Read Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Page 29
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Next day we were just coming in from a ferry run when we saw two police cars round by the police boatshed. A man in a dark suit came round to our wharf and along the gangplank. He had a long-sleeved white shirt with gold cufflinks, a blue striped tie, rimless glasses, and a good haircut, brushed back. “Is one of you Jack Farley?” “That’s me.” “Oh hullo Jack, I’m Detective Constable Fowler from the fine arts felony squad.” He looked more like a businessman than a copper. “You phoned me about the stolen paintings? I want you to show us on the river chart exactly where Zilga Marzetsky lives.” “Are you going to arrest him and get the paintings back?” I asked, very excited. “Well not quite. When we asked Interpol about him they told us about several large sales he made recently to people with possible criminal backgrounds in Poland and Russia. The sales might be quite legitimate or they might not. He might or might not be tied up with drug payments or money laundering or half a dozen other illegal activities, or he might be completely straight. We’re just going up there now to ask him a few questions and to take a look round.”
John had organized the local police to run him up to Zilga’s place in the launch they keep in a boatshed next to the marina. It’s a fairly fast piece of machinery, when it’s working. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do John,” I said, “I’ll come with you if you like. I know all the navigation hazards of the river, and it’s a bit tricky getting in to Zilga’s jetty.” DC Fowler looked at me a bit doubtful, then said “All right. Come on then.” “I’ll meet you round at your boatshed in a minute” I said. Dad asked “What the hell’s going on now Jack?”. I told him all about my detective work and my passing valuable information on to the police and how I was going to get fifteen thousand dollars reward. “Well I wouldn’t count my chickens yet if I was you, I don’t like the sound of it at all.” Bloody dad, he never did have any faith in my brains.
Round at the boatshed I told John that since I knew the river so well, and since it was so tricky getting in to Marzetsky’s jetty, perhaps I should take the helm but he said no, the launch could only be handled by qualified police personnel. I told him about the time Tim piloted it over to Whitebait Bay for DC Greg Bennett when none of the cops knew how to handle a launch. He almost weakened, but then said no, I’d just have to tell their helmsman the best course to take. I helped them put their boat in the water and we started up the river. Their launch is pretty far out, it would run rings round Lizzie, but all the time I was itching to take the wheel.
When we got to Marzetsky’s place I pointed out his jetty. Jack told me to wait in the launch while he went ashore with another constable. I saw him knock on the door and when Marzetsky answered he flashed his badge and went inside. Their helmsman was still with me on the launch. “They’ll probably be at least an hour” he said. “I think there’s some beer in the ice box, but keep your mouth shut about it.” He came back with two cold bottles, only low alcohol beer, but still, it was better than nothing. We sat very comfortably in the launch drinking our ice-cold beer and looking out across the river. “This is nice,” I said. “perhaps I should join the police force.” “It’s not all this easy mate.” Eventually John came out of the house, empty-handed and not smiling. “What happened?” I asked him, very excited. “Mister Marzetsky turned out to be a straight-forward, perfectly legitimate dealer. He’s got documentation and receipts for everything he’s bought and sold for the past three years.” “What about the three paintings in the cardboard tubes, did you see those?” “Yes we did. They aren't the one’s we’re looking for. They were three paintings he’d just bought from a collector in Melbourne." "So I don’t get any reward then." "No.”
When we got back to the harbour John got back into his car. “Sorry you had a wasted trip” I said. He looked at me very coldly, straight in the eye. “Please don’t phone me with any more ‘information’ about Mister Marzetsky. You made us look a right bunch of idiots.” I didn’t know at the time but Tim had come round to hear the news, and he overheard the conversation. I walked back round to our wharf and tried to avoid dad, but he soon cornered me in the office. “So do you get your fifteen thousand?” he asked. I had to tell him the raid had been a waste of time. “And what did the detective constable have to say about that?” “Oh nothing much, he just thanked me for being so helpful to the police, and said he was sorry I wouldn’t be getting the reward I deserved.” “You flaming liar!” Tim said quietly, “He said you made the police look like a right bunch of mugs, and would you stop bothering him about Mr. Marzetsky in future.” Dad looked at me, a bit angry. “Well that’ll teach you to mind your own god-damned business in future.”