The memory of the beach, p.28
The Memory of the Beach, page 28
‘And you’re sure of that?’ Ian said.
‘As sure as we can be. He certainly got a shock when we told him that Jody considered him a boyfriend,’ said Hendriks.
‘So how do we prove that Whitey was the culprit? I mean, we all know but if it has to go to a coroner, we have to have actual proof,’ Ian said.
Hendriks thought about that for a second. He looked at Joe, then at Ian and Rick. ‘It looked to me to be a suicide thing. He probably thought he’d never make it out, so he went out with a bang, so to speak,’ said Hendriks. ‘DNA will give us the answer to his identity and guilt in these matters.’
‘We might not need DNA to prove the case against Rutherglen,’ Murphy said.
Hendriks looked at Joe and raised his eyes. ‘You know something, Joe?’
‘More like found something,’ Murphy said.
‘Conclusive?’ asked Hendriks.
Murphy reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out a cloth hanky. It was folded into a small square and stitched along one side, forming a pocket. He reached in and pulled out a photo.
It was a black and white photo of the three children sitting, squashed together on a bed. Whitey sat next to them with his arms spread wide. Rick recognised the room. It was the one he had just rescued Sophia from. His heart leapt. As he stared at the photo, her eyes seemed to lock on his.
‘Jody,’ whispered Rick.
‘Found it in the basement near the vats. He wanted us to find it,’ Murphy said. ‘Probably taken by his brother Paul Stanley Elliott.’
‘Bastard,’ said Ian.
‘Monster like his brother,’ said Rick.
Hendriks sighed deeply. ‘We have taken Paul Stanley Elliott into custody. We believe he was complicit in the abductions of the three children but getting a conviction will be problematic as he has an advanced case of dementia. And as we speak, border police have picked up the gardener. He says he knows nothing but he had to have known something.’
‘And the commander, Judge Renly Shaw?’ asked Ian. ‘He had to have known something too. If it weren’t for Joe here, he might have gotten away with it.’
Hendriks looked down at his notes. ‘I have asked my boss, the commissioner, to bring charges against the judge and of course, the AVO against Murphy here is dropped but for now, we won’t know about resolutions until we’ve finished the investigation,’ said Hendriks.
‘As it should be. If it weren’t for Joe, we wouldn’t have found the place and Sophia would be dead,’ Ian said. ‘Just so you know,’ he added.
Joe looked at Ian and Rick and gave a small smile. For once, his hands remained still.
‘Thanks, guys. I’m just glad that none of us died. Big bonus, I’d reckon,’ Murphy said.
Hendriks shook each one of them by the hand. When it came to Rick’s turn, he said, ‘Just one last thing before you go, Rick. There is someone next door that wants to say thanks.’
He opened a side door.
Sally and Sophia sat on a wide bench seat.
Sophia stood and took a step toward Rick. Then she ran the last few steps and jumped into his arms.
Sophia with blue eyes.
Sally smiled at him.
*
St Julien’s Cemetery was empty but for three men. Ian with his arm still in a sling, Murphy with his bandaged hands, and Rick with a bunch of sunflowers wrapped up in plain brown paper. They stood in front of the newly erected headstone at Gino Caruso’s grave.
It read:
Here lies our friend Caruso.
‘Everything can find a way home.’
The sun was out. It was going to be hotter today. Maybe summer this year will be a good one.
‘Can we drop you anywhere, Rick?’ Ian said. ‘My wife’s going to get the car.’
‘Nah, one of Hendriks boys went and got my Jag from the scene. I might just take a run…’
‘To the beach,’ Ian finished.
‘You know, Rick, it’s not too late,’ Murphy said.
Rick looked at the former detective curiously.
‘You should go get her. Tell her you love her. Life’s too short and all that. I had a good life with Sarah, made me the man I am today. You need a woman to do the same for you.’
Rick coughed into the palm of his hand. Ian laughed.
‘You won’t get him to admit it, Joe. He can be an insufferable arsehole at times. Can’t admit that he needs anybody.’
‘Everybody needs someone, sometimes,’ Murphy said softly.
Rick laughed.
It was good to laugh.
Postscript
The breeze brushed against his cheek. It was definitely getting warmer. More kids on the jetty now. Dogs too. An unfettered one just ran past, its owner a distant figure holding the animal’s halter. It had escaped. He thought of Nero. He’d had a phone call earlier. An old mate had some funds available to do a recording and he wanted Rick and the Anchormen to do an album. He was slightly amused. Maybe he would. He could probably dredge up a few songs to do. Maybe if they recorded it here at the beach. That would be a good idea. Then he could see Sally and her daughter, and Vince and Molly and Ian and possibly Murphy. He could see himself living back here now.
He leaned over the jetty railing and watched as the circle lady finished her latest grand offering. As usual, it baffled him. She looked up at him then waved her stick. This time, she seemed happy to see him. She smiled. He smiled back.
She was by his side. He hadn’t seen her approach. She stood next to him, staring down at her work.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
A gentle breeze swept down the beach. On its waves, Gammy the gull squawked and landed on his lookout post.
He thought about that question. Yes, he had found the children and the monster who had taken them. Yes, he had found his old love. Yes, he had found his friends. Three yes’s.
‘Did you know that I lost my dad right down there? Right in the middle of your circles.’
‘The beach knows all. It has a memory, you know. That’s what I draw. The beach is at peace now. I can see it in your face.’
‘Are you a psychic? How do you know these things?’
‘The beach tells me. I am a storyteller, that’s all.’
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G R Armstrong, The Memory of the Beach
