Breakfast on the Way to Brisbane

by Ken Blowers



  BREAKFAST ON THE WAY TO BRISBANE

  By Ken Blowers

  ****

  Editing by Eagle-Eyes Editing Solutions

  Cover Illustration by Paulien Bats

  Copyright (c) 2014 by Ken Blowers

  ****

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

  CONTENTS

  1.An Accidental Death

  2.The Dogs

  3.BINGO

  4.This Could Be No Dream

  5.Murder Made Easy

  6.The Gardens

  7.The Toms’ Brigade

  8.The Body In The Bath

 

  CHAPTER 1

  AN ACCIDENTAL DEATH

  Jerry Bowman hated his wife. This hatred had smouldered deep within him for years and the desire to be rid of her had become something of an obsession.

  As a young man Jerry Bowman had been attracted to Hetty Halthrop, not because of her good looks or her charm, but because of her prospects. Her father owned Halthrop's Delicatessens; there were two of them, both on the Queensland Gold Coast. Jerry had high hopes that if he played his cards right, the old man could be encouraged to open more delicatessens. One day he and Hetty would inherit them and change the name to Bowman's; then under their careful stewardship the business would surely prosper and grow.

  That was the real reason he married Hetty. But after they were married, his father-in-law showed no interest in any proposals for expansion. By the time he died some years later, one delicatessen had already closed and the other had been run down to the point where its closure was inevitable. There was hardly any money, or anything else worth speaking about, for them to inherit. In Jerry's mind it all seemed like some gigantic family plot to rob him and deny him his rights - his destiny!

  He blamed his wife because she had failed to exercise any positive influence over her father, just as she had failed to give him any children. After the closure of the delicatessen business, she had not been at all content with the decent job he had found for her, tending to the needs of the checkout girls in the local supermarket. She had developed grand ideas about discovering her innate potential. This, according to Jerry, was just a trumped up excuse for her to go flirting with the young waster’s down at the TAFE College.

  Ignoring his protestations, Hetty continued with her part-time studies, eventually graduating in both Accounting and Computer Programming. She had a new job in the city now and was bringing in more money than he was. He now felt her new status undermined his position as a husband and provider and it was an attack on his manhood! He now believed more than ever, that she had completely failed him as his wife.

  His resentment and brooding continued until it blossomed into a powerful and overwhelming desire to be rid of her. But how, how can I rid myself of this burden? He asked himself this question over and over again, as the days and the months went by.

  Then one day while reading his daily newspaper, the Brisbane Courier Mail, he saw the headline: WOMAN KILLED IN HIT-AND-RUN ACCIDENT. This so-called accidental death occurred when a car, which had failed to stop, had struck down a woman from behind as she walked alone at night. A witness described the car as being small, white - and possibly Japanese. ‘That's it!’ he thought, ‘That’s the answer to my problem.’

  That's the answer alright, he thought. All I've got to do is get my hands on a small, white, Japanese car, arrange an accidental death to occur and bingo; problem solved! The Police, the press and any witnesses, will all think it's the driver of the other car, doing it again.

  He picked up the local newspaper and scanned the motoring pages for a cheap, white, Japanese car. But on further reflection, he decided that ownership would only increase the danger of being found out. No, no; it

  would be better to rent one. By using a false name and paying cash, it would be extremely unlikely that the hire-car could ever be traced back to him. He knew of a company that rented out small cars like that in Redcliffe. This was far enough away from Bribie Island for him not to be recognized - but certainly not too far.

  He could easily go and pick up the car by taxi. He felt quite cocky about it now, knowing how easy it would be for him to outwit the Police.

  Hetty caught the bus from the Bribie Island Shopping Centre to the Caboolture Railway Station, five days a week. From there, she caught the express train to Brisbane. On her return to Bribie Island at the end of the day, she got off the bus and walked home down the main road. Today, this road is fairly well developed, but back then, the road was still pretty much under-developed, if not rural in character, with lots of swampy scrub, overhanging trees and no proper footpath at all. Of more importance to Jerry, it was unlit - making it the ideal setting for what he had in mind. He thought it could hardly go wrong.

  He went out for a short walk and used a public telephone to book the car he wanted in the name of Smith, for the following Friday. He chose Friday because that was Hetty's busiest day of the week; which meant she was more likely to come home tired and being tired she was less likely to be alert to the dangers of the road - particularly the danger of any cars coming from behind!

  Jerry found it difficult to hide his elation from Hetty in the next few days, but he remained confident she suspected nothing. He believed he had planned well and covered every possible contingency. If ever there was a perfect crime, he mused, then an accidental death like this one was it.

  On the Friday morning when it was time for her to go to work, he accompanied her to the garden gate and surprisingly, he kissed her on the cheek. To make sure the fond farewell didn't go unnoticed by their immediate neighbours, he called out loudly 'Have a nice day, dear.'

  In the late afternoon, when a friend mentioned that Jerry's car parked outside had a flat tyre - a friend invited in for that specific purpose - Jerry replied 'Oh, that? Yes, I know. But I'm not worried. I'm not going out anywhere today. I'm too tired... after doing the house cleaning, odd jobs and all that gardening for my Hetty. But she's worth it, mate. She's one of the best - a real treasure! I’m a lucky man…'

  When his friend had gone home, well assured of Jerry and Hetty's happy relationship, Jerry slipped quietly out the back gate. He walked down the lane to the small, white, hire-car he had parked well away from the house the night before. He got in, opened the glove box, and removed a long, curly, wig for his balding head; and the darkest sunglasses he could comfortably wear to drive. Checking himself in the driving mirror, he was extremely pleased with the way he had quickly and completely changed his appearance. Then he drove around to the shopping centre and parked where he could observe the bus stop from a safe distance. About twenty min
utes or so later, he saw Hetty's bus arrive. He watched as she bid farewell to a fellow passenger and set off happily to walk the lonely, darkening, pathway home – longing to take her shoes off and have a nice cup of tea.

  Jerry gave her a few minutes start and then began to follow. He was two hundred metres or so behind her, exactly as planned. Then he saw her enter the crucial stretch of road where the anticipated accidental death would occur. There he could see a telephone repairman's van parked close by on the same side of the road. His spirits lifted at the thought that this could be just the witness he needed - a witness eager to confirm that a small, white, Japanese car had been involved in the hit-and-run. With a sadistic grin on his face, Jerry took a deep breath and pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor.

  The telephone man, busily packing away his gear, looked up in alarm at the sound of the rapidly approaching car. He was just in time to see the car swerve off the road and come to a sickening, crashing, dead halt, in a billowing cloud of dust - just a metre or so short of a terrified screaming woman. He dropped the portable safety railings he was about to load in his van and ran to the aid of the woman collapsed on the ground; but she refused his help, saying 'No, don't worry about me. I'm alright – you must go check the driver… please, please…' He hurried over to the small car to see if he could help the driver in any way, but quickly turned away, upset by what he had seen.

  The woman, scrambling to her feet and straightening her clothes, began to approach - but he quickly waved her aside, saying 'No. No, don't come any closer, lady - please! It's a mess, a real mess... it’s terrible... blood... everywhere. The driver is completely... unrecognizable! His head's gone straight through the windscreen - no seat belt, you see. With such a force, you wouldn't believe it... all his flaming hair's peeled off! Oh, it’s awful. Absolutely awful. The glass you see, it’s sort of shredded his face.'

  'Oh, dear... the poor man! How dreadful! But... whatever happened?' Hetty asked, 'What was he trying to do, driving so wildly like that?'

  'I dunno, lady. I really don't. I can't imagine why he should accelerate so suddenly… and so fast. Then go an’ swerve off the road like that. I mean, he must have seen you...'

  'Ohhh... I don't know,’ she said. ‘Perhaps not, not at that speed. He's dead, then - is he? The poor devil.'

  'Oh, yes, lady. I’ll call the Ambulance, in just a minute... but he's dead alright. See the tracks there... where he came off the road? Then closer here... see? It looks like his left front wheel's dropped down into my telephone inspection pit. He wouldn't..., couldn't…, have seen it. But that's what brought him to such an awful, crashing, stop, alright! Why it..., it would be like hitting a brick wall head on, that would! I... I do hope I don't get the blame. I mean, I had to remove the safety fence around the inspection pit... before I could put the cover back on, didn't I? I couldn't expect a car to come tearing along and swerve off the road, not like that! I mean, it all happened in seconds, didn't it? But then...', he shook his head. 'Poor fellow - an innocent man, dead! All because of me!'

  'No, of course not. Now you really mustn't distress yourself so,' Hetty reassured him. 'It wasn't like that. No, no. Not at all. It was simply an accidental death. Accidental deaths like that… well, they just happen - don’t they? Something like that was bound to happen to such a mad driver like him, eh? Why, he couldn't have planned it better himself!'