Smoko At East Seaham

by Ken Blowers

CHAPTER 6

  THE “YOU KNOW”

  Mrs Williams, a lady of mature years, breathlessly hurried to catch the bus and only just made it! ‘High Court,’ she said to the driver as she scrambled aboard, rummaging in her handbag for her purse. Then with trepidation, she confessed: ‘Oh, dear; I’ve got nothing smaller than a fifty dollar note!’

  ‘Fifty? Fifty, lady! You've got to be joking. I can't change that. Sorry, but you'll have to get off. That's the way it is. Come on, off! Quickly now. I've got a time-table to keep to.’

  ‘But, I... I can’t get off! I’ve got to be at the High Court at ten and I’m running late as it is!’

  ‘Ah, well, you should have thought about putting aside some change for the bus, before you did ‘the dirty deed’ then,’ he smirked.

  ‘Dirty deed? I’ll have you know my man that I’m a witness, a very important witness, in a major trial too!’

  ‘I don’t care, lady, if you’re the flaming judge! I can’t change fifty dollars. Now get orf!’

  ‘Just a minute, driver,’ said a woman sitting close by. ‘I’ll pay this lady’s fare. I take it you can change a five dollar note?’

  ‘Oh, yes, m’am. Alright, then but please be quick. All this messing about is making me late.’ With the fare problem settled, the bus moved off.

  ‘That was very kind of you, my dear,’ said Mrs Williams to her benefactor. ‘Very Christian of you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s alright. Now, why don’t you sit down next to me? Come on. You look all in. Anyway, I happen to think the prime reason for our being here on this planet, is to help one another. Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, quite. Thank you dear. I’m not built for running after buses, I’m afraid. Then this fare business, I don’t think it’s my day! I do hope things improve, though. You see, as I said, I’m giving evidence in an important trial today and that’s a big enough worry in itself.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been robbed? There’s far too much of this robbing of the elderly, going on these days. It’s quite disgusting.’

  ‘Oh no, dear.’ Mrs Williams looked around. Then, lowered her voice: ‘It’s not that. It’s a rape case!’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing!’

  ‘No! No, not me dear; my granddaughter.’

  ‘Oh well, I’m pleased it’s not you, but your granddaughter? That’s not nice for you either. But how come you’re giving evidence? Surely you weren’t there.’

  ‘Yes and no, dear. I wasn’t actually there, not on the spot as it were, but I was very close by! I was visiting a friend you see, an old friend who just happens to live almost directly over the road from my granddaughter’s house. I stood there, knocking on my friend’s door and I just happened to turn and look across at my granddaughter’s place. That’s when I saw him, that nasty, villainous man, enter her house through the front door!’

  ‘Were you alarmed at that?’

  ‘Oh, no, dear. Not at the time. I couldn’t see my granddaughter from that angle, but I had no cause for alarm.

  Mildly interested, yes, I confess. Wondering who it could be as any grandmother would.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Anyway, I saw him again, just as he was leaving! This was about half-an hour or so later, when my friend invited me outside to see something new in her front garden.’

  ‘Did anyone else see him?’

  ‘Oh no, dear, not even my friend. She had her back to him. No unfortunately I’m the only witness. This horrid, nasty creature, his name’s Eddie Middleton by the way; denies knowing my granddaughter or ever being in her house! Mind you, he would, wouldn’t he? So what I saw, although not much, is very important to the prosecution.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that.’

  ‘They are having a devil of a job trying to prove anything so far. Apparently, you see, as soon as he got in the door he put on one of them ski mask things and he wore those throw-away rubber gloves too. So there’s no finger prints anywhere.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘and he also wore a “you know”’ she nodded.

  ‘A “you know”? Oh, you mean a condom?’

  ‘Sshhh! Yes, that’s it, my dear. But I’m afraid I can’t bring myself to use that word.’

  ‘Fair enough. Quite understandable. I think I know this case. I’ve been reading about it in the papers. Your granddaughter and the other victims, they all said he had distinctively bad breath, didn’t they?’

  ‘That’s right. ‘Onion like’, my granddaughter said. He tried to cover it by chewing mints or something.’

  ‘Most probably bad teeth. My “ex”, I’m separated, was like that. Men can be such babies when it comes to dental problems.’

  ‘Right. They tell me this awful man was married at one time; but he abused his wife something shocking, so they said! Poor woman. He abused their dear little daughter too! That’s why she left him. The physical abuse and the way he chased after other women. She really ought to testify against him, you know, but she won’t! I find that a bit hard to understand.’

  ‘But perhaps she’s scared of him and what he might do, to her or the child?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s possible; now you mention it, the beast!’

  ‘Please don’t blame her too much. She may desperately want to see him go down for the sake of others, but can’t bring herself to testify. She will know only too well what he’s capable of and be very much afraid.’

  ‘Oh, you are so right, you know. I really hadn’t thought it through like that.’

  ‘What about your evidence, then? Will it sink him, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, I only wish. But according to the Police, the defence will probably allege I’m only sticking up for my granddaughter out of family loyalty, or some such rubbish! Or they’ll claim it’s all a case of mistaken identity, or something like that.’

  ‘That’s terrible! I’d hate to see him get off, scot-free!’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all! But what the Police really need, you see, is some really hard evidence. Something… something he can’t possibly deny, perhaps some of that DNA whatsit. But so far they haven’t got anything like that. No really firm evidence at all. Nothing!’

  ‘But they must find him guilty! He can’t, he mustn’t be allowed to go on and on, getting away with it every time!’

  ‘I know, my dear, but what more can we do, eh? You know, what beats me is, why they haven’t found the mask, the gloves or the “you know”? What could he have done with them?’

  ‘Burnt them, most likely. But then, maybe not?’

  ‘What... what do you mean, dear?’

  ‘Perhaps he burnt the mask and the gloves too, but not the “you know”.’

  ‘Oh? Why ever not?’

  ‘Well, I don’t expect a lady like you would know anything about that sort of thing, but most men, I believe, dispose of their “you know” down the toilet.’

  ‘Do they, dear? Well I never! Fancy that!’

  ‘I think he would have too. You see “you knows” are somewhat messy things, best got rid of quickly. Know what I mean?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid I don’t.’

  ‘Look: ever been fishing or watched people fishing, in a harbour?’

  ‘Oh, yes. My late husband liked salt-water fishing. I’ve been with him many a time. I used to like to watch him fish.’

  ‘I bet you were more than a bit embarrassed too sometimes by all them “you knows” you saw floating around in the water, eh? Especially, if there was a Navy boat in the harbour? Am I right?’

  ‘Oh, well, yes dear. You are so right! Sometimes I just had to leave - it could be so embarrassing, as you say.’

  ‘That’s because immediately after ‘entertaining’ their lady friends, the sailors have the problem of disposing with their “you knows”. So, what do they do? They tie a little knot in them and at the first possible opportunity they flush them down the toilet, or drop them out the porthole, or chuck them
over the side!’

  ‘Well fancy that! You do know a lot about this sort of thing, I must say. Still, I suppose you’re more the age to understand such things, aren’t you? I mean, no offence, but it’s just not the sort of thing people of my age would like to talk about. In fact, I’m feeling rather uncomfortable now. Do you think we could talk about something else, dear?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘No. No we can’t. We can’t drop it now. You know why? Because we may have stumbled on his Achilles Heel! You know what that is?’

  ‘Oh, you mean his weakest point, dear. In his defence, that is?’

  ‘Right! Now I believe your granddaughter lives out of town on an acreage, near a small place north of Brisbane called Ningi, am I right?’

  ‘Yes. That’s right, dear.’

  ‘I remember reading somewhere about her place being described as ‘a large property’, is that right?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, you are right. The properties are all about an acre or more where she lives. Not remote, mind. More of a modern planned subdivision, just outside Ningi Village. But I don’t see...’

  ‘Just a minute. Think carefully, now. I remember reading some time ago how Caboolture Shire had just completed a big sewerage project in Ningi to replace the old septic tank system. But this upgrade was limited to the built up area. I don’t believe the Council did the larger blocks, for some reason, am I right?’

  ‘Why, yes, dear. You are right again. They didn’t touch the three-quarter-acre and over blocks. They apparently have no problem with septic tanks on the larger properties. I remember that quite clearly, because my granddaughter was worried about what it might cost her if they did.’

  ‘Great! I thought so. Now this is important: I’m thinking the attack on your granddaughter was probably the first time this ‘beast’, as you call him, had been up to his ‘tricks’ so far out of town?’

  ‘Yes, I believe that is the case.’

  ‘Right and if that’s so, he would likely be unaware the house had a septic-tank toilet system!’

  ‘Do you really think that’s important, dear?’

  ‘Yes I do. Very important!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the “you know” he used could still be there, in the septic tank! Not flushed away into the main sewers as he would likely have assumed.’

  ‘But why didn’t the Police find it then?’

  ‘Probably because they never even thought to look!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do. You see, Detectives called in on an important case like this, are often not local men. They may well have come from the bigger towns or even the city. They would know practically nothing about rural life, septic tanks and all those sort of country things. Even if they did, it just may not have been uppermost in their minds.’

  ‘Oh, you know, I think it’s just possible, you’re right! I do believe we could be on to something here.’

  ‘Right! To solve the case and put him away, all the Police have got to do is lift the cover off the septic tank and fish for the “you know”! If they find it, it could well give them the crucial DNA evidence they need.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. You will come and tell them, won’t you, dear?’

  ‘Me? Oh, no.’

  ‘But you must!’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with me. You can do it. You’ll be speaking to the Police again, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, bound to - this morning, most likely.’

  ‘Right! There you are then. All you’ve got to say is: ‘I’ve been thinking, did anybody check the septic tank for the “you know”?’ The Police will say: ‘Septic tank?’ and the next minute they’ll be off running like wild cats!’

  ‘Oh, I do so wish I could talk to you more, but I’ve got to get off now. Thanks ever so, for the fare and for your help and support with my problems.’

  ‘That’s alright. I’ll be following the case closely in the papers. I don’t mind telling you, I want to see you nail that bastard, if you’ll excuse the expression. I’m sure you will.’

  ‘Well, if we don’t, it won’t be for lack of trying, will it, dear? Goodbye and thanks again for everything.’

  Mrs Williams alighted from the bus, close to the High Court and hurried off, her spirits buoyed by the possibility of helping to put away the evil Mr Eddie Middleton!

  A new passenger got on the bus: a young schoolgirl, about fifteen. She paid her fare and turned to find a seat.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘How are you Mrs Middleton?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks dear,’ the woman replied.

  ‘And Mr Middleton? How’s he these days?’

  ‘Eddie, my ex? He’s busy, I hear, very busy, at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, perhaps he should try and get away more, Mrs Middleton?’

  ‘Oh, but he is, dear. He’s definitely going away, alright. He deserves it and very soon. For a long, long, time too.’