Death on Dangar Island

Sunday Afternoon

Gary pushed back through the noisy flyscreen door with relief. Things had been getting tense in there and he couldn’t wait to make himself scarce. In the almost twenty-four hours he’d been on the island, he’d seen a dead girl, he’d dealt with the cops and he still hadn’t got a fishing rod in his hand. Getting out on the point, chucking a line in and listening to the cricket for a few hours was high on his agenda.

A mob of kids were lounging in front of a gum tree near the shop. They looked hung-over and out of place in black clothes and makeup. Sweat ran down the face of the nearest one, his black eyeliner streaking crazily across his cheek. The girl behind him smothered the butt of a cigarette with her black lips, and squinted as the smoke drifted back into her eyes. They looked away with feigned indifference as Gary watched them.

These were obviously partygoers from last night and it looked like they were about to be grilled by the coppers. Good thing the little shop sold a decent espresso; some of the next interviewees would need caffeine to survive their afternoon.

Israel glanced at his watch. ‘It is already after one o’clock, my friend. Shall we get some sandwiches to take away?’

Gary agreed and they went into the shop. The woman who took their orders was friendly, her eyes frequently crinkling at the corners as she bustled about behind the counter.

‘Excuse me, but are you a fan of poetry?’ asked Israel as she handed them their sandwiches.

‘Not really,’ she responded amiably. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Well, we were in your office just now being interviewed by the police and I couldn’t help noticing a few lines of Shelley lurked on your corkboard among the invoices.’

She made a circle with her lips. ‘Oh, really! It’s just terrible about this young girl, isn’t it? As for the Shelley, that’s Jamie’s workspace. He likes a bit of poetry – studied it at university.’ She leaned towards them and lowered her voice. ‘He even wrote some for me when we started seeing each other, but it wasn’t very good.’ Her face melted into a cheeky grin and she waved her gloved sandwich-making hand at them. ‘I’m Frankie, by the way. My husband James and I run this place.’

‘G’day. I’m Gary, and this is my mate Israel.’ He motioned towards the professor. ‘Don’t mind him. He can be a bit strange sometimes when it comes to poetry and all that.’

They settled into some small talk. Frankie wanted to know more about the body they’d found on the beach that morning. They told her the little they knew about the incident, and in return they learned that yes, there’d definitely been a party on the island the night before. Frankie also told them that the emo kids often came over on weekends.

Gary looked back to the tree and caught the last of the black t-shirts mooching towards the office door, the dapper constable giving them the hurry up.

‘Jamie calls them otherworlders,’ said Frankie, grinning.

‘Very creative,’ commented Israel. ‘Oh, by the way, do you have wi-fi here?’

‘Yeah, sure. The first hour’s free.’ Frankie printed out a docket with a wi-fi password and handed it over to Israel before moving on to serve a new customer.

Israel tucked the docket into his top pocket and gave it a pat before stepping out into the sunshine again. The automated backup system for his phone only worked when it was linked with wi-fi, and one never knew when access to broadband would come in handy.

‘Otherworlders…’ The word rolled off Israel’s tongue like a question as they began heading back across the island.

‘Is it true, what you told the DI about those snakebite victims?’ asked Gary as they walked. ‘I’ve never heard you talk about that stuff before.’