CHAPTER 11
Greg looked serious. After his early morning climb up the track to telephone the Russell police station, Alex was eager for information.
‘What did they say, Dad?’ Alex prompted.
He hesitated before answering. ‘Well, it looks like it was someone off a foreign fishing vessel, most likely Korean. Definitely Asian.’
‘The poor fellow,’ Fionna said. ‘Coming all this way and then drowning so far from home. How dreadful for his family.’
Greg hesitated again. ‘They don’t think he drowned.’
There was silence while everyone considered the options. Alex fought the shiver forming between her shoulder blades.
‘What happened, then?’ she asked.
‘They can’t be sure until the pathologist reports back, but they think he was deliberately killed.’
‘Did he have a knife in his back, or was his throat cut or something?’ Samuel probed, keen to learn any gory details.
‘There were signs of injury consistent with serious assault,’ Greg replied, hoping a formal explanation would satisfy. It was a forlorn hope.
‘So he was really bashed up. Was he tortured too?’ Without waiting for an answer, he began rehearsing a few scenarios complete with actions. ‘He could have done something he shouldn’t have, or he knew a secret and they tried to get it out of him. Or maybe there was a fight on the boat. Yeah, everyone was against him and he got badly hurt, but he knocked out some of them, ’cause he’s such a good kung fu fighter, but there were too many of them so he dived overboard and he drowned.’
‘Yep. I reckon that just about covers it.’ Greg smiled and looked across at Fionna. ‘So what’s for breakfast?’
‘I don’t know. It’s your turn.’
‘I’ll make it,’ Alex offered. ‘What about scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes?’
Greg looked grateful. ‘Thanks, Princess. I have a couple of things I really must do that shouldn’t take too long, so that would be great if you don’t mind. All right with you, Mum?’
Fionna smiled, Greg left, Samuel continued building a Star Wars model, and Alex busied herself toasting bread, frying tomatoes, and scrambling eggs. Fionna watched with guarded pride from a distance.
With encouragement from Samuel, who was ravenous, Alex was taking steaming plates to the table when Greg returned.
‘That looks excellent. Hasn’t she done well?’ he said, and with a quick thank you to Alex, and God, they began eating.
‘What I don’t understand’, said Alex as Greg cleared the table later, ‘is how that body got to where it did. Those overseas fishing boats aren’t allowed to come in close, are they?’
‘If they have a licence from the government, they can fish inside our three hundred and seventy kilometres zone, but it’s illegal to fish inside about twenty from shore, so basically you’re right.’
‘Did the police say how long he had been in the water?’
‘Three days maybe. They can tell by the condition of the skin.’ In anticipation of the question forming on Samuel’s lips, he added, ‘And no, I don’t know what it looks like, so don’t ask.’
Samuel returned to playing Star Wars.
‘So his boat must have been in quite close to the bay, probably even closer than twenty kilometres, which means it probably happened at night,’ Alex mused.
‘Because?’ Greg inquired.
‘Because it would take longer than three days for his body to get to the island if they were way out at sea, wouldn’t it?’ Her father nodded. ‘And the boat would attract attention in daylight if it was close in. I don’t think they would want that.’
‘But why would they come in close to drop a body over the side if there was a good chance of it being found?’
‘Dad,’ she drawled. ‘They didn’t come in close to drop the body overboard. There was another reason for that.’
‘Which was?’
Alex looked bemused. ‘I don’t know, do I? You’re the detective.’
Greg grinned. ‘You’ve been doing a very good job of it so far. Well done, my girl. Good thinking, but we can only guess the reason at the moment.’
‘I know,’ Samuel’s voice intruded. ‘They came to get some marigana.’ Neither father nor sister corrected him as they considered his suggestion.
‘Well, I guess that’s as good a reason as any. You might just be right, Samuel,’ Greg responded, his eyebrows arched in the ‘well, how about that?’ position.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ he said, without looking up from his play.
It was a possibility, and the thought that the marijuana from Clendon Point could be linked to a murder at sea made Alex’s heart race.
‘Hey, everybody, we’ve got things to do and places to go. No more scary talk, OK? Gran and Grandpa will be here tomorrow, so let’s make sure everything is nice for them.’ Fionna moved to the bench and began to heat the water in readiness for washing the dishes. Greg joined her.
Alex slid onto her bunk and watched her brother’s nimble fingers rearrange plastic toy parts into a customised pirate space ship. He seemed immersed in his designing, so Alex was slightly startled when he said, ‘It probably was drugs. Hāmuera’s cousin is a gang sort of person. I bet he knows something.’
Alex was silent for a while. Disconnected thoughts and vague impressions began to assemble like a magnet attracting iron filings.
‘Would you like to come for a row later, Samuel?’
‘You want to go fishing?’ Her brother looked up, instantly alert.
‘Not this time.’ She leaned closer in and spoke quietly. ‘I think we need to check out something at the farm.’ She glanced towards her parents before holding an index finger to her lips to silence any further questions. She mouthed the word ‘marijuana’.
His concentration now completely broken, Samuel began stuffing spare parts into a plastic bag. He placed the futuristic space vessel on his pillow, and with a feigned air of innocence, he interrupted his parents to ask if there was something they could do to help. As usual, Mum had a mental list of things that needed to be done. Dad was going to make a trip into Russell, so the rubbish needed to be bagged then taken up to the station wagon for him to drop off at the tip. Fuel tanks and a gas bottle that needed refilling could go up also. The house needed to be vacuum-cleaned and aired and the outdoor furniture put out on the deck. Brother and sister divided the tasks that could be done separately and agreed to work on preparing the house together. There was not the usual debate over why, nor who should do it.
By mid-morning, all tasks were completed. Mum checked over the house, and she was very pleased with what they had done. She was going to organise a few other things in the house and wait there until Dad returned.
Dad, softened by their willing helpfulness, gave permission for them to take the dinghy for a row as long as they kept their life jackets on. As they hurried down the track, Alex took the opportunity to elaborate her thoughts to Samuel.
‘Remember the other night when we had the barbecue on the beach and we saw that car over on the farm? Well, we wondered what it was doing there, right?’
Samuel remembered.
‘Now change the question,’ she continued. ‘Let me ask you, where was the car coming from?’
Samuel looked puzzled. ‘It was going along a track back to the road.’
‘Yes, Samuel. I know where it was going, but where had it come from when we saw it? If we can work out where it was coming from, we might know why it was there in the first place.’
They grabbed their life jackets from the bach and hurried down to the beach. The tide had receded, leaving a wide expanse of sand and pebbles.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Go to those rocks where we saw the car from the other night, then you might get the same answer as me.’
They jogged in silence, but before they had reached the spot, Samuel exclaimed, ‘I know. That barn or boat shed or whatever it is!’
‘Exactly,’ said Alex, breathing quickly as they came to a halt in full view of Manawaora Farm.
They stood alongside each other, gazing across the water at the wide stretch of shoreline from which folds of green and straw-yellow fields rose towards a distant line of bush. At the extreme end of the beach, at the foot of a steeply rising hill and enfolded by a cluster of trees, they observed the corrugated iron building.
‘Where else could it have come from.’ It was less a question than a statement.
‘So that’s where we’re going, aren’t we?’ Samuel said, with a tremor of excitement. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Quickly retracing their steps along the beach, they untied the dinghy, each of them trying to take over from the other’s fumbling fingers. As they put on their life jackets, they debated over who should row the dinghy. But by the time they dragged it to the water and the oars were secured in their rollicks, they had agreed that Samuel could row first, and at halfway, if he wasn’t tired before then, Alex would take over.
Kowhai Cove was sheltered, but once clear of the point, a stiff north-westerly breeze across the beam pushed them towards the wrong end of Manawaora Bay. Alex encouraged Samuel to pull harder on the right oar and keep the bow pointing at the opposite shore. He concentrated grimly, but before they had reached halfway, he was happy to accept his sister’s offer to swap places. He sat in the stern, red-faced and breathing heavily, the effort having temporarily drained his energy.
Alex settled into a rhythm that moved them steadily closer to the scrub-covered hills of the far shore despite the choppy sea. Occasionally, a raised blade threatened to pull out of her grasp as its tip caught in a swell. Meanwhile, Samuel took the plastic bailer Dad had fashioned from a two-litre milk container and began busily bailing water from a deepening pool that slopped around their feet.
Just when her muscles began to beg for rest, Alex heard the approaching rasp of cicadas in the mānuka scrub that straggled up the slopes behind her. Now that they were close enough, she began to follow the shoreline, the breeze and waves carrying them towards the beach, occasional oar pulls sufficient to keep them on course.
Holding the oars clear of the water, she turned in her seat to take in the nearing building. A wide concrete ramp led up from the beach to large double doors. The tall side wall was topped by a rounded roof in which translucent panels were set to compensate for the lack of windows. Apart from these panels, everything was bush-green-painted corrugated iron. If it wasn’t for its large dimensions, it could have been a boat shed. If it wasn’t for the ramp down to the water, it could have been a barn.
Alex nodded over her shoulder in the direction of the building. ‘I don’t think we should go right to the ramp. That would make it obvious they have visitors. See if there’s somewhere just ahead where we can get in among the rocks.’
Samuel spotted a miniature beach, which Alex agreed would be perfect. Rocks provided a screen from the farm, and calm water led to a small slope of sand. She navigated the narrow gap in the rocks, and with several gentle pulls on the oars, the dinghy ghosted forward and nudged the sand. Samuel clambered out while Alex stowed the oars, then together they hauled the dinghy as far above the tide line as they could. There was no fun in returning to find the boat floating far out from the shore.
Without wind and wave noises, the mānuka scrub vibrated with cicada song. Alex felt a surge of excitement as she removed her life jacket. This was turning into the sort of adventure she might read about; only this time, she was an actual character in a real-life murder-and-drugs mystery.
Samuel began climbing gingerly up the rocks, and Alex noted how brightly the yellow jacket and red cords stood out—wonderful for detection and rescue from the water, but an absolute giveaway if trespassing. As she urgently called him back, she accepted they would, in fact, be trespassing the moment they strayed above the high-water mark.
Following his sister’s example, Samuel wedged his jacket between the transom and back seat of the dinghy. He was fidgeting with excitement, and Alex realised he was unaware of the potential danger they faced if discovered, especially if criminals were doing criminal things.
‘Samuel, listen,’ she said intensely. ‘If there are bad people around here, then bad things could happen to us if they find us, so you must do as I say and try not to be seen. Have you got that?’ He nodded.
‘OK, now keep your eyes wide open, and if you see anybody, duck down or find a place to hide.’
Apprehension chased excitement from her brother’s face. ‘Have you seen someone?’
‘No, but that doesn’t mean there’s nobody about. And even if they’re not here now, someone could arrive at any time, so just be careful. If we get separated for any reason, we meet back at the dinghy. We wait for each other, OK?’
They moved off, and Alex stifled a giggle as Samuel adopted covert movements more suited to a spy movie, ducking low and dashing from shelter to cover after careful surveillance.
Footwear was one thing Alex had not thought about. Their feet were not yet toughened by a barefoot summer. They carefully picked their way over sea-smoothed rocks and through the mānuka scrub. She was relieved when they arrived at a grass strip that separated the large building from the trees they were wending through. Halting among the sooty, thin tree trunks, they cautiously surveyed the scene.
It was an imposing construction for a farm building, and she noted that across the front doors, a strong wooden beam was set horizontally in metal brackets and secured by brass padlocks at each end. Heat shimmered off the impenetrable side wall, which appeared even longer close up. The rear of the building, partly shaded by several tall poplars and a sprawling pōhutukawa tree, offered cover if they needed to remain hidden. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be needed.
Samuel’s voice sounded suddenly loud. ‘So what are we looking for, then?’
He looked up at his sister, and she observed indecision in his eyes. There was a fast pulsing on the side of his throat as he licked dry lips.
‘There could be drugs, like you thought this morning. There might be nothing. Let’s just look, be detectives, OK?’
He waited for further instructions. The easy part was over. Alex hadn’t formulated a plan for this part of the adventure. She had to think quickly.
‘Well, it doesn’t look too hopeful at the front. It’s all padlocked, but let’s have a closer look anyway. You never know.’
An inspection confirmed her fears. It was well and truly secured, and the gap below the iron cladding was so small they could only get a slight glimpse of what lay inside when they put their faces to the ground.
‘Looks like a lot of hay,’ Alex said.
‘I think there’s a boat too, over that side, and wheels. It could be a boat trailer,’ Samuel suggested.
‘We need to see if there’s some other way in. You go around that side, and I’ll go around this way. I’ll meet you round the back,’ Alex instructed. ‘And be careful.’
Samuel peered cautiously around the corner of the building before disappearing. Alex took a last look at the doors and, satisfied there was no possibility of entry at the front, set off on her own stealthy inspection.
It was just as she had thought. The continuous iron sheeting was unbroken by anything resembling door or window down her side. She reached the shaded rear at the same instant as Samuel, who, with a shrug of his shoulders, indicated the same for his side.
Almost immediately, their eyes settled on a large door set in the back wall. It was narrower than those at the front and not as tall. As they approached, Alex noted wheel tracks in recently flattened grass. And although the door was secured with a strong bolt and padlock, there was a greater gap below the iron. They automatically knelt and, with their faces to the ground, peered into the interior.
‘It’s too dark. The trees don’t let enough light in through the roof panels,’ Alex exclaimed in disappointment. ‘I can’t see anything, can you, Samuel?’ Samuel didn’t reply.
‘Samuel?’ she repeated.
She looked up. Her brother’s head and shoulders were pushed under the iron. His body writhed eel-like. His feet blindly searched for grip to push him forward. Amid grunts and gasps, his muffled voice replied, ‘I can get in, Alex. Push on my feet.’
Without hesitation, she positioned herself behind him and began pushing his feet with her hands, but each time he pressed against them, she fell backward. After several experiments, she found that by standing with her feet sideways immediately behind his, he could push against them and get sufficient forward movement to inch ahead. Soon, much of his body had passed under the door. Only his bottom and legs remained.
‘I’m stuck, Alex, I’m stuck. Help me!’ There was panic in Samuel’s voice. The material of his trousers was bunched and caught on the sharp edge of the corrugated iron.
‘Samuel, your pants are the problem. They’re caught up.’
‘I’m not taking them off.’ His muffled voice came in heightened tones.
‘You don’t need to, silly,’ Alex said through a broad grin. ‘Put your hand back and pull on them. I’ll help from this side.’
It was evident from his grunting that lying prone under a narrow gap made it difficult to get a hand to his belt, but eventually, she detected the material moving and the bunches begin to smooth. She pressed on his buttocks and trousers to assist, but this evoked an immediate protest. Even in dire circumstances, his modesty prevailed. After further wriggling and grunting, the trousers disappeared, followed quickly by his legs.
‘What can you see?’ Alex questioned.
‘Give me a chance. Let me have a look around first. It’s pretty big.’ His voice sounded more distant as he spoke.
Alex stood looking sightlessly at the door. Her gaze shifted thoughtfully from the door to the gap under which her brother had wriggled and back again. She pictured all sorts of possibilities as the cacophony of cicadas pervaded the silence. Sun-scorched mānuka scented the air. A blowfly thrummed past and settled briefly to preen its wings on the wall. The world slowed.
She had lost track of time when the sound interrupted her thoughts. For an instant, she felt dislocated, like waking from a dream. It took a moment to register the sound of an approaching truck engine. It was in a low gear and coming towards them.
‘Samuel’ she called urgently. ‘Someone’s coming!’