Mystery Bay Blues

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Try and sleep with your back to the wall.’

  ‘Thanks Grace. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Les hung up and headed for home. Sleep with my back to the wall, he said to himself, shaking his head. Jesus, they’re good aren’t they.

  Back at the house, Les checked everything again. The place was clean, he was sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. His tapes were in order. Les snapped his fingers. Shit! That’s what I forgot to bloody do. Get a photo of the hand. I don’t think I got any film left. And everything’s bloody closed now. He got his camera out of his bag, checked the window at the back and smiled. There were five shots left. Les took the hand out to the loungeroom, unwrapped it and sat it on the dressing table right under the light. He took three photos from different angles, a close up of the ring, and left one shot in the camera for luck. Les put the ring back on the bony finger, wrapped the hand in the T-shirt and left it sitting on the coffee table. He put the camera back in his bag and sorted out a few more things then, locking the door behind him, walked down to the hotel.

  Les was running a bit late when he walked in the side door. The hotel was fairly crowded and you couldn’t miss Norm standing at the corner of the bar with Spike and a couple of other blokes, all wearing jeans and T-shirts. A little further down was Morgan’s uncle and a beefy bloke with a mullet, both in yellow, Big Rock Fishing Club, polo shirts. The bloke with the mullet was drinking a schooner. Morgan’s uncle was drinking spirits through a straw. They saw Les walk in the door and blanched. Norm and Spike looked as if they’d had a few and gave Les a double, triple blink as he stepped up to them.

  ‘G’day Norm.

  Hello Spike,’ said Les, breezily. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘Les?’ said Norm. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Les?’ Spike shook his head. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course it’s me,’ said Les. ‘Who were you expecting? Russell Crowe?’

  Spike shook his head again. ‘No. It’s just that …’

  Norm butted in. ‘Les. The last time I saw you, you looked like they just pulled you out of a tank full of piranhas. Now you haven’t got a mark on you. What the fuck’s going on?’

  ‘I’m a quick healer,’ shrugged Les. ‘I take lots of kelp tablets.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said Norm, exchanging glances with Spike.

  ‘Well,’ said Les, rubbing his hands together ‘Are you going to stand there like a stale bottle of piss Norm? Or are you going to buy me a beer?’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ replied Norm, downing the last of his schooner. ‘What’ll you have?’

  ‘A schooner of New would be just fine thanks Norm.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  Norm turned to the bar and got a round of drinks. Spike kept staring at Les. Les noticed he was getting some mystified looks from the other punters as well. Morgan’s uncle and his mate were eyeballing him like he was the devil incarnate.

  ‘So how are you, Spike?’ said Les. ‘Thanks for the other day.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Spike. ‘Les. Like Norm said, something weird’s going on here.’

  Les patted Spike on the shoulder. ‘Spike. Don’t tell anyone. But I’m in league with the devil. Whooohhh.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bloody be surprised,’ replied Spike.

  Norm turned around with the drinks and handed Les his schooner. Les thanked him and raised his glass.

  ‘Well. Here’s to Narooma,’ said Les. ‘You blokes don’t know how lucky you are living down here. It’s the grouse.’

  ‘Cheers Les.’

  The beer was cold, fresh and delicious. Les took a good pull and licked his lips.

  ‘So have you got my money, Norm?’ asked Les.

  Norm patted his jeans. ‘I sure have.’

  ‘Okay,’ nodded Les. ‘We’ll get to that in a minute. The important thing is, who won the lucky door prize? I kept my ticket.’

  Norm shielded his eyes and exchanged glances with Spike. ‘Les,’ said Norm, shaking his head. ‘Please don’t ask.’

  ‘Why? What’s up?’

  Norm nodded to his left. ‘You see who’s down the other end of the bar?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Les. ‘Morgan’s uncle. The reason all that shit happened in the first place.’

  ‘You see the bloke with him. That’s Ambrose Migner. One of Morgan’s mates.’

  ‘Ohh yeah,’ said Les, turning to the two men. ‘I thought I recognised him. He was with Morgan the day they grabbed Warren.’

  ‘He won it,’ said Norm.

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Les, smiling into his beer. ‘Which means …?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Norm. ‘Morgan’s jaw’s wired up. His uncle’s jaw’s wired up. Mick Ross, the other bloke you flattened, he’s got no front teeth and his jaw’s wired up too. They’re all eating and drinking through a straw. And Ambrose has got a fridge full of choice steak waiting to go on the barbecue.’

  ‘And he’s not game to light the fuckin thing up,’ grinned Spike.

  Les shook his head, looked sage and raised his glass. ‘You know, when I hear things like that, I truly believe there is something out there.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Norm, downing half his schooner.

  Les smiled at Norm and Spike. ‘Would you excuse me for a sec?’

  With his beer in his hand, Les walked down to Mick and Ambrose.

  ‘G’day,’ smiled Les.

  They both looked at Les and barely nodded their heads.

  ‘Fair enough,’ acknowledged Les. ‘You can’t cop me any more than I can cop you. But I just want to tell you something.’ Les moved in a little closer and looked right into Mick Scully’s eyes. ‘Okay. I went a bit overboard with you and your mates in here on Thursday night. I should have just given you a backhander and left it at that. But you’ve got a fuckin big mouth bloke. And from what I can gather, you got what you deserved.’

  Mick didn’t say anything. But he got the picture. Les turned to Ambrose.

  ‘So you’re Ambrose. And you won the lucky door prize. Good luck to you Ambrose. Get into those steaks. Because after what you did to my mate, you’re lucky you still got your fuckin teeth too.’ Ambrose gulped into his beer. ‘But I’ve had my fun,’ said Les. ‘I’ll let it go at that. I just want you to give your big, boofheaded mate Morgan a message for me. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Ambrose.

  ‘Good,’ said Les. ‘Now listen. I’m not a fuckin waiter. I’m a horrible cunt. And if you. Or Morgan. Or any of your mates are thinking about a square up with me. Be very careful. Because if I even think you are, I’ll be back here, with some cunts even more horrible than me. We won’t fuck around. You won’t even know we’re here, until you’re looking up, and we’re shovelling dirt on you. You got that?’

  ‘Yeah all right,’ nodded Ambrose.

  ‘Lovely,’ said Les. ‘And if you don’t believe me, ask Daddy.’ Les smiled at the two men. ‘Have a nice evening. And enjoy all that grouse steak.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ asked Norm, when Les returned.

  ‘I just gave Ambrose and Mick a message for Morgan,’ said Les.

  ‘I think I get the picture,’ said Norm.

  ‘I think they did too,’ said Les. ‘And if they don’t believe me, I told them to ask you. Now what’s happening? I think it’s my shout.’

  They laughed and joked about this and that. Norm said he hoped Les didn’t mind him sending the cops round to the house. But he was worried. He thought Les was concussed and the ambulance was full. Les said that was okay; the two detectives were both good blokes. Norm and Spike still couldn’t get over Norton’s miraculous recovery. Les steered the subject around to Norm doing all right on the day because all the money was on Morgan. Finally, Les steered the subject around to his money.

  ‘Well I may as well pick up my whack, Norm,’ said Les.

  ‘Okay. Here it is, right here.’ Norm pulled a large, thick env
elope from inside his jeans and handed it to Les.

  ‘How much did you make it, Norm?’ asked Les, weighing the money in his hand.

  ‘Twenty five grand,’ replied Norm.

  ‘That’s … a bit more than I made it, Norm,’ said Les. ‘Let’s just say, your arithmetic’s a bit better than mine, Les.’

  ‘Thanks Norm.’ Les shook the big man’s hand then finished his beer. ‘Well, those two beers were delicious. And I’d love to stay. But I’m expecting someone.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Norm. ‘When do you reckon you’ll be in Narooma again?’

  ‘Before the next blues festival. That’s for sure,’ smiled Les. Les shook hands with Spike and shook hands with Norm again. ‘Thanks for all your help, Norm. I owe you one. And I’ll say hello to George Brennan for you. See you mate. See you Spike.’ Les turned to go when Norm called out.

  ‘Hey Les! What did you say you took again? Kelp tablets?’

  Les nodded. ‘Them. And apricot oil. It works for me.’ Les exited the hotel and walked back to the house.

  Well that was good of Norm, thought Les, placing the money in his overnight bag. An extra five grand. He sure must have cleaned up. Les went to the bathroom then changed into his tracksuit and put on an extra pair of socks. He checked the front door was locked then left the light on in the loungeroom, kitchen and hallway. There was some soda water left in the fridge. Les made a delicious, had a sip then took it into his room. He switched on the bed lamp then lay back on the bed with The Perfect Storm and opened it to the page he’d marked.

  ‘Into the Abyss. The Lord bowed the heavens and came down, thick darkness under his feet. The channels of the sea were seen, and the foundations of the world were laid bare. Samuel. 22.’

  Shit! I think I could have done without that. Les sipped some more bourbon, started reading and waited.

  It was zero visibility. The pilot had issued a mayday on the Air National Guard frequency that he was going to ditch the helicopter when Norton’s bed lamp started flickering on and off. Les looked up as the other lights started doing the same thing. He closed his book and sat up. A rapid vibration rattled the house and Norton’s bed began to shake. In an instant, the temperature in the bedroom dropped to freezing; this was a damper, much clammier cold than before, and it sunk right into Norton’s bones.

  ‘Hello,’ said Les, flippantly. ‘Heee’s baaacckk.’

  Leaving great clouds of steam in his wake, Les stepped out into the hallway where it was even colder again. He rubbed his arms briskly, spreading more clouds of steam along the hallway through his chattering teeth, and watched the flickering lights. Next thing, an awful, anguished moan lowered through the house, accompanied by ghoulish laughter that seemed to come from everywhere. Les turned around and the doorway was suddenly framed by streams of fluorescent green light pouring through the sides and underneath. Les stared as the light coming from round the door intensified into a foggy, green glow in the hallway. In the centre of the glow, an eerie figure began to take shape. It was the coal-black outline of a man.

  ‘G’day Edward,’ said Les. ‘Nice of you to drop in.’

  Les was immediately answered by a powerful force hitting him in the chest like a crash tackle, knocking the wind out of him. Arms and legs flailing, Norton skidded backwards towards the loungeroom where he crashed heavily into the door frame, before falling face down in the hallway.

  ‘Ohh shit!’ grunted Les. ‘That bloody hurt.’

  Les rose to his knees and was straightaway grabbed by the scruff of the neck, dragged along the hallway and flung head first into the front door. He just had time to throw his arms out in front of him or his skull would have been split open against the heavy wooden frame. Les spun around, seeing stars, and landed on his rump with his back against the door.

  ‘Shit!’ spluttered Les, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. ‘What are you fuckin trying to do, Edward. Kill me?’

  Les felt himself being dragged to his feet by the front of his tracksuit before getting flung forward along the hallway. He hit the floor in a clumsy somersault, rolling over on his back wondering what day it was. He brought his head up as a massive weight fell across his body, pinning him to the floor. It was like all those bags of cocaine had been stacked on top of him, slowly crushing him, and he was powerless to move. Les tried to breathe, his chest heaving in short, choking gasps as if he was having a violent asthma attack. The weight got heavier, pressing Les against the floor, crushing the very life out of him. Les choked off a cry of pain and felt himself blacking out.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ screamed Les, with what little air he had. ‘Get off me Edward. You’re killing me you cunt. I can’t fuckin breathe.’ The weight crushed Les further into the floor and his eyes started to swim. ‘Edward,’ gasped Les. ‘Edward listen to me. I’ve got something for you. The ring. Edward … the ring. With the little black opals. “To Gwendolyn … All my love. Now … and Forever … Edward. Now … and Forever …” Edward. Ohh shit!’ begged Les. ‘Edward. Get off me. Please.’

  The lights flickered crazily. The howling and moaning got louder along with the fiendish laughter. Then it stopped and the weight eased. His chest heaving up from the floor, Les groaned with relief and sucked in all the life-giving air he could.

  ‘Ohh Jesus!’ garbled Les, as the freezing cold air filled his lungs. ‘Thank God!’ Les was starting to get his breath back, when he was dragged bodily to his feet again and shoved against the wall. ‘Okay, okay Edward,’ panted Les. ‘I’ve got it. It’s all right. Just follow me.’

  Clutching his midriff, Les staggered into the loungeroom. He picked up the T-shirt with the hand inside, turned around and lurched down the hallway to the front door, leaving clouds of steam hanging in the frigid, green glow behind him. He opened the door to find the green glow all round his car. Les put the T-shirt on the roof and unwrapped the bony hand. The hand immediately took on a glow of its own, the gold ring beginning to shine while the fire danced in the tiny opals. Les stood back from the car and pointed.

  ‘Edward look!’ he cried. ‘There’s your ring. Still on your finger where you kept it for Gwendolyn. The ring Edward. There it is. Look.’

  Les drew back from the green glow swirling around his car as the same black shape that was inside appeared by the passenger side door. The eerie, green light swirled in the darkness and the shape became a little man with a beard, wearing a frock coat and trousers. Norton left him and backed inside the front door, slamming it shut behind him. With the green glow still radiating into the hallway from outside, he leant his back against the door and slowly got his breath back.

  Les could never remember being so terrified. The invisible weight that had lain all over his body had almost crushed the life out of him. Another minute and Les knew he would have stopped breathing. And the supernatural strength he’d been up against was incredible. Les was a big, strong man. But the poltergeist had tossed him around the hallway like he was a rag doll. After a while Les settled down and noticed the green glow had stopped. He pushed himself away from the front door, got the bourbon from his room and gulped it down in the kitchen, then stared into the sink, grateful that what had happened appeared to be over. Les had played Edward and the supernatural a little lightly and almost paid the price. He turned off the lights in the house then went back to his room and flopped down on the bed exhausted. His chest hurt, so did his neck, and Les knew he’d have bruises all over him tomorrow. But at least he was alive. With the bed lamp still on, Les lay on his bed in the cold before finally dragging the blankets over him.

  Suddenly, the cold went away and the room returned to normal. Not only that. A beautiful feeling of peace and tranquillity washed over Les leaving him warm and relaxed. Any pain or anxiety had vanished and his mind filled with beautiful thoughts and colours. It was sensational. Even the house around him seemed like a big, cosy old friend taking care of him. It was just a beautiful, beautiful feeling, like nothing Les had ever experienced. Instead of lying on the bed,
Les felt as if he was floating above it. It was absolutely marvellous. Les reached over and switched off the light then closed his eyes and let his head sink into the wonderfully soft pillows. In no time, Norton fell into the deepest, most refreshing sleep imaginable.

  Les blinked his eyes open the next morning to the delightful sound of magpies whistling in the trees alongside the verandah. He felt great after an exceptionally good night’s sleep and was pleasantly surprised to find he had no bruises or aches and pains of any description. Les stared up at the ceiling and reflected on the previous night, but soon put the unnerving events out of his mind. He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. After flushing the toilet, he stepped across to clean his teeth and abruptly stopped in front of the sink. Someone had taken the soap and written something across the mirror in beautiful, old script. It was just one word.

  Thankyou.

  ‘That’s all right, Edward,’ said Les. ‘Thanks for not killing me.’

  There was one photo left in his camera. Les got it from the bedroom, angled it across the mirror so the flash wouldn’t mask the writing and took the last shot. The camera started to wind back and Les reached for his toothbrush. After freshening up, he went back to the bedroom and changed into his blue cargos and the same T-shirt he had on the night before, then walked into the kitchen where another surprise was waiting for him. Sitting on the kitchen table was the horseshoe with the bear standing in the middle. Les smiled again and pushed the little bear in its fat stomach. Straight away it started singing ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca’ and waving its arms around. Les waited till the bear finished then switched it off and sorted out some tea and toast. While he was waiting, he opened the front door and walked out to his car. His T-shirt was folded up on the roof of his car and the hand was gone. Les picked up his T-shirt and took it inside.

  ‘Well Edward. I think you finally got what you were after,’ smiled Les, closing the door behind him. ‘Say hello to Gwendolyn for me.’ He put the T-shirt into his room and went back to the kitchen.

  Les got his tea and toast together and walked out onto the verandah. Unfortunately, the day didn’t match his good mood. The sky had clouded over, it was cooler, and the southerly was blowing again. Not much of a day for the beach, figured Les, as he sipped his tea and watched two boats pass each other in the channel. He strolled along the verandah nibbling on a piece of toast, checking things out for the last time. I’m going to miss this old house, he thought. I hope Clover’s parents don’t sell it now that Edward’s gone. I’d like to stay here again. Actually, they don’t even know he’s gone. I should keep quiet about it and make them an offer. Les laughed to himself. Knowing my luck though, another ghost would move in and take over from Edward. Les finished his tea and toast and rinsed his mug in the kitchen.