©Chris Blackford 2004

 

Who Killed Ben Squires?

"YOU'RE INTO STOCKS AND BONDAGE, AREN'T YOU?" Ben took the glass of champagne from my hand and began stroking my thigh with feather-light touches. I took his hand and began licking his fingertips. We stood and moved to the bedroom where he produced four sets of handcuffs.  He lay spread-eagled on the bed, already with a hungry erection. I cuffed his hands and ankles to the brass bedposts. Taking a tie from the cupboard, I blindfolded him, poured champagne on his body, and began to lick him all over. His body began to writhe and contort. I moved my tongue to his nipples, focusing on one then the other.  I was enjoying this game.  He was moaning. He let out a loud gasp. His body shuddered then went limp. Just my luck, he had fallen asleep.  I took off his blindfold. He wasn't asleep. His eyes were wide open. He was dead.

Ohhhh shit.  I began mouth to mouth and jumped up and down on his chest.  I really didn't know what the hell I was doing. Probably puncturing his lungs and heart.  I kept it up for twenty minutes to no avail. 

"What am I going to do? What am I going to do?"  I was hysterical. "Think, think." I grabbed my mobile. "Call Jude. Yeah, yeah she'll know what to do. Why would she know what to do?"

"Jude. Help. You've got to come.  He's dead.  I killed him."

"Who's dead? Who did you kill?"

"Ben."

"Squires?"

"He must have had a heart attack."

"That's a good idea…. Who's Gerard?"

I tied my sarong. "Ben's skipper.  He's down at the boat…  I hope. Quick, c'mon."  I grabbed Jude and headed for the elevator.

"Ground floor – handcuffs, blow-up dolls." Jude was trying to be funny. It fell on non-amused ears.

We raced down to the wharf, Jude still with champagne in hand, and boarded the Christienne.

"Gerard, please be there," I prayed. Lord knows religion is not my forte, but I was willing to become a nun at this point.

"Jude, you stay here and I'll go look for him," I whispered.

I raced over the ship yelling as softly as I could, “Gerard, help!”

The door to his cabin opened. "Miss Sharon, Vot is zee  problem?"

Oh that French, oh that body, oh that little towel. Keep your mind on zee problem.

"Gerard, Ben is dead. I think he had a heart attack."

"Mon Dieu.  Did you call zee doctor?"

"No... I... We...  Just come. And bring bolt cutters."

"Vot?"

"Please, just do as I ask."

Gerard got dressed – shame – and we, as nonchalantly as three people in varying stages of manic hysteria can, raced back to the hotel.

"Quick. The elevator in the basement."

Jude was eyeing Gerard up and down as we rode the lift to the top floor.

"Don't get any ideas. He's gay." I elbowed Gerard in the side.  He must have understood because he suddenly became limp wristed."

We burst into the suite and headed for the bedroom.

Gerard was gob-smacked. "Mon Dieu.  Miss Sharon,  eet is zee shame I am gay." He winked.

I was humiliated.

"I weel take care of everysing.  Hush, hush.  No scandal. Yes? "

"Thank you, Thank you, thank you."

"Eet is my job. No?"

"How can I ever repay you?"

He leaned and whispered in my ear in a broad American accent, "I'll think of something.” He winked. “Now ladies go, go." And he shooed us out the door.

"Shit. I need a drink," I said.

"Shit, it's a shame he's gay."

~~~~~

We stopped at my place to pick up my dog and drove back to Jude's via the Tavern's drive-thru and Angelo's Pizza Haven. Copious amounts of wine and food were necessary to calm my nerves. Greasy cheese was necessary to remind my arteries and thighs what they were there for. Both were like a bank, lusting after new deposits. Red wine was for medicinal purposes e.g.  PMT, depression, and definitely after you have been straddling a dead man.

Halfway through the fourth bottle I threw up and passed out (I think). For all I know I could have been abducted by aliens and had all my innards analysed.  

I woke to something wet pummeling my face. I opened one eye and stared at Max, my best friend of the canine variety.  He is a twelve-year-old black labrador with eyes the colour of warm caramel fudge, arthritis, bad breath, and a very weak bladder.

“Not exactly a Kodak moment is it mate?” I looked around the room. Oh yeah, Jude's place. Further back in my memory was a dead guy. Oh yeah.  I closed my eyes.  I felt like road kill and the buzzards were pecking at my brain. My bodily fluids were fermenting into a gas ready to blow my body apart, leaving nothing but bones for the rats to scatter.  I felt CROOK.

Now if I can just stand up. Careful, careful. Up you get. Easy,easy.Good.

I gave in to Max's whining and opened the front door. "You come straight back when you're finished," I croaked.

 I shuffled to the kitchen for a caffeine hit. On the table lay the Daily Post. Splashed over the front page was:

 

SYNDICATE BOSS BENJAMIN SQUIRES FOUND DEAD

Last night infamous English Syndicate boss, Sir Benjamin Squires, was found in his luxury Casino suite. Squires was noted for his lucrative brothel holdings and it is believed that he was in Cairns to finalise the licensing of three new brothels to be built in the local area. Though it is unclear of the exact cause of death, seven stab wounds were found on the body. Squires is survived by his sixth wife, Janelle Rhoden-Squires. Police are continuing their investigations.

“Ohhhhhh shit.”

“JUDE, JUDE.” I stumbled through the flat to Jude's room, plonked on the edge of the bed, and shook her as hard as I could. "JUDE, quick wake up." 

“Mmmmmmm.  Go away.”

“WAKE UP!” Thwack.

Jude's eyes opened wide as she touched the side of her face. “You hit me.”

“Quick, look at this.” I held the paper in front of her face.”

“You hit me.”

“Just read the damn paper.”

“Wallabies brace themselves for their biggest football match this season.”

I turned the paper over and thrust it back into her face.

“Syndicate boss Ben Squires found dead. So what's the big deal?  We know you killed him.”

“Read the rest of it.  It says he was stabbed seven times.”

“Did you stab him?  I didn't see any blood.”

“Of course I didn't stab him.”

“Well then, what's the problem?  You didn't stab him, I didn't stab him, so let me go back to sleep.” Jude rolled over and began to snore.

As I pushed her onto her back, she raised her hands in defense.

“I'm not going to hit you. But don't you get it? I know I didn't stab him, and you know I didn't stab him, but we were the last……Nooo, we  weren't the last ones to see him.  Gerard was. But why?  None of this makes any sense.”

“Revenge,” Jude said matter-of-factly. “He hated the old man and it felt good to put some holes in him.”

I looked blankly at her. “How do you know he hated him?”

“It's the classic scenario; head honcho treats his underlings like slaves and they crack.  Simple.”

“Well Dr. Freud, even if that is true, we could be in big trouble.”

“What's with the we?”

My glare pierced her soul and she sighed as she rolled over hugging her pillow. “Ok. Just let me sleep on it.”

I was in deep shit and I had to do something about it.  I made a black coffee for Jude with the usual three spoons of sugar. The smell of the brew raised the wayward diva and she came stumbling to the kitchen looking totally fetching in her trashed T-shirt and Calvin Klein boxers, her make-up smudged.  She plonked onto the chair and laid her head on the table.  Her Rocky Raccoon eyes gazed up at me. “Where am I?”

“In deep shit.  That's where we both are.”

“What?  Oh yeah, the dead guy with the handcuffs.”

“And seven stab wounds,” I added.

“Oh yeah. I vaguely remember you saying something about that.” Her eyes grew wide. “And you hit me.”

I passed her coffee as a peace offering. “Sorry but you wouldn't listen and I don't think you should be taking this so casually.”

“ At the moment casual apathy is all I can muster. Anything more and my head may explode.”

Just then there was a knock at the door.  I looked at Jude. Jude looked at me. “Shit, I'd better hide,” I whispered. 

I flew back into the bedroom and clambered over shoes and junk in the wardrobe and hid behind a smelly furry thing hanging there. 

Another loud knock. “Ladies, do you want your dog back?”

Max.  I had forgotten all about him. I fought my way out of the cupboard and went to the door.  Through the peephole I saw Jude's neighbour, Dan, with a very forlorn canine companion. I opened the door.

“ I found him wandering on the beach.  I knew you two were incapable of looking after him so I took him to my place. He's had some leftover chili fish with béarnaise sauce and a walk. So if you ladies can behave yourselves for a while, I have to go to work.  Can I trust you to be a responsible pet owner, hmm?" 

“Thanks Dan," I sighed. I'm really sorry to do that to you.”

He raised his hand to silence me. “You would have done the same."

I smiled sweetly and said a silent “not”, bowed my head in shame and promised under oath that I would not stray again. Dan grimaced, turned and waddled off.

No wonder my children had moved to the other side of the world; I'm such a baaad mother.  Max gave me that so what's new look and trotted off to the coffee table, downing the leftover pizza in a microsecond.

Jude and I drank our coffee and headed for our respective showers.  The cold water pounded my somewhat numb skin and ten minutes later I emerged feeling slightly refreshed.  I wrapped a purple sequined sarong around me; the only thing of Jude's that wouldn't make me look like a microwaved sausage oozing out of its skin, while my tall, slender friend managed to make a T-shirt and six inches of fabric look hot – bitch!

“Right Shazza, what's our plan of attack?”

“Leaving the country is not a bad idea,” I managed, “but first I think we should go and see what Gerard knows about this.”  We grabbed our bags, headed out the door, and jumped into Jude's car. She insisted that Max ride in the back.

 Max was not impressed.  He is not a backseat guy.  His ears were pinned back in defiance, but a Mars bar soon persuaded him to the rear.   

“Just go by my place and I'll drop him off,” I said.

Jude turned left and crossed the highway. As we rounded the corner we spotted a cop car in the drive. 

“I think Max could do with a nice drive don't you?”

Jude agreed that canine companionship would be a good thing at the moment, so we cruised by the house, fast-tracked it back to the highway, and headed south into town.

Our first stop was the pier.  We parked under a tree and left the windows halfway down.  I was a responsible pet owner now. I looked into his big fudge brown eyes,  “We won't be long baby," and kissed him on his wet nose.

“Yech.” 

Jude was not a dog person.

We walked down finger 4, to where the Christienne  was……..once berthed. “Gerard's gone.  That mongrel.” 

As we approached the empty space we noticed police talking to some of the boaties.

 “Look nonchalant,”  I whispered. “Just get on the next boat.”

We hopped aboard The Scarlet Woman, an eight metre shell of fibreglass patchwork– well it was more like we climbed over the rails, me in my sarong and Jude in her micro-mini and stiletto sandals – a very cool sight.

“Why couldn't you have picked that boat?” Beside Scarlet Woman was berthed the 48 cutter rigged ketch, Far Horizons, with polished timber fore and aft, port and starboard, and everywhere in between and enough brass to put Aladdin to shame. A very large sigh was had by all.

“Here, let's hide in the loo.” I grabbed Jude's hand and we squeezed into a half square metre, stench filled cavity.  Jude sat on the cracked dunny.  Located above the dunny, was a shower attached to a hose.

“You could shower, shit, and clean fish all at the same time.” Jude laughed.

“Shh.”  I watched the two officers through the blue louvred door as they walked back to the wharf.  I signaled to Jude. “ Right, coast is clear.”

The sound of engines and a sickening vibration sent a shiver down my spine. I opened the door and we saw the marina becoming a distant memory.

“Ohhhh Shit.”

With Cairns fading in the distance, fear sat heavily in the pit of my stomach and I had to pee.  I traded places with Jude and relieved my aging bladder as we discussed our options. “We have two options; introduce ourselves to whoever is driving this tub, or jump overboard and become crocodile fodder.”

We made our way to the wheelhouse. The room served as a kitchen, bedroom, as well as the navigation cabin.  Rusted tins of baked beans and spaghetti sat on the shelves

along with a bottle of orange crush and Enos. A battered kettle sat on a hotplate and an old tape recorder was belting out Greatest Country Duets.

As a precaution, I picked up a rusted grease gun and hid it under the folds of the sarong.  Jude glared at me. I could hear her mind ticking over; you'll get the cleaning bill. I did an eye roll and nodded.

Tripping over the bed, I came face to face with vision pollution. This dude was UUUGLY. He had the complexion of toasted muslie and was as bald as a badger.  His tattoos had tattoos.

"What the…..? Get the fuck off of my boat."

"Now sir, " I gulped, "we are sorry to disturb you, but we are here quite by accident."

"Well it won't be no accident how you get off."

"Now sir," I continued, "you strike me as a reasonable man.  If you could just turn the boat around, we will be happy to leave you in peace."

"Reasonable is not in my vocabulary.  Now get the…"

"Listen you dick-with-ears, Ma has already killed once. Stabbed a man seven times, so I wouldn't mess with her."

My head did an exorcist spin. Ma? Ma? I pointed the grease gun at Jude then applied it to the back of face-ache's skull. Before he could turn, Jude kneed him in a place no man wants to be kneed.  He went down onto the deck like a floundering mackerel.  As he clutched his aching cobblers, we managed to hog tie him with fishing line, securing it with hooks precariously anchored into his shorts near his recent painful experience.

I took hold of the ship's wheel. "Jude, do you know how to drive one of these things?"

"Nope.  Do you?"

"I guess I'm just about to learn." I did a one-eighty turn.

"Jude, are we supposed to stay to the left or the right of those things sticking out of the water?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to argue the point with that thing."

A huge bulk carrier was headed straight for us.  I swerved and we were drenched by its wake. We were headed for the mud flats of the foreshore. 

"Jude, do these things have brakes?"

Jude searched the floor.  "I can't see any."

"Well what do I do?"  We were fast closing in on the ooze at low tide.

"I think brace yourself would be a good option."

We ran aground sending the pongy sludge flying.  The motor finally cut off as smoke billowed from its casing. I looked down at the slimy bundle wallowing on the deck. "I think you should make sure you put reasonable into your vocabulary, don't you?"

Jude and I climbed over the side and sank knee deep into the mire.

Tourists had gathered and cameras clicked as the two mudskippers, one dressed in a purple sequined sarong, the other holding her stilettos high above her head, slowly made their way to shore. I could feel my skin being sucked of its moisture as the mud began to dry and crack.

We got back to the car. "I'm a baaaad mother."  There sat Max, his head sticking out of the window that was now covered in dog-slobber. 

As Jude opened the door her senses were greeted with the ripe odour of chili fish with béarnaise sauce topped with leftover pizza. "Oh shit!"

I glanced into the open door. "Yup, that's what it is."

"Right, Shaz, you're driving."

I grabbed a rag and scooped the poop onto the road.

We drove home in ominous quiet.  Talking would mean sucking in air, sucking in air would mean breathing the stinking odour of dog poop mixed with mud flat cologne.

As we neared our turn-off, clouds with black underbellies began rolling in fast.  Torrential rain began.

"Don't even think of rolling up the windows," Jude shouted.  Even Max agreed as his coat became matted against his face, tail wagging, tongue hanging.

Back at Jude's, I coaxed Max into the shower with me and Pantened the both of us head to toe.

Over coffee and Tim Tams we began to plot our next attack.

"You have no idea what to do next, do you Shaz?" Jude had reinstated her ring of confidence.

"I haven't got a clue."  It was all too much.  I started blubbering like a baby.  An overtired baby.  A hungry, dirtied nappy, overtired baby.

"I'll call Lenny." Jude said. " We have to get help."

The words help and Lenny were at either end of the spectrum as far as I was concerned.  "It was his help that got us into this mess."

"Have you got any better ideas Einstein? It was your idea to let Lenny set you up with Squires. It was you who handcuffed the old guy to the bed, and it was your idea to jump on a boat straight out of Dead Calm."

.           I slumped to the floor and buried my face in my hands.  "I just want my life back."

Jude picked up the phone and made the ominous call. "Lenny?  Jude Petrone.  Yes I'm fine and you?"

I shook my head in disbelief at the niceties.

"Listen Lenny, you remember Ben Squires?  Yes, it was a shame.  Well my friend Sharon Wilks…. Yes, she is a beautiful woman." Jude smiled and winked at me. 

I shook my head in further disbelief.

" Well," she continued, "Shaz is in a spot of bother.  It seems she was the last one to see him alive.  Well, she wasn't exactly out with him, she was more on top of him.  Yes, he was a lucky man." 

I banged my head against the cupboard.

"Well, he actually died of a heart attack.  Yes, I know he was stabbed, but when I saw him….  no it wasn't a threesome but...yes, I'm sure it would have been fun.  Shaz,  called me when he died under her because she couldn't get the handcuffs off.  Yes handcuffs.  Lenny? Lenny, are you there?"

Jude covered the mouthpiece.  "I think he's wanking himself off," she whispered. 

"Yes Lenny, I'm still here.  The thing is that he wasn't stabbed while we were there but Gerard… yes, Gerard, his skipper, was with us and now he's disappeared so we

have no proof that Shaz didn't do it.  You understand?  Right, you'll come over in the morning?  Yes, she's hiding out at my place at the beach."

Jude gave me the thumbs up signal and I had dubious trepidation tattooed to the inside of my eyelids.

"Thanks Lenny.  Ciao."

~~~

Lenny Caruzzi, criminal lawyer, cum detective, cum part-time pimp, arrived at ten. His gold chains and finely oiled bronzed skin glistened in the sunlight.

"Jude, bellissima, come stai?"

"Io béné, Lenny. Shaz che mi preoccupa." 

He turned in my direction. "Sharon, Sharon my beautiful one. I am so sorry things did not work out for you and Sir Ben."

That was an understatement.  I didn't want sympathy, I wanted to hang him up by his gold chains and beat the Italian "Oh I'm sure you and my friend will get on famously" crap out of him.

Jude took Lenny's hand. "We just want to find out who stabbed Squires so that we can get Shaz in the clear."

Lenny lifted Jude's hand to his lips. " Si bella. I will get my boys on to it straightaway."

Caruzzi hung out with "boys" called Chopper and Snake, and if they hadn't lived in the tropics I'm sure they would have been attired in black trench coats and fedoras.

Jude said they knew how to “get things done” and I imagined a cricket bat as one of their tools of trade.

~~~

Until Lenny could sort this out, I thought it best to go incognito.  I borrowed Jude's red wig, and a T-shirt and boardies from Dan.

I tried to go out as little as possible but an old labrador with varying degrees of incontinence does not do well holed up in a two bedroom apartment.  A bit like myself; give me the wide-open spaces and good quality panty liners.

Max and I walked the beach 'till long after dark. Jude and Lenny were sitting on the couch watching CSI when we got back.

 Lenny wore a pair of white Versace jeans and a lemon coloured shirt that he had forgotten to button.

"I hope you're not watching that to get some ideas." I said as I discarded my windblown mane.

"Aren't we testy," Jude said.

Here's the thing, I'm walking around looking like Bozo the Clown searching for the endless wave while avoiding cops who think I stabbed a man seven times. I am a forty-nine year old victim of circumstance and I'm supposed to be composed. "YES I'M TESTY!"

"Sharon, bella," Lenny gave a half-hearted smile, " my boys are on to something."

Visions of amphetamines danced in my head.

"All you have to do is find Gerard," I screamed.

"I'm afraid there was no Gerard listed as his skipper." Lenny sighed. " His skipper's name was Maria and she had to fly suddenly to England because her mother was ill.  We checked the airlines and it is true."

"So who was he?" My eyes began to leak and my nose began to run.  I was no longer testy, I was inconsolable.

"Bella, Bella,  we have located Mrs. Rhoden-Squires.  I am going to see her tomorrow. Perhaps she can shed some light on this."

"Oh great.  Interrogate the grieving widow to save the girlfriend." I gave a large mental sigh.

"Now my beauties, I must go.  Do not lose heart."

No, just my next fifty years to concrete walls and hard-core lesbians.

~~~

I emerged from the bedroom bleary eyed with the consciousness only afforded to those who take a vast amount of alcohol as a sleeping tonic.

Assuming my alias, I took Max for his morning ritual.

A strange feeling that I was being watched came over me. I soon dismissed it remembering my eloquent attire.  However a black stretch limousine was cruising up and down the street.  Once again I rejected any mal-intent, taking into account that Jude did live in a highly unachievable part of town. But when it stopped beside me, I hit the dirt.  I waited for the sound of machine guns to begin. Nothing.  I lifted my head to see a bevy of

Japanese tourists staring down at me, cameras flashing. 

A tinted window lowered.  Lenny stuck his bedangled head out.  "Are you ok, bella?"  The door opened and several eyes peered at me.  "Please get in," Lenny summoned.

"Not without my dog."

"Ok, bring the dog."

Max jumped in.  I squeezed in next to Lenny.  Beside him was a lady straight out of Vogue, and facing us were five ladies of varying nationalities, but of obvious similar wealth.

"Keep it away, keep it away. It's probably got rabies." One of the Nip-n-tuck parade squealed."

"It is a he," I protested, and we don't have rabies in this country.  It's the bat lyssavirus you have to look out for. Your left arm goes numb and you become weak. Then you go into a coma and die from encephalitis."

Tears began to form in her eyes. "Get me out of this God forsaken country." 

"Janelle, get hold of yourself," articulated another passenger.

 She held out her hand.  I was surprised how she could hold it up with so many rocks on it. "My name is Cynthia Reuban-Squires, and this is Franchesca Gonzallas-Squires,

"Buenos dias."

"Michelle Bonaparte-Squires."

"Bonjour."

"Inga Borg-Squires."

"God morgon."

"And,Myra Jones. She's American. Very uncultured."

"Bite me," said Myra.

Lenny raised his perfectly manicured hand. "Ladies, ladies, please."

It was the United Nations of ex-wives.

"My dear," continued Lady Reuban-Squires, "as you have no doubt guessed, we all have on thing in common: our dear departed Ben.  We were ready for you to take the

blame but Mr. Caruzzi has convinced us that you are an innocent lamb sent to the slaughter.  And you look so pathetic, we could not bring ourselves to let that happen.  The truth is that we had all planned on putting Ben out of our misery, but you beat us to it.  However the delightful anticipation just got too much, and seeing him lying there, well, a plan is a plan. It would have been difficult for the police to pin it on any one of us. Rather ingenious don't you think? Straight out of Agatha Christie."

"But he was stabbed seven times and there are only six of you," I said.

"Janelle was really pissed off. Excuse my language. She wasn't used to his infidelities. Anyway dear, Lenny has convinced us that the most we will get is a slap on the wrist for interfering with the body.  The police feel that crime bosses are best out of the way no matter how it happens."

"What about Gerard?"

Lenny smiled. "Undercover CIA.  He was probably going to have him killed anyway.  I hope you don't mind, I gave him your number. He said something about having to return some handcuffs."

I opened the door. "I'm going to go now.  I've got some serious screaming to do. It was a pleasure to meet all of you." 

            I turned to Lenny, "By the way, what's happening about the guy on the boat?"

"What boat is that?"

"The one Jude and I rammed into the mud with the guy tied….umm… never mind."

Lenny made the sign of the cross as I waved good-bye.