Strike Me Dead

by Bob Goodwin

  ‘I can assure you there is one person in Kings Wood who is most definitely not a good resident.’

  Chapter 33 — November 2006

  Flathead

  Morgan had been on the Gold Coast for the past five days, awaiting direction from God. As usual his trip to the southern Queensland beaches had been enjoyable with some relaxing fishing and some long, lazy beach walks. As he took an evening stroll through the busy Broadbeach mall, and with only 48 hours to go, he was beginning to focus a little less on God’s sign and more on the coming week and the few handyman jobs he had scheduled around Nambour and Woombye. On past occasions, he would have had a clear sign no later than day four; this allowing adequate time for planning, reconnaissance, and on the seventh day, capture.

  The mall was alive with plenty of activity at restaurants, bars and clubs. Music was pumping out from various venues. Lights were flashing, couples and groups were laughing and dancing, and there was a real party atmosphere. As Morgan wandered past one of the nightclubs four noisy and intoxicated young men were being forcibly evicted by two bouncers. They were not fighting back; but at the same time, they were not particularly cooperative. Three stumbled across in front of Morgan, while the fourth received a stomach punch and a kick in the backside before staggering a couple of steps and falling to the pavement almost at Morgan’s feet.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he shouted as he clutched his stomach. ‘Bloody arseholes.’

  ‘You should not speak like that,’ said Morgan.

  ‘You talking to me?’ said the young man on the ground. He grimaced with discomfort and looked up at the shabbily dressed man with long black hair.

  ‘I am. Do you know that you are God’s temple and God’s spirit dwells in you?’

  ‘Hey guys,’ he called to his friends. ‘God’s fucking spirit is inside me.’

  His mates laughed. Two of them went to his assistance, pushing past Morgan on the way. He was almost back on his feet when he went down again, taking one of his friends with him. They all started laughing.

  ‘Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness and is guilty of eternal sin,’ said Morgan loudly.

  The men on the ground now got back to their feet. The blaspheming man stood in front of Morgan’s face and made matters worse. ‘Well fuck you and fuck your Holy Spirit!’ The group staggered away, laughing and swearing. Morgan had quickly put his handyman thoughts aside and followed the men at a discreet distance.

  * * *

  Behind the Southport spit on the Gold Coast was not the best fishing spot around, but the waters were calm and there was a reasonable chance of pulling in a few bream or maybe a flathead. Morgan’s hired 4-metre runabout had a sun cover over the rear half and small motor. He was anchored about 50 metres offshore.

  It was Sunday afternoon, now six days since severe storms had swept through the Sunshine Coast hinterland. Tomorrow was the all-important seventh day. It would be seven days since he had been sanctioned to carry out God’s work. Back when he was an altar boy, Morgan had become aware that seven was God’s number, symbolising His perfection, sovereignty and holiness. This was the number that the light of God had illuminated before him all those years ago, when on the seventh day of his Holy-Days, the beast was slain. Morgan Finn was delighted with how His plan for the weekend had worked out. The young man, who was now the focus of his interest since yesterday evening, had kindly decided to use the area behind the spit to have some fun on jet skis with two of his friends. So Morgan was pleased to take the opportunity to pursue a little fishing, his favourite pastime, and keep a casual eye on his target.

  The jet skis were well away from the area where several people were fishing when Morgan wound in his Alvey fishing reel and hooked up another pilchard. He cast out once more then wound back, slowing, stopping briefly then winding in a little more. At first it felt like a heavy dragging on the line but then the fish pulled back strongly. He rose to his feet. His rod bent over sharply and his fishing line darted back and forth in the water. The jet skis had moved closer. Morgan grabbed his landing net and his eyes widened as he saw the large flathead just below the surface. He netted his prize and lifted it up proudly. A lone jet ski cruised by slowly and checked out his catch. Morgan’s eyes met those of the rider. It was the young man who had fallen at his feet last night. He had been distracted by his catch and didn’t want this encounter, at least not just yet.

  ‘Hey, you’re that religious prick I saw in the mall,’ declared the man loudly. ‘Well, fuck me!’

  This was an unwelcome development. Morgan had so far always avoided being seen during the reconnaissance phase by remaining vigilant and keeping his distance.

  ‘You must be thinking of someone else,’ he replied brightly. ‘Check out this fine fella.’ He held up his catch in the net. ‘At least 45 centimetres. What a beauty!’

  ‘No, you’re him alright.’ The young man let his jet ski do slow circles. ‘I remember your square face and that greasy black hair.’

  Morgan made a quick decision. There was no point in pretending anymore. ‘And I know you, Graham Lawson. I know what dwells inside you. If you seek redemption I can help.’

  ‘What the fuck! You know my name? Jesus!’ He wound open the throttle, sending a jet of water over Morgan and his boat. The jet ski powered back towards the man’s friends.

  The flathead flicked itself about a couple of times on the floor of the tinny, still wrapped in the landing net. The fisherman had lost interest in his catch and stood staring at the three jet skis. The realisation slowly sunk in that if the demon Graham Lawson was to suddenly go missing tomorrow, his friends would now be clued-up by this event, and the likelihood of him being identified would be increased substantially. And this of course would compromise the completion of God’s plans. Walking away from the whole episode, and failing God, was never going to be an option either. He looked at the three jet skis, which were all now heading in his direction. Morgan held up his hand and unfolded one finger, then another and then a third.

  ‘Would it be wrong to take three for the price of one?’ he asked himself.

  The jet skis were going fast and attracting attention from others who were fishing. The generally accepted rule of courtesy and consideration was clearly being breached. The first one shot close to Morgan’s boat, sending up spray and a bow wave. He held onto the shade railing. The second one did the same on the opposite side while the third, ridden by Graham Lawson, tried to do a 360-degree turn right at the rear of the tinny. Instead, however, he did a partial turn, caught the bow wave from his friend and became airborne. The craft shot over the runabout and collected Morgan who was knocked clean out of the boat and into the water. The jet skis quickly powered down. Lawson was tangled up in the remains of the sunshade but seemed unhurt. Morgan Finn was face down in the water, bobbing around with a slowly expanding circle of redness around his head.

  Chapter 34

  The Newspaper Man

  ‘So, what plans do you have for the weekend?’ asked Carmel as she placed a plate of poached eggs, baked beans and two slices of toast in front of James. He was sitting on the verandah, fiddling with his iPad and occasionally glancing over at the Maroochydore CBD.

  ‘Thank you, Mother.’ He closed the iPad. ‘Well, yes I do have a bit of a plan for today. Not sure it will meet with your approval though.’

  ‘Hmm ... why am I not surprised?’ She nodded and sighed at the same time. ‘I’ll get the coffee then you can tell me all about it.’ She went back to the kitchen. James turned and looked down at the row of shops below. At the corner deli, a seated man picked up his newspaper and turned a page. That was the fifth time he had looked in that direction; and each time, the man had turned a page. James was not a great believer in coincidences. Carmel returned with two coffees.

  ‘So, what mischief are you up to then?’ She passed him his coffee and sat across from him.

  ‘Today I go looking for Charlie Chan.’ He pushed bean
s onto his toast.

  ‘Okay. At the Chancellor Park address?’

  ‘No. That address does not exist.’

  ‘Really. So how does this work then?’

  ‘I believe he’s following me. I just catch him in the act and confront him.’ James took a large mouthful of his breakfast.

  ‘James,’ cautioned Carmel. ‘I think I know where this is going.’ He looked up at her, took a moment to swallow his food before replying.

  ‘Really,’ he said firmly. ‘You want to ring Jeffries and get me off to hospital? You’ve seen Charlie Chan, so you know he exists. This is not crazy. This is reality.’

  ‘I have seen no evidence of anyone following you.’

  ‘Mother, I want you to look straight at me and listen carefully,’ asked James.

  ‘I’m listening,’ replied Carmel half-heartedly.

  ‘Now, in a moment, when I say we will both stand up, turn and have a fleeting glance at the seating area outside the deli. Then I’ll pretend to point at something in the distance. You just nod and then we sit back down.

  ‘That phone call is sounding more and more like a good idea.’

  ‘There is a man sitting there. He is wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. Now, when we briefly look down there, he will pick up his newspaper and turn a page. Then I will point, you will nod and we will sit quietly back down. You clear on this?’

  ‘Let’s say I’m prepared to humour you for the time being,’ replied Carmel.

  ‘So here we go then. Nice and casually, up we get.’ The two stood and glanced down. The man picked up his paper and turned a page. James pointed. Carmel nodded. They both sat casually back down.

  ‘Well, did you see?’ said James.

  ‘I guess you got a bit lucky.’

  ‘That’s six times out of six, Mother. No luck. No random chance. No psychotic delusion.’

  ‘I don’t think that is Charlie Chan.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but I’m sure there’s a connection. He will lead me to Mr Chan.’

  ‘And if by chance you are right and someone is following or watching you, it poses the even bigger question as to why.’

  ‘I think it’s all about Jessica Chang.’

  ‘Oh James, please.’ She dropped her head into her hands. ‘You’re not still obsessed about that missing girl? You need more medication.’

  ‘Let me show you something. I’ll be right back.’ He left the verandah but was back in a moment with his list and his transparencies.

  Chapter 35

  Just One Dose

  It was nearly an hour after he had gone through all his paperwork with his mother when James grabbed his sports bag and announced his plans to be out for two hours at the gym. His mother had been unusually quiet after his presentation and this was a little concerning. She cautioned him as he was leaving, reminding him about the Involuntary Treatment Order and insisting he only go to the gym and not be chasing after Charlie Chan.

  James parked his Suzuki mini-van about half a kilometre from the apartment. He quickly had his scanner out and almost immediately had locked onto a signal. Carmel was already on the phone talking to Jeffries.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mother!’

  ‘Yes, he’s just so preoccupied with this Chang girl and now he wants to confront someone that he thinks is following him. He almost convinced me it was true...’

  ‘Yes, doctor, I think there is a serious risk...’

  ‘I think waiting two more days until he returns to hospital for his review is just too long. Anything could happen. We don’t want another knife incident. James or someone else might get seriously hurt. I just can’t take the chance on that happening...’

  ‘That sounds like the best idea...’

  ‘He’s not going to be happy, but it is for his own good...’

  ‘He’s gone out to the gym for two hours...’

  ‘Yes, I agree, wait until he is back here. We’ve had enough of dramatic scenes in public places...’

  ‘He is very clever, so you best tell the police not to come until he’s actually back in the apartment with me. They can call my mobile to check or I could call them...’

  ‘Thank you so much, doctor. I’ll talk to you back at the hospital. Bye for now.’

  James put the scanner back in the glove box then sat a while longer contemplating his dilemma and checking his mirrors. James checked his sports bag. Inside were his gym clothes, another set of clean “just-in-case” clothes, a water bottle, a towel, toiletries, paperwork, the transparency folder and an iPad. He quickly pushed the items aside and ran his hand around the bottom of the bag.

  ‘Well, Mother, there’s no way I’m coming home now. Not even to collect my meds.’ He drove off at normal speed and made his way through Maroochydore and past Alexandra Headlands where plenty of board riders were making the most of a good five-foot beach break. He headed down to the motorway and onto the busy Nicklin Way. There were two occasions on the trip where he thought he saw a grey Honda Accord back in the traffic, but now there was also a red Barina that seemed to appear a little too frequently. After twelve minutes of driving, James pulled into the Kawana gym car park. He took the scanner from the glove box and dropped it his bag then casually got out of his car, collected some cleaning gear from the rear of the van, threw his sports bag over his shoulder and entered the gym.

  Raelene was at the front desk signing up a new member. The two made eye contact. James gave a single nod of his head, smiled and took a couple of steps in her direction.

  ‘Later, when you’ve got a moment,’ he whispered loudly. Rae nodded back.

  James was sure that the police would only wait so long for him to return home before looking for him at his usual hangouts like the gym, Rae’s house, Maroochydore and other nearby beaches, and probably his favourite Caloundra fishing spots. He figured he had at least two hours up his sleeve. The white Suzuki van would also be a problem. If they were looking for him, they would no doubt have an eye out for his car as well. He made his way around the gym equipment, wiping down surfaces with disinfectant. His mind was elsewhere, concerned about the police, wondering about Jessica Chang, thinking about Charlie Chan and the Honda Accord, and puzzled by the red Barina. Logan had stopped pumping iron on the weight bench and had called his name twice with no response.

  ‘Hey you! James Bloody Champion,’ he shouted. ‘Mission control to Mr Champion.’

  ‘What? Who?’ James was startled and spun his head around. ‘Sorry mate. What’s happenin’?’

  ‘Well, for a start you’ve already cleaned those bike handles three times.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Have I?’

  ‘A bit distracted, are we?’ said the man hulk.

  ‘Yeah, my mother’s been a bit unwell. Losing her mind, I reckon,’ replied James.

  ‘Family means everything. Sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Thanks.’ James started cleaning the bike handles again.

  ‘I wondered if I could trouble you for a weather forecast. We are having a surprise birthday party for my wife on Monday night. New Year’s Eve.

  ‘Where’s the party?’

  ‘At Maleny. The Tamarind Asian restaurant.’

  ‘Nice choice but make sure you’re indoors,’ warned James. ‘There will be storms. Severe storms. I’m expecting they will be the worst we’ve seen in five to ten years.’

  ‘God damn it!’ exclaimed Logan, slapping his hands down onto the vinyl. ‘You sure?’

  James stopped cleaning and slowly turned his head to face Logan. For a moment, he just stared at the big man.

  ‘Please, don’t bring God into this,’ he eventually said.

  Logan looked at him with surprise. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just an expression.’ James just looked at him.

  ‘Didn’t realise you were the religious type,’ continued the big man. He lay back down on the bench, grabbed the bar then glanced back at James who was standing like a statue. ‘Are you okay
, mate?’ There was silence. ‘You right there, Champs!’ he shouted.

  Raelene arrived and put a gentle hand on James’s shoulder.

  ‘Hey, everything okay?’ She looked at him then brushed the hair away from his cheek before shooting an annoyed glance at the weightlifter.

  ‘He’s suddenly gone all weird,’ said Logan. ‘I only asked about the weather. Honestly. And he’s cleaning the same thing over and over. He did say something about his mum being sick.’

  ‘James, come with me. We can talk now.’ She took him by the hand and gently guided him away and into the staff room. They both sat down on two low vinyl lounge chairs.

  ‘I’m in trouble,’ said James. ‘My brain is every which way.’

  ‘You seemed pretty settled yesterday. What’s happened to you?’

  ‘I can’t get Jessica Chang out of my mind. I am sure she is still alive, but it’s all so confusing. I only missed one dose of medication and now I’m shot.’

  ‘Why don’t I drive you home? We can get your meds and...’ Her voice trailed away as he turned and glared at her.

  ‘Are you in with them?’ he said sternly.

  ‘I’m only here for you. That’s all. I promise.’

  ‘You called the cops on me last time. Got me tasered. Put me in the madhouse.’

  ‘Well, I did ring the Blue Orchid. They rang the police, but you were different then. That was the dangerous, James.’ She put her arm around his shoulders. ‘This is the perplexed and upset James, and I can help you.’

  ‘So now I have a multiple personality disorder too?’

  ‘No, but you do have multiple aspects to your personality. And, to be honest, I quite like that about you.’ Rae gave him a warm, reassuring smile. ‘Now, if you don’t want to go home, that’s fine. I think there are still a few of your meds lying around at my place.’

  ‘Mother has called Jeffries. The police will be looking for me soon enough.’

  ‘Well, they can wait. You need medication. And we need to find Jessica. I’ll call Isaac to come and take over things here for a while. He’s always looking for some extra work.’