast in the motel dining room.

  “I had an uplifting experience, Efeminado. But enough of me. You must learn to be more resourceful, my friend, you must rely upon your own strengths.” The Colombian was not his guarded self this morning. Something has happened, Cade observed, he was almost affable. “Why did you need help? Did you follow our friend? Where did he go?” Salazar enquired.

  “He’s gone. Left. He took a plane back to Sydney but someone arrived.” Cade paused for effect.

  “You recognised some person at the airport. Well, tell me.”

  “Jan Morrison!” Cade delivered the name like a trump card.

  Salazar looked at him without expression, “So?”

  “So, she was our Girl Friday at Mitchell and Associates, when Brannigan was there.” Cade informed him. “At least I think it was her. I didn’t get a good look at her face and there was a lot of grey in her hair. After the cop left I tried to spot her in the car park but she’d gone, she left with two men.”

  “Was one of them Brannigan’s brother?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. She fainted and they helped her out of the terminal. The cop stood watching for a while. He would have grabbed him if one of them was Brannigan,” Cade asserted.

  “What makes you think it was her? You didn’t see her clearly.”

  “I had an uneasy feeling, I watched the three of them heading for the car park. And after the cop boarded his plane I tried to find them again but they were gone. When I came back into the terminal there was one piece of luggage left on the carousel and it had a tag with J. Morrison on the handle.” explained Cade.

  “It is too much coincidence to not be her.”

  Cade studied the Colombian’s face, “I have the luggage,” he said apprehensively, not knowing what reaction to expect.

  Salazar expressed surprise. “You did well.”

  “I know that.” There was relief and a little smugness in Cade’s reply.

  Chapter

  51

  The front seat of Helen’s old car, fortunately for Jan, was the bench type. Mac and the stranger placed her, still semi-conscious, in the front on the passenger’s side and harnessed her with the seatbelt. As Mac drove away from the airport car park she fell forward and bumped her head on the dashboard. He pulled to the side of the road and she flopped sideways across the seat onto him. He released her seatbelt and she settled with her head on his lap. Mac drove with one hand on the w
heel and the other on Jan’s shoulder to prevent her slipping to the floor.

  “Danny…Danny...” she mumbled as they sped north to the fishermen’s shack.

  Mac carried her from the car and sat her in a verandah deckchair while he fumbled with the door lock; he then carried her inside and placed her on one of the bottom bunks.

  “Danny,” she said again uncertainly as she struggled back to consciousness and sat up.

  “Jan. It’s David. David Brannigan. How do you feel?”

  “David? What’s going on? Yes, I remember. The airport. Your eyes. Oh David it’s so good to see you. Please turn on the lights, let me look at you.”

  Mac by habit had intentionally left the place in darkness but he took a chance and he flicked on the light switch. He saw the same young face unlined after ten years but the hair was nearly white and the eyes were old. She had been through a harrowing time and it was obvious to any who had known her before Danny’s accident. Mac made coffee and they sat at the rough wooden table and told each other their story.

  Jan had telephoned Mac, as he remembered, and asked him to check up on Danny as he was not answering his phone. Mac had gone to the house and Danny wasn’t home or at least he didn’t come to the door. As Mac was leaving he found the main earth conductor was not connected. The next door neighbour watched as he made the connection and he gave damning evidence at Mac’s trial.

  “I got five years for Danny’s manslaughter and I know in my heart I wasn’t responsible. I used to often wonder why you didn’t attend the trial, Jan. Why didn’t you?”

  “I was a mess,” she explained, “I went to the house after you when there was still no sign of your brother. I climbed through the bedroom window. I found poor Danny dead on the kitchen floor, he had a knife in his hand. I could never understand why. Someone told me later he was electrocuted trying to get a piece of toast from the toaster. There were burn marks on the knife, they said.

  “I still find that hard to believe, David, Danny wasn’t stupid. Anyway somebody found me on the front doorstep next morning, I’d been sitting there in a trance all night. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital at Bankstown, I was there ten weeks before they sent me home. I was three months pregnant with Danny’s child by then, and he was never to know. I miscarried during the first week at home and lost the baby, it was a boy. I ended up back in the psychiatric ward and I spent the next twelve months there.

  “Mum couldn’t take it, she got ill and she passed away while I was in the hospital. When I was well again I tried to find you but you’d escaped and disappeared. I’ve spent my time looking after Dad since and a couple of months ago he retired and drew his superannuation. He sent me on this holiday.”

  “You can’t stay here, it’s pioneer stuff, the lavatory’s a hole in the ground with a box over it. It’s full of redback spiders and there’s no running water,” Mac told her, “but I know somewhere I’m sure you can stay. I’ll take you there tonight.”

  “I didn’t collect my suitcase, it’s still at the airport. Still going around on the carousel I’ll bet.”

  “We’ll pick it up on the way through, we have to pass there.” He took her arm and led her out to the car.

  Helen cautiously answered the door in her dressing gown. It was midnight but when she saw Mac her face brightened until she noticed Jan and a frown appeared. “What is it, Mac?” she asked. It was the first time Jan had heard David called Mac and although he had told her his nickname and how he got it, it fell strangely on her ears.

  “Jan’s an old friend from years ago, I ran into her at the airport. She’s lost her luggage. Could you put her up until we get her settled in somewhere?”

  “Of course, come in I’ll put the kettle on.”

  They sat around the kitchen table, Jan and Mac talking and Helen listening. They drank tea and talked until four in the morning and in the end Helen knew as much about the pair as they knew about themselves. When the conversation lapsed Helen went to a cupboard and came back with two blankets and a pillow for Mac. She said, “Jan, you can sleep with me if you don’t mind sharing a bed. It’s king-size, there’s plenty of room, it’s one of my few luxuries, and Mac can sleep on the sofa unless you want the sofa and he can sleep on the floor. Have a shower and I’ll get you a pair of my pyjamas, they’ll fit, you’re my size.”

  “Helen, thanks, you’re a gem, but you’ll be that tired you’ll be dangerous tomorrow. Today, I mean,” Mac said.

  “I’m rostered off for the next four days,” she said with a luxurious sigh.

  That morning, after a ten o’clock breakfast, Mac drove to the airport to chase up Jan’s suitcase. It hadn’t been there last night and it still hadn’t turned up. Guessing it was lost in transit Mac left Helen’s address with the baggage clerk and after telephoning her he drove back to the shack.

  Chapter

  52

  “Just a moment, sir, I’ll have you transferred,” the sweet, practised tones of the girl at the airport check-in purred through the telephone handset and Cade waited.

  “Lost property, may I help you?”

  “Yes, probably,” Cade answered, “my name is John Morrissey. I arrived last night on QF416 from Sydney and my family met me at the terminal. I hope I don’t get into any trouble over this but it seems that my son when he grabbed my luggage from the carousel took a bag belonging to somebody else. You know what young blokes are like, always in a rush.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” said the clerk.

  “Anyway,” Cade continued, “I’ve got a suitcase belonging to a J. Morrison here, you can see how the mistake was made, I’m J. Morrissey. I’d like to get it back to its rightful owner as soon as possible.”

  There was a short silence at the other end before the clerk answered, “Yes, Mister Morrissey there’s been an enquiry, last night and again today. If you could return it to the airport we’ll make sure it finds its owner.”

  “Look, I’m way over on the other side of town from the airport. If they left an address why couldn’t I just deliver it to them? It’d save you a heap of trouble, too, and after all, it was my fault, and I’d like to make up for it. I’m terribly sorry it happened and my young bloke feels bad about it.”

  “Just a minute Mister Morrissey, there was an address somewhere, yes here it is, 2015 Herbert Street Woree. I’m not supposed to do this I’d appreciate it if you kept it under your hat.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Cade, “you can be sure no one will ever know.” He hung up.

  “Well?” asked Salazar.

  “2015 Herbert Street Woree. Shall we go?”

  “Yes, later. First you have an appointment with the helicopter pilot at the airport at one. Take him to the south end of Four Mile Beach at Port Douglas. We need a four-wheel-drive vehicle, you will hire one and bring it here and I will drive you to the airport. Then I will proceed to the beach. Is that clear?” Cade nodded and Salazar continued. “Then we may go to Woree.”

  The helicopter set down in a sandstorm of its own making at a secluded part on the southern end of Four Mile Beach. Cade had waited until they were airborne before instructing the pilot to travel to the meeting spot. There had been a change of plans, he said. Byers needed to talk to a witness who was driving from Cooktown to meet him halfway. It would save time as Byers had to be in Cardwell by three o’clock for another interview. They chatted on the beach for an hour about nothing in particular.

  The pilot didn’t mind, he had been paid for the whole day at a rate much more generous than he’d been able to negotiate since the oil companies had left the region. Now he was beginning to feel a little guilty and he said. “You know, if you really wanted to save time we could’ve flown to Cooktown, done your business and been in Cardwell an hour earlier than it is now. And it wouldn’t have cost you as much.”

  Cade was groping for a logical rejoinder when a Nissan Patrol burst thr
ough the brush bordering the beach and made its way towards them.

  “Is this him?” asked the pilot.

  Whilst Cade waited for the features of the driver to become recognizable to the pilot, his mind was in frantic overdrive. As the Colombian climbed out of the vehicle Cade faced him and said with feigned surprise. “Where’s Byers? Where’s the boss?”

  Salazar accepted the cue. “He was wanted elsewhere,” he said.

  Cade made perfunctory introductions after which Salazar gave the pilot his full attention. “As you know there is an investigation in progress. Detective Byers cannot be present this afternoon so for the sake of efficiency we need to know its status. We do not want to duplicate his work. Where did you take him, and who did you see on your last assignment?”