Death on Dangar Island

The Landlord

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.’