His tool box consisted of a knife and a hand reel of fishing line. With this he constructed tripwires across the walkway at ankle height, some running straight across and some diagonally. He took tin cans and cutlery from Shirley"s kitchen and rigged them to jangle if anyone brushed against the fishing line. Two lines ran all the way back to the house where they would tip Shirley"s bucket from the hand rail onto the floor.
Shirley found herself sitting on her veranda with Tom again, looking out over the river. He was sitting in silence, occasionally sipping at his coffee. He did not seem to be deep in thought, simply content for the moment.
“What will you do once Mr Hing leaves?” Shirley asked.
“I really don't know. He's made a big difference to the vegetables. I must have twice as many garden beds as I did before, and he works very hard. Still, now he's helped getting the beds started, I should be able to keep up with most of them.”
“You'll be lonely.”
“Yes – yes, that's right. I suppose I'm used to having him around now. It'll be just me and the roos again.”
“I'll come and visit.”
Again his shyness showed. “Er, thank you-” and he did not know how to continue.
Shirley could not imagine living alone all week and only seeing people when he paddled his canoe into Port Bruce for the Saturday market. “You don't have other work you could be doing?”
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Tom thought for a while. “I wouldn't mind. A little cash would come in handy, but there's not much work to be had in Port Bruce.”
Shirley scratched around for an idea. “I don't suppose we could buy some sort of machine to fix the roads? I mean, Marilyn, you and I. We could rent it out to Cook Shire. You and Marilyn can do the work, and I'll keep the books. That sounds a fair division of labour.”
Tom smiled at the thought. “We might have to discuss that a little. We couldn't do it, anyway. I don't have any money, and I'll bet Marilyn is not loaded either.”
“I might be able to organise a loan. As long as the machine is not too expensive. I'll talk to Marilyn. She's smart about that sort of equipment.
“What else can you do? Building?”
“Oh, everyone can do that sort of thing up here. Of course, that means no-one in Port Bruce will pay builders , because we all do it ourselves.”
They sat and watched the river again.
“I think I could use another room,” said Shirley. “And I'd like to stop sending my sewage into the river. Can you do that?”
“Of course. No problem, but I can't do the paperwork.”
“Paperwork?”
“You know, plans, permission from the council, all that stuff.”
“Does it matter?”
Tom's smile filled his face. “No, not really. As long as you're not too obvious about it, and once the extra room is built, you can say it was there all along. Who's to know? Where would you build it? You're better off not disturbing the river bank.”
“I was thinking about around the back.”
Tom got up and she followed him out onto the walkway. They leaned on the railing and looked at the mangroves behind the house.
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“How big?” asked Tom. “I've got as many ironwood trees as you could use for posts at the back of my place. Best to use ironwood in the ground. Lasts forever. We could buy an auger to make a starting hole, and then drive the posts a bit more. Are you serious?”
“Yes, I think so. Let's get Marilyn to come around, though.
Perhaps she'll have some ideas.”
“Perhaps she's got a chain saw. That'll make life a good deal
easier.”
She watched Tom paddle into the distance before heading
into town herself. She had a lot to think about on her journey.
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Chapter 31
She was woken that night by a crash outside her door. Her metal bucket had just fallen from the hand rail onto the floor. She leapt out of bed and had reached her steps when she heard shouting. “Shirl, Shirl, it's me!” Tom's voice.
She went to the door but did not untie it. “Is that you, Tom?”
“Yes, it's OK. Only me. Open the door. And give me a
torch.”
“One minute,” she called and rushed to her drawer for a pair of panties. Her tee shirt was only just long enough.
She shone her torch along the walkway. She could hear Tom coming, heavy steps on the wooden slats. He emerged into her light. He was carrying something – someone – over his shoulder. Long legs in muddy jeans, with black shoes also caked in grey mud.
“It's Japan,” he said and crouched to tip him off his shoulder to sit against the wall. Japan's legs crossed and he tipped sideways onto the floor.
Tom's face looked withdrawn and cold. He stood and stared at Japan. Japan was not moving. His face, white and partly hidden by his straggling hair, lay pressed against the wooden slats of the floor. Beside him, Tom"s bare feet were covered in mud almost to the knee.
Cold and numbness gripped Shirley. “What happened? Is
he..?”
“Dead? Yes. He was coming for you. He had a knife.” Tom"s voice was flat and did not invite questions. “Give me the torch, and go and put the lights on.” He started to feel in Japan"s pockets, and Shirley hurried away.
She stepped back into the house and was immediately floodlit. Walter was shining his new torch on her.
“Are you alright?” he called.
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“Yes, yes. I"m fine. Just keep the light on for a minute. I need to find my matches.”
Tom came to the veranda. “It"s all fine, Walter, but you didn"t see anything, OK? I"m not here. I"ll tell you about it tomorrow. Just turn off the light and go back to bed.”
Tom dropped a bunch of keys onto the table. “Don"t touch those. I"m going to take your boat, right?” He went out and Shirley heard him struggling to get Japan onto his shoulder again.
“You"d better go down and steady the boat,” he said. “It"s not easy.”
Shirley hurried down ahead of him and pulled the boat by its gunwale, forcing it against the step. The boat dipped sharply as Tom stepped aboard and dropped Japan into the bow. “I might be a while,” he said. “Go back up and wait for me.”
Shirley watched from the veranda as Tom started the engine and cast off. As Tom slipped into the dark, the light from her lamps lit Japan"s haggard, dead face staring open-eyed at the sky. The sound of the boat"s motor faded away upstream.
She did not know what to do. Her alarm clock showed
11 :53. No light came from Walter"s house. Japan was dead, and she was waiting for Tom to return. She put the kettle on. As she reached for the coffee mugs, she saw her hand trembling.
What had Tom been doing? What chance had brought him to Shirley"s path and his meeting with Japan? No chance, she admitted. He must have been waiting. Standing guard in the bushes at the edge of the swamp. He had mud all over his feet, and so did Japan.
She did not know how long she waited, trying to read a magazine, but continuously restarting the same paragraph. She wanted to hear her boat again. She wanted Tom to come and sit with her. She wanted Marilyn to come and talk with her.
She did not hear the motor. Instead, there was something in the water and, when she hurried to the veranda, she saw Tom paddling her boat home. “It wasn"t far,” he said. “I didn"t bother with the motor.” He moored the boat and climbed slowly up.
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“It"s done,” he said, and sat on one of Shirley"s painted
chairs. The chair looked too small beneath him. He sat with his head
bowed, looking at his hands.
“Coffee? I"ll get some biscuits out.” What else could she say?
“I strangled him,” Tom said quietly. “He had his kn
ife out ready, so I pulled him into the swamp and strangled him. There was nothing else I could do.”
“Where did you leave him?”
“I didn"t. I took him upstream and hung him over the bow. I let the boat drift and just jiggled him up and down. A croc took him from my hand. Just a pull and a swirl of water. He"s safe now. We"ll never see him again.” Tom was still looking at his hands, open on his lap. His voice was uneven, and when she tried to look at his face, he might have been crying.
Shirley climbed astride onto his lap, reached around his broad shoulders and held him tight. His head was hard and heavy against hers, and she felt the heaving of his chest as he sobbed.
She had not been this close to him before. The animal scent of him filled her nostrils, and his wild hair brushed her face. He felt furry. She knew he looked furry, but now she was stroking his back, running her hands over the fur, over his massive shoulders.
He had wrapped his arms around her and she was trapped, pulled against his chest. She could not move, and she did not want to. Suddenly he was kissing her, desperate, clumsy kisses driven by hunger for her.
She abandoned herself to him, holding his head and pressing her mouth to his. She was surrounded by the strength of him, and she felt he had grown beneath her. Not hesitating, she attacked the zip of his shorts. He had no underwear, and his sex felt thick and strong amongst the hair. She hooked her panties to one side and pushed herself over him.
She had her feet on the rungs of the chair and could control their movements. She rocked rapidly on him, quickly pushing them both to the end.
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Shirley rested her head on Tom"s shoulder and relaxed in his circling arms. He was still filling her, and she felt content.
Tom whispered in her ear, “I"m glad Walter didn"t use his new torch again. He"s probably asleep.”
“Oh no!” Shirley pushed herself back and stood up. “He isn"t. He says he sleeps very lightly.”
Tom was fumbling with his zip, and stood up with his back to her as he tried to get it closed.
“Come to bed,” said Shirley. “I"ll turn the lights off, and let"s get some sleep.”
Tom looked sheepishly at his feet. “I need to wash. I"m muddy.”
“OK. You can use my bucket, as long as you can wash in the dark. I"ll get you a towel.”
Before Tom could go out to the shower, they heard someone on the walkway. Shirley hurried to open the door. “Who"s there?”
“It"s – oh fuck! Jesus, Shirl, what"s this? What"s going on?” It was Marilyn. Shirley waited until she limped into the light, barefoot and carrying one thong. “I fell over something. Where"s Japan?”
“Ah – right. Tom, please, take this torch and go and wash that mud off. I want to talk to Marilyn for a minute.” She pushed him out of the door and closed it behind him.
“Marilyn, Japan"s dead.”
“What? You"re kidding.”
“No. Tom caught and killed him.”
“Oh Jesus, now we"re in trouble. Where is he?”
“I don"t know. Tom took him upriver, and he says a croc took him.”
Marilyn slumped into a chair. “Raylene called. She was late. She said he"d left the Makepeace late this afternoon, but Midge didn"t tell her until just now. His truck is back there. When did he get here?”
“Not long ago, I think. An hour? What are we going to do?”
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“We"re going to be bloody careful, for a start. Who knows?
You and Tom?”
“And Walter. He"s moored just across the river. He shone Japan"s big torch on me when he heard us, but I don"t know what he saw. Tom"s going to talk to him tomorrow.”
“You"ve got to clean everything. Everywhere Japan was, even if you can"t see anything. I don"t suppose the cops will come around, but if they do you don"t want them to find any traces.
“Have a real good look around tomorrow. I mean, really good. Make sure nothing fell out of his pockets, or anything like that.”
“What about his truck?”
“For Christ"s sake, put the kettle on. Got anything to
drink?”
“Some Bailey"s? Or vodka?”
“”Yes, Bailey"s would do. You could do with one too. You"re looking red.”
Shirley did not meet her eye but went to put the kettle on and get the glasses.
Marilyn was thinking out loud. “You know, we can"t leave his truck there. Once some-one misses him, that"s the first thing they"ll look for. I guess we"d better take it back to my place. He"s left it there often enough before, so it"d be no surprise.
“You know what? I think I"ll get the Council slasher on your road as soon as I can. I"m working tomorrow but I"ll do it Saturday. By the time I"ve run up and down the sides of your road, no -one"ll find anything.”
Tom tapped at the door. “Can I come in?”
“Of course. Coffee? Come and listen to Marilyn,.” Said Shirley.
“He"s definitely gone, Tom?” asked Marilyn.
“Yes. No question. I felt the croc take him.”
“Well, I"m not crying. Now, we have to move his truck and we"d better do that tonight. We"re going to take it to my place and leave it there.” She looked at Tom, but he simply nodded. “Shirl, can
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I trust you to drive my truck? I"ll drive Japan"s, and I"ll drive it around town a little during the week so it"ll have my prints all over it. Just in case.
“Tom, I was telling Shirl you have to clean everything. Really everything. All the places Japan touched, and the boat as well. Do you know if he dropped anything?”
“His knife. That went straight away. I couldn"t see where it went. I don"t think there was anything else. I didn"t hear anything.”
“Shit, you"ll have to find that knife. If you don"t, the cops will. If they ever come around here, of course. You take his keys?”
Tom gestured towards the bunch of keys on the table and Marilyn picked them up. “Christ, I have to think about this. What time is it? Bloody hell, and I"ve got to work in the morning. Come on, Shirl. Let"s move the trucks. You"ll pick her up tomorrow, Tom?”
“Yes, come to Lulu"s and I"ll buy breakfast,” said Shirley.
“I"ll just get some clothes.”
Marilyn turned her ute around for Shirley, and then took off in Japan"s truck. Shirley waited. If anyone in town was having a sleepless night, they would hear Japan"s truck arriving at Marilyn"s place alone.
Marilyn"s alarm woke them before first light, and they sat over breakfast without chattering. Then Marilyn changed into her work clothes and came back to sit and put her boots on. Shirley could see she was still thinking.
“Shirl, promise me, get after that cleaning this morning. It"s important. And find that fucking knife. Anything else you could probably explain, but that thing"s got his name inlaid in the handle. Get Tom to chuck it in the river a long way downstream.
“I"ve got to call Raylene tonight. I don"t know what I"m going to say. Perhaps I"ll just get her to come down to the market on Saturday. You be there?”
“Yes. I think I"ll give Tom a lift. Marilyn, do you think Mr Hing could come?”
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“Mmmh – yes, why not? If anyone asks, he can just say he"s a friend visiting from Melbourne. I bet he"ll like that. Now, I"ve got to run. Be careful, and do what I told you.”
As she got up, Shirley jumped on her and held her tight. “Thank you, Marilyn. You"re the best. I don"t know what I would do without you.”
Marilyn eased her away. “Oh, get on with you,” she said, but Shirley could see her eyes shining wet.
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Chapter 32
The Saturday morning market was Shirley"s best so far, and she enjoyed herself. She had gulped her coffee as the sun did its rosy-fingered thing on the morning clouds, and ju
mped into her boat to go to Tom"s place. As she manoeuvred herself into the narrow channel, Walter appeared from upstream. In moments, Tom"s jetty was whirl of business as they loaded the boats with plastic crates and home-made baskets of vegetables and set off for market.
Mr Hing sat in the bow of Walter"s boat, wind in his hair and a wide smile on his face. They could reach Port Bruce long before Shirley would get there, and Walter promised to spend time taking Mr Hing into all the little side creeks and out to sea. Shirley had Tom to herself.
They carried the vegetables up to the strip of Memorial Park that served as the market place, and lined up the crates and baskets on the grass. Tom produced some cut squares of cardboard box and a felt tip, and set about labelling his wares.
Customers drifted up, intent on stocking up before the best fruit and veggies disappeared. Tom did not have to do much selling. People knew him, and turned up with shopping lists. They did not know Mr Hing and he sold more vegetables as they tried to satisfy their curiosity. Shirley felt sure the story of Tom"s friend from Melbourne would be all over town by lunchtime.
Shirley and Marilyn bought ice-creams and waited at the edge of the crowd. When Raylene turned up, they jumped into her truck and carried on to Lulu"s.
They had the place to themselves for the moment. Once they had settled down to wait for their coffee, Raylene"s first question went straight to the point.
“Have you seen Japan, Marilyn? He didn"t tell Midge about taking a trip, and she"s worried about her money and ticket home. She should be flying out on Tuesday.”
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Marilyn sighed. “I"d better give you the official answer, Raylene. I don"t know where he is. I came back from Shirl"s the other night, and his truck was there with the keys in it. Haven"t seen the man at all.”
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