My Island Homicide

by Catherine Titasey

  ‘I just worry about the baby.’

  ‘Your body will make sure the baby gets all the nutrients it needs.’ She placed one end of the spiral cable on my belly and a fast echoing patter came to life. ‘Perfect heartbeat. When are you finishing work?’

  ‘In four weeks.’

  ‘Come back in a week. I’ll have the blood test results and we need to keep an eye on those headaches.’

  As I walked out, I passed a woman rocking a bundle of pink, humming. I couldn’t believe I would soon have a baby and, like her, I would hold it and rock it to sleep. I would coo to it and sing and make faces. I couldn’t wait. I walked home in a daze of excitement that made me want to skip and dance. By the time I got to the stairs of my unit, I was fatigued again. I pulled myself up by the railing. At the top of the stairs, I straightened up to get my breath and faced Jonah, his arms crossed over his chest.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘You’re sick.’

  ‘I’m not sick. I’m pregnant. I’ve just come from the hospital. Everything is fine.’

  ‘You’ve always got a headache and can’t do anything but go to work and come home a mess. That’s sick.’

  I explained what Dorothy had said about my heart working hard to pump a lot more blood. ‘That’s why I’m tired.’

  ‘This is not normal.’

  ‘You’ve read too many of those books and magazines about glowing pregnancies. How do you—’ I was about to say, ‘How do you know what’s normal?’ I had an image of Kuriz sinking beneath the waves, her arms around her belly. Instead I continued, ‘How do you think I feel?’ Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but I put my hand up. ‘Not now, please. I’m tired.’

  I struggled through the days, a week felt like a year. It was now early November and it hadn’t rained for nearly seven months. The landscape was tinder dry. The sager had vanished and Jonah explained the doldrums, naigai, signalled the start of the wind turning kooki, north-west.

  I left work early one afternoon with a pounding headache and ringing in my ears. There was a fire engine outside Yenah’s house. I dragged myself down there to check it out. Flames were creeping in a neat line up the slope of Greenhill as two firefighters in blue boiler suits stood watching. I needed to make sure the girls were okay. They were sitting at the dining table, chatting as they manipulated crochet hooks. Old Gapu was curled up under the table.

  ‘Do you know there is a fire outside?’

  They looked at me over their glasses. ‘It’s just a back-burn,’ said Mum.

  ‘Kids been light em,’ said Yenah, nonchalant. ‘Always happens this time of year.’

  That made sense. Jenny had said something about a couple of charges on some young fellas for lighting fires round the back of the island.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tail poke out behind the lounge. I checked under the table. Gapu was still out to it.

  ‘There’s another dog here,’ I said, marching to the lounge. A long, lanky creature gazed up at me, a blazing white patch on his forehead. ‘What is Chief doing here?’

  ‘It’s his home,’ said Mum, without looking up.

  ‘Why do you have him?’

  ‘That mina kind handsome sergeant,’ said Yenah.

  They were giggling as I scanned the house and spied a fish tank on the kitchen bench, partially filled with water and two large rocks. That meant only one thing.

  ‘Where is Jacinta?’

  ‘You know her? How lovely. She’s right here,’ said Mum, lifting up a long-necked creature from her lap, small feet flapping. I must have been glaring. ‘Oh, settle down. We are only turtle-sitting her for Steve and Margaret.’ Mum narrowed her eyes. ‘Why are you here? You’re supposed to be resting.’

  ‘I’m just going home for a sleep.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mum. ‘Hey, Sissy here is making zura with mackerel heads. Want to join us for—’ But I was already out the door.

  Jonah insisted on coming to my 29-week check-up. It was part of a deal to stop him stressing about my normal pregnancy symptoms. Mind you, I was worried my headaches bordered on migraines and the ringing in my ears was now constant. Jonah stood like an imposing sentinel by my bed while Dorothy checked my heart rate, blood pressure, urine and bubba’s heart rate. She ran her finger over the pathology report.

  ‘Good news. Your blood results are all normal.’

  ‘But her headaches are really bad. Tell her, Thea.’

  She looked at Jonah, then me. ‘I’ll get Carla. Wait here.’

  ‘I don’t like this, Thea. I’m really worried.’

  I wanted to tell him I understood his concern. I couldn’t tell him that Kuriz would have been fatigued and may have had varicose veins or placenta praevia or something worse. Nor could I tell him he had reason to be more worried than most first-time fathers-to-be. Or was that second-time fathers-to-be.

  ‘I guess pregnancy is harder for some women and don’t forget, I’m not young. I’m just getting the raw deal.’

  ‘If you didn’t go to work, you could rest.’ He took my hand.

  ‘Please don’t do this. I’ve only got three weeks left.’

  He said I should take up a hobby, like scrapbooking, or get the girls to teach me crocheting. I was thinking of how to respond tactfully to such a ridiculous suggestion when Dorothy returned with Carla. ‘Hey, Thea, not feeling good?’

  ‘She’s really sick,’ said Jonah. Carla looked at him and at me and back at him. ‘And she’s only getting more worser.’

  ‘Can you pinpoint some pain or discomfort?’

  ‘Well, there’s my exploding head, breathlessness, ringing in my ears, tingling under my skin and I’ve lost my appetite. Paracetamol isn’t working anymore and I’ve had to take a couple of half-days off work.’

  Jonah leaned forward. ‘She should have taken days or weeks or even maternity leave.’

  Carla pulled out a set of scales from under the desk and asked me to jump on.

  ‘You’ve lost three kilos in the last three weeks.’ Carla checked my eyes and reflexes. ‘Good, good. I am not worried about the headaches. Some women get headaches from the hormones. Sudden cranial pain is a big worry but you are describing something completely different. I’ll give you something stronger for the pain. It’s fine for bub but will make you drowsy. And Jonah, to put your mind at rest, we’ll do another ultrasound. Follow me.’

  The ultrasound was perfect. Perhaps because of this I felt positive and was determined to beat this lurgy. Carla made me consider taking some sick leave. As I struggled home with Jonah, I promised him I would take the day off work to see if resting helped. I took one of the stronger painkillers and was out like a light.

  I woke with a start, thinking I had only just fallen asleep, but it was the black of night and Jonah was curled beside me, holding the sheets to his face like a baby. The gentle ebb and flow of his breath filled the quiet, but I was unsettled. Something wasn’t right. Then I realised the breeze was blowing straight through our window, from the north-west. The wind had changed, the season was changing, I was changing. And change is unsettling. No wonder I was on edge. Chillax, I told myself, thinking of Shay.

  I fell asleep again and dreamed I delivered a baby so horrifically deformed it sent the midwife running in fear. In my dream, I couldn’t move and lay on the bed, calling for help while my baby died. When I woke, it was dawn. Jonah had gone. I went over to the window. Jonah, holding the cast net bucket, was crossing the road, the dogs following.

  Not working that day and being confined by four walls drove me crazy. I took some of the garfish Jonah had caught earlier to Chook and her two remaining kittens, then cut up what was left and froze it for Phoebe. She miaowed frantically at my feet until I gave her some. I did the washing and hung it out. I ironed all of Jonah’s and my work clothes. I tried to sleep but for some reason, I couldn’t
stop thinking about Melissa’s case and wondered whether I had missed something obvious. I ran through the key players, a list that was more like a cast of the latest box office hit: a dashing principal who masterminded a spectacular educational rort; an enigmatic, stereotype-defying black guy; a pregnant beauty who dealt drugs on the side; a simple-minded mute; and a stunning, alcoholic mature-aged student. Oh, and sorcery. Time to put it to rest. Out of boredom, I got up and started flicking through the channels on TV. Re-runs of Landline and news in Russian held little appeal. I sat through Ellen DeGeneres chatting to Hollywood celebrities about weight-loss tips and then watched a re-run of Cagney & Lacey. Driven to distraction, I played solitaire on the computer for an hour till Jonah came home with lamb steaks and red capsicum.

  ‘I wanted to do something with the couscous. It’s Moroccan apparently. At least, that’s what came up when I Googled couscous.’ He set to work. ‘Feeling okay?’

  ‘Bored out of my brain. Tell me something funny or interesting.’

  ‘Well, we’ve had this new admin trainee for two weeks, on three months’ probation. She’s a light-skinned girl with them green debil eyes and big susu. She just got married to this nathakind fat boy, Tonny Gava. People say he maydh her cos she’s so hot. The men at work proper milul, always stare at her. They can’t work. She’s a good worker, but she’s gonna have to go. Thempla men are senseloos.’

  I laughed and felt a bit better.

  The next day at work, I was determined to make more of an effort to cope. There was no way I wanted to be stuck at home on a work day. Jenny and Jack came in to tell me that if I needed to take maternity leave early, they were happy to cover for me.

  ‘It’s fine. I am fine,’ I said. They both raised their eyebrows at me.

  Jack would be filling my position as acting OIC when I did go on leave and he said that he couldn’t wait to become ‘boss blong Jenny’ for as long as possible. But I didn’t want to go early. Dave Garland’s committal was next week, and then I’d have just one week of work left before maternity leave. I was confident I could pull it off.

  My confidence was short-lived. At my next antenatal visit, Dorothy checked my blood pressure and weight and immediately left the room. She returned with Carla, stony-faced, who announced that at 31 weeks gestation, my blood pressure was slightly elevated and I should not have lost another two kilos. That was a total loss of five kilos in five weeks. After another urine test and the usual checks on me and the baby, Carla shook her head. ‘I just can’t find anything wrong. Diagnostically, everything is fine, although we’ll keep an eye on your BP. Your other symptoms don’t make sense.’

  ‘She doesn’t need to go to work,’ said Jonah. ‘She could stop now.’

  I glared at him.

  ‘You know, Thea, it might be time to stop work,’ said Carla.

  Without Carla on my side, I conceded defeat. I would finish early, straight after Dave’s committal, which was scheduled for Tuesday and expected to take no more than two days. ‘I’ll even take the rest of today off.’

  ‘Deal,’ said Carla.

  ‘Deal,’ I said.

  ‘Deal,’ said Jonah, shaking his head.

  That night, I tossed and turned in bed, mulling over my predicament. Yes, I had symptoms, but they weren’t really symptoms because in medical terms, they amounted to nothing. I preferred to think they were psychological, like a spell of my own doing for a reason I didn’t know. Perhaps I had unresolved issues about becoming a mother.

  I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Outside angry, slurred voices grew louder. A drunken couple were arguing.

  ‘You fuckin’ lazy motherfucker,’ said the man.

  ‘You sabe nothing, you big black cunt,’ said the woman.

  ‘I no cunt. Look out. My sisters go drill yu.’

  They sounded like they were directly in front of the unit. I expected this to go on and on and on till they had stumbled out of earshot.

  ‘I go maydh yu,’ said the woman.

  There was silence. Evidently, there was no comeback.

  Chapter 42

  The next day the District Court prosecutor running the fraud trial against Dave Garland rang with a bombshell of information. Dave’s lawyer was negotiating a plea bargain. In return for a non-custodial sentence, Dave would plead guilty to fraud and provide detailed evidence of other players, such as the district manager of the Torres Strait Education Office and the assistant regional manager in Cairns.

  ‘Dave and his mates higher up must have been under intense political pressure to improve education in the Torres Strait,’ I said.

  ‘It’s looking like the people higher up masterminded the scam and pressured Dave by doubling his salary and promising to protect him. Dave was just the gopher who made it happen on the ground.’

  Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

  On Monday morning, the beginning of my last week of work, I downed a couple of Panadeine Forte with a cup of tea for breakfast. Jonah had gone to work early because he was flexing off at three and going fishing. He said the tide was good for mangrove jacks. I sat at the table, holding my hot drink, thinking how exciting it would be to hold a baby instead. I sculled the last of the tea, took a deep breath and set off. A blue backpack lay crumpled on the driveway. One of the back panels had ‘A Ramu’ written across it in large black letters. This was bizarre – Alby’s belongings ending up on my driveway a second time. I took it to work and asked Lency to ring Robby to collect it.

  ‘One of the nurses just called,’ Lency announced. ‘She was exercising up at Millman Hill and followed her dog to the well, the one you found Melissa in. Someone has dumped heaps of stuff in the water. She thinks it’s all stolen because she read something about theft in Crime Stoppers. I’ve sent Jack up there.’

  Sure enough, Jack came back with a sodden pair of Nike Air joggers (male size eleven), secateurs and a GPS. Scattered in the scrub around the well was a red and yellow child’s lifejacket with ‘A Ramu’ written on it and a thick raincoat. Jack also found a whipper snipper engraved with EQ39738, property of Education Queensland. I called Robby to come and identify the property.

  Salome did another doorknock in the area but no-one had seen anything and there were no reports of other theft. By Monday afternoon, my headache was killing me but I had to wait before I could take more of the heavy painkillers. Every bone and muscle ached. By three, I knew I needed sleep, and asked Jack to take me home. At least Jonah was fishing and wouldn’t see me in such a pathetic state. As we drove the very short distance to my unit, I put my work mobile and charger in the centre console.

  ‘You’re in charge,’ I said. ‘And on call for emergencies. I’ll see you tomorrow for the committal.’ He went to pull into the driveway, but it was blocked by Jonah’s work ute. Seeing his car at home when it wasn’t supposed to be there was like being felled by a strong blow.

  ‘I’ll let you out here,’ Jack said.

  ‘Take me back to work,’ I said.

  ‘You just asked me to take you home.’

  I reached over and held the horn down. The vibrating hum hammered in my head. This was déjà vu. Jonah was supposed to be fishing, not upstairs in our bed with the QBuild administrative trainee with the debil eyes and big susu. I could deal with Jonah cheating, but I sure as hell didn’t want to find him at it.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ asked Jack.

  ‘No, I am perfectly sane.’ I dragged myself out.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ He got out.

  I spun around and had to steady myself. ‘No.’

  He nodded reluctantly and got back in the car.

  Halfway up the stairs, I spotted Jonah at the top. I lifted my head and gathered enough energy to sound cheerful. ‘Oh, Jonah, hi. Aren’t you supposed to be fishing? It’s a lovely day for fishing.’

  ‘You’re coming with me. We’re going to see the girls.’ He b
rushed past me, down the stairs. If I had the energy, I would have screamed at him and raced upstairs to check the bedroom, but I doubled over to get my breath. ‘Has something happened to them?’ I gasped.

  ‘Something’s happened to you.’

  ‘You’re right. Something has happened to me. It’s called being up the duff.’ I was taking the steps one at a time.

  He was at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. ‘Do me a favour. Stop asking questions, just once. Do you understand?’

  I wanted to point out that I hadn’t asked a question, but I felt this wasn’t the moment to split hairs.

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘I can’t go any faster,’ I said, without looking at him.

  ‘I’ll help you to the car.’

  The naigai, doldrums, had taken hold of the tiny island and by mid-afternoon each day, the ground was burning like a kapmauri, earth oven. I paused at the base of Yenah’s stairs to get my breath. The air was thick with the smell of burnt vegetation. The charred remains of Greenhill rose behind the house in a shimmering haze. Heat radiated from the earth in relentless waves and the afternoon sun burnt into my back. Buzarr and Sissy rushed to the front door when they heard Jonah’s hello.

  ‘What are they doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘I bring them here for company during the day because you’re so exhausted you can’t walk them. At least they play with Gapu and Chief.’

  And probably the cats and the bloody turtle.

  The atmosphere inside was funereal, made worse by the burning mosquito coil, which choked the air with rancid smoke. The girls faced each other at the table, both wearing sweaters wrapped around their heads, turban style, and both had flat, almost angry expressions. Mum was a different person now that she wore island dresses and spoke more Broken English with Yenah.

  ‘I go make tea,’ said Yenah, rising.

  Jonah said I should sit down. I said I was happy to stand.

  ‘Sit down.’