To our right was the Esplanade, once a grassy stretch of parkland on the river foreshore. At the start of the war it had been ploughed up to prevent enemy planes from landing. Now there were slit trenches in what had been playing fields and the whole area was black sand and weeds, which made me rather sad. The botanical gardens, where we were sitting, had been left alone because the Japanese couldn’t land planes among the big trees.
Tom spread his jacket on the grass and motioned for me to sit on it. When I did so, he lowered himself to the ground beside me and stretched out his legs. I was aware of a sweetly fermented scent in the air; little fallen figs covered the ground around us.
‘Enjoy your dinner with Chad Buchowski?’ he asked, handing me a bag. ‘It’s just ham spread and lettuce. There wasn’t much choice. I’ll do better next time.’
Next time? I disliked ham spread. I smiled a thank you and took the bag.
‘Dinner was very pleasant,’ I said. ‘And he got me home by ten o’clock. On the dot.’
‘He’s married.’
‘So Phyllis told me. And so Chad told me, before the first course. We’re meeting again on the weekend. It’s all above board. He wants company and I like dancing. You did suggest that I go out more, remember? My mother is going to invite him and his friend Donald to dinner.’
Tom was looking down as he opened his paper bag and I couldn’t see his face.
‘Chad’s an interesting man,’ I said lightly. ‘He comes from Cooperstown, in New York. The state, not the city.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Tom in a voice that indicated the opposite. He took out a sandwich.
‘But Chad says the oddest things.’
‘Mmmm?’
‘He asked me when I had been adopted by your parents, because he thought that only a brother would warn him off the way you did when Phyllis and I were away from the table.’
Tom seemed suddenly transfixed by his sandwich.
‘Tom, I like him, as a friend. Please don’t do anything like that again.’
He raised his head. ‘Did you discuss Doreen Luca with him?’
‘No. I was trying to forget about it, and I did. I think that cocktail helped,’ I said, with a touch of embarrassment.
There was a flicker of amusement, then an expression I couldn’t decipher. ‘Chad knew Doreen well,’ he said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Whatever you want it to.’
I felt a sharp stab of annoyance. ‘You knew her, too. Stop trying to protect me. If you think you owe it to Peter, you don’t. I don’t need looking after. Anyway, you were the one who wanted me to get out more.’
Tom had finished his sandwich. He took out another, saying nothing. I unwrapped mine and bit into it.
We ate in silence. After a while I said, ‘I don’t mean to be churlish. I should thank you. It was good to go out. Chad said he’d introduce me to some nice, unattached Americans.’
Tom lay down and covered his eyes with an arm. It reminded me of how we had found Doreen and it made me feel uneasy.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Have fun with some nice, unattached Americans. Preferably not with Chad, though.’
I was perplexed. I thought I was a good judge of character. Perhaps Tom didn’t like the way Chad had been so unashamedly admiring of Phyllis. Whatever the reason, Tom had no business telling me who I could or couldn’t spend time with.
‘Why are you here, Tom?’
He sat up and turned to look at me. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
I frowned at him suspiciously. ‘Ask me what?’
‘I’m a liaison officer between the Australian and US forces in Perth. I need to know what’s going on. That includes any news or gossip that relates to the US forces. Doreen often let me know what was happening at the Catalina base. She and I really were just friends,’ he said. ‘I’m engaged. I’m not a cad.’
I nodded.
‘Now I’ve been asked to liaise with the police about Doreen’s murder. There’s a possibility that someone at the Catalina base might be involved, because she was at a party there just before she died.’ He gave me a quick, enquiring glance. ‘Would you be willing to help?’
I was shocked. ‘Me help you? How?’
‘Just keep your ears open. If anything is being said about the US troops I’d appreciate it if you could let me know what you hear. And, obviously, if it’s about Doreen’s death, then tell me. Or let Munsie know.’
‘Like a spy?’
He laughed. ‘It’s nothing like a spy. Just a source of information.’
It sounded like spying to me. ‘I don’t know, Tom.’
‘Please think about it. It would help me. You know people in the neighbourhood. You talk to them. They talk to you.’
I took a bite of the sandwich and thought about it. I decided it couldn’t hurt.
‘All right, I’ll give it a try,’ I said. Tom smiled.
This seemed like a good time to see if I had any skill in getting information from people, and I had questions of my own after some of the things I’d read about Tom in Joan’s scrapbook.
‘I don’t understand why you’re here. In Perth, I mean. Why aren’t you in Brisbane with General MacArthur and the Australian bigwigs?’ I asked. ‘You’re smart and you’re a highly decorated war hero. I’d have thought they’d want you helping with strategy or something, even if you can’t fight on the front line any more.’
There was a bitter laugh. ‘I was repatriated to Brisbane at first and I did work with MacArthur’s people. But apparently I’m – how did they put it? Ah, yes – unreliable. I asked to return to Perth and it was thought that US–Australian liaison here would be just the ticket.’ He sounded as if he had a different opinion.
‘How are you unreliable?’
‘You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?’ he said, with deceptive lightness. Then he shook his head. ‘Please forget I told you that. And don’t spread it around.’
‘Of course I won’t.’ I was indignant.
Tom smiled. ‘Look, they’ve given me some slack, because –’ He paused, and now there was a bitter edge to his smile. ‘Because of the injuries I got when I was captured.’
‘I thought you were injured fighting with the AIF in New Guinea.’
‘I fought with the AIF in the Middle East. When I returned to Australia I was seconded to the Intelligence Corps. I was on a mission. I was captured. I was injured. I escaped. Nothing more to say, Meg.’
There was a stubbornness about his mouth and a hardness in his eyes that almost made me stop. Almost.
‘And so you’re in Perth to recuperate. To be with your parents and with Phyllis?’
The hard look faded and he smiled. ‘Partly. In fact, Phyll had a lot to do with me ending up here. She knows all the important people. MacArthur thinks the world of her.’
‘Phyllis knows General Douglas MacArthur?’ I said in a high, rather breathless voice.
Tom grinned. ‘She calls him Dodo. His wife hates her.’
No surprises there.
‘And you know him, too?’
‘Yes, quite well.’
‘Were you badly wounded?’ I flushed. ‘Apart from the hand, I mean.’
He looked away from me, over towards the river. ‘I’m fine. I’m improving daily.’
I concentrated on my sandwich. The thought of Tom as a prisoner of war made me feel cold. I’d heard terrible stories about what the Japanese did to prisoners.
‘But let’s not talk about that,’ he said lightly. ‘What do you think about American servicemen in Perth? I suppose people resent them in some respects.’
I picked at the grass near where I was sitting, pulling some out. Evidently I was to earn my lunch.
‘Well, yes. There’s some resentment. The Americans seem to have all the money in the world, and Aussie soldiers get annoyed when they splash it around because the diggers get paid so much less.’
He laughed. ‘And the Yanks splash it around on the girls
, which is even worse.’
I threw away the grass stem and nodded. ‘Another thing that annoys people is how shopkeepers reserve scarce items for the Americans because they’re willing to overpay for them. They pay too much for everything really, usually unwittingly. People take advantage of them dreadfully.’
I pulled out a hankie and wiped my hands.
‘At the restaurant last night the waiter put a forty per cent surcharge on the bill!’ I could hear my voice rise in annoyance. ‘Chad wouldn’t let me complain. And he tipped as well. Even though I begged him not to.’
Tom shot me a quick grin. ‘I think they call it the Catalina Millionaire tax.’
I met his smile. It was true, the men at the base were known as the Catalina Millionaires. ‘Maybe. I like the Americans I’ve met. I’m just glad they’re here in Australia, helping us in this war. And a lot of people feel that way.’
‘Are attitudes changing towards them?’ Tom asked.
I thought about it. ‘It’s complicated. You weren’t here when they arrived in February last year, just after Singapore fell. We were so grateful they were fighting with Australia that we treated them like royalty. Nothing was too good for them.’
How could I make Tom understand the fear and uncertainty that had overwhelmed us when Singapore fell to the Japanese? We’d been told it was impregnable and that Australia was safe while Singapore held. But the surrender came so quickly and we lost so many men; seventeen thousand Australians were taken prisoner, along with more than fifty thousand other Allied troops. All of Perth was affected. If you didn’t have a friend or relative who had died or was a prisoner of war, you knew someone who did. Mr Goodley’s son, Clive, had been taken prisoner in Singapore and was now a POW in Changi prison camp.
‘When Singapore fell and Darwin was attacked a few days later, we were certain it was only a matter of time before the Japanese invaded,’ I said slowly. ‘Especially after they bombed Broome and Derby. We’d always felt safe here in Western Australia because we were so isolated, and suddenly we’d been bombed by the Japanese. A lot of people honestly believed that Canberra would abandon us.’ I smiled at Tom. ‘It seems silly now, but I knew women who were sleeping with guns under their pillows, ready to shoot themselves when the Japanese arrived.’
‘But the Americans came instead,’ said Tom.
‘Yes, and finally we felt safe.’
‘Is the American glamour wearing off now it’s clear that Perth isn’t going to be invaded?’
‘I think so,’ I replied. ‘The girls who go out with them still adore them and we’re very glad they’re fighting with us but, yes, I’d say the novelty is wearing off.’
Tom grinned. ‘I got that impression myself.’
I looked him square in the eyes. ‘Individually, they are lovely, and I look forward to seeing more of them. I really enjoyed myself last night.’
Tom stopped smiling. ‘Want some coffee?’
‘Yes, please, that would be nice.’ I preferred tea, but coffee sounded more sophisticated. No doubt Miss Phyllis Gregory drank coffee.
He brushed himself off and got to his feet, holding out a hand to help me up.
The New Star Café was filled with office workers, but Tom managed to find a table and ordered for us both. The waitress put two small cups of dark coffee in front of us. I added a spoonful of sugar and stirred.
‘I keep thinking about Doreen,’ I said, taking a small sip. ‘And how we found her.’ I wished there was milk. I put in another spoonful of sugar and stirred my coffee thoughtfully. ‘It seemed strange, the way she had been covered with a blanket. As if the murderer cared about her.’
‘The most probable reason is that it was her husband and he was remorseful when he realised he’d killed her. Though I’m not absolutely convinced it was Frank Luca,’ Tom said. ‘Would you like some cream with that?’
‘Oh yes, please.’
He raised his head and called the waitress over. She brought the cream immediately.
‘Why don’t you think it was Frank?’ I asked.
‘I’m not saying that. He’s still the most likely suspect. But it’s rum she was in the shelter. Doreen had a house, less than fifty yards away. Why would she go to the shelter in the dark? It’s difficult to get to. That’s been bothering me.’
I poured some cream into my cup and watched the colour lighten.
‘She shared her house with Betty Barwon,’ I said. ‘Maybe she wanted to keep her meeting secret from Betty . . . and that would mean it wasn’t Frank Luca she was meeting.’
‘Exactly.’
Tom leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. As he lifted it I could see where his fingers were discoloured by nicotine.
‘Do you remember –? No you didn’t look closely at her. She had twigs and leaves in her hair and her clothes were dirty. As if she’d rolled on the ground.’
I flinched at the thought of her being in terror, trying to escape. Did she know her life was nearly over? ‘Perhaps she was running away from her attacker, fell to the ground, got up and ran to the shelter to hide,’ I said.
Tom looked sceptical. ‘If you’re being chased, you’d hardly vault over a picket fence and run down those steep, slippery steps into a pitch-black air raid shelter. You’d bang on doors and scream for help.’
That made sense. I sighed.
‘I suppose you need to get back to your office,’ he said, grinding out the cigarette firmly in the ashtray.
He picked up his cap, pushed his chair back and rose from the table, leaving money for the coffee.
‘Are you free for lunch again on Friday? I’ll wait for you outside the back door to the courts at one o’clock.’
I was taken aback. I had enjoyed our lunch, and my concerns about Tom Lagrange had settled down somewhat. But I didn’t see why we’d meet again unless I had something to tell him.
‘I’m free,’ I said, with some hesitation. ‘But why do you want to see me again?’
He shrugged. ‘Do I need a reason?’
‘Well, yes, actually. You’re engaged, remember.’
He twisted his mouth into a wry expression, and with the index finger of his left hand, he began counting off the fingers of his good hand in turn. ‘You knew my brother. You’re helping me with my liaison work and with the murder investigation. I enjoy your company.’ He smiled. ‘Enough reasons? You’re willing to meet Buchowski for dinner and he’s married. Have pity, Meg. I usually spend lunchtimes alone in my office or on a bench watching the river or liaising with the Americans.’
‘But your fiancée isn’t on the other side of the world,’ I said, watching his face.
‘You don’t have to worry about Phyll,’ he said. ‘She trusts me to do the right thing. Do you?’
I laughed and agreed to meet him, but I wasn’t at all sure it was the right thing to do. Chad had implied something very different about Miss Gregory’s capacity for trust.
Tom laughed to himself as we were walking back to the Supreme Court building. ‘Do you know what A.E. Housman said about Americans?’
I shook my head. I didn’t know who A.E. Housman was.
‘He said, “In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.” ’
At first I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I realised.
‘You really don’t like Chad, do you?’ I looked at him levelly. ‘Stop giving me warnings, Tom. Cryptic or otherwise. You are not my keeper.’
He smiled, but said nothing further.
Nine
The next morning, my mother saw me to the gate as I was leaving for work. She gave me a quick kiss, and then made a little sound between a moan and a sigh.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘That horrible man is home on leave.’
Able Seaman Cecil McLean was standing at his gate with his wife, Marie. They were with Mrs Phoenix, who was talking animatedly. I could guess about what.
I didn’t like Cec McLean, who was a big, solidly
built man in his late thirties. I thought he had an air of menace about him. Before Cec joined the Navy, Marie often had bruises that she explained away by saying she was clumsy or had walked into a door, but we all knew the real reason. The thought of that sickened me.
‘G’day, little Margaret Eaton,’ he said, as I walked towards them on my way to the highway.
His pale eyes took in my body with slow and insulting thoroughness. His naval uniform was tight and although it was still early the collar and armpits were soaked with sweat. I smiled warmly at the women.
‘Are you home for long?’ I asked Cec.
‘My ship came in on Friday. We’re here for two weeks. Shame about Doreen Luca. She was a good sort.’
I glanced at Mrs Phoenix, who coloured and looked embarrassed.
‘Yes, it’s horrible.’
‘And you found her. Nasty surprise for you.’
I nodded.
‘Reckon Frank didn’t like her carrying on with the Yanks.’
‘Maybe.’
Cec laughed and playfully punched Marie on the arm. She winced. ‘Everyone knew Doreen and Betty were carrying on with the Yanks, including Frank. He told me so, on Saturday.’
That stopped me in my tracks. ‘You saw him on Saturday?’
‘Yep. In the street after the pubs closed. We invited him in for a drink or two, didn’t we, love?’
Marie smiled anxiously and gave a quick nod.
‘He left to go back to Doreen’s around nine-thirty. We never seen him after that.’
Cec glanced at Marie, who gave another quick little nod.
‘Have you told the police?’
‘Yep. They came around asking a lot of questions yesterday.’
I gave them a small smile and continued down the street. It was interesting that Frank had definitely been in the area that night. The evidence was certainly stacking up against him, but I still couldn’t see him as a murderer. I remembered him as a slim, handsome man who adored his wife, but who was playfully flirtatious towards other women. He just didn’t seem the sort to murder someone, but how would I know?
A Stranger in my Street Page 9