Smoko At East Seaham

by Ken Blowers

CHAPTER 8

  LONG TIME MISSING

  Eddie Tosh heard the doorbell go and he ambled down the hall towards the front door. He was at the age now where almost nothing was likely to hurry him anymore, but he did call out ‘Coming…’

  ‘G’day, I’m Freda Wright, from the local newspaper, Mr Tosh. I’m writing a series on long-time, local, missing persons, you know, like your dear wife, Eleanor. She’s been gone now for, what, 20 odd years?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Eddie, taken a back. ‘It’s been a while.’

  For a moment there, it looked a bit like the blood had drained from his face, but then, perhaps he’s naturally gaunt and that’s the way he always looks, she thought. She decided to press on. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Mr Tosh? I’m only talking about 15 to 20 minutes or so of your time.’

  Eddie stumbled for words: ‘I... I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, it is a long while, Mr Tosh. But that’s why it’s of some interest to our readers, you see. There will be people out there, still wondering if you’ve ever heard anymore? Being concerned too for your welfare, you know. Like how you’re coping on your own?’

  ‘You best come in then, Freda, was it?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, Mr Tosh. Thanks very much.’

  Eddie led the way down the hall. Freda was immediately impressed by the fact that everything in sight was so impressively clean and tidy, not at all what she’d expected. In fact, there was a real air of freshness in the house.

  ‘Good job you didn’t come any earlier,’ he said. ‘I’d have been having my usual afternoon nap.’

  ‘Right, I’m glad I didn’t then.’

  ‘Nobody calls me Mr Tosh. It’s either Eddie, or ‘Mr Evil’, as some of the people around here like to think of me. I can still see it in their faces.’

  Oh, how unkind of them, she thought. Hmmm, the house may be a bit on the small side, but it’s still surprisingly tidy for an old man living alone.

  They walked right through the house and out to the enclosed back patio which overlooked a very neat little garden, absolutely abundant in plants of all sorts.

  ‘My word, Eddie. You sure are a one for gardening!’

  ‘Yes, well, I spent all my working life as a nursery man, didn’t I? Or isn’t that in your files, then?’

  ‘If it is, Eddie, I confess I must have missed it. What’s the secret for such a beautiful garden, then?’

  ‘Secret? There ain’t no secret. All you need is lots of deep digging and lots and lots of compost.’

  ‘Oh, you mean that, sort of ‘smelly’ stuff?’

  ‘It’s not a bit ‘smelly’ if it’s done properly, no.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Well, I wouldn’t dare argue with you. You’re obviously the expert.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that! But come on. Sit on the patio here. I’m intrigued to see if you can really get this interview done in twenty minutes. Fire away!’

  ‘I’d like to quickly run over the facts as I know them, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘That’s alright.’

  ‘Now, your wife’s been gone for, what? Twenty years, is it?’

  ‘Nineteen years, nine months and three days. If you want to be precise you can add...’ Eddie looked up at the clock on the wall, ‘and twenty-two minutes!’

  ‘Oh, fancy you keeping record of the time like that? I think that’s wonderful! You obviously still love her. Anyway, have you never heard anything from her? Anything at all? Letter, postcard, a phone call?’

  ‘No. Nothing. Not a word,’ he said sadly.

  ‘But you obviously still think of her?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, I do, every day.’

  ‘Every day?’

  ‘Yes. Every single day and every night too.’

  ‘Well, that’s something we didn’t know. Our readers will be so interested to know that.’ Freda made a note.

  ‘Now, that day…’

  ‘The 22nd of February.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. You went out, I believe.’

  ‘Yes I did. I was in the habit of going out every Wednesday at 9.30, or thereabouts. Down to the Razzle, you know, The Returned Soldier, Sailor and Airmen Club: for a beer with old friends; ex-Army, like me. Maybe a light lunch and a game of cards. I was retired by then, I should add.’

  ‘Good. Good and why not, eh? I like the odd drink myself. Now, what’s this business about an ice cream man? I don’t quite get that bit!’

  ‘You mean Charlie? Charlie Pratt was an old Soldier too. He was, at that time, employed to sell ice cream door-to-door. Driving around in a van, ringing a bell. Know what I mean?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Soft ice cream, you mean, for kids?’

  ‘No, no, this was the deep frozen boxed stuff. He called at our place every second Wednesday about 2.30 pm. We knew him and we knew his wife too. Not bosom pals or anything; but he was a particularly nice bloke. My wife always gave him a cup of tea and a bit of cake, or whatever was going. Let him use the toilet, wash his hands, have a smoke etc. It’s a long day, that kind of work. He needed the break.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he would and that was very kind of her.’

  ‘She’s a very kind woman. She was kind enough to marry me,’ he laughed.

  ‘Yes, well, it’s pretty clear to me you must have been a very happy couple.’

  ‘Yes, yes, we were and we still are. Only it’s sort of, from a distance now, I guess. At least that’s how I like to think of it.’

  ‘But, according to my notes, the Police made quite a lot of that business with Charlie, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid they did. They did.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Well, when a woman goes missing, the prime suspect is always the husband or boyfriend. That’s par for the course. You would know that, Freda, in your job, ‘course you would.’

  ‘Yes. Sadly that’s the first conclusion, until proven otherwise.’

  ‘Anyway, after weeks of checking me out and finding nothing to incriminate me, they turned on poor old Charlie. Now unfortunately, he didn’t respond so well under stress and his general attitude; resentment and anger, somehow made the Police even more firmly convinced there had been something ‘going on’ between him and my wife.’

  ‘You mean, they thought he’d had an affair with her, then done her in, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Something like that. They kept the poor man in custody for a long, long, time. Far too long in my book, while they tried to make a case against him. Inhuman, I think and totally uncalled for.’

  ‘You didn’t doubt him? Think he had anything to do with her disappearance?’

  ‘No. No way. Not Charlie Pratt!’

  ‘So eventually they dropped it, the case, I mean?’

  ‘Yes, they did, but not officially, of course. Officially a case is never closed until it’s resolved, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Right. But how did that make you feel, Eddie? Angry perhaps?’

  ‘Me? Angry? You bet! I’m still angry twenty years later. Charlie didn’t deserve such treatment. They tried very hard to get me to incriminate him, but no way! He was a great guy and a darn good friend!’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he’s gone now. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No. I didn’t know that. What happened to him?’

  ‘His marriage broke up over it. His health went down and down. A few years later he died, from a stroke, I think.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. How very sad.’

  ‘Yes it was.’

  ‘I see you’ve still got pictures of your wife, here and there. Good pictures too!’

  ‘Yes. In happier times. You can’t wipe out the past no matter what happens later, can you? I can’t just pretend she was never here.’

  ‘No, no I suppose not. Tell me, what were your thoughts on her disappearance? I mean, did you ever think just for a moment, she might be…?’

  ‘Dead? No. No, never! I’m
always expecting her to come walking back in through that front door! That’s all I’ve got to live for. That’s why I keep the place clean and tidy at all times.’

  ‘Well it sure is that.’

  ‘It’s got to be. She’d get right up me if it weren’t! I’d get a clip around the ear ‘ole! That’s a fact!’

  ‘Ah, but I bet you wouldn’t really mind her doing that, just once more, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right there!’

  ‘But, I have to ask: if you don’t think she could possibly be dead, what do you think happened to her? I mean, nobody else knew her like you.’

  ‘Yes, well, I like to think so. I think there was and is, no grounds to suspect she was having any kind of an affair with Charlie or any another man. That would be totally out of character for her. Totally! She believed firmly in the sanctity of marriage!’

  ‘What then? Come on. You must have some ideas?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t seem important, or in any way relevant at the time.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, she had somehow fallen for the touch of the old gambling bug. Nothing outrageous mind and nothing to concern me at the time. But she had started buying the odd scratch lottery tickets. Just occasionally at first. Then later she got into Lotto, once a week at first; then twice a week, then three times a week and even four times a week. She also occasionally popped in to the footy club for a go on the pokies and the Keno. Plus she’d sometimes buy the tickets where you can win a house, unit and a car, know what I mean?’

  ‘Oh, yes, fancy that. It didn’t worry you.’

  ‘No. No, we never ever quarrelled about money, ever. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Yes. You obviously had a good marriage. In good marriages, you don’t quarrel over money.’

  ‘Right! You got it. It was more a case of her, what did she call it? Simply 'reinvesting’ her winnings. You know, she’d win five dollars and then she’d buy five more tickets, that sort of thing. It all seemed perfectly harmless to me at the time.’

  ‘But now…’

  ‘Now? Now I wonder, just wonder if maybe she somehow did get in too deep and couldn’t face me with it. Which is pretty hard to understand since we had always been 100% honest with one another.’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or, she had some kind of a gigantic win. Something really big and decided she’d grab the chance to go off and see a bit of the world. I have to confess here, that though we have travelled together a bit in the past, as I got

  older, well, I lost me yen for travel. She was always saying, ‘Why don’t we do another trip? Just one last trip?’ I’d say no, no, no; not me. But if you want to go, love, you go.’

  ‘Did you mention that to the Police?’

  ‘No, I didn’t think along those lines until some years had passed.’

  ‘They never thought of it?’

  ‘If they did they never mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Incredible. But it would explain the record showing she took absolutely nothing with her; clothes, personal possessions, toiletries.’

  ‘That’s right, Freda! Nothing: she didn’t take a thing. Not a damn single thing.’

  ‘Ah, now I’m thinking the way you’re thinking, a woman would never go anywhere without such things; unless she had money, lots of money.’

  ‘Right! Enough money, Freda, to buy everything, every little thing she needed, wherever she went.’

  ‘Wherever! That could be it. That could be the answer to the riddle.’

  ‘Right. When she’s spent it all and gamblers always spend it all, right?’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Yes. She won’t hesitate to come walking back through that door!’

  ‘That’s fantastic! I think I’ve got the makings of a good story here, a very plausible story too. But, I think I’ve just about used up my time, haven’t I? Thanks, Eddie. I do so hope you are right, just to put your mind at rest. I’m sure you’d welcome her home and I’m sure she would know that, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, yes I really would. Her first words would be: “Guess where I’ve been!” What a great tale she’d have to tell.’

  ‘Great! Now, do you mind if I take a quick picture or two? Perhaps one of you sitting here looking down the hall at that front door?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Freda took her snaps and Eddie escorted her to the front door.

  ‘You know,’ Freda said, ‘I don’t think I’ll easily forget this front door’ and she impulsively gave him a farewell peck on the cheek! ‘Take care,’ she said.

  ‘Goodbye, young lady. You treat her story with respect, now!’

  ‘Oh, yes. I will. I will, I promise you.’

  Eddie closed the door, smiling. It was the best he’d felt all day. He walked back down the hall, turning for a moment and chuckling at the idea of his wife walking back in through that door. He continued on down the hall, out through the patio and into the back garden. He stretched, sighed and walked over to a garden seat set under the trees. He took out his tobacco pouch and rolled himself a cigarette. He lit the cigarette, took a strong pull, blew out the smoke with a bit of a cough, then he leant over and knocked on the top of a nearby big, plastic, garden compost bin.

  ‘You there, Ellie?’ he asked. Then with a broad smile he said: ‘Guess what, dear, you’ve just had a visitor.’