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Authors: Margaret Clark

BOOK: Cool Bananas
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Nathan strolled through the door flexing his muscles. Flick and Liz took no notice because he was always flexing, and after you’d seen the twin volcanoes rippling in his biceps a couple of hundred times it became rather boring. His constant working out and bulging muscles made him a great pizza jockey, however, and every day from four till nine he worked in the store making the dough and then countless pizzas for the hungry hordes.

Nathan was a looker and he knew it. He was deeply tanned with dyed blond hair and devilish brown eyes. His aims in life were to pull as many chicks as he could during a season, get laid as many times as he could (he even kept a list because he’d showed it to Flick, thinking he was impressing her), keep his body beautiful, and save drowning people. He spent hours exercising on the beach and in the kids’ playground on the monkey bars so everyone could admire him.

‘Pity he didn’t exercise his brain a bit more,’ Kay remarked tartly when he delivered pizzas and got the change mixed up. She knew Nathan was a pain, but he drew crowds of starry-eyed girls into the cafe and he made excellent pizzas.

Braden, on the other hand, was weak and wimpy and didn’t draw as much as a blowfly into the whole general store, but he was a nice guy and a steady worker. His main fault was that he loved to spread gossip. If you wanted to know who was going with whom, or in trouble with the cops, snoring the loudest, about to get divorced, had the most expensive beach gear, the most money in the bank, the most debts, knew the best fishing spots or surfing breaks, then you asked Braden. And what he didn’t know he made up. Braden worked the midmorning shift, had a break, then helped Nathan with the pizzas. When he got nervous, which was about seventy per cent of the time, he developed a lisp.

‘Are you going to the Pier to Pub?’ asked Flick.

The Pier to Pub was an annual swimming event held at Lorne. Nathan fancied himself as Iron Man of the nation, although he’d only gone in local events, and anyway most of the time he was dreaming off in his head. Besides working out, he was a strong swimmer but his fondness for beer, bourbon and bonking all night didn’t help when he pitted himself against the others who came from all over the state to compete, and who were into a healthier lifestyle.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ll romp it in.’

‘Didn’t you come in about thirty-fourth last year?’
said Liz with fake innocence, as she made him his regular chicken and salad roll. He always had that for brunch with a bucket of chips, a sausage roll and an apple juice.

‘Only because I stopped to help someone who was nearly drowning and then I got tangled up in some kelp.’

Angela poked her head round the servery. ‘As if,’ she said with a smirk.

‘You weren’t there, smart-arse.’

‘Oh, yes. That’s right. I wasn’t, was I! But no one actually saw you trying to rescue anyone, did they?’

Angela was an ex of Nathan’s. Well, she was actually an ex of almost everyone who camped or resided at Coolini Beach. They hated each other with a vengeance. Nathan spread it round that he’d dumped Angela and of course she’d said the opposite. No one actually knew who dumped who, but then no one really cared either.

Everyone knew it was highly unlikely that Nathan had tried to help a fellow competitor in the Pier to Pub. He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t give a dying man a drink of water let alone stop swimming in a race to help someone who was drowning. He was the king of posers.

Once Flick had decided to teach him a lesson and
she’d pretended to be interested in him. Her plan had been to get him mad about her then dump him, but she’d only survived about an hour with him at a beach party and then couldn’t be bothered. And Tim had come into her life and she’d fallen for him big-time.

‘What’s the news?’ Nathan asked, munching on his sausage roll and flexing his muscles at the same time.

‘Nothing,’ said Flick. ‘It’s all very boring at the moment.’

‘That’s because Tim’s outa town and Flick’s lonely,’ said Liz with a wink.

Flick could have killed her. Now Nathan would think she was angling for a date with him. She scowled and went back into the kitchen to attack the frozen fish in the freezer.

‘Why don’t you girls come into Lorne with me tonight?’ Nathan said. ‘There’s a new band playing at the pub.’

‘I’d rather be dead,’ muttered Angela.

‘I can’t,’ said Liz, screwing up her freckled nose. ‘I’m under age.’

‘So?’

Kay came barrelling out carrying freshly cooked chips. She didn’t like Nathan flirting with the girls because Angela went into a sex-pot frenzy, Liz went into a dither, and Flick stomped about in a silent fury
banging plates and dishes. At least when he was doing the pizzas he was out of the way in the back room near the oven, and couldn’t be a nuisance mouthing off to the girls.

‘Nathan, if you want an extra job or two, there’re tables to scrub and gas bottles to fill and —’

‘Sorry, Kay, I’m on lifeguard duty in a few minutes,’ Nathan said hurriedly, swigging down the last of his apple juice.

He didn’t want to do menial tasks at the store or in the Kayah Cafe during the day. The pizza job was ideal. He’d be finished posing on the beach by four anyway, and when he stopped work at nine it was time to party. The five hours paid him enough cash for booze and a good time.

Kay smiled to herself as Nathan exited in a hurry, nearly sending Braden flying as he scurried through the door.

‘Have you heard?’ he gasped, with his hair standing on end and his eyes nearly popping out of his head. ‘There’th an
arm
wathed up on the rockth!’

‘What?’

They all stared at him in horror.

‘Omigod,’ Liz gasped. ‘
Omigod
!’

‘What do you mean,
an arm
?’ Kay fixed him with a steely gaze. ‘You mean a
human
arm?’

‘It’th true. Darryl Beathley found it. It’th almotht
unrecognithable
but he could tell it’th a girlth arm becauth thereth red polith on the fingernailth.’

‘It could be the body of that woman who went missing about two weeks ago,’ said Kay slowly. ‘Her towel and clothes were found on the beach round at Half Moon Bay.’

‘Darryl thaid it was a
murder
. Like, thomeone’s ripped off her armth.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Kay. ‘That woman was known to be an excellent swimmer and she was practising every day for the Pier to Pub. She’s got knocked by a freak wave or got cramp or caught in a rip or something. Accidental drowning.’

‘But how could a perthon thwim with a mithing arm?’ asked Braden. ‘Darryl said he knowth it’th a drug revenge murder. The womanth been chopped up. That’th what he thaid!’

‘Darryl Beasley’s an idiot,’ said Flick shortly.

‘I don’t know whether it’s a murder, suicide or accident,’ said Kay briskly, ‘but first of all there’s not a body, only an arm. And secondly, it’s not respectful to go gossiping about this particular arm. I mean, it’s been attached to someone at some stage. This is a dreadful business. Has someone called the police?’

‘Yeth. Darryl Beathley’th mother did.’

‘That’s the police coming now,’ said Liz, as the wail of a siren cut through the air.

‘But the police thould be out looking for the retht of the body.’

‘Braden!’

‘Well, they
thould
!’

‘The police have to come,’ explained Kay. ‘They have to examine the site where the arm was found and then take it away for testing. You can’t just chuck a person’s arm in the rubbish bin.’

‘Yeah, we can’t just wrap it up and post it to the lab,’ said Nathan, who’d hung round to hear what was going on.

‘You guys are disgusting,’ Liz cried. ‘You’re cruel and heartless. There’s a poor woman out there somewhere with a missing arm.’

‘Or without a head,’ Braden reminded her. ‘If it’s a drug revenge she’ll be shark bait.’

‘She was probably a nobody,’ said Nathan.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘She’s a nobody now if she hasn’t a body.’

‘Right. That’s
it
. I’ve had enough of this disrespect,’ Kay shouted. ‘Braden, get to work. Nathan, go and see if you can be of some use to the police. Or to somebody!’

Through the doorway they could see a police car
pulling up near the track to the beach. Already an excited crowd had gathered, waving their arms and pointing, and a smaller crowd was standing on the rocks to stare, shocked. The lifeguards were guarding the arm, trying to stop the onlookers getting too close.

‘People are such ghouls.’ Liz shuddered.

‘They sure are,’ said Angela, who wanted to go and have a look too. She’d never seen a dead body or a dead arm for that matter, except on the movies, and the actors were faking it anyway.

By now there were no customers within cooee, but Kay kept her crew busy with chores while the police went out onto the rocks, covered the arm and obviously told the onlookers to disperse, because they came straggling back to stand with the main crowd and waited to see what would happen next.

‘Why don’t they move the arm?’ Angela wanted to know. ‘What if the tide comes in?’

‘It’s going out or I suppose they would,’ said Kay. ‘They have to examine the scene. Maybe take photos. Now, stop gawking out the door and … Wait a minute, where’s Braden? He was in the back room a minute ago. I bet he’s sneaked out to have a closer look. I’ll dock his pay, that’s what I’ll do!’

The crowd was still gathered at the side of the road
when a helicopter came whirring through the sky and landed with a flurry of sand on the beach. They could see two figures hurry towards the rocks then after a while they came back, one of them carrying a bundle. Once they were aboard, the helicopter lifted into the air, the police returned to their car, and suddenly there were just the rolling waves and smooth golden sands. The onlookers moved towards the beach or back to their caravans and tents, and everything looked normal at Coolini Beach.

But a shadow had cast itself over the tiny seaside community. Did the arm belong to the lone swimmer and had she been attacked by a shark? Or had she been murdered? Or did it belong to someone else? And if so, where was that person?

CHAPTER 2

‘Foul play ith thuthpected,’ Braden announced when he returned from the beach a few minutes later.

‘Oh, sure. How do you know that?’

‘Becauth I wath thanding near the police car when I heard the guy thay it to the other guy. It’th not from the body of the thwimmer. It’th from thomeone elth. Becauth ith a young arm.’

‘Well, whoever it belongs to, I guess they’ll find out soon enough,’ said Kay. ‘Now hurry up, Braden, you have to make up that lost time. I’m docking you half an hour’s wages for clearing off without my permission.’

‘It wath worth it,’ Braden muttered to Flick and Liz as he passed them. ‘I thaw the arm. It wath abtholutely gruethome!’

As she started making cappuccinos for two men sitting at the tables outside, Flick wondered about the arm and what had happened to the woman. It was bizarre. How did a person lose an arm in the sea? She’d read enough in the newspapers and seen enough TV to know that sometimes dreadful punishments were meted out to people in the underworld. Sometimes they were tortured, but she’d never heard of anyone’s arms getting ripped off. It had to be a shark attack. Which meant there had to be a pretty big shark out there somewhere.

Occasionally in the height of the summer holiday season a spotter plane would zoom down the coast and back again. If the co-pilot saw a shark cruising beyond the breakers, he would send a message to the surf club and the siren would sound, so everyone would get out of the water. But that had happened only once or twice at Coolini Beach, and not recently. She sprinkled chocolate powder liberally on the frothy coffee and then carried the two cups outside.

‘And two Shark Attacks,’ said the older man when she leaned forward to put the coffees on the table.

‘What?’ Flick jumped and coffee slopped into the saucers. The younger of the men glared at the spilt coffee and then at her.

‘Oh, sorry, I’ll get you fresh cups.’

‘How long’s that gunna take?’ said the other man. ‘We haven’t got all day. We ordered two Shark Attacks as well.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Flick apologised. ‘They’re nearly ready. Two cappuccinos and two Shark Attacks. They’ll only be a few minutes.’

‘Hurry it up, will you?’

Flick shot inside hoping that Kay had made some extra Shark Attacks. She had. Scooping up two, Flick deftly slid them onto plates and carried them outside.

‘Coffees are coming,’ she said brightly, but the men ignored her and went on with their conversation.

‘No idea how to run a business like this,’ she heard one of them say. ‘I mean, look at the price of this food. Where’s the quick-fix two dollar deals? And check the menu. They think they’re running a gourmet food store. People don’t need this sort of food at the beach, for God’s sake. I say let’s open next week. We’ve got the site, we’ve got the go-ahead, it’s gotta be a winner.’

Flick paused and pretended to straighten the serviettes and check the sugar bowl on the next table, but the man had dropped his voice so she couldn’t hear the rest.

Swiftly she scuttled back inside and rushed over to Kay who was flipping burgers expertly on the hotplate.

‘Kay. Those two guys out there.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Table six.’

‘What about them?’ Kay craned her head to look.

Flick repeated what she’d overheard of the conversation, her blue eyes filled with concern.

‘Hmm,’ said Kay thoughtfully, fat spattering from the meat as she turned the patties and threw on a handful of raw onion rings. ‘I’d heard a rumour that the council’s given approval for a food van, but I thought it was going to be much further down the coast, towards the Twelve Apostles.’

‘That wouldn’t affect your business.’

‘I know. Well, it could affect the bus tours I suppose, but they put in their food orders before they go to see the koalas and then eat at the tables before they drive on, so I couldn’t imagine them holding on for another two hours or so to get lunches.’

‘But would it affect the business if a new takeaway started up nearby?’

Kay shrugged. ‘They’d have to have fantastic food. Everyone loves my cooking.’

She put another homemade pattie on the hotplate. Flick sighed. Kay only used the best lean beef, and it was expensive. Flick and Liz usually ate salad rolls and sandwiches to save Kay’s income when they had
their free lunch. And Kay tried to do trendy takeaways too, like mountain bread or pita rolls with imported cheeses and salamis, which were really popular. Her homemade seafood pies were delicious, but there was almost a butter factory in the pastry and a creamery in the seafood sauce. She refused to stint on the ingredients.

Flick went outside to clear the tables. The men had paid their bill and were standing looking round at the camping ground and the flock of tourists piling out of a large bus. One pointed over at the beach where surfers were riding their boards in their wetsuits looking like sleek black seals, and the sandy stretch where people were sitting under umbrellas or sprawling in the sun. Children shrieked and jumped into the waves, boogie-boarders came zooming in on furling waves, and teenagers threw frisbees and played volleyball on the sand. The men nodded to each other and climbed into a new-looking black Mercedes, and then drove off in a northerly direction.

‘Who was that?’ Liz gazed after the car as it zoomed round the bend and disappeared from sight.

‘Two men. I overheard them talking about a takeaway food shop. At least I think that’s what they were talking about. They said something like they’ve got the site and they’ve got the approval.’

‘It could be anywhere!’

‘That’s true. Kay said council approval had been given for a takeaway food place but she thought it was near the Twelve Apostles.’

‘That wouldn’t be competition for Coolini Beach. It’s too far away.’

‘I know. But what if it isn’t? What if it’s just down the road?’

Liz wrinkled her nose. ‘It’d have to be built in a hurry then, because there isn’t a vacant place anywhere near here.’

‘There’s that old shack at Childs Creek. That’s only ten minutes away.’

‘It’s a dump and needs bulldozing. I couldn’t see a takeaway springing up there overnight.’

The Coolini Beach general store was the hub of the small village, although there weren’t any houses close by. It stood by itself on a side road on a slight rise, so there was a fantastic view of the beach. Behind the store was the camping ground and beyond were the hazy hills of the Otway Ranges. Nothing much ever happened at Coolini Beach until the summer season, when all the city folk came to stay in their beach houses or to camp in the caravan park. And suddenly, from a population of about fifteen there was a population of more than a thousand.

The campers bought milk, bread and papers as well as takeaway food, the surfers ordered huge breakfasts and drank litres of Big Ms and Breakers, and the locals wandered around looking shell-shocked at the influx of people into their quiet lives.

In addition, the tourists and sightseers who drove along the Great Ocean Road called in to buy snacks and food. They studied postcards of the native animals and maps of the area and sometimes they bought camping equipment or fishing gear if the mood took them to ‘go bush’. So the store stocked everything from baby bootees to two-man tents. All the groceries were down one side, the tools and equipment in the corner on shelves, and the fridges with cool drinks, dairy products and fishing bait, and freezers with frozen goods were along the end wall. Another wall had videos, magazines, papers, books and a bread rack. This was all divided by a counter where people paid for their purchases. On the left side of the large building were tables, chairs and a long counter. Behind this counter was the servery and kitchen. The pizza oven, plus a large freezer and fridge that stored the raw ingredients for all the cooking that went on were beyond the kitchen. Outside, a shed crammed with boxes of food and two chest freezers had been built for added storage. The coolroom next to that
held yet more perishable goods. Out the front and to one side under a shady pergola were more tables and chairs, and a small courtyard fenced in at the back was used for storing boxes and crates.

Kay had tried to go for a rustic country-style look, so the store was painted cream with heritage green trimming. There were large pots of cheerful red geraniums to add colour outside. The store and cafe were kept spotlessly clean.

‘If someone
did
want to build another store and cafe, it would take forever to stock it,’ whispered Liz to Flick. They stood side by side at the counter with pencils poised, ready to take lunch orders from the busload of tourists spilling through the doors.

‘Not if they just had greasies and cheap takeaways,’ Flick replied.

‘Anyway, we don’t know that they were talking about this area. They might have been sussing out Kay’s operation to get some ideas.’

‘Yeah.’

The dilemma of what would happen to the Coolini Beach general store and Kayah Cafe was temporarily forgotten as the two girls wrote down the orders. Angela was running round serving the other customers with her butt wiggling busily like a willy-wagtail on heat. Braden appeared from the servery to help her.
Everything seemed to happen at once. There’d be no customers and then the place would be packed. As Kay always said, ‘It comes in waves.’ Right now, they were being swamped.

That was why Flick wasn’t taking much notice when a guy with dark glasses ordered a chicken sandwich, a bucket of chips and a chocolate milkshake. And why Liz didn’t get to tell her who it was until the passengers straggled outside to board the bus that would take them up the Grey River road to see the koala colony.

‘You know who that was, don’t you?’ Liz crowed.

‘No. Who are you talking about?’

‘The guy with the shades.’

‘Like, about ten guys had shades.’

‘The cute blond one with the American accent! That was Kiev Beauman.’

‘As if!’ Flick shook her head in disbelief. ‘What would he be doing on a tourist bus? Like, he’s a multimillionaire. He could hire his own helicopter. In fact he could
fly his own helicopter
.’

It had been in all the tabloids when Kiev took flying lessons and bought himself a small blue ‘bubble-type’ helicopter. ‘Hope Kiev’s Bubble Doesn’t Burst’ the headlines had screamed.

‘Sometimes the rich and famous want to live like
the ordinary peasants,’ said Liz as Angela came sashaying in with a load of dirty cups, saucers and plates.

‘Did you see Kiev Beauman?’

‘What?’ Angela nearly dropped the lot. ‘Where?’

It was Angela’s secret dream to meet a rich, handsome and famous man and drag him to the altar. She was quite happy to be a child bride. She’d even give up flirting with every other male for life if she could get her claws into one choice male with heaps of money. So long as he wasn’t dead ugly, fat, bald and had bad breath and BO. She didn’t care so much about the handsome bit, but if he was, that would be a bonus!

‘In ya dreams.’

‘It was! Wait till the bus comes back and you’ll see for yourself.’

‘Omigod,’ said Liz, who was now in her usual panic when something big happened. ‘Omigod. He’ll think I was an idiot ’cause I didn’t recognise him and ask for his autograph.’

‘But you did recognise him,’ Flick pointed out. ‘He’d be pleased because you were so cool and laid-back and you didn’t fall all over him in a heap.’

‘Did I hear someone say that Kiev Beauman’s on the Wild Life bus?’ asked Maggie, who’d strolled in to buy a packet of cigarettes.

Maggie owned a beach house round the point. She was supposed to be wealthy, having had three husbands who’d carked it one after the other and left her their money. During the summer season she lived in the huge, architect-designed home that had splendid views right up the coast. She had squads of visitors and did a lot of entertaining.

Maggie was always dressed in the latest fashion, with sleek blonde hair and a yearlong tan. She favoured bright red lipstick and nail polish. Today she was wearing white capri pants and a pink top. On anyone else her age the outfit would look stupid, but on Maggie it looked good. It was rumoured that she’d had plastic surgery — major facelifts, collagen injections in her lips, breast implants, and liposuction on her stomach, hips and thighs. Of course this was only a rumour and maybe she was just naturally slim and youthful. Angela was always trying to peer behind Maggie’s ears whenever she served her, because someone said there were lines there after plastic surgery. And Maggie always avoided being served by Angela just to annoy her. It was a sort of cat-and-mouse game between them.

Maggie was supposed to be giving up smoking but there was always a reason why she couldn’t quit.
Yesterday it was because her mother-in-law was coming to stay, and she’d bought five packets.

‘You can’t have run out of smokes already,’ Flick chided.

‘I have, because my two brothers and their wives are all puffing away like chimneys and using my ciggies instead of their own. Anyway, forget about the smokes, what about Kiev Beauman?’

‘We think he’s on the bus.’ Flick smiled at Maggie as she passed over three packets of cigarettes.

‘Bull he’s on the bus!’

‘True. Liz saw through his disguise.’

‘Which was …?’

‘Dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled forward. But he took it off when he was reading the menu, and he pulled his sunnies down and peered over the top. I’d recognise those eyes anywhere.’

Kiev Beauman had the most incredible blue eyes. The tabloids had accused him of wearing tinted contact lenses, but his publicity department had released photos of him as a baby with cornflower-blue eyes and his kindergarten teacher and pediatrician had come forward to vouch that his eyes were true blue.

‘Can we do some work around here?’ Kay stormed out with bagged hamburgers with the lot for the baine marie. ‘Oh, hi Maggie.’

‘Sorry I’m the one keeping them from working, but they’re telling me all this amazing news,’ said Maggie calmly, not looking the least bit sorry.

‘What? About the arm?’

‘What arm?’

‘The one found on the rocks this morning. Haven’t you heard?’

‘I saw a crowd of people but I thought the lifesavers must have rescued someone,’ said Maggie. ‘I mean, this time of the year they pull a dozen or so swimmers out of the rip-tide every day. So what’s this about an arm?’

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