Until these last two killings it had only been a thought but Byers was certain, now, he and this madman were seeking a common quarry. The old detective, for the safety of Brannigan and any who might be with him, urgently needed to win this deadly race.
Chapter
77
Although the boat in the film clip wasn’t named, Mac instantly recognised the Monterey Star. He said. “Jesus! I hope old Reg is alright. I hope he’s still with Billy. I don’t wish harm on anybody else but Reg is going to retire at any tick now. I wouldn’t want his life to end like that,” he said.
“The announcer said that they don’t fear for the safety of the owner. I don’t think they would have said that if Reg was one of them.” Helen’s logic was sound.
“It can only be his deckhands then, Berty and Jack, and that doesn’t make it any better, Bert’s my stand-in. He’s been working on the Star ever since I went missing. Christ! What’s going on in this part of the world?” Mac’s question was rhetorical but Jan responded anyway.
“Yes! Just what is going on? Two more killings, this time fishermen.”
“And Smith and Miller, the aides from the hospital. Six in a few weeks, we wouldn’t have that many in years.” Helen said.
“Seven,” said Sep, “don’t forget the chopper pilot, somebody reckoned he was connected. But we’ve had plenty of murders up here Helen, we see the results where we work. The rate’s more than doubled in the past few years. Even in the short time I’ve worked there.”
“No Sep. Helen’s right. Not these types of murders. Mostly it’s domestic violence or drunken brawls or robberies with bashings and shootings but these were all knives. They don’t seem to fit that scene. Most stabbings are domestics, and the killer is usually close by and full of remorse. There’s a real pattern to these except for the pilot,” Mac said.
“The pattern’s following you around Mac,” said Helen, “two, no, three from the hospital where you were, two from the fishing fleet where you work. That’s what the pattern seems to be.”
“I had no connection with the pilot.” he replied.
“You might be wrong there.” Sep said. “Remember Billy telling us that two cops interviewed him and Reg in Princess Charlotte Bay? It was you they were after. They flew there in a chopper. The pilot worked for the Cape Helicopter Service.
“I wonder if your bashing had anything to do with it, Mac?” Helen mused.
“No. They were after my cash. They thought I was an easy mark because I was drunk. There’s been a lot of assaults and robberies among the drunks from the fleet over the last couple of years.” Mac answered.
“But that’s when it started.” Sep said. “That’s when the cops began looking for you. Do you remember asking me about the circulation of the Cairns Sentinel after Jennison took your photo. Not long after that the cops appeared and then the killing started.”
Jan broke her lengthy silence. “Look David, both you and I think we have seen this man in our past. This animal that the police suspect of the two women’s murders. And Helen and I have seen him at Helen’s house in the company of John Cade who used to be your brother’s boss. Now, John Cade is from Sydney so I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Sydney is where we have seen this other man. And if that’s the case then he and John Cade are here on Sydney business. I’d bet on it. The fact that I lost my luggage at the airport and my old boss who I haven’t seen for over ten years arrived at Helen’s front door with it, well, all that could be coincidence. But he turned up there with a shadowy figure who police think is a murderer and whom we both have a vague recollection of having seen before. All that is…is…well, too much coincidence for me...”
Sep interrupted. “Listen Mac, originally we came up here for different reasons. You because the cops were after you, Helen and I because of the murders of the three hospital staff. Just for now I’m including Elaine Johnson. The reason for Jan coming with us was the episode with her suitcase and this bloke Cade and his mate.”
“Well what about the callgirl, she had nothing to do with us?” Mac said.
“I don’t know, maybe her murder and Elaine’s are not connected to Smith and Miller but don’t you see it doesn’t matter. We know you haven’t killed these people but the police apparently think you did. Let’s forget about them for now, Smith and Miller and the cops, and concentrate on this other bastard, er…sorry, er…anyhow, not Cade, the other one.
“There was a time, a long time ago Dad tells me, when the cops would take a pub trouble maker into the back lane. They’d give him a bit of a thumping and tell him not to show his face around town for the rest of the day. The rest of the week if they had to give him a kicking. If they couldn’t do it in the back lane they’d take him back to the station and a couple of them would work him over. The charge could be anything, ‘drunk and refusing to fight’ would do. They were the days when Dad reckons, no kidding, the old sergeants’ faces would have bent noses and scar tissue all around their eyebrows and maybe a cauliflower ear or two. That’s the way they got their promotions, they were tough. They’d arrive on the scene, the constable riding the motorbike and the sergeant in the outrigger. If the boss had to get out of the sidecar, well, there was hell to pay.”
“Where are you going with this, Sep?”
“OK, what I’m saying is this, in those days they didn’t have to have a legitimate reason for arresting a person. They thought one up after the arrest. But these days the cops can hardly breathe without a writ being stuck in their hand. The cops are looking for you because you are an escaped prisoner, a convicted killer. There have been some murders committed and you’ve been in the vicinity. Looking at it from their angle they have good reason to be searching for you, you have history.” Sep held up his hand. “No! Don’t interrupt me. Now similarly there must be some history, something we don’t know about that’s attached to this bloke for them to put his picture all over the news. He could sue their…their…their backsides off. So I reckon there must be some strong evidence that this bloke is the killer of the two girls.
“OK. Now why stop there? Elaine was a hospital employee, too, we know beyond doubt that you didn’t kill the deckhands. You couldn’t have, you were here with us. It’s not beyond reason to suggest that these people were killed because they were somehow associated with you? You were in their hospital. The deckhands were certainly closely associated with you and perhaps the pilot also. Is it unreasonable to suspect that the killer of the girls also killed the others, after all they were all killed with knives. Sure we’ve had a lot stabbing murders before in the district but, like you said and you’re right, the killer is usually found close by, and filled with remorse. Not in these cases though.”
“What about the other girl?” he had Mac’s total interest now.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Sep seemed disappointed but added, “the two girls’ deaths were linked according to the cops and they were sex murders. P’raps with her he just needed to get his rocks off.” Both Jan and Helen made faces at him.
Mac sat stroking his chin. Helen shivered and said. “I’m going to need something to help me sleep after this. Who’s for a cocoa, there’s only powdered milk.”
Chapter
78
“That’s where we dropped ‘em off. There’s a croc shooter’s hut in a creek off the Olive River. That’s just past Portland Roads at the top end of the Cape. It’s a big river, you’ll find it on the map easy enough. The shack’s up the first creek on your left about a kilometre. It’s on the port bank. Over.”
The Harbourmaster had found the Paragon somewhere in the ether above Torres Strait. They had been told by Parsons of the horror on the Monterey Star and then handed over to Byers who carried on the conversation. Billy remembered him.
“Billy, I think they’re in danger. On your way back could you call in and pick them up and bring them back to Cairns? Tell Brannigan he has nothing
to fear from us, if you get there before we do. Over.”
“I c’n be there in a day and a half if the current’s right, two days at the most, but you know, ‘e might not believe you. Over.”
“Tell him that Russ Byers gives him his word. We’re going to charter some sort of aircraft tomorrow if we can. We should be there before you but if you reach them first, please, take them out of there. And Billy, be extremely careful. Over.”
“OK. If that’s all. Over and out.”
The Harbourmaster took the mike from Byers and spoke into it. “Roger Paragon. Over and out.”
The two police touched down at Portland Roads at noon on the following day in the same Cessna that had brought Salazar and Cade to the strip three days earlier. The pilot thought the likeness Byers showed him could have been one of the men he’d ferried up there that day.
The local cop was sorry. “I can’t let yer have mine I need it, it’s hard to get around without a four wheel drive in this country. But I c’n get yer a loan of one. We’ve had what I think, was a bloody murder here a couple’a days ago so I really need my vehicle,” the constable informed them.
Byers attention was immediate. “Where? Can you tell us about it constable?”
“Where what?”
“Where was your murder?”
“No problem. One of the homesteaders’ wives rang up and reported her husband missing. He went fishing and never came back the night he was supposed to. I told her his horse probably wandered off and he’d be home when he caught him. But she said he took their Pajero. So I went out to a popular Barramundi spot where the locals go and I found his camp. His tent was still pitched but there was no sign of him. There was blood on the ground near the campfire and drag marks over to the creek. He would’ve been an easy mark, he was a friendly bloke. Most people are around here. We don’t get many strangers up this way, if we do they are usually in a group, tourists.”
“In the absence of a body what makes you think he’s dead?” Byers asked.
“His Pajero was gone but I found his rifle in the tent. He wouldn’t go anywhere without that. I think he’s in the creek,” said the constable, “I was going to get a tracker from town and go looking tomorrow.”
“Where is this fishing spot?” asked Byers. “Can you show us on a map?”
The constable pointed to a map on the wall. “Sure, there it is just about there,” His index finger stopped travelling, it anchored itself halfway along a spidery line by the name of Glennie Creek.
Byers was getting excited. “Do you know of an abandoned croc shooters hut on Glennie Creek?”
“Yeah, it’s on the other bank about a kilometre from where it branches off the Olive River.”
“Constable,” Byers declared, “that’s where you’ll find your killer. You see I think he’s ours as well, can we come with you?”
“Sure.” he nodded.
And Byers added, “I only hope we’re in time. When can we start?”
“There’s not much of today left. We won’t get far past the causeway across the Pascoe tonight. It’s only about sixty kilometres from there to the hut by four wheel drive. It’s pretty rough country, more than a day’s travel. But sure, let’s go, we won’t need a tracker I can drive us right to the door.”
“We’d better not do that.” Byers grinned, he was getting close. The adrenalin was releasing now. If he achieved nothing more in his lifetime Russell would die happy knowing he’d put an end to this monster’s carnage.
Chapter
79
The evening meal was taken as usual in the late afternoon with still an hour of sunlight left. The timing gave each of the four the chance to scrub up after a hard day’s work in the dinghy. Up till now they had limited their exploration to the creek but today they went right down to the mouth of the Olive River and back. The few fishing stops on the way yielded some small sharks, a few mangrove jacks and silver bream. Mac made sure they caught enough sharks to feed to the great beast one of the girls had christened ‘Albert Alligator’.
“It’s a crocodile,” Sep said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Jan laughed.
“No. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Helen joined in. “As long as he gets his tucker.”
“He’s there again, just waiting, he’s used to us now.” Mac threw one of the sharks out into the stream. It disappeared effortlessly down the gullet of the animal.
“Uhrrr.” Jan gave a shudder as the monster exploded up onto the creek bank, to take the fish Mac tossed there. He had lobbed it beyond the high water mark onto the dry sand of the beach. The croc picked up the shark, it shrugged and gulped several times until the big fish was gone. It then looked around. Convinced there was no more food it ambled back to the water’s edge completely in command and slid below the surface. They watched in awe of its majestic arrogance.
Jan said, “Chew your food you horror, or you’ll be sick.”
“Listen! Helen, there’s another engine revving.” Mac’s head was inclined; he was concentrating on something distant.
Helen cocked an ear. “Yes. I hear it.” she replied.
“What’s that?” Sep asked.
“A couple of days ago,” Mac told him, “Helen and I heard a motor revving somewhere across the creek. This one sounds as if it’s on our side. I can’t hear it now. I think we’d better have a cautious look in the morning.”
After sundown, they settled down to watch television, and then the late night news. There was no further news of the murders of the trawler men, except that the owner of the craft had been located alive and well. Police were waiting to interview him.
The four were preparing for bed.
“What was that? Turn the telly down for a sec,” Jan’s tone was urgent.
“I can’t hear anything,” Mac said.
“Not now, but I heard a scraping noise. Shush.” she held up a finger… nothing. Then they all heard it; a distant splashing.
“Probably our old mate visiting to see if there’s any more tucker. Who wants to check him out?” There were no volunteers. Sep turned off the television and doused the lights.
“G’night all.”
Chapter
80
“Wait here.” Salazar motioned to Cade to stay where the tree line ended. He advanced over the open ground to the shack where chinks of yellow light leaked from a wall. It scattered patches of relief over the dark surface of a small verandah. He was at the rear of the cabin. He picked his way past a generating set and several car batteries; some electronic stuff humming in a box; a straw broom; a bucket and mop and a crate half filled with empty bottles. He peered through one of the cracks in the wall. His view of the cabin interior was almost complete.
To Salazar’s left along one wall were two bunks. He could see Brannigan and another male, probably the missing hospital aide. On his scan to the other extreme Salazar’s eye was arrested by the sight of an old army rifle leaning against the jamb of a door in the opposite wall. He would have to secure that.
A television set was operating, he could hear women’s voices in the cabin rising above the programme’s volume. But from where he was his view was slightly restricted. He moved along the wall, to another vantage point where he could see one end of two stacked bunks on the wall opposite the men’s bunks. One bunk was already occupied. In it a pretty face framed in grey was propped on an upright forearm. The television set he could hear was no doubt situated against the wall through which he was peering, it was the focus of all eyes. For him, it was conveniently noisy. He moved further along the wall to see the other occupant. She was preparing for bed, she was naked.
A make-shift screen of blankets supported by a rope line traversed the cabin. His involuntary intake of breath was testimony to the woman’s beauty. Soon, perhaps tomorrow, he would enjoy her. He stroked his groin in anticipation. In doing so his hand knocked against the
handle of the broom standing upright, its head resting against the wall through which he spied. There was a scraping, hissing noise as the broom-head began a downward arc. He caught it before it hit the wooden decking.
“What was that? Turn the telly down for a sec.” The grey head’s tone was urgent.
“I can’t hear anything.” A voice from the men’s side of the cabin.
“Not now, but I heard a scraping noise. Shush.” Grey head held up a finger. Salazar hurled the broom as far as he could and then receded into the darkness. There was a splashing sound as the broom hit the surface of the creek.
Cade was slapping at his face and neck, there was an invisible cloud of sandflies pissing on him. Because of his waving arms a swarm of complaining mosquitos was hovering. He was glad when they reached the comfort of the Pajero. Salazar had parked it in a small valley at the other end of a long grove of eucalypts. For the next hour they discussed and formulated a plan. In the end it was quite simple. They would force their way through the back door and grab the rifle, it would be the immediate objective.
They had to first get the firearm, but the action couldn’t take place until the men were out of the cabin. About midnight heavy breathing told Cade the Colombian was sleeping. He never failed to marvel at the ease with which Salazar could drift into a nerveless sleep. It certainly wasn’t the sleep of innocence. Cade knew he, himself, would not get a wink. He imagined the violence which would be visited upon these people tomorrow. He felt a bowel movement developing.
Chapter
81
In the grey of dawn Mac left the cabin and went to the end of the jetty, he sat cross-legged and looked out across the creek. He loved this part of the day. The incoming high tide would make everything new again. Albert, the girls called him, Mac wondered what he was doing at this precise moment. He tried to picture the creature’s lair, the underwater cave stacked with putrescent flesh. He wondered, as he often did, about things in life which baffled him. What is it? This spark of life which prevents living things from putrifying? All he ever ended up with was a headache when his mind travelled this track.
The Cooktown Grave Page 30