Death on Dangar Island

By GPField

13.4K 228 39

Professor Israel Wren doesn't think Roxanne Duncan died of snakebite on Dangar Island — no matter what anybod... More

Saturday Afternoon
Saturday Night
Sunday Morning
The DI
Sunday Afternoon
Gary Goes Fishing
Local Colour
Sunday Night
Snake!
Monday Morning
Caves and Birds
Max 'The Mauler'
A Convict Past
Shelly
Monday Afternoon
Monday Evening
A Suspicious Bunch
Tuesday Morning
Words on the Wind
Gaol Birds
The Coroner
The Tokoloshe

The Landlord

214 10 1
By GPField

They turned a corner in the track and were presented with a low roofline and grandly elegant entranceway. The front door presented as a double-width affair with a pair of impressively ornate handles. Jon heaved one of the leaves open and ushered Israel through a modern reception area and into an open-plan lounge and dining space. Israel’s head swivelled from side to side trying to take everything in as they went. The decor was masculine but tasteful, and the place was neat and clean. On one side of the big living area was an expensive granite kitchen bench and beyond it an expanse of plate glass and a balcony with a view. On the opposite side of the room, a leather lounge crouched in front of a state-of-the-art entertainment system. They continued towards huge glass sliding doors and out onto the sleek stone balcony.

On the far side of the terrace, a long narrow swimming pool perched on the edge of a cliff face. The azure ribbon of the pool appeared to melt into the blue of the cloudless sky beyond. It was only when they walked further out onto the balcony that the green water of the Hawkesbury River began to appear below them. Looking further out, the railway bridge with its iconic arches was visible in the middle distance. The panorama was impressive and Israel gazed out in wonder, feeling like an eagle in an eyrie.  

Jon invited his guest to take a seat in one of the comfortable wicker chairs scattered about. ‘I’m going to get myself a beer. Want one?’

It wasn’t Israel’s usual habit to take alcohol before lunch, and he wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but in the interests of social lubrication he decided to make an exception.

Jon returned with two tall slender bottles and they clinked the necks together in a toast.

‘To volunteer firefighters,’ said Israel.

‘To unexpected guests,’ responded his host.

Israel leaned back in his chair and sipped delicately. The taste was distinctive but he’d never heard of the brand.

Out over the water, a large flock of seagulls circled. When he turned back, Jon lowered his already half-empty bottle and winked at him.

‘Ah, this is the life.’ He stretched his arms out in the sun.

Israel shrank back into the shade provided by an awning above. ‘Do you live here permanently, Jon?’

‘Yeah, I like it here.’

‘What line of business are you in?’

‘Oh, I’m basically retired. I own a couple of other places on the island and rent them out to supplement my income. What about you, Israel? What do you do?’

‘I have recently retired myself. I was an academic, a professor at Sydney University. Tell me, Jon … being a local landlord, I’m sure you would have heard about the death of a girl on the island yesterday morning. My friend and I were unfortunate enough to be the ones who discovered the body.’

‘Is that right?’ Jon shook his head. ‘I’m sorry you had to get so close to, well, tragedy, I guess.’ The large man sat up straight, clanking his bottle on the table, his powerful neck muscles taut. ‘They think she wandered off from a party held at one of my rental properties.’

‘I can tell by your tone that the party was held without your permission.’

‘Very perceptive, Professor. I had no idea there was going to be a party there Saturday night and I wasn’t happy when I found out what was going on. I rented that house to a son of a friend of mine. Dumb, I guess, when you rent a house to a young person and don’t expect him to have a party. I mean, I imagined there’d be some kind of get-together, but not a bloody three-ring circus.’

‘A three-ring circus?’

Jon puffed out his cheeks and took another swig, his thick fingers pinching the long neck. ‘My brother rang up round midnight and warned me about what was going on down there. He’d just cruised past Deep Water on his boat and told me there was a party that was getting out of control. I thought I’d better go and check it out. When I got down there …’ He paused and looked momentarily unsure of himself. ‘I found the whole scene a little … unsettling, I guess you could say.’

‘Unsettling?’

‘There were all these drug-addled kids in black clothes and makeup floating around like ghosts. Even the blokes had this thick white goo caked on their faces, black lips, eye shadow.’ He stretched his shoulder, bending his arm into a triangle behind his head and flexing backwards. ‘It was surreal. I felt like I was on the set of a vampire movie or something. There was this young guy juggling fire sticks on the front lawn and another bloke juggling knives – even though they were both totally off their heads. The whole thing seemed so far out of control – young kids playing dress-ups and doing circus tricks, but practically comatose on their feet, they’d taken so much crap, or drunk it, or something … So, I’m standing there watching all this and a girl comes up and dances real close and personal, writhing around me, stroking me. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I danced with her for a minute or two before I realised how young she really was. I’m sure it must have looked suspect to the casual observer, but the incident was totally harmless, all meant in fun. Anyway, she went and put this huge snake on her shoulders. That was it for me. I was out of there. I hate snakes.’

Israel’s eyes widened. ‘Was it a dangerous snake?’

‘No, just a python of some sort, but in the dark I’ll admit it gave me a start.’

The smaller man crushed his lips together. ‘Did someone call the police?’

Jon Morris’s eyes flickered. ‘You know it’s very sad about this girl’s death but I don’t get your interest, Professor.’

‘Oh, I have no particular interest, Jon,’ said Israel doing his best to look innocuous. ‘I was just making conversation.’

Morris smiled again and the tension ran out of him. ‘So what field of expertise are you in, Professor? Chemistry, physics, something like that?’

‘Oh no, I’m a professor of English literature,’ responded Israel amiably.

‘Right …’ Morris beamed and waved his hand regally towards the balustrade. ‘What do you think of my view?’

Israel hummed contentedly in a particularly African way before replying. ‘It’s certainly a wonderful outlook. I would enjoy spending time here and observing the birdlife.’

They both gazed out from the balcony in appreciative silence. As if on cue, a pair of exotically plumed eastern rosellas alighted briefly on the chrome handrail in front of them, hopped around for a moment and flitted off again.

‘How delightful,’ said Israel softly. ‘I find it important to savour things that are beautiful. They are often so ephemeral. After all, a thing of beauty is a joy forever, my friend.’

‘Yeah, they’re pretty all right, but I don’t like it when they crap on my deck. Oh wait, okay, I get it, literary professor – literary quote. Let me guess, um, Shakespeare?’

‘Keats, actually.’ Israel was about to launch into a brief commentary on the use of iambic pentameter in nineteenth-century poetry when Morris stood up abruptly.

‘I’m going to get another one. How are you going there?’

Israel smiled and held up his bottle to show it was still half full as his host disappeared back through the great glass doors.

The distant rumble of powerful engines drifted up the hillside.

He meandered over to the railing and peered idly down into the narrow bay, where an impressive-looking powerboat was nosing up to the jetty. The phallic hull of the vessel was painted a gaudy shade of vibrant pink, and the word Statuss was emblazoned in large black letters across the lurid bow.

As his host re-emerged, drink in hand, Israel hooked his thumb towards the edge. ‘There’s a large pink boat down there. Is that unusual?’

The noise of the engine died and the hum of a smaller motor started, followed by the clank of metal on metal. Jon exhaled, his lips vibrating noisily, and then walked across the balcony to join him. He looked directly down, his jaw tightening. ‘My brother David,’ he explained. ‘He said he was going to drop by this weekend at some stage.’

Israel noticed a small concrete platform nearby. A long metal rail slid away at an angle following the contour of the land towards the river below. Rising steadily up the rail from the other end was an open box with waist-high railings around it. Inside was a man wearing a polo shirt and military-style peaked cap. He glanced up and returned his brother’s casual salute with a tight smile and a brief frantic wave.

‘What an interesting vehicle. I have never seen one up close before. What do you call it?’

‘It’s an inclinator – basically just a lift that transports things up from the mooring.’ The inclinator squealed to halt next to the small platform.

‘Ahoy there, landlubbers,’ exclaimed Jon’s brother in a nasal tone. ‘You didn’t tell me you would be doing any entertaining today, Jonny!’

‘I see you didn’t feel the need to attend to business today, David.’ answered Jon drily. ‘Anyway, I didn’t realise my social calendar was so important to you.’ I ran into the professor here taking a walk and I invited him over for a drink. I hope that’s not a problem for you. He and his friend are staying here and had the bad luck to be the ones who found the body of that girl down on Bradley’s Beach yesterday morning.’

David Morris appraised Israel silently. Morris had the same look as his brother except he was younger, healthier and cleaner cut. ‘Well, well. Inviting strange men in off the street, Jon. I never thought I’d see the day!’ He turned his deep, expressive eyes back to Israel in mock alarm. ‘It sounds like your time on the island has been awful so far, Professor. I hope it hasn’t spoiled your holiday?’

‘No, not at all, David. I have seen many corpses in my time. My friend Gary says that I attract them, although it was he who stumbled across this one.’

David tilted his head. ‘Is your friend Gary staying with you on the island?’

‘Yes, we’re on holiday together.’

‘How nice for you both.’

Jon glared at his brother.

David moved into the shade and pulled off his cap, revealing a completely bald skull. ‘So what brings you up the hill to the castle in the sky? Don’t tell me Jon had something to do with all this drama?’ He bent his arm behind his head, stretching his tricep and yawned with indifference.

‘Come on, Dave. Stop hassling my guest. Let me get you a drink …’

Israel stood up and asked for directions to the toilet, before he stepped into the lounge and headed down the indicated corridor and out of sight. Unobserved, he opened the bathroom door and banged it closed it again without stepping inside. Then he waited, listening.

Out on the balcony, the atmosphere changed abruptly.

Jon’s voice came through the open doors. ‘What the hell are you playing at …?’ The rest of the sentence was lost on the wind.

Israel edged closer to the corridor and listened intently.

Close by, he heard a theatrical sigh. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Jon. It’s very sad you can’t just accept me as I am.’ Then in a totally different voice David said, ‘Build a bridge and get over it, won’t you?’

‘You knew what you were doing. You knew how that would look ...’

The voices were suddenly uncomfortably close. Israel pulled flat against the wall. Grimacing, he slipped back to the bathroom and deftly slid inside before putting his ear up to the wood.

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