by Bob Goodwin
‘You can call round any time. You know that.’ She gave him a big squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come on in. Would you like a turkey leg, some ham or maybe a few barbecued prawns?’
‘Sounds lovely but I’ll have to pass. Can’t stay long,’ said James as the two moved slowly down the hallway. ‘Mother has me on a tight leash and I promised I’d spend most of the day with her. I just need ten minutes of your time in private if you can manage it. Oh, and I got you a little something for Christmas.’ He handed her the carry bag. She peered inside at a wrapped parcel.
‘Ooh, a special surprise. Thank you, James.’ She touched him on the shoulder. The two arrived at the kitchen. Through the rear screen doors, on the back decking, the barbecue was sizzling away and the drinks were flowing. James waved to a couple of faces he recognised.
‘Let’s go in the office then.’ Rae smiled to her friends. ‘Back in a minute, you guys. Save me a couple of those prawns!’ The two moved through the lounge, turned left and then down another hallway to the office. ‘You two stay out there now. Go on!’ The two dogs stopped and sat, still looking hopefully at James. The office door closed.
‘Now, how can I help?’ Rae and James both dropped into a leather office chair each. Rae placed her gift from the carry bag onto the desk.
‘It was you, wasn’t it, Rae? Look, I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter at all. And honestly, that’s not why I’m here,’ said James sincerely. Raelene sighed and held her lips tightly for a moment.
‘I didn’t call the police,’ she eventually said. ‘But I did ring the Blue Orchid restaurant. I was worried for you more than anything. I’m so sorry.’ She reached out and placed a hand on his knee.
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all cool. Honestly.’
‘I must say, while it’s great to see you, I’m a little surprised to see you out of hospital so soon.’
‘Yeah, I guess I am out early. They like to clear the wards out for Christmas, and Jeffries reckons he knows me inside out, but I just think he’s an idiot. He’s still got me on the involuntary order and mother supervises my meds. I’m sort of okay. Sort of not.’
‘Tell me about that?’
‘Part of my brain is still obsessed by the Chinese conspiracy thing. I remind myself constantly that it’s the schizophrenia and I can keep it in check. I can push it back down and work around it. But now, here’s the thing. The other part of my brain is working overtime. Analysing, researching and checking. I am certain I’m onto something incredibly huge, maybe unbelievable to most people.’ Rae leaned forward.
‘You want to bounce this thing off me then?’
‘I really need to.’ He took a breath. ‘You know I have a good head for dates and times.’
‘An extraordinary one I would say.’
‘And I have a keen interest in meteorology.’
‘The best weather forecaster ever.’
‘Jessica Chang, the missing girl, she went missing seven days after a severe thunderstorm.’
‘Right ... and this means...’ Rae opened her hands to receive more information.
‘On its own, probably nothing. But I remember two others who went missing in recent times. Samantha Johns on the 17th of October this year and Michelle Cooke on the 14th of January, also this year. And I can tell you that in both these cases there were severe electrical storms exactly seven days before each of them.’
‘Okay,’ said Rae cautiously. ‘Pardon me if I play the devil’s advocate here.’
‘Please!’
‘I imagine there have been many other missing persons besides these three over the years and even this year?’
‘I have looked right back to the early seventies. Just here in South East Queensland, there have been at least a hundred that have never been solved.’
‘And was there any storm connection?’
‘I am waiting on weather maps from my friend Carl. He works at the Bureau of Meteorology. I should have them soon. But three this year? To me, that’s extraordinary. And if I find any more, the random chance scenario, which is already on shaky ground, will simply not hold up.’
‘To pose a further question, how many severe storms are there every year?’
‘Ah yes, here’s another thing that’s been gnawing at my brain.’ James lifted his hand and pointed his finger. ‘The frequency of severe storm activity in the region has nearly doubled from 1.2 per year in the 70s to 2.3 now. Some years there was none. Other years there were as many as eight. This change in frequency is probably because of global warming, which is somewhat but not totally irrelevant to what I believe is happening. What I’m thinking is, that the more severe storms there are, the more missing persons there will be.’
‘And has someone gone missing every time there’s been a storm?’
‘Unlikely to have happened on every occasion. I suspect it may be more to do with where the worst of the storm actually occurs.’
‘You’re thinking that someone is abducting or killing people because of the weather?’
‘It sounds like madness, I know. But yes, I’m sure there is a connection. I just need more data.’
‘I understand what you are saying. And I also know that many people would just write you off as a crazy person. And to be frank, that does have to factor into the equation,’ Rae said bluntly, bringing a smile to James’s face. ‘But you need to get your maps and charts then come over for dinner.’
‘You are the best. Give me a couple of days then we’ll sort it out.’
The two chatted a little more before James said he had to leave and Rae needed to get back to her guests. The two dogs were still sitting outside the office. Rae, Sherlock and Watson escorted James to the front door.
Before rejoining the party, she ducked back to the office and opened her present. It was a barometer, hygrometer and thermometer all set into a beautiful carved piece of mahogany.
‘Oh James, it’s just what I wanted. And I have the perfect place to mount it.’ She walked to the lounge and held it up to the wall alongside a framed picture of her brother, Timmy.
‘Perfect.’
Chapter 23
Chardonnay
Carmel put down the phone, stepped out to the verandah and stared at the Blackall Range in the distance. Christmas Day thus far had been far from predictable. She had given up going to her church choir group’s lunch so she could look after James and he wasn’t even at home. Then the Charlie Chan episode and now the phone call. What next.
She wandered back to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of Chardonnay then returned to the verandah with bottle in hand.
‘Merry Christmas, Carmel!’ She toasted herself and took a generous mouthful.
* * *
James glanced at his watch as he turned the door handle — 2.27. A good three minutes to spare.
‘Hey! I’m back!’ The door only opened a little. The security chain caught James by surprise as it slid and clicked into place. Carmel was still on the verandah. She casually turned her head, looked at the door and drank more Chardonnay. She watched as the door closed a fraction allowing the chain to go slack. James’s fingers curled around the edge. There was a small pair of blunt nose pliers in his hand. Within a moment, he had grabbed the chain anchor, slid it along the track, out through the hole and the door was open, all in a matter of a few seconds.
‘How was that? I think that was a personal best!’ He noticed Carmel drinking outside. He tapped his watch. ‘Two twenty-eight, mother. I’ll be with you in a moment.’ He took his backpack to his bedroom and tossed it onto the bed before going to the bathroom, washing his hands and splashing his face with cold water. He stood looking at his dripping face in the mirror.
‘Who are you, James Champion?’ He slapped himself on both cheeks. ‘Are you a crazy person? Are you paranoid for no reason, or is there really someone out to get you?’ He dried his face, quickly brushed his long hair, gave himself a smile and left the bathroom.
On his way to the verandah he grabbed a parcel from his room.
‘Merry Christmas, Mother.’ He handed her the gift. ‘Sorry I had to go out, but now you have my complete attention.’
‘Thank you. There’s a little something under the tree for you. We can open our presents then we need to talk.’
‘Okay then.’ James pulled out a small, square wrapped box then sat with his mother. They both smiled at each other and began unwrapping their gifts. James was delighted to see a new silver watch with all the extras including a light, countdown timer, lap timer and date. ‘Thanks so much. This is great.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Carmel opened hers. ‘It’s beautiful. I like it a lot, but I have a feeling you may be using it more than me. I know the top one is a thermometer. What about the other two?’
‘That would a hygrometer for measuring humidity.’ He pointed to the middle gauge. ‘And that one is a barometer.’
‘The wood setting is just lovely. Can it go in the lounge?’
‘I think it can. In fact, I have already put a hook in the perfect spot. Let me hang it up for you.’ Carmel passed him the gauge. James put it on the wall over the TV, facing out to the lounge dining area and the verandah beyond.
‘That looks nice, James. Thank you.’ He returned and sat with her.
‘We need to talk again?’
‘Well, there are two things.’ She drank more wine then topped it up with what was left in the bottle.
‘Is this like, do you want the good news or the bad news first, type thing?’ asked James lightheartedly.
‘No, from my point of view it’s more like, do you want the bad news or the bad news, type thing.’
‘Well I guess I haven’t won the lotto then?’ he quipped again with a little less conviction.
‘But you can have a choice. Do you want to hear the phone story first or the visitor story?’
‘A mysterious visitor, eh. A pretty female maybe?’
‘No.’ She took another drink.
‘Well in that case, I’ll go with the phone call.’
‘The police called. They want to interview you. I have made arrangements to go to the station at nine in the morning before we go to Brisbane to see your father.’
‘And?’
‘There is no and.’
‘So, that’s it? Surely there’s a bit more to it than that. What was it? A five-second phone call?’
‘All they said was they were just pursuing a regular line of enquiry. They wouldn’t even say if it was connected to the Blue Orchid incident. I was hoping you could tell me what’s going on.’
‘I did scratch a car really badly in the car park. I was not thinking particularly clearly at the time. This was just before the restaurant episode.’
‘Well, we won’t be telling them about that unless they ask. Anything else?’
‘I can’t begin to think.’
‘Not that you’d tell me anyway. But I don’t care, James. It’s Christmas. I’ve consumed a bottle of nice Chardonnay and I’m feeling pretty mellowed out.’
‘What about the visitor story?’
‘Yes, a guy who says he met you at the hospital. He told me that the two of you were going to share chicken chop suey at his place. He probably was in hospital. I reckon he was a bit on the loopy side. A very odd little man.’ Carmel emptied her glass. James had gone quiet. ‘The question now is, should I open another bottle of Chardie or not? I’m thinking just one more glass would be perfect. Be a special boy now and get Mummy another bottle, would you.’
He stood up and followed the instructions as if on autopilot, plonked the bottle down on the glass-top table and sat back down.
‘It’s okay, I can pour my own.’ She unscrewed the top and poured. ‘Whoopsie!’ A little wine spilled onto the table. ‘Never mind, plenty more where that came from,’ she laughed.
‘What was his name? What did he look like?’ asked James firmly.
‘Charlie Chan,’ giggled Carmel. ‘And he even looked like him.’
With significant prompting, Carmel eventually managed to get the full story out. James could no longer sit still and was pacing around the unit. His mother had taken to the recliner lounge chair and she let out a loud snort every now and then as her conscious state fluctuated. James knew the Charlie Chan story and that while Charlie Chan was a fictional character, he was based on a real-life Honolulu detective called Ah Ping Chang.
The Chinese connection is real. Jessica Chang is somehow linked to these people. They are out there. We are in danger.
Over the next twenty minutes, he darted between the landing and the bedroom, peering out into the street. He studied the quiet shopping area, noted the parked cars, watched those that drove by and looked intensely at several people who ambled past. Then he went to his bedroom and looked through a gap between the curtains for anything or anyone suspicious. Unfortunately, this seemed to be everyone. James checked Google maps for the Chan address but there was no Chandon Chase anywhere on the Sunshine Coast. He thought about Michael at the Blue Orchid, he thought about the waitress, he was puzzled and distressed about Charlie Chan; but most of all, he thought about Jessica Chang.
As he looked through the curtain for the fifth time, a wave of nausea spread from his stomach to the back of his throat. His mouth watered as he ran to the toilet bowl and vomited loudly. After a couple of minutes of feeling like his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out, he lifted his sweating head and took several deep breaths. At the sink, he splashed cold water over his face and rinsed his mouth. James looked at himself in the mirror. ‘Come on Mr Champion, pull it together.’
Lying on his bed, he went through some creative visualisation and tried to relax. The urge to run to the curtain kept intruding, but he remained horizontal and refocused. The occasional loud grunt from Carmel was also proving a distraction, but the waterfall memory from the Bunya Mountains was working and calmer feelings were becoming more prominent.
After half an hour, he got up slowly, went to the kitchen, took a double dose of his antipsychotic medication and ten milligrams of Diazepam.
James moved his recliner next to his mother’s, then flicked through the TV channels until he found Christmas carols. He sat back next to his snoring mother and sang along to “Joy to the World”.
Chapter 24 — 1986
The Screaming Tribesmen
The Alexandra Hotel was located at Alexandra Headlands, which sits between Mooloolaba and Maroochydore, but favouring the Maroochydore end and, as such, was within walking distance for anyone residing in the vicinity’s many apartment buildings and motels. The hotel had a reputation for attracting high quality musicians almost any day of the week, and this November Thursday evening was no exception.
With their unique style of punk rock, the Screaming Tribesmen had the crowd on a high and all but a few were crowded together on the dance floor. The Alexandra Hotel’s Galaxy nightspot was at capacity. The coloured lights flashed in time with the beat, and unless you were shouting directly into someone’s ear or were a skilled lip-reader, there was no point in anyone talking. As the group launched into its hit song “Igloo”, the energy level in the crowd lifted even further and a few more young people squeezed onto the dance floor.
Perched on a bar stool, a young-looking man with long black hair pointed to his drink and mouthed the words “same again” to the bartender. His oversized black T-shirt had the white face of Skeletor from “He-Man and the Masters of the Universe” TV series on both front and back. For the most part he had his gaze fixed on someone on the dance floor. His next lemon, lime and bitters soon arrived and he slid over a two-dollar note then waved his hand for the bartender to keep the change.
Amongst the dancers there were clearly several who had consumed too much alcohol. One girl and boy were assisted back to their feet after a heavy fall, which seemed to leave them both unscathed and laughing hysterically. Another guy made a clumsy stumbl
ing dash to the exit with his hand over his mouth.
The man at the bar watched as a young lady staggered free from the pack and made her way to the exit. She slipped off her military-style jacket as she left the building.
Outside on Alexandra Parade, she gave the vomiting man a wide berth and moved a few metres upwind where she took support from a street sign, removed a small hanky from her jacket and gently blotted her sweating face.
A man approached her.
‘Hello, baby. Are you okay?’
‘I am just great,’ she slurred. ‘Need to cool down a little.’
‘You look fantastic. I saw you on the floor. You move so well. Are you a trained dancer?’
‘Heavens no but thank you. I do practise at home sometimes.’ She dabbed her forehead.
‘Yeah? Are you for real?’
‘True. I really do,’ she laughed. ‘In front of the mirror.’
‘You know what? I got a great idea,’ he said with a smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘Oh, tell me, please.’
‘Why don’t you come to my place and show me your moves. I have a few of my own I’d like to share with you.’
The frivolity evaporated from her face. ‘Thanks, but I’d rather not do that.’
‘But baby!’ His arm moved around her shoulder and he squeezed her towards him. ‘Don’t lead a guy on then drop him on his arse now. That’s not very ladylike.’
‘Don’t!’ She squirmed then slapped his chest with her free hand, which he grabbed. ‘Leave me alone. You ape!’
‘No, no, sweetheart. You come with me now. No silly stuff.’ He started to forcibly march her off. But without warning, a forearm shot across his throat, jerked his head back and squeezed until he released the young lady.
‘I think it would be better if you went home alone tonight!’ It was the Skeletor T-shirt guy.