A Stranger in my Street

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A Stranger in my Street Page 22

by Deborah Burrows


  ‘Why, if it isn’t Meg Eaton. Hi there, stranger.’

  I turned to see Chad Buchowski standing at my shoulder.

  ‘Hullo, Chad,’ I said, with more enthusiasm than I felt. ‘I’m supposed to meet Annie Eccles here. Have you seen her?’

  ‘She was here a while ago, but left. Said she felt sick.’

  I was annoyed, unfairly, because it wasn’t Annie’s fault if she was ill. But I hadn’t wanted to come out, and she had been so insistent.

  ‘Dance?’

  I accepted, relieved I knew somebody there. Chad was full of energy and whirled me around with gusto. When the dance finished we went back to his table. He ordered me a lemonade and himself a beer. I noticed his hands were shaking.

  ‘You’re a bit shaky. Is anything wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Heck no, they just do that sometimes. I’m fine. Whisky with that?’ He lifted the bottle that was on the table. I shook my head. He poured some into a glass and downed it in a gulp. Then he drank the entire glass of beer.

  He looked strange, different. I realised it was his eyes – they were darker than usual. The pupils were so large that the blue irises were scarcely visible. He winked, which startled me until I realised that he still had the facial twitch.

  ‘Sure is hot in here,’ he said. ‘Yeah, poor little Annie. She seemed kind of done in. She told me to tell you she was sorry and she’d see you on Monday. Another dance?’

  We got up and moved onto the floor.

  ‘Do you have any clue why Lagrange is hanging around our base?’ He loomed over me and winked as he dipped me back.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t see Tom any more.’

  I tried to put some distance between us, but it was hard to do that when you were dancing.

  ‘He sure hangs around the base a lot lately. I think he’s investigating something. Do you know?’

  ‘I don’t know, Chad. He’s a liaison officer, isn’t he?’

  ‘Well he sure asks a lot of questions for a liaison officer. Are you sure he’s not investigating something? Are you sure he’s not investigating me?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ I wished he would stop talking about Tom.

  ‘I’m sick of that guy. Always asking questions. Where does he get off, asking personal questions?’ He scowled, then laughed and nodded to himself. ‘I’ve had something of his, though. He wouldn’t like that. No sir. He wouldn’t like that at all.’ He winked at me.

  I said nothing. His questions were annoying and his remarks unpleasant. The twitch was creepy.

  He led me back to his table when the dance concluded and gulped down another glass of beer as if he hadn’t drunk in a week. Sweat beaded on his forehead and that horrible wink made him seem like a pantomime naughty uncle.

  ‘Swell here tonight, hey?’ he said, but now his attention was on a speck of dust he was trying to pick off his sleeve. After a while he was rubbing at his arm as if there was something on it that he wanted to get off. Something was definitely wrong with him.

  ‘Chad, are you all right?’ I said, though what I really wanted to do was to run out of there as fast as I could.

  ‘Yeah, sure. I’m fine. What’s the matter? Swell here tonight, don’t you think? Good and crowded. I like it crowded. The place sure is jumping. Want a drink? You never drink, Meg. It might loosen you up some. Want another dance?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not feeling so well myself, I think I need to go home.’

  ‘You’re wound up so tight, Meg. You should learn to loosen up some.’

  He grinned, presumably to show it was a joke. Then he winked again. I didn’t smile back. His teeth were big. I hadn’t noticed before just how big his teeth were. He looked like a huge, blond wolf.

  I’d had enough. ‘Chad, I’m going home.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’ He rose and offered me his hand.

  ‘No, you’re enjoying yourself here, please stay. I can get home easily.’

  ‘Meg, I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you out there. Don’t argue, I’m taking you home.’

  He took my hand in a firm, if sweaty, grip. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I let him lead me out of the club.

  We began to walk down Milligan Street, looking for a taxi. It was quite dark, because of the blackout, and there was only a waning moon. The street seemed empty.

  ‘You really do need to loosen up, you know,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know that,’ I replied. ‘Would you please stop saying it?’

  Chad laughed, looked round quickly, and in a moment he had me pushed up against a wall, his tongue shoved into my mouth. His hand was at my breasts and his body was pressing against me. I struggled hard, trying to kick him in the groin. He was big, though, and strong, and when I finally managed to push him off me I knew it was because he was letting me go. Someone was walking towards us. The man had his head discreetly down. I nearly screamed to him for help, but something stopped me. I did not want anyone to see me this way.

  ‘Can’t blame a guy for trying.’ Chad’s voice was rough and low.

  ‘Keep away from me,’ I said. My voice sounded like frightened bleating, and it annoyed me. I drew in a breath and stood up straight, facing him. He gave a quick laugh and anger flooded through me, washing away my fear. I needed to get away from him, but I knew better than to make sudden movements around an aggressive animal.

  Chad lit a cigarette, his hand shaking as he brought it to his mouth.

  ‘So what’s going on between you and Lagrange these days?’ He peered at me suspiciously. ‘I don’t like the way he watches me. What have you told him about me?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t see him any more. What would I tell him anyway?’ That you attacked me? That I think you’ve gone mad?

  ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ he said, in a sly, insinuating voice. ‘He hates me. He knows. Suspects, anyhow. We’ve had some times, Phyll and I. She has this neat trick –’

  ‘Shut up. Just shut up.’ I was moving away from him, very slowly.

  ‘I know why he stays with her. You couldn’t possibly compete.’

  ‘It was never like that between us.’

  ‘He just has to have a few women around for a bit of variety. He has to be adored. Phyll won’t adore him, she knows him too well.’ His wolf mouth was twisted in a snarl now.

  ‘Just shut up, Chad. Leave me alone.’ My voice was shrill. I was suddenly afraid again and he knew it.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go. Why would I want to stick around a teasing little bitch like you? Watch it, honey, or you’ll get a reputation.’ With a laugh he turned abruptly and walked away.

  I was alone in the dark street. There was faint music around me. It must have been coming from the Silver Dollar. I was cold, shaking violently, and I wanted to throw up. I desperately wanted Tom, and then I wanted to cry. I was afraid that Chad would come back and I didn’t want to walk to the bus stop alone. Eventually the door of the cabaret opened, spilling light and laughter into the street. Four or five revellers emerged and I followed them to the bus stand.

  I was safe on the bus, and as it trundled me home I slowly calmed down, although my thoughts were angry and confused. I didn’t know if there really had been anything between Chad and Phyllis, but that didn’t matter. Tom had known about this dark, wolfish side to Chad and that was why he had warned me. Not because he was jealous of Chad spending time with me – who could be jealous of such a man? – but because he felt responsible for me, his dead brother’s girlfriend. Had Tom really only wanted adoration from me? He had kissed me, but only because I asked him to. It seemed adoration was the only thing I had to offer him.

  The next morning Fred McLean delivered a letter from Chad, apologising for his ‘inexcusable behaviour’ and asking me to forgive him. He pleaded too much alcohol and worries about his family in the US. I still felt badly shaken, and I didn’t believe a word of it. The man was vicious, and I now considered him capable of anything. Even murder?

  I took the let
ter to my room, where I sat on my bed and reviewed the circumstances of Doreen’s murder. Don was an unlikely suspect but he had despised Doreen; his vindictive little speech about her at the Red Cross dance made that clear.

  Chad had been deposited in his room by Lieutenant Downey at three o’clock and Bud Hollis had heard Chad snoring after that. But maybe Chad was only pretending to be drunk and it was Don, pretending to be Chad, who Bud heard snoring. That would give Chad an alibi. Chad could have gone to Doreen’s house, killed her and moved her body to the shelter . . .

  Then I remembered. According to the autopsy report, Doreen died in the shelter. And Betty went back to the house after the party and was there all night.

  Doreen had been hit on the head! Maybe Don met her in the bush before twelve-thirty and rendered her unconscious with a blow to the head, ran down the bush path, met Chad, told him what had happened. Chad went back . . .

  No, that didn’t work because Doreen was seen walking across Winthrop Avenue at twelve-thirty.

  If Frank hadn’t murdered Doreen, it was a mystery worthy of Agatha Christie.

  I wasn’t ready to completely dismiss the possibility that Doreen’s murder was committed by Chad and Don together. I just needed to figure out how they could have done it and why.

  Twenty-one

  It was more than a week since I’d seen Tom. He hadn’t acknowledged my letter about Cec. I missed his company so much it felt like a physical pain. I missed our conversations, I missed his sense of humour, I missed looking at him and I missed him. Distraction came in the form of Bud Hollis, the Catalina pilot from the Red Cross dance.

  Bud sent me an invitation to come jitterbugging with him at the Embassy Ballroom on Friday night. When he arrived to pick me up, with the inevitable flowers and chocolates, he was as good-looking as I remembered. And he was as good-natured. I looked forward to an evening of cheerful, uncomplicated company.

  The taxi pulled up outside the red carpet and arched awning that led to the Embassy Ballroom, the premier dance hall in Perth. It was on the first floor of an elegant semicircular building on the corner of William Street and the Esplanade. The Embassy had a sprung floor and a big band that alternated between older style dance music and the modern swing music of Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey. I had danced there with Peter before the war. They were playing Dorsey’s ‘Tangerine’ as we entered, and I could see Annie on the dance floor with a Dutch submariner.

  I also saw Chad, and my stomach tightened. Bud waved at him and when the music finished Chad came over to us with his partner, a slim brunette in her late twenties with dark eyes and a serene smile. Chad greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and introduced me to Mrs Iris Swinton.

  ‘Meg’s a good friend of mine,’ he told Mrs Swinton, without a trace of irony.

  It was as if the incident outside the Silver Dollar had never happened. His eyes looked normal and he wasn’t shaking or twitching. In fact, he seemed calm and in control, like the Chad I had first met and liked so much. I was perplexed. Surely it wasn’t normal to have such dramatic mood swings. Was he mad?

  Bud and I spent a couple of hours jitterbugging. It was impossible to hold worrying thoughts in your head and do that crazy dance at the same time. Bud was so sweet, I found myself wishing I could get him and Annie together. I laughed to myself, then sighed. As much as I liked Bud and his soft Southern drawl, I didn’t want him for myself. I only wanted Tom, who apparently only wanted to be adored.

  At around midnight we wandered down to Bernie’s, the late-night hamburger joint on Mounts Bay Road. Bernie’s consisted of two old caravans and it was filled with revellers from the ballroom. We sat on a bench with our hamburgers, under the shelter of an old tent which was lit up by coloured lights, despite the blackout. It was the first place in Perth to serve American hamburgers and was always crowded with US servicemen and local women.

  ‘Do you like Chad?’ I asked Bud, picking up my hamburger uncertainly. I had never eaten one before.

  ‘Sure, though he’s not a close friend. He’s a swell pilot, one of the best on base. And brave. You know he got the Silver Star?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Good company, too, when he’s not in a temper. He’s got a rotten temper,’ Bud said. He suddenly seemed pensive. ‘You know he used to hang around with the girl that was killed, Doreen,’ he continued.

  ‘Mmmm?’ My mouth was full of hamburger. I wiped grease off my face with a paper napkin, wondering what Bud knew about it.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said absently, looking down at his hamburger. He pulled out a limp piece of lettuce and put it on his plate. ‘It was kind of strange. They busted up a while before she died, but on the night she was killed she was all over him again.’ He put the top back on his burger and took another bite.

  ‘Really?’ I knew from the documents I’d transcribed that Chad and Doreen were together at the party.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ I took a mouthful of lemonade. ‘Maybe she fell for his charms again.’

  ‘But that’s the funny thing. He was in a real mood. All burned up because we’d had a room search that afternoon.’ He bit off an enormous mouthful of hamburger.

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Looking for contraband.’ His voice was muffled with food.

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Pep pills. Bennies.’ He smiled at the look of confusion on my face. ‘Drugs. We get Dexedrine pills to keep us awake on the long-haul flights. They do the job, but some of the guys get a taste for them and take extra. We’re not supposed to keep stashes of the stuff.’

  ‘Did they find any?’ Nobody had mentioned a search for drugs in the police statements.

  ‘Nope. They rarely do. These searches are pretty routine but they’re a nuisance, and you never know when they’re coming. There’s black marketeering going on all the time. Food, cigarettes, stuff like that. Shucks, we all do it to some extent. That’s how come we’re able to bring presents to you Aussies who are kind to us. We’ve got an awful lot of stuff, and you don’t. But some guys lift stuff to sell, not to give away. And some guys take dope because they can’t do without it. Pep pills make you feel like you could take on the world.’

  My burger didn’t seem as tasty as it had earlier.

  ‘Bud, do these pills make your eyes look funny? Do they make you sweat and shake? And get angry for no reason?’

  Bud’s face seemed to close up a little. ‘If you take too many they make your eyes seem darker, because your pupils dilate. Is that what you mean? Sweating and shaking? Yeah. That can happen too – you can’t sleep if you take too many and not sleeping can make you go nuts. Say, Meg, why do you want to know this? Seen someone like that?’

  ‘It was just something I heard about that I didn’t really understand. Now I do. Thanks.’

  Bud seemed unconvinced. ‘You’re not seeing much of Chad any more, are you?’ he said, with a shrewd look.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Probably a good idea.’

  I decided to change the subject and think about the problem of Chad later.

  ‘Do you like it here in Perth?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘Sure I do. Only thing I don’t like is living in the huts at Crawley base. But I’m moving next week to a hotel just up the road. Nedlands Park Hotel, I think it’s called. Some of our guys have been billeted there.’

  ‘What’s so bad about the officers’ quarters?’

  ‘We’re in little bedrooms with walls so thin there’s no privacy at all. Heck, you can hear a newspaper rustling in the room next door. I’ve found out far too much about the other men for my liking. Can’t leave soon enough.’

  I laughed, but my mind was working furiously. If there really was so little privacy at the base, then my wild surmises about Chad and Don sneaking out to murder Doreen could not possibly be true.

  Bud was still talking. ‘But I like Perth and I sure do like flying. Not so much the bombing. And I hate dropping propaganda leaflets – it’
s dangerous and I can’t see what good it does. What I like best are the search and rescue missions. When you pick up the guys from the ocean or you ferry wounded soldiers to a hospital it’s sort of like you give life, not death.’ He laughed self-deprecatingly.

  ‘We picked up an Aussie bomber crew the other day,’ he said. The cheeky grin was back. ‘They’d been floating in a little life raft for more than a day with hardly any water. Boy, were they happy to see us.’

  He gave a snort of laughter. ‘One of them said, when we dragged him on board: “What kept you, sport? Too busy chatting up the Aussie sheilas to come and get us, were you?” And he was the worst injured of them all! I told him to mind his manners or I’d throw him back in.’

  Bud got us a taxi just by standing at the side of the road and holding up his hand. Locals never seemed to be able to hail one.

  ‘I sure had a swell time tonight, Meg. Can we do it again soon?’ he asked, as the taxi pulled up outside my house. I saw the gleam of his white teeth in the gloom.

  I hesitated. I liked Bud a lot, but I didn’t want him to think I wanted to be more than friends.

  ‘As friends, Meg. It’d sure be a shame not to see you again when we had such fun together.’

  I smiled at him. ‘I’d like that,’ I said. We made a date for the following Friday.

  Twenty-two

  The next morning I’d just finished the grocery shopping for Ma when I saw Betty Barwon coming out of the butcher’s. I waved at her and she stopped to chat.

  ‘Poor Mr Bradford,’ she said. ‘He’s worried sick, there’s been no word about Harvey.’ She dabbed at her nose with a hankie. ‘Mr Bradford said you broke Harvey’s heart.’

  ‘What nonsense,’ I said. ‘He was going out with a girl called Connie when he left last time.’

 

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