A Croc Called Capone (7 page)

‘
Maaahvellous
, Brendan,' gushed Cy when he put a plate of something ghastly in front of her. It had yellow peppers and enough salad leaves to make a strong man gag. She had found her smile again and wasn't afraid to use it. ‘Do you work here full-time, or is this just a temporary job? You know, while you backpack around Australia? And would you like to marry me and have four children?'

Okay. She didn't actually say that last sentence. But it's what she meant.

‘No,' replied Brendan. ‘I'm the owner's son. I wait tables, do a bit of maintenance, tour guiding, odd jobs.'

‘How
interesting
,' burbled Rose who seemed annoyed she hadn't thought to ask the same questions as Cy. ‘What tours do you guide?'

‘Actually, there's one tomorrow. A crocodile cruise. Meet up at reception at ten, if you want to come along.'

‘I'll be there,' said Rose and Cy in unison. When Brendan turned away to serve another table, they glared at each other. They bristled. I swear, if they bristled any more, they'd turn into paintbrushes. I almost expected Cy to whip out her light sabre. Rose would have been in trouble then.

Girls! If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. A waste of space.

All of this went straight over Dyl's head. He was busy getting himself on the outside of a large burger and fries and wouldn't have noticed if someone had set off fireworks in his shorts. But as soon as he'd finished eating, he pushed back his chair.

‘Where you off to, Dyl?' I asked.

‘Need a quick word with someone,' he replied. ‘Back in ten.'

As soon as he said this, I knew. Sure enough, he headed straight for Goliath's table. I bolted down the rest of my food and followed him.

Look, I said I was terrified of this dude. And I was. But Dyl is my mate. What's a small matter of confronting a mammoth serial killer when it comes to looking out for your mate?

Well, a lot, actually. But I went anyway.

‘Hey, Marc,' said Dylan. ‘Meet Murray. Murray Small.'

Small?

I couldn't help myself. I automatically put my hand out and the colossus shook it. This was a worrying moment. Murray appeared very capable of leaving me with a bloodied and mashed stump where my fingers had been. Either that, or he would whip out a chainsaw and carve his initials in us. That's a popular choice among serial killers – at least, this is what my research of horror flicks suggests. But when he let go, my hand was still in one piece. I flexed my fingers and found, to my surprise, that they still worked. I sat.

‘How ya going, mate?' said Murray. He had piercing blue eyes set among a nest of wrinkles. I could see the reflection of the overhead fan sweeping over his shaved head. It was vaguely unnerving.

‘Good. How are you?' I replied.

What was going on here? I had no idea of the correct way of conversing with a mass murderer, but I suspected ‘How are you?' was not in the book of etiquette. But, when I thought about it, ‘Do you prefer dismemberment or acid baths in the disposal of corpses?' was unlikely to hit the right note either.

‘I'm really good. Isn't this a terrific place? I was just saying to your mate, here, that I come for a holiday at this resort every year. Can't keep away.'

‘It's great so far,' I said. ‘But it's our first time and we only arrived today.'

‘I know. Saw you on the bus. But, trust me, you'll love it here.'

I hate to say this, but Murray appeared to be a very nice guy. He had a ready smile and he apparently wasn't bothered by two kids inviting themselves to his dinner table. Then again, killers must be able to put on a good front to the world. They live next door to
someone
. Hold down jobs. For all I know, they do volunteer work and video their kids at school performances.

‘Can I ask you a personal question, Murray?' said Dyl.

Now. You never know with Dyl. It was fifty-fifty he'd come out with something like, ‘Do you need good marks at school to be a serial killer?' So I held my breath.

‘Go for ya life, mate,' said Murray.

‘What do you do for a job?' asked Dyl.

Murray took a long drink from his glass, ran a hand over his scalp and pushed his plate away.

‘Guess,' he said.

‘Wrestler?' tried Dyl. ‘Bouncer, maybe. Hang on, I know. Bodyguard to the stars. You're an enforcer.'

Murray laughed. In fact, he laughed so hard he doubled over, his forehead almost touching the table. After a few moments he straightened and wiped tears from his eyes.

‘Well, mate,' he said. ‘I can't blame you. I sure look the part. Enforcer, hey? I wish. No, mate. 'Fraid it's nothing as glamorous as that. I'm a Consultant Paediatrician.'

Dylan's eyes widened. ‘A what?'

‘A doctor for children,' I explained. Dylan appeared to be relieved.

‘So what do you do in your spare time?' he continued.

I think this was Dyl's attempt at low cunning. He was probably hoping Murray would say something like, ‘Oh, this and that. Bit of serial killing on weekends and public holidays.' He didn't.

‘Bushwalking, mate. Whenever I get the chance, I'm off into remote areas, mainly here in Australia, but also in other places. Africa, for example. It's my passion.' He glanced at his watch. ‘Look, guys, I don't want to be rude or anything, but I'm really tired and I've got a full day tomorrow.' He stood. ‘Sleep well, okay?'

‘Are you going on the croc cruise?' I asked.

‘Nah. I don't do cruises. I'll be taking myself off into the bush. A good long walk.'

‘Maybe we could join you one time?' Dyl said.

Murray smiled and ruffled Dyl's hair. It didn't make any difference. Dyl's hair was already ruffled. You couldn't squeeze in even a small additional ruffle.

‘Sorry, guys,' he said. ‘I go alone. No offence, but I see enough children at work.'

He took off down the path towards the cabins.

‘He is just about the nicest serial killer I have ever met,' said Dyl.

‘You meet plenty then, do you, Dyl?'

‘Well, you know my neighbourhood.'

I glanced over at our table. Brendan was clearing dishes while Rose and Cy simpered, gushed and generally got in his face at every opportunity. I was starting to feel sorry for the guy. It was difficult to tell who was being more nauseating, but I think Rose had the slight edge. Then again, she'd put in years of practice.

‘Can I ask why you decided to talk to our murderer, Dyl?' I said. ‘Isn't this going to alert him?'

Dylan leaned towards me.

‘Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer,' he whispered.

I was impressed.

‘It's a line from a movie,' he continued. ‘I've waited years to say it. I just wish I knew what it meant.'

We walked back to our cabins with Mum and Dad. Rose and Cy stayed at the restaurant to glare at each other and throw themselves under the waiter's feet.

‘Don't stay up too late, boys,' said Dad. ‘It's been a long day and I reckon we should be fresh for the crocodile cruise in the morning. Imagine. Seeing crocs in the wild! I can't wait.'

‘Me neither. Night, Dad. Night, Mum.'

‘Night, Mr and Mrs Hill,' said Dyl.

I
was
tired, but it turned out the day hadn't quite finished with us. We made it two metres up the brick path to our cabin, when a
Pssst
sounded in my head. I stopped and looked around.

‘Blacky?'

‘Follow me, tosh. I need a word in your shell-like.'

He sat under a low bush about thirty metres away. I grabbed Dylan's arm and pointed. As soon as we walked towards him, Blacky took off. We followed for about three minutes. It was dark once we left the small cabin lamps behind. I could barely make out his form as he climbed a bank to one side of the rough path. Dyl and I scrambled up behind him and stepped out from darkness into a world of pale moonlight. A white beach glistened, stretching as far as my eyes could see. Slow waves rolled in. The moon dappled the sea.

‘Wow,' I said.

‘Looks like paradise, doesn't it?' said Blacky.

‘It does,' I said. ‘It sure does.'

‘Enjoy it while you can. In thirty years this will all be gone. This and most of the surrounding area. Global warming, tosh. Rising ocean levels will wash all this away. Hey. Let's hear it. Three cheers for humanity.'

‘Thanks, Blacky,' I said. ‘You really know how to ruin a scene.'

‘It's called “reality”, mush. And I'll have no lectures about ruining scenes from a human, thanks very much.'

We sat on a sand dune and watched clouds scud across the face of the moon.

‘Global warming,' I said. ‘Waste emissions thrown into the atmosphere that cause the temperature of the Earth to rise, because heat cannot escape properly. A bit like a greenhouse. Am I right?'

‘Spot on,' said Blacky.

‘Well, I know one way to drastically reduce the cause of global warming.'

‘Ban fossil fuels? Find alternative and renewable sources of energy? Halt the worldwide destruction of rainforests?'

‘That would work,' I said. ‘But I was thinking of sticking a cork up your bum, thus reducing atmospheric pollution by at least a third.'

Blacky fixed me with one pink-rimmed eye.

‘Very funny, tosh,' he said. ‘Very dry. If you carry on being dry I'll have to pee on you.'

‘Look,' I said. ‘I'm sure you didn't bring us here simply to throw insults and then depress the living daylights out of me.' Actually, I wasn't sure. That's exactly the kind of thing Blacky
would
do. ‘We need more information about this mission. In particular, Murray the Mass Murderer, who, incidentally, is a Consultant Paediatrician and seems like a very reasonable guy.'

‘The important word there, mush, is “seems”. Remember, there's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.'

It was the second time that evening I was impressed with a clever statement. First Dyl, now Blacky.

‘Did you make that up, Blacky?' I asked.

‘No. That was another genius. Shakespeare. One of the better humans, in my humble opinion.'

Humble?

‘Anyway, I'm not going to
tell
you about our serial killer,' continued Blacky. ‘I'm going to
show
you. Meet me here in the morning and you will see for yourself what this “reasonable guy” does on his bushwalks.'

‘We can't.'

‘Why?'

I explained about the crocodile cruise. Blacky snorted in my head.

‘Oh, puhlease. You're not here to have fun, boyo.'

‘Actually, we are.'

Now he sighed. The inside of my head was like a wind tunnel.

‘Okay. But as soon as you get back from your fun-packed jaunt, you'll come with me. It's time for you to be educated, tosh.'

Later, I lay in bed listening to Dyl breathing. I'd filled him in on Blacky's plans for us, but he'd fallen asleep halfway through my explanation. That was okay. I was tired, too. In fact, I was just dropping off when I heard raised voices from the cabin next door.

It seems Rose and Cy were discussing each other's failings. Loudly. I couldn't quite make out full sentences, but female dogs appeared to be the major topic of conversation. I smiled.
A good day for dramas
, I thought, as I slipped under a final wave of tiredness.

But I had no idea – no idea at all – of the dramas that would unfold the next day.

The river was broad, sluggish and brown. The tour boat moved slowly towards its centre.

‘Good morning everyone,' said Brendan over the
PA
system. ‘And welcome to the Branaghan Wilderness Lodge Crocodile Tour. My name is Brendan and my partner Julie – give a wave, Julie – will be assisting me today. Before we get started there are a few emergency procedures I should go through. But rest assured, this tour has been operating for twenty years and we haven't lost anyone yet.'

Most of the tourists on the boat gave a small titter of nervous laughter. Rose and Cy laughed as if Brendan was the star turn at an International Comedy Festival. Then they glowered at each other, as he told us what to do in the event of the boat sinking and where to find flotation devices.

‘I should point out, though,' he added, ‘that the lifejackets are bright orange. Research has shown that crocodiles are attracted to the colour orange. So it might be a better idea to throw the lifejackets one way and swim like hell in the opposite direction.'

The laughter this time was decidedly more nervous, though Rose and Cy appeared to be on the verge of wetting themselves.

‘One thing I can guarantee. We
will
see some crocodiles today. This river has the largest concentration of saltwater crocodiles in the world. You might not see them right now, but they are all around. Most people who get eaten by crocs have no idea what's happening until it's too late. As you may have noticed, the water is brown and murky. Go fishing on the side of this river, make a few splashes in the water, throw in fish guts and there's a good chance a saltie will be in your face – probably eating it – and you won't have seen him coming.'