by Di Morrissey
‘I know there are stories, secrets, out there,’ she said aloud. ‘This land is too old and has seen so much. But it’s a silent country that will never speak to me. Only to its own people.’
She turned and made her way back to the camp.
13
THE WARM AND FLATTERING TV lights around Marta hissed and died as the plug was pulled, leaving her features still beautiful in cold daylight, the spell broken. Geoff readjusted the reflectors, the gauze and gels as both Veronica and Marta caught their breath. Then Marta undid the microphone on her lapel and Veronica glanced at her notes. She hadn’t really looked at them after Marta had started talking, for Marta’s memories had flowed fluently with no pauses or struggles to recall a particular moment.
‘Marta, you were wonderful,’ said Veronica. ‘I feel I was there with you. Crocs and all.’
‘My husband couldn’t believe I did all that,’ she smiled. ‘It really was a lifetime and a planet away from where I am now.’
‘Your life worked out very . . . comfortably, for you,’ said Veronica, searching for the right word.
‘Eventually,’ Marta sighed. ‘I know Colin loved me. But,’ she shrugged. ‘He was naïve, unsophisticated and meek. I knew that he could never make me happy.’ She gave Veronica a steady look. ‘You have to face these decisions in your life. And take control. I was never one for laissez faire. I was not going to wait and see what came along. I went after what I wanted. And Paolo has been a magnificent husband. He is kind, courteous, generous, smart, amusing, sophisticated. Everything I ever wanted.’
‘It does seem almost too good to be true,’ said Veronica. ‘But I doubt it works out that way for everybody.’
‘Maybe not. But for some of us, who are strong, determined and go for it, you’d be surprised. Don’t be passive in life, Veronica.’
Marta stood up and Geoff rushed to assist her. ‘Is that the end of the interview? I was just getting into your story. What happened next?’ he asked as he rolled up the cable of her microphone.
‘A lot,’ she said giving him a flirtatious smile. ‘This is the intermission.’ She glanced at Veronica. ‘How much more do you want to know for your program?’
‘Well, my biggest question is, what happened to Topov? He was taken by a crocodile, wasn’t he?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Marta glanced at Geoff. ‘Perhaps it’s best we discuss this first. Then you can decide how much you want to tell in your show.’ She glanced at Veronica. ‘You can keep your tape recorder running, if you like. I’ll ask Allegra to bring us coffee.’ Marta pushed a button on the phone. ‘Then I will tell you the truth.’ She looked at the shimmering lake and the steep dark hills. ‘It all seems so long ago, so far away. I never thought I’d revisit those days,’ she said softly.
‘I’m sorry if this is difficult for you,’ said Veronica. ‘I didn’t think . . .’
Marta lifted a hand, her diamond ring catching a shaft of sunlight. ‘I have nothing to hide. I know Colin and I are innocent.’
‘Innocent?’ asked Veronica. ‘I thought that Topov was taken by a crocodile.’
Was it a smile, a sigh, a shadow, that touched Marta’s face? Veronica waited.
‘It’s getting late. I don’t understand why Topov hasn’t come back,’ said Marta. ‘Maybe I should go and look for him.’
‘I’ll drive you. Can’t have you driving round the scrub by yourself this time of day when ’roos are about,’ said Len. ‘Anyone else want to come?’
Everyone was occupied, they had been all day. Johnny had been fishing, Drago had gone out looking for suitable filming locations and Peter, as usual, had kept to himself. Helen and Len had packed up most of the croc skins, ready to take back to Darwin. Now, as daylight began to fade, they all sought the comfort of the blazing campfire. Without the Aborigines and their dogs the camp seemed unsettled, unsafe almost. Drago and Peter had dragged extra wood onto the fire and Johnny was busy preparing the fish he’d caught.
Then it was Helen who spoke up. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Bring the gun, might try and get a ’roo to cook for tomorrow,’ said Len.
They set off, Marta squeezed between Len and Helen. They reached the river crossing and waited. Marta got out and looked around. There was no sign of Topov.
‘Where was he going?’ asked Len gazing at the small jump-ups nearby.
‘In that direction, I think,’ said Marta, pointing into the gathering gloom. ‘We walked across the river and then I wanted to come back and he said he’d return to the camp later.’
Len rolled a cigarette and smoked in silence, waiting for Topov to show up. But by the time Len had pinched the end off his cigarette and ground it under his heel, Helen had become impatient.
‘Why don’t we drive over there and find him? The silly fool could be lost.’
‘Righto.’ Len got back behind the wheel. ‘Let’s go. It’s easy to lose your way out here. Especially once you get among those rocky outcrops.’
‘Do you think he’d discover anything out here worth mining?’ asked Marta as they drove over the Crossing.
‘Finding anything is probably like finding a needle in a haystack,’ scoffed Helen.
‘Dunno, he could be lucky. They say the Rum Jungle is making a decent quid for the blokes that found it,’ said Len. ‘And the same might happen in Queensland for the prospector who pegged that Mary Kathleen uranium mine he found last year.’
They drove a bit further before Len stopped. ‘Don’t want to go too far in the wrong direction.’
‘Blow the damned horn,’ said Helen.
Len gave three long blasts on the horn, then turned off the motor and waited.
Forty-five minutes later it was almost dark so Len decided to drive around and look a bit further afield.
‘Helen and I will stay here. Just in case he turns up,’ said Marta.
Len drove off, his headlights brightening the rocky terrain.
‘Do you suppose anything has happened to Topov?’ asked Helen.
‘He’s probably just lost,’ sighed Marta. ‘Really, we should leave him out here for the night and teach him a lesson.’
‘He is a headache,’ said Helen forcefully.
They sat in silence a few moments. ‘Look how quickly night comes,’ said Marta. ‘One minute it’s light, then the next it’s dark.’
‘No lingering twilight in the northern Australian bush,’ agreed Helen.
‘Do you like it here?’ asked Marta suddenly.
‘Australia? Or this outback?’
‘Both, I suppose,’ said Marta.
‘I didn’t at first. I hated the loneliness and the vast spaces, but I like it more now.’
They heard Len’s truck returning.
‘About time, now we can get back for dinner,’ said Helen.
‘He’s driving very fast. Len must be hungry too,’ said Marta as Len’s vehicle careened towards them, the headlights bouncing up and down.
He pulled up, flung open a door and kept the motor running. ‘Get in. Quick.’
‘What’s up? What’s happened?’
‘Where’s Topov?’
The door had barely slammed before Len took off again, crashing the gears.
‘He’s out there.’
‘Is he hurt?’
Len concentrated on the terrain, turning the wheel to avoid a boulder. ‘Yeah, he’s hurt all right. He’s dead.’
‘What?’
‘My God! How? ’
Len didn’t answer but braked to a stop. In the glare of the lights they saw Topov, slumped against a rock, his head at an unnatural angle.
Helen was first out of the truck. She raced over to him, feeling for a pulse.
Marta was horrified. She stood shaking. ‘What happened? A heart attack?’
Helen straightened up. ‘There’s blood on him.’ Gingerly she tried to move him.
‘Do you think he fell?’ asked Marta.
‘From where?’ said Len. ‘Anyway, look at his face.’
&n
bsp; ‘Bruises. Bad cut on his nose.’ Helen looked at Len. ‘How could this happen?’
‘I’ve seen enough fights in my time to recognise one. He’s definitely been on the wrong end of a blue.’
‘Well, we can’t leave him here,’ said Helen briskly.
Marta watched, hand over her mouth, as Len and Helen struggled to lift Topov.
‘Come and help, for goodness sake,’ said Helen.
It took the three of them to lift Topov’s bulk into the back of the truck.
Drago and Peter stood up as the truck sped towards them. Johnny remained in his fold-up chair nursing a mug of black tea. When the three got out without Topov, Drago and Peter went over.
‘Don’t tell me the silly bastard is lost.’
‘Not exactly,’ said Len. ‘There’s a problem.’
‘He’s dead!’ exclaimed Marta, her voice rising.
‘What?’
‘Christ! What happened?’
Johnny hurried over. ‘What the hell happened to him?’
‘Where is he?’ asked Peter.
Len nodded at his truck. ‘Help me get him out.’ ‘What’re we going to do with him?’ demanded Johnny. Len didn’t answer as they lifted Topov off the back of the truck and laid him gently on the ground. ‘You don’t have to treat him with kid gloves, he isn’t going to feel a thing,’ said Len. ‘Get a light.’
‘Look at the blood,’ said Drago.
In the light from a torch, they could see a nasty head wound as well as the bruises on his face and his bloody nose.
‘He’s been in a brawl by the look of him,’ said Johnny.
Everyone began talking at once.
‘What went on, for God’s sake?’ muttered Drago.
‘He wasn’t the most popular man in town, was he?’ commented Len.
‘Who would do this to him?’ asked Helen.
‘So what do we do now? Get the police?’ asked Marta.
‘Out here? And what for? He’s dead. Nothing is going to change that. He’s done nothing but cause problems for us from the start. Now here’s another one,’ said Johnny.
‘It must have been an accident, surely,’ said Marta. ‘Because there’s no-one else out here but us.’
There was a sudden tension in the air as everyone looked at each other, the same question in their minds.
Johnny was first to react. ‘Hey, hey, don’t look in my direction. I didn’t beat him up. I was fishing.’
Len held up his hand. ‘No-one’s accusing you of anything, but then, no-one liked Topov. He was a con man, he took your dough, he was a bastard.’
‘That’s for sure,’ muttered Peter.
‘But we have to let the police know,’ said Marta.
‘I don’t think that’s a smart idea,’ said Johnny. ‘Questions and more questions. Alibis, explanations, checking into our backgrounds.’ He shook his head. ‘For what?’
‘So is this a murder?’ asked Peter. ‘Or a terrible accident?’
At the mention of murder, everyone looked horrified. It looked as though someone had either deliberately killed Topov, or, at the least, left him to die and it had to be one of their party because there was no-one else out there. But no-one raised an accusatory voice. It was incomprehensible to any of them that there was a killer in their midst. Then Len spoke up.
‘Look, the man is dead. It might’ve been an accident, tempers can get out of hand, but it might not have been, so the cops are going to ask a lot of questions. We could be hanging around for a long time. Inquest, coroner’s report, God knows what else. Frankly, I’d find that a pain in the bum. Red bloody tape.’
‘Oh no, we could be stuck in Darwin for weeks and weeks,’ cried Marta.
‘And who’s going to pay for that?’ asked Johnny.
‘It’s all very inconvenient,’ said Helen.
‘We’ll have to notify Madame Olga,’ said Drago.
‘Maybe somebody did everyone a favour,’ said Len quietly.
All of them avoided eye contact, but no-one disagreed with Len’s comment. They turned and stared accusingly at Topov lying on the ground near the truck.
‘Should we cover him up?’ asked Marta. She was trying to raise some sympathy for the old director, but she, too, was secretly relieved. She was sick of Topov’s film, it was not just stupid, it was dangerous and she’d had enough of it all.
Helen must have had similar thoughts because she looked at Drago and said, ‘And what’s going to happen about the film? Can you finish it? It seems a shame to have come this far, done so much, for nothing.’
‘There are some good scenes, but I can’t see how it was ever going to cut together,’ Drago replied. ‘I could finish shooting, but I don’t know what Topov had in mind, it’s all been a bit . . . disjointed.’
‘I’m not hanging around to finish this project. We don’t owe the old bastard anything,’ said Johnny.
‘Let’s at least look in his caravan and see if he left any notes about the film. Get something to put over him,’ said Helen.
‘I’ll go and look in the caravan,’ said Johnny, ‘And I can raid his rum, too. He won’t be needing it.’
‘I’ll see if he has any personal documents. It’s such a pigsty in there,’ said Helen. Helen and Johnny took the torch and headed to the now pathetic-looking, battered little caravan that Topov had so loved.
Marta pulled a canvas chair closer to the fire, her back to the lump on the ground which Len had covered with an old oilskin. ‘This is like a horrible dream. A nightmare,’ she said. ‘So why do I feel so relieved?’
Drago and Peter also pulled their chairs closer to the fire as Len stood, his back to the flames and rolled a cigarette.
‘Nasty business. Wonder who he upset,’ mused Len.
‘Everyone,’ said Drago and Peter almost in unison.
‘Might be worth going back to the scene in daylight, see if we can pick up a few clues,’ said Len. ‘Too bad Clive’s gone. He’s a good tracker, that one.’ He glanced at them. ‘What’s done is done. Whoever did it will have to live with it for the rest of their life.’
They were wrapped in their own thoughts as the torchlight in the caravan flickered at the window.
Then Johnny came out, closely followed by Helen. ‘Bloody hell, you’re not going to believe what the bastard’s done,’ he called.
‘Or didn’t do,’ said Helen. ‘It’s outrageous.’ She was shaking her fist, waving something in it.
‘What did you find?’ asked Marta.
‘Look at this. Our money. He had it all the time!’
Marta jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t believe it! Where did he get it? How come he didn’t pay me! How long has he had it? We’re out here in the wild, risking our lives and he’s sitting on our money!’
‘It must have come from Madame Olga. She must have sent it to him in Darwin and he hid it from us. That’s outrageous.’ Helen shook her head.
‘Why didn’t he pay me the two hundred pounds he owed me?’ asked Marta.
‘He really must have wanted to come out here to Arnhem Land,’ said Drago thoughtfully. ‘I suppose he knew that we were getting annoyed and figured we would only stay because of the money he owed us.’
‘Yeah, if I’d known he had the cash, I would’ve taken what he owed me and pissed off,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, that’s what we can do now,’ said Marta. ‘We can go back to Darwin and buy plane tickets out.’
‘But what abut the film?’ asked Drago.
‘It’s not our film,’ said Peter. ‘I agree with Marta. We go.’
‘But we can’t leave Len stuck out here, we agreed to help him. He agreed to help us, actually,’ said Helen.
Everyone looked at Len.
Len dragged on his cigarette. ‘We probably have enough skins to make a few bob. But no-one’s flying off anywhere while there’s the problem of Topov’s body. Are we going to tell the cops?’ he said matter of factly.
They were all silent.
Then Johnny spoke u
p. ‘What if there wasn’t a body? If Topov had just . . . disappeared.’
Len sucked the last drag from his cigarette and tossed the soggy end into the fire. ‘Was a bit of luck finding him, actually.’
‘And if we hadn’t found him? We would be on our way to Darwin,’ said Marta.
‘And how would you explain his disappearance?’ continued Helen. ‘Wouldn’t the police have to come and look around?’
‘Possibly. They need to know how he died,’ said Len.
‘We could just bury him,’ said Marta.
‘We can’t just go back without him and not say anything,’ said Peter.
‘We could do that,’ agreed Len. ‘But it doesn’t stop the police looking for answers. But I think there is another way . . .’
They all looked at Len as a bit of a smile lurked at his mouth.
‘What if poor old Topov was taken by a croc?’ There was an intake of breath as Len continued. ‘Mind you, we didn’t actually see the tragic event, but I’m a professional and despite our warnings he wandered down to the river, which I know is a big croc’s territory. And the signs of what happened were obvious.’ He sighed. ‘Sadly, no remains were found.’
Johnny picked up the story. ‘We shot a number of crocs and opened them up, looking. But no luck. Terrible thing. Scared us all. So we packed up and left straight away.’
They all looked at each other, the mood shifting.
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Peter.
‘There’s one thing, though,’ said Len, gazing at each of them in turn. ‘This is not to go past this group here tonight.’
‘Obviously,’ said Helen.
‘Of course,’ agreed Marta.
‘That includes your friend Colin,’ said Len.
‘Why? He’s trustworthy,’ said Marta.
‘Because Colin is dead honest and bloody naive. He’d think it was his duty to tell the police what really happened,’ answered Johnny.
‘Yeah, he wasn’t part of this, so why tell him,’ said Len practically.
‘Are you sure such a story is believable?’ said Helen, looking at Len.
‘Easier than the truth,’ said Len. ‘How do we explain that?’ he pointed towards Topov’s body, ‘Without implicating one of us?’