Read Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Page 22

  ******

  As we were squaring up for our next mail run a long black car pulled up on the wharf, and the driver got out. He was a monster of a man with a shaved head. He looked around then opened the rear door and a short stocky man got out. They were both wearing black suits, and they both looked tough. No laughs with this pair. They came aboard Annabelle, and the short man, who seemed to be the boss, told dad they wanted to be dropped off at Zilga Marzetsky’s place, and picked up again later. “Well I suppose we can manage that” dad said, “we normally come back down the other side of the river, but we could cut back across specially to pick you up.” The short guy nodded curtly, but I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’. We set off on the mail run. “Is Zilga expecting you?” I asked. Neither replied. We tied up at Zilga’s place and as I ran out the gangplank Zilga came along the jetty. “G’day Zilga. Got a right couple of jokers for you today” I said. The two men walked down the gangplank and Zilga shook hands with the boss one. They started to talk in some foreign language, and walked off towards the house. ”We’ll be back in about two and a half hours ” dad called after them. Zilga waved his hand. “Wonder what they want?” I said to dad. “None of your business”.

  We went on with our normal mail run up one side of the river, then turned and came back down the other bank. At we drew level with Zilga’s place we cut across to his jetty. Dad honked the foghorn and the three came out of the house. The two men in black suits came aboard, the big one now carrying a wooden box. As we backed away Zilga waved to them, but they ignored him. “Did you have a successful trip?” I asked. They ignored me. “Would you like a glass of water perhaps, or a cup of tea? How about a glass of vodka?” The boss one glowered at me. “Go away” he said. “That’s twenty dollars each for your fare please” I said, “and five dollars for the box.” The big guy leaned forward to put the box on the deck, and as he did so his coat bulged open a little and I saw a gun holster under his left arm. He gave me a fifty in silence and I gave him his change. “I don’t know about where you come from, but in Australia it’s illegal to carry guns,” I said. The boss one gave me a stony look. “We have diplomatic passports. We can do what we like,” he said.

  At the wharf they disembarked, got back in their car, turned round and drove off. In the whole trip I hadn’t heard the big guy utter a single word. I’d seen Russian mafia types on TV and those two looked exactly like them. I phoned DC John Fowler and told him about the visit of the Russian mafia to Zilga Marzetsky. “I’m sure now there’s something shonky going on. The big one had a gun under his jacket but the other one said it was alright ‘cos they had diplomatic passports.” There was a pause at the other end. Now I’d given him something to think about! “You still haven’t given me any evidence of anything illegal. Still the diplomatic passports are interesting. What were their names?” “Dunno. They didn’t tell us.” “What was the registration number of their car?” I could have kicked myself; I hadn’t written it down. “Sorry, I didn’t get it.” ”Pity. Well leave it with me Jack.” Jack! That was the first time he’d called me that.