Body Surfer By Jo McGahey

It was midwinter. There'd been a big blow the night before and we were up early. You never know what you'll find on Palm Beach after a storm. When we were kids we stumbled over big lump of ambergris and a ship's door - only our ambergris turned out to be a very smelly chunk of dead dolphin! We lugged it home in triumph and Mum carried on like a pork chop. Later Dad buried it in the back yard. He made the ship's door into a work bench though.
Idly I scuffed my sandalled feet in the sand, all the while keeping a wary eye out for nasties - syringes, condoms and the like.
"You've got to watch where you put your feet today. Once all we'd find here might be a bit of flotsam, jetsam or the odd blue-bottle." My father paused and poked at a lump of seaweed. "Remember when we found that paper nautilus?"
"Do I ever." I smiled, remembering. "Floating in on a wave. Right up to our feet like some magic sea-chariot."
"You're still my little girl at heart." Dad smiled. "Hard to believe you've grown up - that you're a detective now."
"A private detective Dad. An unemployed private detective."
"Yes. Well. Harrumph." My father cleared his throat and looked a bit embarrassed. "I'm sure something will turn up."
We walked without speaking for a while. I thought about my present state of poverty and probably Dad did too. I'd just returned from overseas with no money and no job and I was back living at home. At last Dad broke the silence.
"Will you take a gander at that." He pointed to a lone surfer riding high on the crest of a wave. "It's not often you see a body-surfer out in these conditions."
"He's game. That's for sure," I said, looking towards the neoprene-suited surfers bobbing on their boards at the other end of the beach. "It must be freezing in that water without a suit."
"No-one wore wetsuits in my day," Dad said. "Anyhow that sea is too rough to surf. Wow! He's caught a big one. Just look at him go. Like a bloody torpedo. He's heading straight for us."
Fascinated, we watched as the monster breaker came barrelling towards the beach. By now the solitary body-surfer had lost the crest of the wave and we could see him suspended inside it. He was in trouble. As we stared into the wave it swelled again, rose and curled over. The surfer went with it for a second or two and then he fell off, head first into the trough, legs and arms spreadeagled.
"He's been dumped. Big time," I shouted as we lost sight of the surfer who was wallowing in the froth and churning sand. Then, as the wave retreated, I saw him, face down in to the shallows.
"Come on." Dad was off and running. "He might have broken his stupid neck."
We reached the water's edge together and grabbed the floating man. His limbs were all floppy but his body seemed rigid. I noticed was wearing funny-looking shorts. Not proper swimmers. Something felt weird but I didn't know what.
"Now what do we do?" I asked no-one in particular. "We shouldn't move him if he's broken his neck."
"Come on girl," shouted Dad. "If we don't he'll bloody drown anyhow."
A couple who'd been further up the beach ran down to join us. He weighed a ton but somehow the four of us carried him from the water and laid him on his back. Dad stared hard for a second and shook his head. Then the couple (a doctor and his nurse wife they said they were) pushed in, took over, phoned for an ambulance and started CPR. All in about thirty seconds flat.
We just stood back and let them at it. Sticking my mouth over a total stranger's, a total drowned stranger! is not my idea of a fun way to spend an afternoon. Then I noticed the nurse had one of those airway things the ambos use.
Very cute, I thought. Fancy carrying that sort of gear in your handbag; and I wished the ambulance would hurry up.
My father was very quiet. He stood beside me with this puzzled look on his face and when the nurse lifted her mouth from the man's, he stepped forward to have another look and I heard him catch his breath. The drowned white face looked up at us - eyes open, staring blindly at the sky - bloodless mouth gaping - dribbling. He looked horrible and very dead.
"Jesus Christ," my father whispered. "Do you know who this is?"
"No." I stared at the dead face. "Who was he?"
The CPR team were back, hard at it again, counting, pushing and puffing, so we stepped away.
Surely, I thought, these two must know dead when they see it. After all, they're in the business.
"Jerry Jackson," said my father. "That's who."
"Who's Jerry Jackson?" I asked.
"Beryl's husband of course.."
"Beryl Jackson next door? Old Beryl? Our Beryl? Rough as guts Beryl."
"The same."
"But..." I was struggling with this. "Beryl doesn't have a husband. Beryl used to have a boyfriend. I remember him. His name was big Den."
"Of course you wouldn't know. But then, at the time, it was in all the papers."
"What was?".
"Her husband's disappearance. Police said he was a 'person of interest' in some nasty business up the Cross. Anyhow he vanished into blue smoke just before we moved to Palm Beach."
"But that was over fifteen years ago."
"Exactly." My father stared down at the body on the beach and shook his head. "So where has bad old Jerry Jackson been all this time?"

ooo0ooo

Beryl was as surprised as anyone else when the police said her husband, missing for fifteen years, had just drowned in the surf. Dad offered to take her to identify the body.
"Least we can do," he'd said. "Beryl's a tough old bird but she's had a hard life. Only drives locally now. Both her boys are away."
"Oh yes. How could I ever forget Theo-the-thug? I played with him when I was little. Where is he?"
"Last I heard Theo was in residence out at the Bay. He beat a man half to death. And the other lad, Brian-the-businessman, he did a runner with some insurance money."
"Nice neighbours you have Dad."
"Beryl's okay. It's her family who are crooks. Anyhow, they've never bothered us have they?
"Tell me more. The stuff you've been hiding from me."
"I've hidden nothing. I just don't gossip. But I'll put it in a nutshell for you. Beryl was married to Jerry. Jerry was a crook - a 'major crime figure'. Jerry disappeared. Theo-the-thug seems to have kept up the family tradition. Brian tried the path of respectability. Set up ESP Insurance. Went bust last year. Did a Skase. Her kids are a great disappointment to Beryl."
"Why didn't I know this before?" I asked. "Well I sort of knew a bit I guess. Theo used to stand over the other kids in primary school."
"But did either of those boys ever threaten you?"
"No."
"Never foul your own neighbourhood."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean old Beryl has been a good neighbour to us, regardless of whatever her family may have done. I mean did Theo-the-thug ever rob anyone in our street? Did Brian-the-business man ever try to sell insurance to his neighbours.
"I guess not. But they were pretty active everywhere else, now I think about it."
"But it still won't hurt us to be neighbourly to their old mum."
"We'll be the only ones being neighbourly. "Everyone else gives Beryl a wide berth."
"They're probably jealous. She's been here longer than most of the social set."

ooo0ooo

It was all over in a few minutes.
"Yeah. It's him all right. It's Jerry," said Beryl, as she stood in the street later, lighting a cigarette. "Just let me have a few puffs on the old coffin nail before we go love. I don't want to stink out your nice car."
"That's okay Beryl," said Dad. "You just take your time."
"I feel anything you know. Did all my crying years ago." She drew deep on the ciggie and grinned up at Dad. "I just wish I knew where the old bugger's been hiding all this time though." She puffed away thoughtfully, then turned to me. "You working right now Clarke?"
"No." I replied. "I'm sort of... er.. between jobs."
"Well girlie, I've got a little job for you?"
"You have?
"I have. I want you to find out..."
I patted Beryl's wrinkled old hand. "It must be awful not knowing..."
"Yeah. It is. But there's something else I want you to do for me - as well as finding where he's been hiding."
"What?"
"I want you to find out how the old bugger stayed looking so young."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Jerry hasn't aged a day since I last saw him fifteen years ago." Beryl paused and looked me right in the eye. "He's white and pasty sure, but he looks just the same. Reckon he musta found the bloody fountain of youth or somethin'."

ooo0ooo

As we were walking back to our car I saw Harry Doyle come out of the building. Harry's an old mate. And once, about six months back, he'd been more of a bed-mate than a mate-mate.
Do I really want to see Harry? I thought.
"Isn't that your friend the detective? " asked Dad.
"Yeah. It is. Hey Harry," I yelled and he turned around and grinned that funny lopsided grin he does and straight off my heart did that funny loopy thing it used to do.
Down girl, I told myself. This is strictly business. Just remember why you took off OS last year. Remember why you're broke now. You ran away to avoid that c word. And now here he is in the flesh. Mr Commitment himself. Keep it cool. Harry could be valuable to you right now.
In the past Harry's been really useful to me in more ways then one. Regardless of personal feelings I've always found it smart to keep a contact or two in the force on side. You never know when you might need them.
"Clarke. When did you get back?" Harry looked so happy to see me. It was pathetic.
"Three weeks ago."
"Where are you living?"
"With the olds. You remember my Dad?"
"Yeah. Mr O'Byrne. How are ya?"
Harry was speaking to Dad but he was looking at me. I wished I'd not worn my tight jeans.
"Harry you're drooling," I said sharply.
Harry blushed and my heart did that stupid thing again.
"Are you working on a case Clarke?" asked Harry when the blush subsided.
"That I am. Harry Doyle meet my new client, Beryl Jackson."
"Jerry Jackson's widow?"
"The same." Beryl's voice had gone all formal.
"I'm working on that case too." Harry was staring hard at Beryl.
"Can we go now?" Beryl turned on her heel and marched towards the car.
We were over the bridge before Beryl spoke again. "I never had much time for the demons."
"Tell me about when Jerry disappeared, " I said.
"What's to tell. The bastard went out to get some seafood on Christmas Eve fifteen years ago, and he never came back. Left me with two kids to raise on me own."
"That must have been hard."
"It was. And the little buggers took after their old man didn't they."
Dad reached over and patted Beryl's hand. She started to sniff.
"They're always in trouble. Think I don't know everyone calls Theo 'the thug'. But he's actually a very soft hearted person my Theo."
I wondered if Beryl knew we knew 'soft-hearted' Theo-the-thug was doing time. I felt pretty uncomfortable so I changed tack. "So just where did Jerry go to buy the seafood?" I asked.
"I said get love not buy." Beryl laughed a wheezy old laugh. "If your name was Jerry Jackson, people were only too happy to give you stuff." She sighed. "Oh the prawns and the oysters we'd have every Christmas. And always a couple of big lobsters. Export quality you know."
"So who would give Jerry all this seafood?" I persisted.
"All the people at the fish markets love. You know they liked to keep Jerry happy. And Jerry looked after them. He saw nothing bad happened to them. I don't have to spell it out for you do I love?"
"I think I understand," I said. "Sort of I'll scratch your back and you'll scratch mine."
"Something like that," Beryl said. "Why over the years everyone there musta contributed to the Jackson family and the Jackson family's Christmas lunch. If Jerry was happy everyone was happy, if you know what I mean. He'd just wander around helping himself." She wheezed again. "He'd even check out the freezers. You couldn't hide anything from Jerry. Had a half share in a prawn trawler too. Whenever he could, you might say Jerry liked to have a finger in all his customer's pies. He had a classy place in Kings Cross, actually it was a brothel love. And a car yard on Parramatta Road. And he was thinking of going into the restaurant business just before he disappeared."
This was a standover man with a difference, I thought. Taking client participation to the extremes. Ripping people off, taking protection money and at the same time, having businesses of his own in the same field as well. Probably laundered the protection money through them.
"I'll come in later tonight if you're up to it and make some notes," I said. "I need dates, names and stuff like that."
Beryl nodded. "That's fine love. Come after tea."
I didn't quite know how to ask my next question but it had to be asked.
"Did you... continue the business, Jerry's business, after he died? I mean. How have you lived for the last fifteen years?"
"Clarke!" Dad interrupted. "That's none of your..."
"No. It's all right love. I'm all legit." Beryl turned around and looked me squarely in the eye. "I sold the real estate and put it into beachside properties round here. Nice little earners they are too." She paused. "Couldn't sell the goodwill though. Seems it had no value without Jerry to give it what you might call his personal touch."
I gulped. Goodwill... For a protection racket. Some personal touch! A big thumping if you didn't fork over.
"Big Den Maguire took over at the fishmarkets," Beryl continued. "A real stinker he was..." She paused, reflecting. "Dunno who looks after the car yards now. Been away from that scene for too long. Not that it was ever to my taste. Actually, y'know, I never much liked what Jerry did. And Den, he only came sniffing round for what he could get." Then she grinned a wicked grin. "I liked all that seafood though!"
We drove in silence for a while before Beryl spoke again.
"Yes. My Theo's an old softie. He always brings me prawns."

ooo0ooo

When we got home I rang Harry. He was really glad to hear from me and straight off tried to make date for that night.
"This is strictly business Harry Doyle. No mushy stuff. Not that it wasn't lots of fun and the sex was great but last year, you almost had me convinced to get married. Hell's bells Harry I'm only twenty-five."
"But Clarke.." he pleaded.
"No way I'm tying myself down, well not now anyway, however cute you may be. Now will you help me or won't you?"
"You know I will."
"Okay then. This is what I want. One. The autopsy result on Jerry Jackson. Two. Anything about anyone employing standover tactics at the fishmarkets. Three. Has Theo Jackson been released from gaol? If so when? And finally, I need to know about anyone associated with the markets who had access to a boat..."
"Only just about everyone there I'd reckon," said Harry dryly.
"Let me finish will you? A boat that put out to sea just before the big storm yesterday. There can't be many. Anyone with half a brain would have stayed put. Except, of course, someone who had a body to dump."
"What on earth are you on about?" Harry sounded baffled. "What do you know that I don't?"
"Now that would spoil the surprise," I chortled. "How about I come to your place for dinner tomorrow night?"
"But you said..."
"I said no commitment. That's all."
"Ohhhh..."
I could just picture Harry grinning to himself, but I hung up because Mum was calling me to dinner. Whenever I'm home my mother makes me eat three humungous meals a day. I needed to escape her clutches, and her cooking, before I morphed into a blimp and the only way was to solve this case and make some money fast. Beryl was my best bet. Beryl was my only bet.

ooo0ooo

She was waiting for me, sitting out on her verandah in the dark.
"I'm here love," she said as I ran up the steps as fast as I could. I was trying to work off Mum's roast pork and crackling.
Beryl's garden was filled with frangipanni trees, each one a bare-armed skeleton, reaching for the night sky. In summer it was a magic place filled with creamy flowers and rich perfumes, but, in winter it was definitely one spooky spot. Theo-the-thug and I used to scare ourselves silly there when we were kids.
"You know your garden used to frighten me when I was little," I puffed and plopped down in a creaky cane chair. "But only in winter."
"I know what you mean love. But Jerry loved his frangipannis. There's about ten different types of 'em here."
I'd got my breath back by now. There must be a least hundred steps up to Beryl's place. She lives on a precipice. I guess we do too but Dad's put in this amazing winding driveway. Beryl has an inclinator - from her garage on the street - right up to the back door.
"Have some love." She waved a hand towards a bowl of prawns.
"No thanks. I'm full." I said. "Let's get down to business. First off you should know I charge a lot like... lots of money."
"What do you call lots of money love?"
I reminded myself I was broke. I bit the bullet. "Well...when I was in partnership with Frank Gordon we charged a thousand dollar retainer and five hundred a day. But since I'm working from home and..."
Beryl didn't blink an eye. "Sounds fair enough to me love. Do you want it in cash?"
"You shouldn't keep large sums of money in the house... Someone might.."
"Rob me?" Beryl threw back her head and laughed. "You forget I was once married to Jerry Jackson girlie. Rob ME! HA!! This place is like Fort bloody Knox. Alarms and booby traps everywhere."
"Even so."
"Believe me. It's a whole lot safer than in the bloody bank." Beryl heaved herself from her chair and waddled into the house. "Just wait here love I'll be back in a tick."
And she was... with a fistful of used notes. They were mostly twenties and all secured by a rubber band.
"There's fifteen hundred there. Count it if you like."
"No. That's fine." I tried to stuff the wad in my pockets but it wouldn't fit. "I might get a paper bag from you later," I mumbled and tucked the rest of the money on the chair under my bum.
"Plenty here love." Beryl fell about laughing. "Jerry used to bring home heaps."
I let it pass and opened my notebook. "When Jerry disappeared who benefited?"
"Not me love that's for sure. It took me ages to even find out what he owned, so's I could sell it and buy something nice an' legit. So's me boys would have an even chance. Not that it mattered in the end." She peeled another prawn."They say it's all in the genes love."
"What is?"
"Criminal tendencies love."
I let that one go too.
"So who might want your husband dead?"
"Aw... About a quarter of Sydney at one time or another. The bad quarter."
"Anyone special? Names?"
"Nah. I never took much notice. We had another life here. Jerry was mad about the surf. He was always at the beach with the boys."
I wasn't getting anywhere. "You mentioned Big Den Maguire. Usen't he visit you here?"
"Yeah. I thought he was worried about me but he wasn't. He was here nearly every weekend for about three years after Jerry went... to where ever Jerry went. Consolin' the grieving widow I suppose you'd call it. But I finally figured out he was just after what he could get. He was pretty quick taking over the fishmarket side of Jerry's business. Didn't pay me nothin' for the goodwill either. So I gave him the old heave ho. Yeah, Jerry had a lot of friends as well as enemies but he was a real stinker that Big Den. Theo hated him. Showed some good judgement there at least."
My pen was poised again. "So where can I find him. Big Den?"
"Geez love. I'm not sure about that. You could try Morgan and Drysdale."
"The funeral people?"
"Yep. You see Big Den died last week. Choked on a bit of fish at the markets I heard."

ooo0ooo

It was late when I got home but I rang Harry anyway.
"Add just one more thing to that list I gave you."
"What! I do have proper day job you know Clarke."
"But I bet it doesn't pay as well as I do."
"Well... When you put it like that..."
"I need you to find another autopsy result," I said. "Big Den Maguire. Died at the fishmarkets last week."
"Bloody hell Clarke. How did you get onto that one?"
"It's suspicious then?"
"Like you'd better believe it's suspicious. Big Den was found out the back of Commonsoli's with half a mullet stuffed down his face."
"So he was greedy. Beryl told me he choked."
"Clarke. It was a raw mullet."

ooo0ooo

I spent the next day checking up on bits and pieces. Mostly tide charts, current patterns, local fish shops and the like. I wanted to figure out just where Jerry Jackson had actually gone in to the sea. After all, I reasoned, it was just too convenient being washed up on his widow's doorstep so to speak. Now that had to be planned. I couldn't believe it was pure co-incidence.
There must be a reason, I told myself. I was pretty sure he'd not broken his neck in the surf or drowned. In fact I reckoned Jerry Jackson had been very dead when he'd entered the water. Dead for a long time. Fifteen years to be exact.
Later I made a quick trip to the fishmarkets and then I was satisfied. Now all I needed was the autopsy report to confirm my suspicions one hundred percent.

ooo0ooo

Harry was waiting.
"Nice." I sipped the wine he'd poured. "Now what have you got for me."
"What have you got for me?" Harry tried to kiss me.
"Business first." I wished my stomach would stop jumping about.
"Okay." He gestured towards the coffee table.
I sat down and opened the envelope.
"Want me to tell you?"
"Okay. I'll read it at home later. Go."
"Jerry Jackson was dead when he went into the water. In fact he's been dead ever since..."
"Since he disappeared," I butted in.
"But I'll bet you don't know why the body was still fresh... sort of anyhow..."
"Yes. I do. Freezer at the fishmarkets."
"Aw Clarke..." Harry looked so disappointed. "You knew all along."
"Sort of. I mean how else would Dad and Beryl recognise him straight off? Beryl even said he must have found the fountain of youth. I reckon he was even still a bit frozen when he came barrelling in on that wave. When we tried to lift him, his limbs were floppy but the rest of him was stiff as a board, literally. He was the best sort of body surfer." I grinned. "Had his own built- in board."
"That's pretty off Clarke."
I ignored him. "And he was surfing in his baggy underpants. Now tell me something I don't know."
"I was there when they did the autopsy. He was almost all defrosted by then. Can I tell old Jerry was rapidly turning to mush?. That's because," Harry started reading from the report. "And I quote, 'ice crystals expand in cells and puncture cell membranes'. And finally, the cause of death was..." Harry paused, "drowning"
"What?" I shouted.
"Gotcha!" Harry shouted back. "Something you didn't know smarty-pants. Jerry drowned all right, but not in the surf. The water in his lungs came from a fish tank they reckon. Probably one of those huge tanks they keep the live lobsters in."
"Export quality," I murmured.
"What?"
"Just something Beryl said."
Harry consulted his notes. "Oh yes. Point three. Theo Jackson was released from Long Bay last Wednesday."
"Funny. Beryl never said."
"Probably because we're after him on another matter. We should have been waiting for the little crim but there was a paper-work cock-up and we missed him."
"We'll, we know Theo didn't kill his dad," I said. "But he could have had it in for Maguire."
"What I can't understand is, why was Jackson set adrift?"
"Perhaps someone came across the body and panicked. Took it out to sea and dumped it. I did some snooping today. I noticed Vernichelli's have cleaned out their freezers. And I've checked on the currents. For a body to wash up at Palm Beach in July it would have to be dumped out to sea south of Sydney, say about Nowra."
"Well, I reckon Den probably killed Jerry fifteen years back and stuck him in the freezer but was it Den who dumped the body out to sea?" Harry filled my glass again.
"Maybe. But who killed big Den"
"Someone avenging Jerry's death?"
"Family, friends," I suggested.
"Possibly. But we don't even know it was Den who dumped Jerry. Perhaps someone else found him making like an icy pole and then did for Den?" Harry scratched his head.
"Well we do know when Den died. The only way we'll find out if Den died before Jerry hit the waves is to calculate how long it took the body to defrost. I reckon there's too many variables to do that. Like how long was he out of the freezer before he was dumped and then how long he was in the water." I drained my glass. "I'm starving. Can we eat?"
"Eat?"
"You think you can have your way with me for the price of a bottle of Yellow Glen?"
Just as we were leaving for the local Thai place, my phone rang. It was Dad. He sounded pretty upset.
"Beryl's been bashed."
All the way home I sifted the case around in my mind. It seemed so bloody complicated or was it? Then whammo! it hit me.
And, like a jig-saw, everything fell into place.

ooo0ooo

"I fell down the steps love. Honest I did. It was an accident."
Beryl's left eye was closing fast and her split lip needed stitches.
"Beryl, I know where Jerry's been and how he got into the surf." I squeezed her hand.
"Forget it," Beryl mumbled.
"But..."
"Keep the money. Forget it."
"No." I was angry now. "He's beaten you up because of this."
"If you want to help love, do what I say."
"Beryl I know what happened. It was Theo wasn't it?"
"No."
"Yes. Theo must've found out, while he was in prison, that big Den killed Jerry."
Beryl said nothing.
"So as soon as he's released he has it out with Maguire and kills him with a mullet to the throat." I went on. "But Theo's soft-hearted, sentimental even. The night of the storm he brings his dad's frozen body home and stashes it in the garage. Next morning early, he paddles out on a board and turns Jerry loose to ride the waves one last time."
Beryl gave up. "How did you know?"
"Put two and two together. I mean it couldn't have been a coincidence Jerry washing ashore here. And who else would want him to finish up on a wave? Who else would have brought you that big bag of prawns? I checked. None of the local shops have had tiger prawns this week. But they're at the markets. So Theo must have got them from there the night he brought Jerry back. What I don't understand is why you hired me in the first place?"
"I didn't know then, did I love? Theo never told me nothin'. Until tonight, I didn't know he'd found his dad and put him in the surf. When I hired you I just wanted to know what Jerry had been up to all those years - why he looked so bloody young. I've been a silly old woman love." Beryl started to cry. "Theo came back tonight, for more money. I thought he'd gone - left the country - to live with Brian. When I told him about you, he got real angry and he pushed me. It was just a little push love but I went down those steps like a sack of potatoes."
"So where's Theo now?" I asked.
"Gone."
"Gone where Beryl?"
The bloodied mouth set tight.
"I'll never tell."
And she never did...

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