Tears of the Moon (30 page)

Olivia gave him a warm embrace and, calling Minnie, who was now their housekeeper, she latched the house as Conrad strode down the street.

First he called on Tyndall who told him he was going to sleep in the Star of the Sea offices.

‘I thought I’d check on Toby Metta while I’m patrolling,’ said Conrad. ‘I imagine he’s staying on the premises too, seeing as he has pearls there’.

‘Good idea, Conrad. He’s got our five best pearls there to work on. Take care.’

‘Right. You too, John.’

From the shadows beside the house, Ahmed watched Conrad set out on patrol.

The town seemed relatively quiet. The curfew was keeping people indoors although, as Conrad passed
one of the lanes leading into Chinatown, he could hear shouts and thumpings on doors. The strange smells that hung around the lanes, mostly a combination of sickly sweet incense and spices, caused Conrad to wrinkle his nose. A shadowy figure slid along the lane and dashed into a doorway next to the Star Hotel. The door opened just wide enough to let the man through and Conrad glimpsed the bright colours of a kimono in the lamplight before the door was swiftly shut.

Disgusting, he thought, the way the Jap women are used. God knows what they were promised to get them here.

Conrad was ignorant of geisha houses and of the fact that most of the women chose to come here to pursue their profession in the hope of accumulating wealth to take home. They were an essential part of Broome’s Japanese community and the money that came from some of the courtesans secretly funded many successful business enterprises. But there were others—poor illiterate daughters of farmers and labourers—who were procured for brothels.

Conrad reached the pearl cleaner’s shop without incident. The door was bolted, the shutters pulled across the window, but he could see a faint light within. He rattled on the door. ‘Toby, it’s me, Conrad. You all right in there?’

There was no response for a moment, then Conrad heard something heavy being dragged from behind the door.

‘Conrad, my friend,’ came the hoarse whisper of Tobias Metta.

‘Just checking on you, we thought you’d be staying here.’

The door opened and Toby’s plump arm dragged Conrad inside, slamming it quickly behind him. ‘You are a brave man to walk the streets alone. Brave and maybe foolish. But it is good to see you. A cup of tea?’

Conrad looked around, noting the revolver lying on Toby’s work bench. ‘Not taking any chances, I see. Yes, a cuppa would be nice.’

‘I have many valuable pearls here, including yours, of course. I feel it is my responsibility to look after them. I heard some Chinese are selling gelignite. Never miss a business opportunity.’

‘Gelignite. Good lord, what for?’

‘It would put a hole in that for a start,’ said Toby, pointing to his lead safe in the corner.

They drank their tea in the dim room lit by a small oil lamp. The idea of a break-in worried Conrad.

‘So, have you had a chance to work on our pearls?’ he asked, lowering his voice unnecessarily.

Toby kissed his fingertips. ‘Several are superb. They’re finished, came up magnificently. Let me show you.’ Before Conrad could protest, he was unlocking the safe. The pearl cleaner took out a small black velvet bag and slammed the safe door shut again. ‘Here, Conrad, under the light.’ He adjusted the lamp on the desk, shook the pearls in the palm of his chubby hand and held them closer to the light. The fat round pearls glowed and Conrad beamed.

‘They certainly are magnificent,’ he enthused, ‘Olivia will get us a good price for these from Monsieur Barat. I can’t wait to show them to her. Could I take them now?’

‘Is that wise?’ said Toby, tipping them back into the little cloth bag.

‘I’m armed and no one would think I’d be carrying pearls. It will distract and please Olivia, I’m sure. She has been quite put out by all this turmoil. Settling down a bit now the RM has got tough.’

‘Well, if you insist,’ Toby handed the pearls to Conrad who slipped them in his pocket.

‘You’ll be all right on your own?’ asked Conrad.

‘I have a stout stick here as well as the gun. I feel safe, the troublemakers are after the blood of the Koepangers. It will blow over. Mabel thought it wise I camp here for the night.’

‘I’ll head straight back then, Toby. Done my bit to show the flag in the streets.’

‘Go safely, good friend. And good night.’ With this he ushered Conrad out, bolting the door and ramming the heavy oak chair against it once more.

Conrad stepped briskly along the wooden foot-path, his footsteps ringing in the quiet night. He stepped down on to the dusty road of Dampier Terrace, his footsteps now muffled. For a moment he thought he heard footsteps behind him, and stopped, but all was quiet. A block further on he crossed the street and skirted a laneway. Banks of clouds had rolled in and obscured the moon. Distant flashes of lightning streaked across them, followed by rumbles of thunder.

Conrad was about to turn the corner and head
towards home, when a shadow moved between two buildings. Pausing, with his hand on his pistol, Conrad saw nothing and moved on. He had only taken a few steps when he was grabbed from behind and pressed into the doorway of the Chinese laundry. An arm was around his throat stopping him from calling out, and as his hands reached up to drag away the constricting arm, he felt a sharp sensation burn in his chest and in the second before everything went dark he read, quite clearly, the sign across the street—
KIMBERLEY EMPORIUM, ALL NEEDS MET.

His assailant let the body drop to the ground and was quickly searching the pockets when he heard shouts and pounding feet close by. The Koepanger urgently stuffed the pistol in his belt, the little velvet bag into his pocket and was about to run when the kris slit his throat. Ahmed sheathed his fen’s, retrieved the pearls and was still crouching over the body when about a dozen Japanese came around the corner shouting and waving sticks. Ahmed pulled Conrad’s pistol from the body of the Koepanger and, still crouching, fired two quick shots over the heads of the Japanese. They stopped in their tracks. Ahmed leapt over the two bodies and dived down a laneway as Major White and a group of armed special constables came charging down the street.

The Japanese fled and, within seconds, Major White was beside the bodies. He ignored the Asian and rolled over the European.

‘Good Lord, it’s Conrad Hennessy,’ he gasped.

Despite the curfew, the news of Conrad’s murder spread swiftly. Tyndall was quickly on the scene. Stunned by confirmation of the death of his friend and partner, he went to Toby Metta, who told him of Conrad’s visit. The pearl cleaner wrung his hands, tears running unchecked down his plump dark face.

‘I told him, warned him, he was foolish to be out in the streets, especially carrying pearls. But he wanted to do his duty. He was such a good man … a good man.’

Tyndall touched Toby’s arm, unable to speak, nodded in support and understanding, and left to return to the scene of the murder.

Conrad’s body was carried away and the Major, the RM and the police chief turned to Tyndall. The four white men stood in the shadowy street while police and a small crowd, ignoring the curfew, stood in the background softly discussing the gruesome details.

The Resident Magistrate took Tyndall by the arm. ‘Captain Tyndall, I know it is difficult, but frankly we think it best you break the news to Mrs Hennessy. Naturally if you would rather—’

‘No!’ said Tyndall instantly. ‘I’ll tell her. No one else.’

‘Mrs Hooten and the ladies will call later in the morning.’

Tyndall shook his head. ‘I’ll let you know when I think it appropriate for all of that. Leave matters to me … for the moment.’ Tyndall was firm and protective but there was something else in his manner
that stilled the others from rushing in with offers of assistance and advice. ‘Please ask the doctor to send sedatives to the house.’

Refusing the offer of transport, Tyndall walked slowly through the darkened streets towards the Hennessys’ bungalow, trying to frame the words to tell Olivia she was a widow.

When he reached their garden gate, he opened it as quietly as possible. Approaching the house he saw a figure rise from the verandah to confront him.

‘Olivia?’

‘No, is Minnie, boss. I bin waiting.’

Tyndall tried to make out the expression on the woman’s face. ‘You know don’t you?’

‘Yes. I go get her.’

He stood in the darkness, staring up at the scudding clouds and the sheets of lightning illuminating the great expanse of sky.

Olivia appeared, a wrapper clutched around her shoulders. She spoke quietly. ‘How bad is it, John? Where is he?’

‘It’s bad, Olivia.’

‘I want to know, John. What has happened to Conrad?’ Her voice rose.

‘He’s dead, Olivia. Killed on the street. It was quick. I doubt he knew anything … Oh, Olivia … ’ He stretched out a hand towards her.

A choking wail was stifled as she clutched the verandah post, hiding her face in her arms. Tyndall reached her as she lost her grip and slid to the floor. Gathering her in his arms, he sat on the verandah step holding the sobbing, shaking woman, wishing
he could somehow lessen the pain that wracked her slim body.

He finally picked her up in his arms and took her through the house to the spare bedroom, where he laid her on the bed. As Minnie hovered around them, Tyndall directed her to bring a brandy. Sitting patiently by the bed as Olivia sipped the brandy, he answered her questions honestly, not softening any details. When Minnie brought in the doctor’s medication she swallowed it as directed.

Then Olivia lay back in the bed and whispered, ‘I have to make Hamish understand.’

‘Tomorrow, Olivia.’ He took her hand and smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

The pills gradually took effect and she drifted into a nightmarish sleep, though her grip on his hand never lessened. Several times she cried out in her sleep. After one of these cries of anguish Tyndall slid onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms, rocking and soothing her as he murmured words of comfort, but she barely registered his presence in her drugged state of shock.

The threatened storm finally hit, crashing and raging over the house, the beating rain on the tin roof drowning Olivia’s fitful breathing and sad cries.

By morning, the storm had passed. Olivia was now sleeping calmly and a weary Tyndall slipped from the room, giving Minnie instructions to watch over her.

The town was stirring, but everything seemed different in the light of the night’s events. When Tyndall
reached his home he was met by a tearful Niah, cradling their baby, whom they’d called Maya.

He held her for a moment then drew back and touched the cheek of the sleeping child. ‘I’ve been with Olivia. She’s in shock.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Have you seen Ahmed?’

Niah shook her head. ‘Tuan and Mem Metta come and tell me what happened. I see no one.’

Tyndall stood quietly for a few moments, thinking, then poured himself a strong whisky. ‘Run a bath for me please, Niah.’

‘You very tired. Need sleep.’

‘Later. A few things to be done yet.’

They exchanged brief smiles and Niah went to the bathroom. Tyndall headed for the verandah, where he sat looking, but not seeing, as he pondered the complexities of his world, a world that had changed dramatically overnight.

He was dressing after his bath when Niah came into the bedroom.

‘Minnie come with message, John.’

‘I’ll see her in a moment. See that she’s comfortable, Niah.’

‘No stay. Leave message. Ahmed down near foreshore camp with Minnie’s mob.’

Tyndall dressed in work clothes and walked nonchalantly to his deserted foreshore camp. He pottered for a few minutes then checked to see if anyone was around before walking quickly by the fringe of mangroves and into the bush. From the upstairs verandah of the shed’s crew room he had seen a wisp of smoke from a campfire.

He found the camp in a few minutes, a temporary and shabby collection of humpies made from sheets of rusted roofing iron, sacks and old canvas. The ground was still wet from the night’s deluge and the humpies dripped on huddled families. He exchanged greetings in their language and joined a couple of old men sitting on logs arranged under a banyan tree. He offered them cigarettes and they smiled in gratitude and lit up.