Lewis turned quickly and looked at where Baxter’s finger was pointing. ‘Jesus wept, you’re right.’ He put down his rod and started the engine. It kicked into life and he steered Flora about in a gentle turn. ‘I don’t like the look of this, Greg.’
‘Neither do I,’ Baxter said grimly. He was thinking of the undercover policewoman’s body and its discovery by fishermen. What if this body turned out to be Latham’s? From this distance, its clothes and its shape looked male.
Then he remembered what Lewis had said about Julie the other day. Those baggy jeans or shorts and a man’s shirt she gets around in—from a distance you’d swear blind she was a bloke. Baxter’s heart clenched. Surely it wasn’t her.
‘We can’t just leave it out here,’ he said, and Lewis nodded.
‘I’ll use my radio and have the police at the wharf by the time we’re back with the body in tow.’
‘Lucky you brought it, Steve.’
‘No luck about it. I never go out here without it—you never know when you might need to send a distress call.’
Once Lewis had contacted shore, he took the boat out of the protection afforded by their islet, and into the channel between it and its neighbour. They could immediately feel the difference in the level of swell. Baxter watched on in admiration as Lewis manoeuvred Flora towards the other islet. The body came into clearer view.
‘It’s a man,’ Baxter shouted to Lewis at the wheel of the boat. ‘That’s all I can tell.’
He was ashamed to feel a thrill of relief, but he couldn’t help it. Julie was safe.
‘You’ll have to try and hook the gaff into his clobber, Greg. Do it as quickly as you can. The swell will push us hard onto the rocks if we stuff around.’
Baxter hadn’t the slightest intention of stuffing around—he wanted to vacate the Islands as quickly as possible.
The body was lodged facedown on a snag of rock that ran out into the sea from the islet proper. This ridge had been exposed by the run-out tide—it was sure to be covered at full tide. As the boat nosed alongside, Baxter leaned out, got the gaff hooked in the body’s belt and pulled it from the ridge. He could see now that one arm had been bitten off below the shoulder.
‘I’ve got him,’ Baxter said, ‘so go for your life. Let’s hope the shark doesn’t have another crack at him—it’s taken off one arm already.’
‘Good man, Greg.’
Lewis pointed the boat down the channel between the islets and then, using them as some protection against the swell, he steered directly for Moondilla’s wharf, where the fishing fleet usually moored. The shark followed them for some distance, but didn’t come any closer. After a few minutes it disappeared.
‘The shark appears to have left us,’ Baxter said.
‘As long as it doesn’t come up underneath us. If you feel something get at the body, you’ll have to try and lift it into the boat. Think you can do that?’
‘No worries.’
‘Don’t try it unless you have to—the weight of you plus the body could tip you in. Good thing we’ll be at the wharf in a few minutes.’
Baxter hoped the bloody shark would keep away. A few bites could make a real mess of the body, and make identification more difficult for the police.
The shark didn’t reappear, but Baxter’s strength and resilience were beginning to feel the strain of holding the bloated body against the boat. Wanting to distract himself, he looked to shore and saw two police cars tearing down the beach road, their lights flashing, before they pulled up at the wharf.
Lewis had noticed them too. ‘The boys in blue are waiting for us, Greg.’
‘It’s some place, this Moondilla. Never a dull moment,’ Baxter said dryly.
‘You’ve got to admit we had a good morning’s fishing. And not many fishermen return with a human body on their gaff,’ Lewis said, his smile grim.
Baxter gave him a weak grin. ‘Do you know of anyone who’s been reported missing?’
‘No locals. It could be a bloke off a freighter—plenty of them go up and down this coast. Maybe he drank too much and fell overboard.’
Lewis took Flora in alongside the jetty and as close to the beach as he could without grounding her. There were quite a few civilians on the beach, but the police had cleared the wharf and a uniformed officer stood at the entrance to prevent anyone accessing it.
Three other officers were waiting on the wharf just above the boat. Baxter threw his forward mooring rope up to one of them, who managed to catch it and make it fast to a pylon. Lewis cut the motor and then left the cabin to help Baxter lift the body from the sea. A grim task, though the stink wasn’t too bad because of the salt water. Chief watched with great interest, but didn’t go near the body.
Once they had it in the boat, they took an end each and lifted it up to the waiting trio of officers, who turned it onto its back.
Lewis swore very loudly. ‘Bloody hell.’ Despite everything the body had been put through, its face was still intact enough to recognise up close. ‘It’s Jack Drew,’ Lewis said, and Baxter agreed.
The two men looked at each other in amazement.