My Island Homicide

by Catherine Titasey

I sat. ‘Well, here we are,’ I said. ‘What’s the occasion?’ I raised my eyebrows at my mother.

  ‘Ebithea,’ she said sternly and paused. Oh, shit, I thought. Here we go. ‘You know how you’ve been sick and the doctors can’t find any reason for your symptoms?’

  ‘Well, that’s not strictly true, Mum. The doctor told me that during pregnancy, some women feel fantastic and glow, most feel normal, and some women feel crappy and struggle. I happen to be one of the struggling ones.’

  Jonah snorted. Yenah was shaking her head. Mum reached across the table and placed her thin elegant hands over mine, her long nails grazing my skin. Despite Mum’s age, the skin of her hands was smooth, as if dusted with cocoa powder. ‘Ebithea, would you listen? For once.’

  ‘Mum, seriously . . .’

  Jonah snorted again. ‘Your mother is trying to say something and you are interrupting her. Would you stop talking?’

  Jonah and Mum looked at each other. Yenah was standing behind Mum with her hands on Mum’s shoulders, frowning at me. The silence was torturous.

  ‘Someone been maydh you, my gel,’ said Yenah.

  Chapter 43

  ‘Look, I just don’t believe in maydh—’

  ‘Thea, listen,’ said Jonah.

  Mum explained that while I was brought up down south and lived like a kole woman, European, I was still, in the heart, an Islander. I opened my mouth to talk but Jonah told me again to stop talking. This was an unwinnable battle from my point of view. Three against one did not support the premise of fair play.

  ‘Okay, why would anyone maydh me?’

  ‘You’ve pissed someone off,’ said Jonah.

  ‘Gee, as a police officer, pissing people off is actually part of the job description.’

  ‘You been wrong one ilan man.’ Yenah walked to the kettle and turned it on for the second time.

  ‘Ebithea,’ said Mum, ‘the doctors won’t find anything because there is nothing wrong other than general symptoms of dis-ease, as in, not feeling at ease. This is how maydh works. Initially.’ The ‘initially’ was loaded with a prediction of horror. ‘Nothing will show in tests and these symptoms will continue. By the time the symptoms show in an X-ray or a blood test or scan, it will be too late. The kole doctors won’t be able to do anything then.’ Fancy my mother suddenly becoming an expert on sorcery over 40 years after she left the Torres Strait.

  ‘Next it’s the baby,’ said Jonah.

  ‘My boy, don’t talk themkind. Yu go make em akan,’ said Yenah.

  ‘Well, she should be scared, very scared. If she’s not scared, she won’t listen. Next she’ll want scientific proof, but the only proof she’ll get is more sickness and a dead baby.’

  And a rush of fear washed over me. A vision appeared: a shark circling a school of fish. As if sensing my fear, the baby inside me gave a great kick and turned like a slimy eel. Something strange was happening. I wasn’t ready to buy this sorcery business, but Mum was right. I didn’t know the culture. I was a turtle without a shell.

  ‘You don’t have to believe us,’ said Mum. ‘Just listen and do what we say.’

  ‘For the baby,’ said Jonah, placing a hand on my belly. I was carrying his baby, too.

  ‘I go check the kettle,’ said Yenah.

  ‘You go burn the water,’ said Mum, flicking her sweater at Yenah as they both screeched with laughter.

  ‘Mum has spoken with Uncle from Saibai,’ said Jonah. ‘He’s arriving on the four o’clock flight today. We’ll go to the wharf and pick him up soon.’

  ‘What will I do?’ I asked.

  ‘Just trust Uncle. He’s a medicine man, the good type. He’ll deal with it. It’s about trusting him.’

  ‘Will he be able to—’

  ‘Ebithea,’ said Mum, ‘stop asking questions and trust. Lily started suspecting pouri pouri when the doctor gave you the all-clear last week. She rang Uncle and he says there is time to save you and the baby.’

  Yenah put three enamel mugs of milky tea on the table.

  I rested my arms around my belly and realised with a sudden fear I could do nothing to protect the baby from maydh except perhaps leave the Torres Strait. ‘Okay, I won’t go to work tomorrow. Jack can take over. I’ll fly to Cairns.’

  ‘Uncle go mekem,’ said Yenah.

  ‘Leaving won’t help, darling,’ said Mum. ‘Like Lily says, Uncle will make everything right.

  ‘Why would anyone maydh me?’

  ‘The thing, Thea,’ said Mum, ‘is that you won’t know the how or the why. Uncle will sort it for you.’

  ‘I’ve taken tomorrow off to be with you,’ said Jonah, pulling out his phone. ‘I know you’ll worry. Let me ring the airport now to make sure the flight is on time.’

  I finished the tea and thought about this thing that was happening to me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be with Uncle, whoever he was and whatever he did.

  ‘Flight landed half an hour ago,’ said Jonah, slipping his phone back in his pocket. ‘Uncle must be about to board the ferry. Let’s go.’ He turned to me and saw my terror. ‘Would you rather stay?’

  ‘No,’ I said, rubbing my throbbing temples. I thought about taking another Panadeine Forte but realised I had to wait another two hours. Shit.

  On the drive there, I thought about Uncle and what he, a medicine man, would look like. I decided on tall and strong, like Jonah since they were related, and he would definitely be physically intimidating. He would also have penetrating eyes, full of wisdom, and of course, be mentally strong. But there would have to be something unusual about the way he dressed, like wearing a lava lava, or having a totem of some kind.

  As we pulled into the car park at the wharf, the ferry was tying up. Jonah and I started to walk down to where the passengers disembarked. The only people onboard were two massive women in billowing island dresses, an AQIS officer in a khaki uniform, a couple of teenage girls laughing, a skinny youth in a shiny basketball singlet and high-top sneakers, and a stooped man with milk-bottle glasses who seemed to be sniffing the air.

  ‘He missed the ferry,’ I said to Jonah, more panicked by this than by learning I was the subject of a cultural hex.

  ‘Uncle!’ Jonah threw up an arm and strode off towards the melee.

  The stooped, bespectacled man limped down the gangplank in grey flannel trousers belted almost to his armpits, which were exposed by a Jackie Howe singlet. He carried a faux alligator skin suitcase, exactly like one my grandfather Athe Willy had, except that one handle had been replaced with blue and white rope. He squinted through the milky lenses of his glasses, like a rodent. When he saw Jonah, his face broke into a huge smile, front teeth missing.

  My heart sank. Here was my saviour. He had my life and my baby’s life in his gnarled hands. Or, perhaps, our lives were in the faux alligator skin case. I hoped to hell it contained some trinkets with arcane powers. Oh, Thea, great cynical one! Breathe, I told myself as my lungs seemed to shrivel in my chest. Breathe, breathe.

  Uncle hugged Jonah like a long lost son, the old man’s sinewy arms reaching just around Jonah’s torso. Jonah introduced me and I had to bend to kiss his cheek.

  ‘Uncle,’ said Jonah, ‘what happened to your front teeth?’

  ‘Stopped using them false ones.’ He waved the air in dismissal. ‘No need for impress all them gamma. Leave the women for Bala Jimmy.’

  ‘Uncle Jimmy’s an old drunk with no legs and all teeth missing,’ said Jonah to me, gussor with laughter. ‘And matha narung smell.’

  The reference to rank body odour sent the two men into paroxysms of laughter. I couldn’t help laughing, not at the joke, but at the two grown men playing around like small boys. Jonah carried Uncle’s overnight bag, a small red, white and blue striped rice bag. Uncle shuffled ahead of me and I felt a wave of fondness when I spied his footwear: reef sandals and grey socks. He hugg
ed the aged alligator case to his chest like it contained the crown jewels.

  He turned as if to check on me. ‘Come, my gel, we got plenty work for do.’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’ I asked.

  He elbowed Jonah. ‘You leave the black magic to the black man.’ The two men were gussor for laugh, again.

  Then it hit me. My ears weren’t ringing. My head was light and clear. There were no aches and pains. No burning in my chest. I remembered wanting to take a Panadeine Forte but having to wait. Now I felt the best I had in weeks, no, months.

  The girls shrieked with glass-shattering intensity when Uncle shuffled through the front door. I put my hands to my ears. Poor Uncle. They almost squeezed the life out of him.

  ‘Esso, my sissies,’ he said when they finally released him. ‘You no got wrinkle. You like them green trees. Leaf no fall down yet.’

  The girls needed some time to catch up with Uncle. Now was a good time to visit Franz and let him know that Melissa’s matter was starting tomorrow. The three senior citizens didn’t notice us leave.

  Jonah grumbled in frustration when I asked him to drive me round to Izzy’s. ‘Fine, but you know you’re not supposed to be working.’

  Izzy’s house was more lopsided than it was the first time I visited nearly seven months earlier. I braced myself for the barking dog and another litter of puppies. There was nothing. I took a tentative step on the staircase, the rail of which was wobbling, and I expected Izzy to appear at the door, broom in hand.

  ‘Aka,’ said Jonah, referring to me as grandmother. He brushed past me, two steps at a time. ‘Izzy!’ Jonah leaned down to kiss Izzy, who was sitting in a recliner on the verandah. They broke into animated conversation, which I found hard to understand. The dog was sleeping in the doorway, which sported a new and unpainted door.

  ‘Which way, Thea?’ asked Izzy, leaning forward.

  ‘Same way.’ There was a hot, bitter smell, like boiling vinegar, emanating from inside.

  Jonah turned to me. ‘My sister, Flora, was Izzy’s best friend, young days, wat. I wanted to play with them but they wouldn’t let me. They were so cruel.’

  ‘Little shit you were, flicking us with spit balls and rubber bands.’ She threw her head back and laughed, her generous bosom vibrating under her island dress. ‘You want Franz, uh? Em there lor room.’

  I knew where to go and left Jonah and Izzy to talk. I stepped around the dog into the lounge room. The polished floor was a giant mirror for the late-afternoon sun and the reflection jarred my eyes. I found Franz in his room, cross-legged on the bed, silhouetted against the window. My eyes were drawn to the small tortoiseshell-framed photo of Melissa on the bedside table. I hadn’t seen that photo when Jenny and I were here in April. Poor kid, he was grieving the loss of the one person who treated him with any sort of respect.

  Franz had wasted away. On his cheeks the three brown scars, a finger’s thickness, contrasted with the dull yellow of his skin and the dark rings under his eyes. I sat next to him and traced my fingers over the raised swirls on the bedspread.

  ‘Yu sabe Dave Garland? He’s in court tomorrow, Tuesday.’ He didn’t turn away from me. I reached over and picked up the photo of Melissa and held it out. ‘If you know something, speak me. Come look me tomorrow.’ I was a fool. He couldn’t speak even if he could understand my appalling Broken English. I replaced the photo. ‘I need your help. Nine o’clock tomorrow there lor courthouse. Yawo, Franz.’ I remembered his belongings. ‘We’ll get Melissa’s gifts back to you this week.’

  He gave me a knowing stare, or rather, I wanted it to be a knowing stare.

  Izzy was stirring a cauldron on the stove, chatting to Jonah, who leaned against the bench. She looked at me. ‘Dunno why you bother. You won’t get nothing out of him.’

  ‘Izzy gave us some dugong.’ Jonah held a plastic Chinese takeaway container close to his chest, like it contained something precious. ‘Let’s go. I hungry.’

  To my complete surprise, Izzy followed us to the front door and waved us goodbye.

  After parking the ute at home, we walked to Yenah’s place where she and Mum were serving supper. They whooped when they saw the dugong. Yenah insisted on putting it into a stencilled enamel bowl before placing it on the table.

  ‘E gor rain soon,’ said Uncle as he tucked into the dugong and rice.

  ‘Look out, Uncle,’ said Jonah. ‘My missus go question you, wanna know how come.’

  ‘No, I won’t, Uncle. I believe you.’

  ‘She is starting to act like an Islander,’ said Mum.

  ‘And no more ask question,’ said Yenah.

  ‘Praise the Lord,’ said Uncle, making the sign of the cross.

  Jonah and I offered to clear the table and wash up, but the girls refused all help so we walked home. As we showered, I told him I wished Uncle had come earlier. ‘I feel the best I have in weeks. Do you really think that could be Uncle?’

  ‘Don’t spoil it trying to rash . . . to work it out . . . what’s that word?’

  ‘Rationalise.’

  ‘Yes, don’t rationa . . . rationalise it.’ He turned off the tap and flicked his ringlets. The spray of water hit me like a thousand kisses.

  ‘I’m trying not to.’ I followed him out of the bathroom.

  ‘How about a cup of that red tea in bed?’ he asked.

  But we slipped into bed without tea.

  Chapter 44

  I woke up, tossing and turning, unable to lie on my back without becoming breathless. The dull ache in my head had returned and my ears were filled with a soft rustle, like the eternal crushing of cellophane. I kept seeing a school of fish, encircled by a shark. A few hours away from Uncle and the maydh had returned, its slimy black tentacles tightening around me, suffocating me. Shit, here I was referring to maydh as if it were a runny nose or a rash. Jonah reached for me and held me against him. But I was restless. I got up and took some Panadeine Forte and lumbered back to bed. I drifted off to sleep well after the black sky turned pale grey and a rooster’s crow pierced the heavy silence of dawn.

  I was in labour, thrashing in agony. A Victorinox filleting knife sliced open my gut. The baby slipped from me, a still, slimy, grey lump. I couldn’t breathe. I jolted awake. The sheet had ridden up over my face and I was gasping for air. Jonah rushed in and sat beside me.

  ‘I dreamed we lost the baby.’ I sat up, which made my head throb. Outside the window was an opaque grey dawn.

  ‘Think of it as a dream, not maydh. Otherwise you’ll give it power.’ He sat with me for a while and I was calmed by his embrace and voice. ‘Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast while you shower.’ He walked out and I heard him flick on the kettle. ‘Just think,’ he called, ‘on Thursday, when you don’t have to work, we can take Uncle to Friday Island and relax, do nothing.’

  It was overcast, not dawn. Clouds billowed on the dark horizon. This was the rain Uncle mentioned. I relaxed under the cold water, but still a dull ache radiated from the base of my skull down my spine and into my limbs. I decided not to take any painkillers so I could test Uncle’s presence on the effects of the maydh. Jonah had made toast with homemade mango jam, but I couldn’t face food.

  ‘Me and Uncle will come and sit in court with you.’

  ‘Won’t it be a bit boring for you?’ I asked, sipping the sweet, milky tea Jonah had made.

  ‘I’ve got my fishing magazines.’

  What else does a man need? ‘What about Uncle?’

  ‘He’ll have his Bible and his Rosary beads.’

  ‘A Catholic medicine man? Of course he is.’

  ‘You’re not in a great position to be so sin . . . okay, what’s that word you’ve used? Cynical?’

  ‘I’m not being cynical.’ I could hardly hear myself. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘What was that?’ Jonah reached for my hand. ‘What did you
say?’

  ‘I’m scared.’ I bit my lip and fought the urge to cry.

  ‘Good. We all are, so trust us.’

  While I waited at the ute, Jonah went to fetch Uncle, who came shuffling back, clutching the alligator case to his chest. I held out my hand to feel a warm sprinkle. There was no wind and the heavy cloud acted like a greenhouse, trapping the heat rising from the parched earth.

  The tension drained from my neck and shoulders when I saw Uncle. Gone was the pain down my spine, my limbs felt light, and the scratch of the cellophane in my ears gave way to the squawking of sulphur-crested cockatoos in the sea almond trees across the road.

  ‘Thank you for helping, Uncle,’ I said. ‘I feel like a different person.’

  ‘I feel different, too.’ He patted his belly as he held the door and lowered himself into the car. ‘Them girls make me eat too much.’

  We drove to the courthouse, a light shower on the windscreen turned the dust to a giant muddy smear as Jonah blasted the wipers. Cars packed the parking area in front of the courthouse so I jumped out and went to find Jack. A colourful crowd, dressed in island dresses and shirts, milled at the entrance and people spilled down the stairs and onto the footpath. Jack, holding out a package, rushed over to me.

  ‘You won’t believe this. About ten last night, Robby called the station. He heard banging and went downstairs to find Franz whacking the fence with a piece of bamboo. Franz bolted and headed up the Millman Hill track, holding something in his other hand. Robby couldn’t leave Alby.’ Jack paused again to get his breath. ‘I got out there and followed Franz with my torch, thinking I’d go as far as the well.’

  ‘Did you see him?’ I asked, wiping the rain from my eyes and glancing at the crowd, buzzing with conversation.

  ‘No. But I found this.’ He handed me a yellow envelope. ‘It was next to the well. Robby said Franz must have broken in while he was in the shower and stolen this from the lounge room.’

  I pulled out the tortoiseshell-framed photo of Melissa. It was coated with fine grey dust, which meant it had been fingerprinted.