My Island Homicide by Catherine Titasey Page A

waddled in and peered into the chest.
    â€˜That’s the stuff from Mama’s tombstone. Franz wouldn’t let it go to the relatives. The other stuff is from that kole woman, wife blong to Robby Ramu.’
    â€˜We’ll need to talk to Franz,’ I ventured.
    â€˜What for?’ She glared at me. ‘He can’t talk.’ Then she shrugged. ‘Do what you gotta do. Em there lor hospital.’
    We packed the items relating to Melissa into a backpack and yelled our goodbyes to Izzy, who had started sweeping the verandah. She roused at the dog before it could rush out and bark. I gripped the railing and took each step one by one. Jenny bounded down, two by two.
    As she drove off, I asked her about the lift of the chin Mrs Bintu and Izzy had made.
    â€˜Oh, it’s what the women do, as if to say, “What do you want?” But it can also show they’re a bit pissed off.’
    â€˜I’ve never seen anything like it.’
    â€˜It’s an island thing.’

Chapter 10
    As we walked into the station, Jack bounded up in a fitted V-neck T-shirt and belted pants, perfect for a Calvin Klein ad. ‘Guess what?’
    â€˜Melissa’s turned up?’ I said, hopeful.
    â€˜Melissa? No. But there’s a cyclone in the gulf,’ he said with great enthusiasm. ‘The weather bureau thinks it will be a category five.’
    â€˜Really?’
    I carried the backpack containing potential evidence into my office, listening to Jack’s speech about global warming, more severe cyclones and rising sea levels threatening the Torres Strait.
    â€˜Jack, what about alien invasion and the earth tilting on its polar axis?’ said Jenny, punching him good-naturedly on the arm. ‘It’s a public holiday. Why are you here?’
    â€˜Well, there’s a fundraiser for the school kids who got picked for the peninsula trials. Want to win a meat tray?’ He pulled out a butt of tickets from a snap-lock bag. ‘Only two dollars a ticket, but there’s a great deal, three tickets for five dollars.’
    Jenny groaned. ‘Not again. Last time it was a drive for the Flying Doctors.’ She turned to me. ‘The time before it was for the firies on TI to get a new hose.’
    â€˜Gotta sell all these before Salome comes back to work and sells damper,’ said Jack. ‘No-one ever spends money on raffle tickets when Salome’s selling damper.’
    I already had my purse out and handed Jack a twenty. ‘What’s that about?’ I asked.
    â€˜Salome sells her mum’s damper,’ said Jenny, ‘a few loaves every so often. It’s the best. Jack gets cut because staff and anyone coming in – offenders getting charged, people renewing their licences, people reporting on probation – well, they’d rather spend their money on damper than raffle tickets for another bloody meat tray or 50 litres of fuel from the servo.’ She grinned at Jack.
    â€˜Speaking of fuel, there won’t be any this week cos the barge from Cairns is cancelled cos of the cyclone. It won’t come till next week. So you need to get down to the servo if you need fuel and to IBIS to buy milk and vegies before they sell out.’ Jack handed me the raffle tickets. ‘Awesome. I’m heading there now to catch the rush.’
    â€˜Hang on, Jack.’ I pointed to the bags of clothes and boxes of stuff for the New Guineans. ‘It’s a noble cause and everything, but this needs to find another home. Perhaps the kitchen?’
    â€˜There’s already stuff under the table. I’m waiting for the next Customs patrol to the border. It’ll be gone within a month. Scout’s honour.’
    â€˜One month, no longer. Now, Jenny, we need to see Franz ASAP.’
    While she phoned the hospital, I checked my emails. Mark had sent me a one-liner: ‘Thinking of you xx’. I deleted it. Robby had sent a photo of Melissa. I opened