'Alright,' says Mrs McDarmid, 'send them round in the morning.'
'There goes today's profits,' Mum says.
The boys arrive and try to tell Mum about it all over again, but I tell them they're too late, she knows all about it from me and, anyway, I know more than them put together. I give Paulie a Chinese burn, because he deserves it, then Mum gives us some money to buy coke spiders at Mr Sheedy's milkbar downstairs, except I buy a lime one. Mum cleans up the place and we all go home together. Dad's there and he tells Mum more, except he makes me go outside so I can't hear. Then it's dinner and a bit of telly, then bed.
If Dad's home he always tucks us in. I've got my own room because I'm the only pintsize girl in my family. Sharon's got a sleep-out in the backyard and the boys share the second-biggest bedroom inside, after Mum and Dad's.
Dad always does me last. He sits on the bed and pulls the blankets right up to my chin. Then we just talk about any old thing. But tonight I have to ask him something. I know he won't tell me anything about the Miss Steven case, because he always says that we can't ask him about work and we have to respect that. If there's something he needs to tell us, he will, he says, and he does sometimes. We talk for a bit, just about anything. He says I'm not to worry too much about what's happened, that everything will be alright in the end. Then I ask him what I need to know.
'If someone knows someone has murdered someone, should they tell someone, even if they don't know absolutely, positively for sure?'
'No,' says Dad, 'they shouldn't tell someone and they should stop thinking about it and leave it up to the police and go to sleep.'
I knew he'd say something like that and it's what I wanted to hear, because that someone is me and now I don't have to tell anyone anything until I can prove it. I want to be a detective like my Dad, but Miss Steven told Mum once that she reckoned I'd make a good journalist.
'Fiona has a very vivid imagination, Mrs Corrigan, and she's very liberal with the truth. She'll make a good journalist one day,' she said.
I know exactly what she said because I learned it off by heart. So now I'm not sure whether to be a journalist, because that's what Miss Steven would like, or a detective, which I'm going to be anyway just as soon as I solve this murder for Dad. They'll have to make me an honorary one, like they did to Cubby and Annette on the Mickey Mouse Club.
Mum always says it's a good idea to keep your options open, but I decide right then and there that I'm going to be a journalist, in honour of Miss Steven, or maybe a teacher, but Mum reckons who'd want to teach snottynosed kids like us all day? But I think I'd like it a lot and I would be all the nice things about Miss Steven, but not so mean.
I wake up early then remember there's no school and that Miss Steven is dead. I get a bit sad about her being in Purgatory. I don't think she's been good enough to go straight to heaven. Purgatory's almost as bad as Hell, just not for quite as long. Except, Sister Dominic says it may as well be, because it's so terrible that one second feels like ten years in Earth time. You might only have five minutes' penance to do in Purgatory and it would be like an eternity of horribleness. That's because you see God before you go to Purgatory and he's so brilliant that you can't bear to have to leave Heaven, even for five minutes. But I cheer up a bit because I remember that all us kids said trillions of Hail Mary's yesterday and that takes time off for the Souls in Purgatory. I still have a bit of a cry, though, and end up back asleep.
Then Mum wakes me up. She's always in a hurry and cranky as anything in the mornings. My Dad says its best to keep out of her way, but somehow I always manage to be in the wrong place. I have to take the boys with me today, but that's alright because I'll have the gang, too. It's good like that, because some of the others have little kids they have to look after, too. Mum gives me the money to mind for a treat for us three. But we always share with the others. Petie and Paulie complain about it, but we still do. It's my rule.
We go round to the McDarmid's. Jamie has to ask if we can go to the Maloney's, because it's his Mum and he's her favourite because he's the baby of the family. Mrs McDarmid says we have to be back by one o'clock and that us big kids have to look after the little kids or she'll murder us. She always says that. Then we go to the Maloney's, then the Parda's, then past the McMahon's. Usually there's five of them and that makes the gang twelve.
But today, no one's outside. I'm the one that has to knock on the door because I'm Geraldine's friend. But Mr McMahon says the kids can't come out to play because Geraldine's still too upset. I want to ask her lots of questions but that's not going to happen today and, anyway, Garran Darby's the one I really want to talk to.
Garran's gang usually hangs round the old tip. I don't want to tell the others I'm looking for him, so I say we should go to the old tip just to muck around. All the little kids start whingeing that it's too far, but the others agree with me, especially after I tell them you can sometimes find things and sell them. Petie says we never made any money the last time we did this, but I tell the others we've got some money even if we don't find anything valuable, but I won't share it unless they come to the tip first.
We're really close to the tip in the bush, between it and the back of the houses, when we hear them. They're not really Garran Darby's gang. He's too much of a derbrain to be the leader, even of that bunch of spazzos.
It's really Eddie Zabinski's gang and Garran's just his second in command. Eddie Zabinski's fat and stupid and takes up way too much of the seat when you have to sit next to him in class. He also picks his nose and chews it and looks like he really likes it.
We all hit the dirt, even the little kids. They're good like that; they know what they have to do, but they're not much good in a fight, though. We crawl up to the edge of the tip, where we can see them, but they can't see us. They're all down there, about eight of them. There's seven of us, but we're a better gang. We're smarter and stronger and faster and braver, like Magellan and Columbus and Vasco Da Gama who we just finished reading about in social studies. I did a project on Vasco Da Gama. It was really great, with a map of the world showing where he went. I shaded in all around the continents and islands with green on the land side and blue for the sea. We're doing Australian explorers next term.
We just watch Eddie's gang for a while because we haven't really got a plan. They're our enemies. There are some other gangs that we play with sometimes, but not this one. We hate them and they hate us. It's getting boring just watching them mucking about. My plan is to get Garran Darby by himself and knock a few answers out of him. They've got something that they're poking at. They're all around it, so it's hard to see. We decide we'll chase them off and take over the tip. Me and Leo decide it together and the others agree because we're the leaders.
'Glory to the valiant!' Leo says. But he didn't make it up himself; I bet he just read it in a book.
We jump up and run right at them, screaming and yelling, and the mental defectives just run off. I don't take my eyes off Garran Darby the whole way down, except to look at what it is they've been poking around. It's a cat, with white and orange fur. It's dead for sure. There's no blood, but it looks sort of squashed and it's just staring into the distance.
I really hate Garran Darby now. That cat did nothing to him, but he killed it, just like he killed Miss Steven. It makes me run faster and somehow I just seem to be able to tell where he's going, even though he's dodging around, trying to get away. I catch up to him and push him to the ground. I'm on top of him straight away. That's the best thing to do, get in close, except if they've got a knife. My Dad taught me that after I got beaten in a fight and I haven't been beaten since.
Garran Darby hasn't got a knife and I'm on top and in close. I pull his hair as hard as I can and push down on his chest with one knee and his neck with the other. That stops him wriggling around but he's bucking up and down with his legs, like a crazy horse.
'You're a bloody bugger bastard, Garran, I know what you do,' I say.
He pushes my knee off his
neck, but I've still got hold of his hair, so I pull it harder, till it feels like its coming out. I can tell he's trying hard not to yell out.
'What? I didn't do nothing!' he yells.
'You did it, I saw you,' I added, even though I hadn't exactly seen him do it, I'd just seen him leaving the building.
He starts looking around all crazy, trying to see if anyone is close. Then he gets really strong and rolls over and now he's holding me down.
'I never done it,' he says with his face shoved right up against mine. 'If you ever say I done it I'll... I'll... I'll kill your Mum,' he says, and he really means it.
I pinch him as hard as I can on the top of his arm. He punches my head. It stings like mad, but I'm not going to cry. Somehow he wriggles away, but that's because I'm not really trying. I won, because he admitted it. That's the important thing. He did it, he said so. Anyway, he wouldn't have said he'd kill my Mum if he wasn't guilty.
Then I realise I've got a huge clump of his hair in my fist. I hold it up above my head like this bloke I saw on telly once who'd just won a trophy in a car race. Then everyone gets the same idea at once and we get dry grass and sticks and make a fire. Leo's always got matches; in fact, he's always got just what you want when you need it.
I put Garran Darby's hair on top like a sacrifice. But it really stinks and anyway we've got to be back at the McDarmid's for lunch, so we kick the fire out. I say we should bury the cat, but a shovel's one thing Leo doesn't have, so we just put some sheets of old tin over it. Then we all say an Our Father for its soul. I'm really happy all the way back to the McDarmid's. I know I've got the evidence now and I start thinking about how happy Dad will be.
We have sandwiches for lunch, out the back under the apricot tree. Mrs McDarmid doesn't mind that there's some extra kids there for lunch. She's good like that, so are the other Mums. They reckon that if everyone takes a turn feeding the kids, then it all evens up in the end.
But Julie-Anne's Mum, Mrs Sinclair, is the very opposite. She who won't even give you a dry Sao biscuit. But she's stuck up; at least that's what Mum and Mrs McDarmid say. There's only two kids in their family, so it's not like they couldn't afford a few crumbs, so they're probably selfish, too. Once Dad said they didn't do it any more; that's why Mrs Sinclair is so sour. Mum said, 'Not in front of the children, Mike,' then they both burst out laughing and wouldn't explain anything when I asked what was so funny. I don't play with JulieAnne much, anyway.
It's lovely under the trees eating lunch, but then I start thinking about what Garran Darby said about how he'd kill Mum if I told anyone. I try to think that Dad will get him and put him in jail before he can do anything, but then I think that maybe he'll find out that I've blabbed before Dad arrests him and he'll get to Mum before Dad or some other copper gets to him. Mum's got lots of sharp scissors in the salon and maybe he'll get them and stab her.
Everyone is asking about going to the shops, but I'm too worried about what I should do. I give the money to Leo, because I need to see the only person who I can trust to help me work out what to do, and that's Sister Immaculata.
She's not like the other nuns. She doesn't teach anyone, for a start, so I've got her all to myself; that's what she always says when I go to visit her. She's the kitchen nun. She does the cooking for all the nuns in the convent and she's very good at it. I know because she gives me things to eat like biscuits and cake when it's my turn to take the milk to the convent, just before play lunch. She's Irish and she's younger than the other nuns. I feel sorry for her, being with all those wrinkly, growly old nuns. Her skin doesn't bulge out of her veil like their's does.
But, she always says she's happy with God and all that religious stuff, when I ask her about why she's a nun. And she's always happy to see me because I tell everything about whatever's happening at school.
'Here's Fiona,' she always says, 'Come in and tell me what's happening in your world today. Everybody behaving?'
Sister Immaculata is in the garden, pegging out the rows of milk bottle tops on string, that we made in craft. They're for keeping the birds away, but I think they look pretty enough just to be a decoration. I tell her everything I know about why Garran did it. Then I tell her how I made him tell me and what he said about killing Mum and how I don't know what to do.
She sits down on the front steps and pats the spot next to her. She looks really sad, like she's going to cry, so I go and sit down and hold her hand.
'Fiona,' she says, 'I love all you children dearly, especially you. You're my extra special friend. I'm not going to stand by and watch you being hurt by this terrible thing. I'd like you to do something very important for me, I'd like you to go home and when your Father gets there, ask him to come to see me. And I don't want you to worry. Garran didn't kill Miss Steven, and he won't kill your Mother.'
'Yes, Sister,' I say.
I think she's wrong about Garran, but somehow she's makes me feel safe again, like I know nothing terrible's going to happen. I don't get up straight away, I like it here and, besides, if I wait a bit she might think about giving me a biscuit. She doesn't, though, but she bends right over and gives me a kiss and a hug, so I'm all covered by her black sleeves and her flower smell. Then I do exactly as she says.
Dad comes home a long time after seeing Sister Immaculata. I'm not asleep, I've been saying a novena to stay awake and I'm almost at the end. I hear him and Mum in the lounge room. I get up and go to the door. I'm not eavesdropping; I'm on my way to the toilet. Dad's talking.
'She loved her, Betty, they were lesbians. They must have had a fight, or something, but she won't talk about it. She told me Fiona's pegged Garran Darby for it. She reckons Fi told her he'd admitted it to her and threatened to kill you if she told anyone. The little bastard's already tough as guts, he's sure to have done something that he doesn't want pinned on him.
'Poor little Fi, she must have been shit scared for you, love. Jeez, I feel sorry for the nun, though, even if she did do it. She's at the station now. But we won't be objecting to bail. She'll probably be out by tomorrow. The nuns'll look after her till the trial. Christ, the papers'll have a field day. We're trying to keep it quiet, but they'll be onto it by tomorrow.'
I can't see Mum, but I can hear her start crying and that makes me cry, too. Dad's saying that Sister Immaculata did it and he never gets anything wrong, never ever. But I don't believe it, I think she's only saying it to protect Garran.
I start getting a bit noisy, I can't help it. Dad hears me and comes out. He picks me up and carries me into the lounge. Mum puts her arms out and we all sit together on the couch.
'How much did you hear, love?' Mum asks. I tell them.
'Fiona, sometimes things happen that you can't understand or explain,' Dad says.
'People do things, then they're very, very sorry that they have.'
'Garran did it, Dad,' I say, 'he had a motive. Sister Immaculata didn't have one. You told me that's the most important thing you need to solve a crime.'
Dad looks at Mum, sort of funny.
'You explain it, love,' he says.
Mum looks a bit stumped. She takes her time, then she says that sister Immaculata loved Miss Steven in a special way, like Dad loves Mum. They were in love and that's why she killed her. I don't understand. Can't Mum see that nuns are supposed to love everyone, like they're their own family?
'Garran didn't do it, Fi,' Dad says, 'Miss Steven was still alive when you saw Garran and Sister Immaculata in the corridor. I don't think Sister Immaculata meant to kill Miss Steven, it just happened. She lost her temper, or something. Perhaps we'll never know. It's hard, and I know you love Sister a lot, and she loves you.
'I know I don't have to tell you this, but you're not to repeat what you've heard tonight. Tomorrow I'm going to school and I'll tell the other kids, but not as much as you know. You have to promise me that you'll keep what you heard tonight to yourself.'
He knows that he can trust me not to blab, but I promise, anyway.
I
go back to my room and look up 'lesbian' in my Junior Pocket Oxford Dictionary. There's no such word and, anyway, if Sister Immaculata loved Miss Steven so much, why did she kill her? She loves me, but she didn't kill me.
I decide I want to be a nun and a detective at the same time, in honour of Sister Immaculata. She'll like that.
FLOATING IN A LIVE CIRCUIT
Siobhan Mullany
Dotty sat in the car, contemplating her underwear. Was it suitable to die in? She wanted to go the toilet.
The car was a live but floating circuit. Dotty knew the game. She could earth it, and die, by getting out. The car, now shorted out, rolled to a stop neatly inside the garage. The garage door slid down behind her. The plan was as good as he'd predicted.
The spark that flashed off the bonnet was confirmation that Dave carried out his plans. He killed people. He was finally going to kill her and no one would know. She would die of a heart attack caused by the electric shock. The beauty of the scheme was that she had an irregular heart beat, documented by her doctor. The shock would leave no trace. Dave would turn off the power and put the wiring back in place. The ambulance would be called to treat her, sadly too late, for a heart attack. Dave would have won. Simple.
Dotty looked through the doorway into the kitchen. Dave sat just inside. His square body planted in a hard-backed chair, elbow leaning on the bench, feigning casual ease, his tension betrayed by the drumming of his fingernails on the bench-top. He loved this.
'You mad bastard,' Dotty yelled as she wound down the window. 'Do you really want to kill me? Do you want me to die?'
Dave raised one eyebrow, the usual sign of a dare. 'Up to you, Babe.'
That was right, according to Dave's rules. If she could get herself out, she would win. If not, it was Dave's victory. She would be dead and it would look like an accident. The conclusion of the game, either way.
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