Billingsgate Beach - A Mystery in Ten Chapters

A big thanks from all of us at the BCC to Dennis for his fine work in creating this scenario, to showcase the literary talents of our membership ... move over the Boomsbury Group. Thanks also to Kevin as always the host with the most. Look forward to a meet at Ewan's for Stones from the River. Mark

Chapter 1 MAURICE

He sat back, put down the rolled note, pressed his nose and sniffed loudly 2 or 3 times.

How differently things would have turned out, pondered Maurice, if it hadn’t been for Miss Luck.

For the lady luck to even be referred to so quaintly as “Miss Luck” was an indication of the status with which she was conferred by the local population. Miss Luck, a main chancer of the highest order, and as crooked as a three dollar bill. Miss Edith Campbell Luck, a woman of murky origins, had arrived in sleepy Billingsgate Beach some twenty years before.

The town’s most open secret was the enduring relationship between Miss Luck and John, the now deceased husband of Helena. This relationship was grudgingly accepted by the townsfolk, forcing Helena to run the gauntlet and publicly brazen it out, her high status in the community notwithstanding. John’s family in its turn, had a long history leaving thorny wills, impacting on family members for generations to come, and this one was to be no exception. Although the contents of the will had not yet been made public, Miss Luck was considered most likely to be the primary beneficiary, leaving Helena almost destitute. It would be a long way down for Helena.

And what about Anthony, thought Maurice; Anthony, who bears the most striking resemblance to Miss Luck. Both strong jawed and handsome. Anthony, who had been raised by Kelvin as one of his own, lived the carefree life of Huckleberry Finn. Maurice never understood why Kelvin was so keen to watch over the boy. We need to talk about Kelvin thought Maurice.

So far Evan had kept his own counsel, but Maurice could tell that there was information likely to be forthcoming from this quarter, knowing Evan as he did. If only, on that fateful night, he too could have overheard the conversation between Devlin and Miss Luck, that had so affected Evan’s normally inscrutable countenance. Judging by their expressions, Maurice thought, it wasn’t just the pomegranate soup Miss Luck and Devlin were discussing. Since then, Evan had never seemed to treat Miss Luck as much of a lady at all.
2/.

But Maurice suspected Miss Luck’s true origins, were not such grand days, after all. Especially considering Miss Luck’s previous connection with Devlin? Raising an eyebrow at the thought of Devlin’s sudden appearance in Billingsgate Beach at this juncture, Maurice wondered where it was all going to lead, and how much he vehemently he hoped for a final day of atonement for Miss Luck. Would Devlin remain loyal to Miss Luck when it was all over, not very likely thought Maurice, given the obvious effect Lelani’s charms were having on him, let alone the potential for blackmail to which his actions laid him open.

Maybe the moon, expected to be a full one for the Billingsgate Beach carols by candlelight, would finally render the true chain of events clearly to the good folk of Billingsgate Beach. Like a thunderbolt, the end of the vendetta of Miss Luck could return Billingsgate Beach to the bay of contented men it once was …

His head now spinning pleasurably with the effects of Herbert’s last delivery, Maurice realized it was time he saw Ramos. Finishing up his task, he carefully inserted the detonator switch into the tightly packed cluster of explosives.
“I so hate Xmas he mumbled”…..

Chapter 2 RAMOS

( to be read with a sort of bad South American accento, because Ramos is really from Blackpool (with a black father... hence the dark South American looks)... and now believes his own fiction so much he even thinks in "South American"... but sometimes forgets...

So... it's the bloody week before that blooody Kaaarollls thing again .... bloody idiot, that Helena...asks me every year to design the set for their concert knowing that they can't realise it properly.... don't they understand my post-modern/pre-climate-change-cataclysmic artistic soul???? Obviously not!

I hate Christmas anyway, but at least I set my 'eart on trying to create some wonderful statement... last year's fifty foot high "Angelo da Morta" was meant to remind us all that the end is coming even in the midst of this ridiculous recreation of some spurious event that occurred 2000 years ago in the middle east... bloody middle easterners-- even then they were trying to grab all the attention....

Now if it had happened in South America.. it would have been MUCH more stylish... the Madonna, she would have Scccreammed when the angelo told her about being pregnant... to the DEO no less...and the birth ... it would have been on the top of Sugarloaf mountain -- where the statue of Christos stands now--- Then everyone would have really seen it and known WHO had Arrrivved.... no style those Arabs.....

So I try to impart my sense of drama, of style to their paltry Christmas show and what do they do... that stupido Kelvin...macho idiota!!... says we can't really build that angel that big!
"How about we just get 10 small ones and put them on the roof of the stage, that would get the idea over , eh Ram??" ( Oh how I hate it that he calls me Ram... I weeeel keeeel him one day, you wait and see....)... and that bloody Helena, she agrees and says " Oh yes ... that would be lovely"... woman of no imagination, just like that Janette Howard ( good riddance to her)... no style , so vision....and I know she just agrees with everything that Kelvin says because she wants his big fat C... more than anything else!!!

2/.

I know they just want my NAME on their programme as designer... Hah! I know what I am worth to this town... people come here to my gallery to pay homage to me genius... and they, these town people.... do they know anything???

That Natasha... I have asked her, I have begged her to let me use her as model for the Madonna this year... with those tits... she is the mother of them all.... but she says.." I do not do such things". Hah, I say and Hah again .. she did those things when I was younger and more virile and when she knew that the modeling session would end sweet and crisp... like her pastries... hah...

And that Lelani ...oooh her sweet supple thighs.... they should be the thighs of the Madonna... ah, but she will let me mould them from touch, sweet Lelani... I know I will get my way there...

As for that Anthony... pretending that he is too shy to let me use his ass.... artistically and otherwise... I know that Maurice has been there many times before when they were having "tuition"…and he has set the boy against me....hah, say again ... I will show them all... deny my artistic rights... I will expose them all in my design this year... that Evan's cheating with the watered down beer... I will make the innkeeper looook like a crooook too...and Herbert as Joseph.... I will design him a costume to show his true 'eart..... the killer!!!...what he forced me to do I shall never forgive. Now I am forced to live without love.
As for that Devlin.... the devil in disguise.... just wait ... the whole town will know, the whole world will see it all in the genius of Ramos.... no one will stop me this time...
I will show them all the way to make a proper angel!
But,, who is that?? What do you want?..... ( a shrill scream) ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Chapter 3 EVAN

Devlin stood silently, unseen in the corner of the largest room in the Hotel he owned and quietly watched as the fool who ran it inhaled another line off the cold marble surface of the bar. Evans increasing dependence on his own poor quality shit did not disturb Devlin. It served his purpose. Evans once sharp mind had blurred, and was unlikely to discover the true treasure hidden within the Billingsgate Arms hotel. His twisted view of the world could only assist in confounding the plans of those Devlin sought to oppose.

He watched as Evan slumped back, smiling slackly. Devlin waited for moment, eyes sharp and flinty, then slipped quietly out, leaving Evan to his rambling thoughts. It was time to find out if luck was a lady after all...

Finally the workmen have got the stage built. They took their time. Still, they've included my little secret. This weekend is going to be a surprise for quite a few people.

This is the start of the busy period. Hip-hip-hooray. Tourists and their dollars. Fresh blood always makes me happy. Happy and horny.

After this weekend, I can park Lelani until winter. She's hot enough, but you can have too much chili in your diet. And if she comes over looking for another line, I'm in a mind to ask her to pay. That would get up her nose as much as Helena did that time. I still laugh when I think of Helena twisting that poor misbehaving Rozella's neck, all because Polly wanted to do what Polly wanted to do, and not Helena's bidding. Lelani was in a rage and would have lynched Helena if she could. Ha, what's the point of having a parrot show, if the parrot don't wanna be a star? And there ain't no retirement pensions for old parrots.

Lelani lives in her own world with Kelvin picking up the tab. No wonder he's so broke. He's crazy. She'll move on like a gypsy once she realizes his pockets are empty. I might share a line with her as a mutual pleasure, but she don't get no cash outta me. I bet she moves on to Devlin next. Just her type, too. A right royal cunt loaded with other people's money.

2/.

Poor Kel. He was in here last night, looking for a point. He knows the rules: no cash, no sale. What a fright. Scary, when he gets that low and desperate. He'd been out on the water with Ramos, yet again. I can't help him if Ramos don't pay. So what if Kelvin thinks Ramos is his best mate and will leave him his priceless collection. Fat lot of good that is if he's gotta eat now.

And that poof Ramos is only interested in getting into Kel's pants. Any fool can see that. I'll never forget the time Kel got so drunk he agreed to pose for Ramos. Ramos was wet with anticipation. And when Kel backed out, Ramos was a walking time bomb. Anything can trigger the prick. How he went on and on over my wine prices, then all of a sudden, pop, he starts smashing every bottle in the place. The poof gets away with it all by waving his hundred dollar bills. I'm not one to want him talking to the police. He's been a good customer and I've never had any trouble with him buying his supplies, and he does go through a lot.

Ramos is our resident famous artist? Madman more like it. He's another one for keeping Billingsgate in the shade. No development here. That's OK for him, his livelihood don't depend on a good summer season. He doesn't have that cold blooded Devlin looking to knife me if I'm a day late with the rent.

Now that Devlin's a dangerous bastard. You never see his fingerprints on anything, the perfect gentleman in fact, but I know him from before. He wants the quiet life now as there are far too many people in Sydney who would be happy to see him have the short life. He's trouble. Came in here expecting Kings Cross prices for Charlie and gets all iffy about it. He's even waved a gun in my face. He'll get his, one day, no doubt.

Arrh, look, here comes Billingsgate's most unlikely couple. Maurice and his unfaithful dog Antony. I don't know who's blackmailing who, with these two. No doubt the usual order, a Campari and Soda, a VB and half a gram. Maurice always pays. Little does he know that Antony gets top up supplies from yours truly. While Maurice may have failed teaching Ant maths, he trained him in other things all too well.

3/.

I'm not really inclined that way, but sometimes you get into these bizarre situations. Way back when Ant used to do the odd job here after school we were having this slow rainy day.
Ant's a cheeky bugger, up for anything, so I thought I'd introduce him to Charlie. While he was bent over doing his second line, I wondered if the rumors were true. Ant always had this gorgeous smile and cute arse, even as a kid. So I asked Ant if he had ever done it with a man. Ant smiled, standing up close to me, his blue eyes locked on mine, and said he would do anything his boss told him to do. No kid's gonna get the better of me, I thinks, so I order him to go down on me, wondering who would blink first. He didn't blink. It was me that closed my eyes. Over the last couple of years, he's taught me a lot but I'm still not sure what he digs more, Charlie, cock or being ordered around. I treat him like a dog, and he laps it up. Weird. Still, I get this feeling that one day he'll break. There's a deep anger in there, if not with me, then with himself.

I'm not even sure that Ant's gay. He hangs around with Maurice, who has this funny hold over him, models for Ramos all too often, yet still seems to pull the chicks whenever he wants. Who knows who else he's pulling.

It wouldn't even surprise me if Herbie was in the loop. There he is, chatting to them now, like long lost buddies. Hebert is the very definition of weird. Doesn't say much, but there's nothing that he doesn't know or see. I keep on his good side by slipping him the odd free drink or treat. I'm the last one who would want him to turn on me. But with those types, you have no idea what can fire them. He really has this thing for Lelani, who treats him like shit. She's so beautiful and with that acid tongue, him so slow witted and incapacitated. He's an easy target.

Hebert is really buddy-buddy with Natasha. Who knows what that noxious pair could cook up. They say the last meal that Helena fed her husband was Natasha's oyster pie. It was all too convenient when he died. He not only left Helena a bundle, but was the last barrier to Helena's development proposal. He was dead set against her plans and I know the marriage was on the rocks. I also have a feeling Helena did more than kiss babies to get re-elected, adding to the situation.

4/.
All along, that bastard Devlin was working in the background trying to undo all Helena's approvals. He don't like being done, that's for sure, but I don't think he realizes that Helena is no pushover.

Now that Helena is some together bitch. She knows what she wants and gets it. I think Kelvin would be on her Christmas shopping list if Lelani wasn't around. Mind you, I'd wouldn't mind being on her list. She certainly knows how to play me... She's always just out of reach. But one day, I'll get my hands on her and show her a good time. I'm not called Fat Evan for nothing.

As I was saying about Natasha, she's a sneaky threat. What with the liquor licensing laws liberalized, I'm sure she's planning on setting-up in competition with me. This town ain't big enough for two bars. If it wasn't for summer, we'd all be down the gurgler.

Hey, summer. About time too. And this weekend, we're going to be in for a few surprises.

Chapter 4 NATASHA

Natasha woke up at 5 am, same time as she did every morning when the coffee shop was open for business. Usually she had no trouble getting up early, but it was a bit of a late night. Yes he was sweet and not too bad looking, but like most men in the beginning of a relationship he still wanted to prove himself by demonstrating his sexual prowess a couple of times in a row, showing off his knowledge of the positions of the Kama Sutra page 12 to 67. Usually this macho behavior slowed down after a while, but then it also became mostly boring. She loved the power she had over men, even if it was just because of her looks. How many men already had confessed that they were completely under her spell and were ready to give up everything for her. She loved to drive them crazy, and see how far she could go before they would completely break down, and then finally dumping them. The fools!

Unfortunately it got out of hand a couple of months ago with John, the wimp of a husband of Helena, the Mayor in town. Of course he didn’t interest her at all, but just the fact that she could get the husband of the Mayor gave her the satisfaction she wanted. When he told her that he would tell his wife and was ready to give up everything to be with her, Natasha knew it was time to end things. Usually she would wait until after they made their confession to their loving wives but she knew that even if this was a small town, Helena could make her life difficult, and after all, her business was her dearest possession. She did make the best latte and hot chocolate in all of the Billingsgate Beach area (with Belgian chocolate of course), and it had taken her years to build up her business. She would never do anything to jeopardize it.

As expected John didn’t take it well and threatened to kill himself, but it did come as a surprise when she heard he was dead a week later. The local newspaper spoke of food poisoning but she wasn’t sure. And then there was Kelvin who had told her once he would kill anyone she would sleep with -apart from himself of course.

2/.

She didn’t really think Kelvin had killed John, she didn’t think he knew about her and John, but then again Kelvin had a way of knowing things in town, others didn’t. Strange how he could be so jealous while she knew he was playing around as well, and she was for sure not the love of his life. She had seen it when Lelani walked into the shop while he was there, his look had said a 1000 words.

‘Hi darling’ Herbert said when entering the shop. He was one of her daily customers coming in for a cappuccino and a chat - with her when she wasn’t busy, with the other customers when she was. ‘Are you going to the Christmas bash tonight’ he asked her. Sure she was going, she even was going to close the shop early as she had some unfinished business to deal with.

The door opened before she could ring the bell. The 2 women didn’t say much.
‘You’ve got the money?’ Helena asked.
‘Yes’ Natasha answered.
‘I have your word on the deal?’ asked Natasha in turn.
Helena nodded. “It was a pity my husband didn’t serve our cause - despite your best efforts. But we had luck on our side, and there was always Kelvin to fall back on.
But now the wait is over - your son has reached his time Natasha”.

Dressed in her red satin cocktail dress, the one that made her cleavage even more outstanding, Natasha was putting the final touches to her make-up. Her thoughts were with the only man she ever really loved, the one man she knew she could not get. He was perfect to her in every aspect but she knew he would never love her the way she wanted. And she would see him tonight, at the Christmas party…

Chapter 5 HERBERT

The air was still steaming hot and humid. Herbert was using a bunch of house brochures as a fan, trying to cool his sweat pearling face. For some reason, when it was hot like that, his foot was hurting. And every time he was reminded of that very warm day in Paris, when he was walking out of the Opera Garnier after a splendid dance performance.

It had been a great night and the public had adored his languish and elegant moves. He was walking down the stairs and was crossing paths with an elegant gentleman, all dressed in white linen, and then everything went really fast. He heard a shot, and then a second one. The elegant man fell to the ground, wounded, and Herbert felt so sorry to see this stylish handsome man kicking the ground, and his first reaction was that the suit would get dirty. His second reaction was to look at the white patent shoes, he had never seen anything so beautiful. But then he realized that there was a pool of blood around his own feet, and then the pain came. The second bullet had gone through his own foot, just under the ankle, and it had pierced his whole foot. As unbelievable as it sounded, the bullet had ricocheted from the white ceramic wrist watch of the men dressed in linen onto his foot. Immediately he panicked that he would not be able to dance the following night. Only later did he realize that this one single bullet would change his life forever: no more ballet dancing, his career was over. And he had not yet reached his climax, that’s what his teacher Madame Esmeralda had told him that very day. Herbert looked up from his foot and saw through the window of a black jaguar a glimpse of the face that he would never ever forget. The guy was still holding the gun in his hand and their eyes connected a split second. Then the car vanished with an ear jamming sound of the tyres. Herbert memorized every single angle and detail of the face. It took him years to trace down that criminal. The killer of beauty and elegance.

His search brought him all the way to Australia. How could he forget that man… All the suffering he had been through… They had to amputate his foot. It took him a lot of cocaine dealings to finance his search. Many times did he fill that prostatic foot with cocaine and did he gradually empty it from its precious contents every time he did a delivery. And now here he was in Billingsgate Beach. Very close to the man who ruined his life. His revenge was coming soon… He had it all worked out… He found a job at a real estate company, so that he had access to all houses, and he became friends with everybody in this boring beach village.

2/.

But a couple of months ago, his whole plan almost collapsed. The mayor’s husband saw him in the alley way behind the diving school. Kelvin was one of his regular clients. Herbert knew that the man would report him to his wife the mayor: he got caught in the act of dealing. Helena would have arrested Herbert immediately, she was such a sensation hungry woman.

There was no other option. Amazing what a nylon cord can do, provide pleasure, but also take human life… Herbert got away with it, but he had to ask for the help of Ramos to carry the body to the beach. Ramos owed him a big favor anyways. Because Ramos likes little boys, and Herbert had access to many people’s houses in town, and he put Ramos in touch with many little darlings, pretending to offer free babysitting to potential real estate clients. Ramos would never report him, he was too scared to see his art business collapse.

Maurice was another of his “special” clients, he was a double whammy, both after the white powder and the little darlings. Herbert always wondered where he got all the money from. But there were certain things in life that were not to be known, including in his own life, and Herbert respected the discretion that Maurice was claiming. After all, Maurice had allowed him to save a lot of money, and to soon buy his first house in Billingsgate beach, it was a very expensive house. But the price was no concern to Herbert… The location was much more important. The house happened to be right next to the house of the man he met in Paris and who was responsible for his tragic life change.

Tonight he was finally meeting the owners of the house, all the official documents were ready, they just needed to sign them, and then he could finally put his horrendous plan in motion, finally he would be able to taste the sweet taste of revenge. For years he had been dreaming about this moment. He couldn’t believe that it had finally come…The owners of the house ran a patisserie. Herbert despised the patisserie, for they claimed to make French pastry, they claimed to make baguette and croissant and pains au chocolat. But he could not bear the taste of the huge sized dry bakery products. They were totally overpriced and you would not be able to distinguish any of them if you were to eat them blind folded: they all left this boring fatty chewy sensation in the mouth. But tonight he did not care about that, because tonight they were unknowingly helping him to come to terms with his fate, and to reverse all the hatred in his heart.

3/.

The door bell rang, there they were, Natasha and her partner, all smiles, Natasha flashing her huge boobs as usual. Even Herbert was dazzled by them when he went to her coffee shop for his daily coffee. But not tonight, tonight he had no eyes for her décolleté, he only had eyes for the pen that sealed the transaction of the house sale…
Natasha’s face became suddenly sad as she watched Helena witness their signatures. Another sacrifice for the greater good. First John - now this.
“All done then Herbert – congratulations” said Helena. “Now you and Miss Luck will be neighbors.”

Chapter 6 HELENA

Helena drew the crimson silk robe around her as she rose from the bed. Glancing out the bedroom window, she saw Kelvin in the fading evening light as he sauntered away from the house, his t-shirt tight, defining the muscular back it contained.

Glancing back towards the bed she could not suppress the sigh. She wished it was contentment, but could not disguise from herself the resignation of desire born of need. What started as an encounter months ago was now a regular event. Yes event. He had the self absorption required for a perfect tryst, emotionless, undemanding empty sexual passion. Perfect. Not a lover, not a friend, almost a gigolo without any financial exchange. Well at least no cash.

Wandering into the kitchen her bare feet sensitive to the cool tiles beneath them a shudder swept over her body. She reached for a glass, automatically slid it under the dispenser and cringed at the harsh collapse of ice into the glass. She poured the Jack Daniels and felt it cascade over the rocks, pausing for moment to release another sigh, this time despondent. Her hand slipped into her pocket and reached for the delicate gold key, her eyes flicked automatically to scan the open French doors, checking that the patio for signs of life, of unwanted unpleasant observers.

The document box had always been hidden in the pantry. Helena collected it now, dropped it on the kitchen bench, and purposefully inserted the key in the lock. Feeling it twist, a temporary resistance, then the click of release. Retrieving the envelope, she gently slid the paper from its tomb. With a mixture of disgust and pity she read it again, this time the final time…

2/.

My darling
To you I owe so much. The dreams I have had, now fulfilled. Your sumptuous lips, a visual delight, a constant temptation to your delicious hard wet driven passion. I see your tongue teasing as it playfully darts around your mouth, throwing out the lyric sounds of your sweet words, perfectly embraced with your contagious bubbling laugh. The more I taste the more insatiable I become. I want to devour you, and you me. I am insane with desire. Even after all this time. Nobody would understand our passion in this morbidly stupid sleepy hollow. Philistines. Only a few more months and we can escape, our fortune secure, our perfect plan awaiting execution. Hold true my lover. Not long to go. Yours always.

Husband, friend, lover. So many roles but not the one Helena had ever predicted. She pinched the corner of the letter in her left hand, placed a cigarette in her mouth, then flicked the lighter first striking the cigarette, then attacking the diagonal corner of the letter with the flame. The acrid smoke swirling into her nose, resisting the urge the withdraw, she watched as the incriminating words disappeared into a cloak of blackened ash. How neat, to have it all resolved before the party next Saturday. A tortuous journey of discovery over months, planning, scheming, knowing but not revealing. Until the time was right.
A snuffling bark destroyed her reverie. Her eyes automatically darted to the patio, and there he stood, the author of the letter. The partner in her husbands treachery. Their eyes locked, until his diverted to the burning paper in her hand. With defiance she dropped the burning remnant into the sink. He menaced into the doorway, one hand clutching the lead of his dog, the other bracing the doorframe.
“There, it’s gone” she said
“Do you think he or I did not keep other letters, other evidence”
“He was never meticulous - passionate, yes - organized, no, so I doubt it Ramos”
Ramos hesitated for a moment, as if deciding, then with eyes full of hatred turned on his heels fleeing in a thunder of rage. She huffed, a half laugh, and in a move of slow deliberation, stubbed the butt of her cigarette into the collapsing ashen letter.

/3.

The action didn’t really satisfy her as much as she’d hoped, but then neither had Kelvin.
But their misguided plottings amused her. Did Ramos and John really think they could escape? At least that stupid Herbert fell into the trap and did what he was meant to. Pity the fool nearly wrecked it all trying to dump the body. It had been such an inconvenience dragging John back from the beach and leaving him slumped over that rancid seafood pie in the pool cabana. She needed a body and a cause of death. Not the police investigating a missing person. Herbert still hadn’t worked out quite how that happened, but seemed to have no complaints with the swift but unexpected resolution.
She looked toward the trees and noticed how still they were today. The desire to be nearer the water overwhelmed her again. “I really need to see that ocean of mine” she said out loud to the empty room and turned to change for her morning walk along Glass Beach.

Chapter 7 ANTONY

There was a calmness to the dawn, which he would recall later as something he maybe should have paid more attention to. It wasn’t so much the weird lack of wind or breeze, but the utter absence of the usual early morning calls, which he vaguely noticed as he paddled heavily, suffering a slight judder or two at the ocean chill.

Turning to regard the beach and town front he thought how different it looked from out here. It appeared small and far away, it was surprising how quickly the town receded once you left the shore. Maybe you didn’t have to go that far to get out, to get away?

And on the eight day, God surfed. That was how the saying went and Antony believed it? He could never express why he loved being in the ocean in general and surfing in particular. There was the shock of immersion, the ice cream grip of cold around the sinuses, the momentary scuba headache and the physiological tremor as the body made its adjustments to the aquatic medium. Then there was the glorious freedom, of movement in three dimensions not just the usual two. The suspension was liberating and the board allowed him to tap into the muscular force of the perpetually shivering ocean. He loved to swim in and surf on the ocean, it was an almost sexual joy. He liked the ocean like he loved sex. Both involved surrender to something bigger and older than he was.

Speaking of surrendering to something bigger and older, he saw Helena wandering down the beach. She was always having her morning walk around the time he was winding up his morning sunrise surf session. ‘Take it as a compliment’ Devlin had said. But it just didn’t feel like one. She could get fucked, and not with him. He wasn’t putting out. Where was the woman’s self esteem?

2/.

Scanning the heaving surface he spotted a likely swell and began to turn his board and move. Building up enough speed, he caught the wave’s pregnant rise and having jumped up on the board he bent and leaned in, letting the rapidly building wave gather both he and the board in it’s flexing arms and sweep them forward in the glorious rush.
He let forth a cry of exuberant joy as he slid into the embryonic tube of rolling glass and barely registered the huge, swift shadow suddenly underneath the board.

“Helena, Helena.”
Her eyes fluttered and then opened fully.
“What happened?”
“You fainted.”
“Fainted, but: Oh my God Antony, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. You’re bleeding.”
“And you’re obvious.”
“What?”
“Look, can you stop pointing out things I already know and help me?”
“But I thought you were…”
“So did I, for a minute. Help me woman!”
“Are you… is it serious?” She seemed fixated and spellbound by his bleeding thigh.
“A graze, maybe a stitch at the most.” He was angry more than anything, a cold calm fury at the centre of him, the primal resentment of a toddler thrown bodily and unfairly out of his sand box.
She allowed him to lean on her and helped support him by putting a hand on his torso. Her hands began to shake slightly as soon as she did.
He suddenly wondered when she’d last touched a man’s body, he was sure she hadn’t gone near that lump of a husband of hers for a long time before he died? She sounded tremulous. He was shaking himself, it had all been so fast. His poor board, this was going to cost him thousands to replace. Devlin wouldn’t believe the size of the fucker’s bite. This was some serious shit.
3/.
Helena was twittering in his ear.
“When I saw that shape come out and then bite. That horrible snout.” She shuddered.
“Yeah, thanks for helping me not to dwell on it.”
“Thank god you managed to swim back so quickly. Then when I saw the blood on your leg.” Helena stopped suddenly. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Do you have any idea how much revenue the Christmas tourists are; no, of course you don’t. All you care about is that stupid board.”
“Hey!”
“You can’t say anything.”
She had totally transformed. The wheedling superficial niceness was gone and there was a new note of steel in her voice. She was almost glaring at him, eye to eye. It was an abrupt and unexpected transformation.
“Helena...”
She practically shook him, which, considering a second a go she’d been helping to support him, was quite a feat. The woman was schitzophrenic.
“You can’t say anything. If word gets out, we need this Christmas. This tourist season is going to put us on the map, not to mention my…”
She stopped talking.
“What are you talking about?”
“You just can’t say anything!”
They had both stopped walking now, she turned to look back out to sea.
“What’s it going to do next? Do they hang around? How do these creatures behave?”
He’d been lucky, no more, the shark was a good size, a serious threat. But he felt ashamed at his fear, angry at what had happened. He looked out at the deceptive beauty of the ocean, the place where, up to now he had always felt at home and had loved, and had felt, in his own way, loved in return.
“What’s it worth to you?”
She regarded him with a raised eyebrow, quizzical. He clarified his meaning.
“To get rid of it? What’s it worth?”

4/.

The morning negotiations emboldened him. That evening found him at the bar, finally determined to clean up a loose end that had been bothering him for awhile.
“Evan.”
The bartender gave a curt nod and then moved away from his previous position at the bar, suddenly busy.
Given what had not happened the last few times he’d tried to sort this shit out, Antony decided on the direct approach.
“I want my money. A week’s worth of wages, enough’s enough.”
“Don’t stress.”
“You said that last week and the week before that. Fair bloody dinkum mate.”
“Son…”
“Due respect Evan, I’ve got a dad and you’re not him. Don’t call me son. Look, you’ve been avoiding me whenever I come in here:”
Evan’s face was reddening.
“Don’t bloody flatter yourself.”
“Whenever I come in here.”
Evan refused to look him in the eye, people around the bar were not talking, the silence was becoming embarrassing. Good, the man should be embarrassed. But this was a tactic of last resort. He’d cost the bartender some serious face doing this. But Antony was angry, angry enough to force the issue.
“Don’t bloody well come in here and tell me what to do in my own pub boy.”
“And don’t you ever ask me to work for you again.”
“You call that work son? You spent most of the night talking to the Shielas, or that ‘artist’ bloke who was making cow eyes at yer.”
“Fuck you Evan.”
This was turning into one hell of a day. He thought about the harpoon gun Devlin had leant him earlier and postponed his satisfaction to the morning.

5/.

Oh great - Lelani was all he flaming needed.
“What’s that!”
It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t. How had she known he was doing this, Helena wouldn’t have said anything surely? She had wanted to keep their arrangement quiet.
“You know what it is Lelani.”
“You’re the one trespassing. That shark was only doing what comes naturally. Leave it alone.”
He released the safety catch on the harpoon gun and then slung it, inside its holster, over his shoulder.
“If it leaves me alone, I’ll return the favour and as for doing naturally, so am I baby.”
“I’m not your baby.”
“Haven’t you got a crystal to polish or something?”
“I’ll report you, that animal’s probably on an endangered list.”
“It is now, report away.”

He pushed off and into the surf, the harpoon gun slung over his back.
There was the same calmness as yesterday. But he could pinpoint it now, there was a total lack of gulls. None flew over the waves, or loitered on the sea out past the breakers where there was usually a few, but not this morning. Could they sense the presence of the predator somewhere in the water or was he being fanciful?
“All things are Buddha things” Lelani was shouting, the receding sound of her impotent rage confined to the sands.
If all things were Buddha things then so was the technological innovation of his harpoon gun, just as much as the evolutionary innovation that resulted in the shark that he knew was lurking somewhere near. Game on, he told himself.
But was it a game? Why had he agreed to this, not for Helena, she was more catalyst than cause? This was his beach, his daily sacred ritual. This was personal. His masculinity was at stake, he would not be denied by a big fish with attitude.
Game on, he said grimly to himself as he paddled and scanned.

6/.

Three hours later, sunburnt and exhausted, he trudged up the sand with nothing to show for his efforts. The town Christmas decorations glinted, looking vulgar and cheap and tinny coloured in the glare of the early morning sun. Bloody Christmas, he hated it. He dropped the board and everything else he had taken out and began to pull himself out of his wet suit and lie in the sun for awhile to recover.
There was the sound of the surf, the sea breeze and the sun playing over him. He waited for his breathing to steady and while the exhaustion flowed from slowly easing and tense muscles. He could have slept there then. But almost reluctantly, he dragged himself up from the threshold of drowsiness, grabbed his board and began to move.

It was almost an hour later before he remembered, incredulous at his own idiocy, that he’d left the harpoon half buried where it hit the sand.
Worried and angry with himself for being so unbelievably careless, he hurried back.
Of course, it was no longer there.

Chapter 8 KELVIN

Kelvin tossed the Billingsgate Bugle on the sand, drained the last of his beer and surveyed his tummy. OK – maybe not the town stud that he had been 30 years ago but still not too bad for a 49 year old. He was reassured by the fact that his rugged, good looks combined with dimples still got looks of admiration from visitors to the town and being a dive instructor didn’t hurt in the admiration/power stakes. He had virtually had women on tap since he was 17. That’s probably why he had never married, in fact his longest relationship had been 9 years - and that was with his border collie Nipper.

The business meant early starts but also ensured early finishes which nearly compensated for dragging his arse out of bed at 5.30am for the past 30 odd years. He would head home after the last dive and leave the kiddies (as he called them) to clean the gear, fill the tanks and get the Pacific Dream ready for the following morning’s dive. In order to save on wages, he no longer employed any locals but relied instead on mainly English & American back packers working for him in return for free PADI dive certification and bed & board in the small apartment above the shop. He only lived 5 minutes drive away and kept an eye on things, sometimes hoping to catch one of the girls on their own and provide him with an opportunity to weave his magic charms – hopefully all the way to the bedroom.

As at this time on most days, he was laying on the sunbed outside of his house with the sea lapping gently 30 metres away against Billingsgate’s famous Glass Beach. He had lived in the same place – practically a shack - for nearly 20 years and in that time the price had gone from $4,500 to over $200,000. Conversely two years ago his business was worth over $500,000 but now he’d be lucky to get $100,000. Hardly enough to retire on.

As the sun started to sink into the Pacific his thoughts turned to the business - as they always seemed to these days. He used to be the envy of everyone in town and had the luxury of being able to turn customers away.

2/.

But what with the unsettled weather and proliferation of other activities in the area it seemed that diving was not as popular as it used to be. Not by a long mark. Also the nature of the town had changed. They were beginning to get more townies from Sydney and even Brisbane buying holiday houses and these people rarely went scuba diving but always had a daughter called Sara.
Then of course there was the ‘Martin’s Mystery’. Billingsgate’s maiden performance on the world stage occurred just a few months ago when a couple of American tourists had disappeared. Seeing the familiar town sites on CNN as well as a couple of the local faces was both thrilling and somewhat ominous. Naturally Ramos made an appearance and duly hammed it up and even managed to show his latest work ‘Lost in a strange country’ which he claimed was inspired by the mystery. Strange then that the picture was up for all to see, weeks before the couple had even arrived in town. In fact Kelvin was sure that he had seen it in Natasha’s Spot when Ramos held his wanky annual retrospective last year. He only agreed to go so that he could ogle Natasha’s tits close up – one of the few women that he had wanted but never got to want him back- well not for long anyway. If his memory served him correctly the picture was then entitled ‘Two Parrots Talking’. Rumour had it that Ramos sold the picture to a Florida woman for over $1000 just two days after it appeared on TV. This just confirmed Kelvin’s view that both Ramos and ‘art’ in general was a load of old bollocks.

Rumours persisted that Kelvin had something to do with the couple’s disappearance, spread no doubt by the town gossips Ramos & Herbert. If everyone could just mind their own business life would be so much simpler for all. He knew how to hold his tongue – if he didn’t half the town would be in jail. Helena for a start, not quite as clean as most people thought and he was sure that young Antony was up to some sort of mischief, lots of comings and goings at the place he had moved out to. And where was he getting his money from?

3/.

The beer and the sun started to weave their magic and Kelvin felt himself drifting off for his usual alcohol induced siesta. As he entered the delicious in between world of waking and sleeping events jostled in his mind like old message bottles bobbing in the sea and faces that had been bothering him for a while bubbled to the surface.

The American couple were annoying. Wayne and Andrea Martin. Both in their 30s, both vegans, both so fucking earnest and both were trying to wheedle their way into the fabric of the town. He had only talked to them once - at The Billingsgate Arms - but took an instant dislike to them. They loved the town ‘so, so much’ and were looking at selling up in California and moving here to set up a jet ski business & boutique vegan cafe. Vegan café – no worries go ahead it’s your own money to throw away but the jet ski shop would have wiped Billingsgate Dive School off the map.

Kelvin forced his mind on to other matters, more basic matters like survival. He needed to reassert himself in the town and turn his business around. He needed something to redress the balance back towards both the diving school and himself.

Later he would remember clearly the moment when the idea caught hold and slumber gave way to pure exhilarating alertness. An alertness he had not enjoyed for years. Like returning to the surface after a really good dive or the moment he knew he was about to screw a particularly young woman - he savored the journey towards its ultimate destination : a fully fledged plan.

He sat up eyes wide open with a grin forming on his face. The Bugle had carried a story about the HMAS Conundrum which was about to be decommissioned after 40 years of service. They were calling for suitable ways to dispose of the venerated vessel which first saw service during the Vietnam War and latterly became an escort vehicle in the ‘Pacific Solution’. The reason The Bugle carried the story was that there was a link to Billingsgate. Its first Captain was none other then George Pomfret, Helena’s Pomfret’s father.

4/.

Suppose Kelvin could lobby to have the vessel skuppered off the coast of Billingsgate? There would be an instant reef teeming with fish and all manner of wildlife. It would be a diver’s dream and they would flock from all corners of the earth to dive it. Kelvin started to get excited, it could turn his business around and really put Billingsgate on the map. His dive school would treble in price overnight even the shack may get another few thousand.

He immediately started to plan how he could get the right peoples support for the idea. Maybe pull in a few favours here and there although a few threats wouldn’t go astray and would be more in keeping with Kelvin’s normal modus operandi. Perhaps hinting at some of the goings on in Billingsgate over the past 20 years that many would prefer to remain secret. A vague reference thrown into conversations, nothing too overt, just a reminder to all and sundry that he knew secrets and deserved to be respected and supported.

Usually the Annual Billingsgate Carols held less then zero interest for him, unless he thought it might help him bed one of the backpackers. This year though might be a little different, this year he might just make an appearance, this year he might just chat to a few people, this year he might just start to put his plan into action.

Kelvin went inside, opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. The first gulp tasted so much sweeter then the tinny he had had just a few minutes ago…. so, so much sweeter.

Chapter 9 LELANI


Lelani was fair game in this town. That was what made Billingsgate so special. These people were her penance, her act of indulgent self-flagellation. Lelani survived on their combination of beauty and cruelty. Antony, like all the men and most of the women, was a bully. He was tantalisingly on the verge of becoming a predator. Except for his age, he was ideal.

It was Monday – only five more days until the Christmas party. Lelani was in charge of the vegan dishes for the event. She needed to go to the Billingsgate Arms for a committee meeting. The amount of courage it took to get out of the house and into the day was what she was most proud of about her life here. She threw on some shorts and a bikini top.

‘Even though I continue to needlessly take up space on this planet I completely love and accept myself.’ Lelani lightly tapped the acupressure point beside her eyebrows as she spoke. ‘I love and accept myself even though I am from a family of murderers and am no better than them,’ her voice and her two fingered tapping were a little sharper on the second eyebrow.

‘Even though I still live off my parent’s money I deeply and completely accept myself.’ Lelani realised that she’d swapped tapping for ‘slicing’ on her right wrist’s pressure point. She sighed and started again at the top of her head. Antony’s actions from the day before still clung to her. How stupid could Helena be!

‘I am a capable being and I love and accept myself even though I have become what I despise.’ Tap tap tap.
She needed to regulate her breathing a little more.

2/.

Her family dealt in hides – trading skin from anything that walked the planet. Not being able to walk away from their money as easily as she had walked away from them kept her tied to this daily routine of morning affirmations and midday lorazepams. Living in Billingsgate was her chance to ‘walk a mile’ in a hunted animal’s ‘shoes’. She had almost become accustomed to this life. But she was beginning to understand her family’s loathing for this pitiful town.

‘I love and accept myself even though I am not worthy of anyone else’s love’. Her index and middle fingers caressed her temples. For three years she had been playing the quarry – maybe it would all end this Saturday. She wasn’t sure. She tapped her collarbone where it met the sternum.

Leilani prepared to meet this day.

Chapter 10 DEVLIN . . . the denouement

The angels adorning the front of the stage whirred into life and started to blow wafts of cooling spray mist into the gathering crowds through their heraldic trumpets. The crowd was delighted by this refreshing touch on a warm evening and clapped enthusiastically. Evan stood grinning on one side then placed his hand over his nose and mouth, and crossed over underneath where Maurice and Ramos were arguing quietly but intensely on the hotels upper verandah.

“You shouldn’t have surprised me -turning up like that!” Ramos whined. “I didn’t know you wanted to wear it. And in that Santa suit - it makes you look a teeny bit fat you know”. Maurice’s eyes were wild and excited, his pupils like saucers. “That’s the whole point you hysterical queen” Maurice hissed. “Now get it together. You promised to help me!” Ramos looked rather uncertain now that Maurice’s plan was fully revealed.

As the angel misters cooled the evening, the mood in the lower levels of the garden amphitheatre became decidedly festive, decidedly fast. Xmas cheer abounded as the assembled crowd anticipated the appearance of Miss Edith Luck and what she would offer in this years Xmas extravaganza. Those old “Les Girls” Drag queens really know how to put on a show they whispered excitedly.

Dusk was only moments off when the deep boom followed by a bright flash of lightning, caused Devlin to lower his reed flute and pause momentarily. It took a moment before he realized what was wrong about the thunder – it should come after the lightning not before. Devlin waited for a moment and began to run. Cursing the foolishness of these Billingsgate men he galloped towards the main lawn area which remained full of curiously stunned looking picnickers.

The top floor of the Billingsgate arms was a smoking mess, and the angelic canopy at the front of the adjacent stage was blown off, the misting frame twisted and broken amid glass from the lights.

2/.

Pieces of Maurice still in his Santa suit hung broken and barbequed in the nearby trees, and what remained of Ramos had finally achieved the immortality he so craved.

Devlin roared with frustration when he saw the wound in his precious hotel. This was not part of his plan. Those petty bickering fools would destroy all his hard work and tear apart his meticulous creation. Soon there would be nothing he could do to guard these foolish mortals. He had used the music of his pipes to weave the strongest defenses he could into these bricks and mortar and it had worked until now. Until Maurice’s need for a rather dramatic last word had broken the protections and left his work crumbling.
And so near the waters edge…

Two figures emerged through the smoke on the upper floors. It looked at first as if one was holding the other up. But no – they were fighting desperately – a man appeared to be hitting a bald woman in evening wear with a shoe – but no it was actually a foot. “It should have been me” screamed Herbert. Not realizing the hotel balcony was now half gone they pitched against the place where the rail had once been and plummeted still screaming to the ground. The sequins and feathers made it appear an ostrich had been shot from the sky. A flash of red satin shimmered through the smoke as the arm that had tried to hold them safe withdrew into the billowing grey.
Neither Herbert or Eddy Luck moved in the awful silence that followed.

Then the laughing began.
Picnicking families closest to the now wrecked misting apparatus pointed and giggled. Some hooted with outright pleasure. Great show! Better than Julie Anthony at the Domain. This was real professional family entertainment.

A figure in a WW2 gas mask ran towards the still figures. No mistaking Evans shape despite the somewhat Steven King attire. As he reached the couple his body bent forward in a sharp right angle then jerked suddenly backwards. A short spike stuck out from his ample navel and the curious silence returned. People were really watching.
“So much better than last years show…”

3/.

Anyone not previously seated within 200m of the stage was running towards it. All except Devlin who stayed where he was on high ground at the top of the amphitheatre, protected by a ring of Alder trees. Strangely a low rumble seemed to be continuing after the sound of the blast should have died away.

Antony arrived first, barely panting. Fit bugger.

Lelani walked towards him the spent harpoon gun dangling by her side. “At last I have served my penance” she said. “Living amongst men’s cruelty I understand why my father had little pity for creatures of the land. But you passed our test Antony.
Helena gave you a weapon but you could not kill. I am now free to release your true self and return to my home”.
He stared at her “What are you talking about you crazy herbal freak? You killed him!”

The rumble increased in volume and all of a sudden there was water everywhere. Now that the protective power of the Billingsgate Arms had been shattered the tsunami surged up and into the park taking all before it. The angels that had adorned Ramos’s final glorious stage set floated attractively like surreal messengers of doom, knocking unconscious any who happened to be in their path amid the swirling muddied waters.

The crowd had, by now, rather lost interest in the show as they struggled to find ways to keep breathing. Those that managed to escape Ramos’s avenging angels could not withstand the tide for long.

Walking apparently untouched through the surge Helena and Natasha appeared behind Antony and he became immobile held by the power of the 3 seemingly transformed women.

Natasha embraced her son. “You are a lover of water my boy- fluid and ever changing. I am proud that you have been chosen to become its prince.”

4/.

There were several quite distinct emotions running through Antony’s features as he struggled to break the women’s spell. Confusion, terror and finally a kind of joy as his flawless skin stripped of its clothing by the oceans force began to glow blue-grey. He gaped uncomprehending at first, then a smile of perfect peace crossed his face. Released he leapt forward. The dolphin fin was already forming on his spine and he flipped effortlessly beneath the surface.

Devlin watched in horror as Kelvin who he thought had been fighting his way to rescue Antony, instead clutched pathetically at Helena. “But I did all you asked” he begged
“-kept all the other divers away, got rid of the nosy Americans, kept you all happy - I’ve even got a plan to hide you better! You promised if I watched over the boy it would be me who was chosen!

“You old man?” Helena sneered “the sea is ancient and seeks to replenish itself. You have already been sucked too dry.” He let out a single agonized cry before the surge swept him away. Devlin tapped his hoof in salute and blew a mournful note on his pipe.

Helena turned and smiled triumphantly across the tumult at Devlin standing amidst his beloved trees. “Your petty twigs and rocks can never withstand the power of my domain” she sneered. “And why do you bother with these greedy selfish mortals. Are penises that damn interesting? They will kill each other soon enough.”

“Think more carefully Helena”. He warned “If we do not guide them they will destroy the planet as they die, and your home will vanish as well as mine.”

“Look around you fool.” Her smile vanished “We won’t give them time.”
continued…

5/.

EPILOGUE

The shimmering pathway left by the full moon on the slowly moving ocean silhouetted the three naked figures waist deep in the shallows.

Lelani smiled at Natasha, then at a signal from Helena raised a uniquely shaped conch shell to her lips. Her hair, unbound and free, floated lazily in the air around her shoulders although the evening was quite still. She blew a single exquisitely harmonic note from its glittering depths, which hung majestically in the air and did not seem to fade.

The water bubbled before her then span into an ever increasing whirlpool. The young princess glanced back toward the town. Her smile appeared cruel but at last calm in the cold moonlight although the swirling waters remained warm. The two others joined her at the centre of the vortex and taking their cue from the conches note, began to sing a wild and unfettered melody that continued as they eased sinuously below the surface of the water. Throwing the conch before her, Lelani leapt high and dived into the centre of the maelstrom after them. Moonlight reflected blue/green off the scales of her shimmering tail, and the perfectly formed fins that had until quite recently been size 7½ feet, were the last anyone saw of the keepers of the immortal secret beneath the waters off Billingsgate Beach.