Some say there is only one ‘soul mate’ available to the lucky few.
Others say that there are several ‘soul mates’ out there for each of us.
Whatever, some never get to be that lucky in the Lottery of Life, while others catch a glimpse of their ‘soul mate’ before life deletes that opportunity.
Detective Joseph Lind glimpses that phenomenon and rushes into it with clear mind and soul…but tragedy awaits and history almost doubles up.
Is our Detective heading towards middle age destined to always sleep alone and is his presence enough to turn the odds of living in love upside down?
Excerpt:
It was going to be a beautiful day.
You could tell just by the way the sun peeked carefully from behind the cloud bank on the horizon, and by the way that the energetic flock of Rainbow Lorikeets screeched their appearance in counterpoint to the gull cries. The high-speed kamikaze flight of the colourful birds through and around the foliage of the large trees that lined the Esplanade thrilled me every time that I witnessed the event.
Their high-pitched screeches indicated their excitement in the practise also.
Their derring-do exciting them to chatter stridently and incessantly.
I’d driven the short distance down to my favourite beach for a surf just on sun-up. The waves were small but perfectly formed. Fast smooth curlers that still challenged my resurrected morning practise.
This was my 'Patch' and had been since I had moved into the house not that far away with my new bride. Little did I know that I would have only ten short years with her before she died. Working undercover one last time for the AFP in some forgettable hole in South Australia. Watching a break-away Bikie gang that was interesting the AFP with its embryonic drug distribution network.
The empty time after her death not helped by my favourite past-time.
Now of course, this 'patch' of mine held sad memories of a later time. Falling head of heels for Penelope Pinnicello, the estranged daughter of a Melbourne Underworld figure. It was never going to amount to much because of the garbage that we both had...and the fact that her family roots would for-ever stand between us. She had begged that I relocate to another Patch, as the occasional sighting by both of us, I surfing, she jogging the length of the Esplanade, continually opened the wounds for both of us.
So, I did remove myself for a whole winter, informed through the grapevine that she had sold up and moved to somewhere in southern, coastal Queensland. A Real Estate's Gold mine so went the story…I silently wished her well wondering whether I'd ever cross paths with her again…whether I wanted that to happen…so here I was! Again, enjoying each early morning having that surf.
Back on familiar and much-loved territory. A mix of bitter-sweet memories and recollections of riding well-shaped tubes. The hotchpotch of emotion giving the beach a special place in my heart and in my mind.
I’d overheard it said in my teenage years that if I was willing to put in the hours, then the world surfing title could be mine…the mind had me there. Unfortunately, the body and the disappearing years always let me down!
Just on sunrise, you had to jostle for a good ride with the other bald, paunchy, middle-aged men who had similar dreams to me. Catching that moment of youth before donning the business suit to inhale the air-conditioned air of a stuffy office for eight to ten hours a day.
All of us, legends in our own minds as we rode the small sets into the sand.
I struggled out of my steamers, towelled down, donned my oversized singlet top, safely stowed my board in the car and was licking on an ice-cream, lazily watching the world go by. Appreciating the antics of the dwindling number of surfers pulled away by time demanding they head to jobs and responsibilities. Thinking as they would have thought; just one better ride…just one more!
I was seated on one of those curved metal bench seats that never fitted your shape. Uncomfortable as all hell! Maybe that was the reason for that design…not wanting middle-aged spectators stubbornly claiming it as their seat as they paid Local Rates so they had a genuine claim on the uncomfortable thing…cold as Penguins’ feet into the bargain as well! And you couldn’t kill the bloody things with a bloody axe! They were immune to any form of vandalism so the local Council proudly boasted.
The waves now more crowded with pre-teen grommets wanting to grab a few before the school bell sounded.
The paunchy, balding brigade having quickly disappeared giving up the waves for another day.
Me?
I had a fifteen day lay-off care of the Doctor who felt that the latest assault to my body needed a little R and R. A knife blade that slipped across the side of my chest to end up under my arm pit. Thirty-two stitches removed some days ago. The scar healing well under a yellowish covering of ‘Second skin’ that was five layers thick. Applied because of my early morning habit that I wasn’t willing to forgo, regardless of what the Medical advice was! The incident stopping my plans in mid-stride. A two-week sojourn up to Coffs Harbour. The cousin of my partner who owned a beautiful property in the hinterland behind that large coastal town. My partner and I had planned the sojourn to help the remodelling of one of the houses on the property. To eventually be used as a B&B…those plans for me at least, in abeyance caused by the incident that had left this latest scar to an already battered and scarred body.
“That looks nasty”. Was her opening gambit. “Wear with pride, a macho thing, eh?”
A cheeky grin on her face.
She could see the slash and its healing balm through the gaping armhole of my oversized singlet top.
She glanced at the furrow in the side of my scalp. The notch out of the top of my ear lobe. I had given away the shiny scalp look as it was difficult to maintain. Even with a Number 2 Buzz cut, the path of an errant bullet still seen along the side of my scalp…if you looked carefully. Another near miss of not that long ago that eventually involved a very delicate operation to relieve a miniscule tear in the brain membrane that had gone undetected.
I was having more time off work than on, of late! Me a magnet for flaying knives or erratically aimed bullets!
I hadn't even noticed that she had sat at the end of the bench seat.
It wasn't because my Hollywood looks always attracted a bevy of beauties like bees to a honey pot. On the contrary, I'd describe myself as a rough interpretation of that late Film Actor Charles Bronson. And there were those who thought that was being too kind as my son and his partner would often say I looked like the dirty backside of a bus…and that was being kind according to them…and it wasn't my fashion sense either as I had none!
Some would say that a hat full of arseholes looked better…
Me?
Whenever I looked in the mirror, I still saw a ruggedly handsome bloke who had a couple of battle scars.
She had beautiful blue eyes. A strong nose that on another shaped face may look out of place. A smile that wiped away tears. A couple of freckles that spattered the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. An outside girl. Dark blonde hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail. A hat that gave shade. Long slender arms. A top that hid her frame. She looked away embarrassed as I began my inspection.
A look that may have asked, why did I just say that? She hesitated before again jumping into the fray.
Turning to me with a quizzical look on her face.
“A dangerous occupation...or a bad night at the Pub…”. Not as a question, more a statement.
The lovely smile never leaving her face.
She thought she was being clever. Or funny. I didn't know her at this point so I didn't have a clue on her being funny …or clever!
Sure, I had learnt the hard way to laugh at myself, as there really wasn't that much to love. I was feeling melancholic this morning and full of self-loathing. I had had enough of being off work, wanting desperately to get back into the grind.
It was the Police Department Doctor who was my enemy.
I nodded my head in agreement.
Cops rarely readily confessed their profession, especially to strangers.
“Security....” I offered as a way of explanation.
“Private Detective?”
“Some may say that, but I consider myself quite gregarious...”
She looked at me sideways. Not sure of the information, or how it should be digested. At first, I felt sure that she thought I was having a go at her. Then she started to giggle. A contagious giggle that she hid behind her hand in front of her mouth…I wondered what extremely contagious mouth borne disease she may have…my anxiety in overdrive…
“You're trying to be funny...” She stated between the fits of the giggles. She placed her hand over her mouth as though she was self-conscious of the act. She was quite attractive when she smiled. The giggle infectious. She kept looking away as though she was mapping out her escape route…just in case.
“Not really. No. Not trying that is...by the sounds of your giggling, I was successful”.
We shared our opinion of the day. The good fortune of living hereabouts.
I offered to buy coffee.
This worried her somewhat…extending the relationship very quickly from the inane chatter of two strangers sharing the same uncomfortable seat facing the ocean. An air of uncertainty, insecurity, shrouded her once open and friendly countenance. I gestured towards the outdoor Coffee Shop a little distance away where I had purchased my Ice-cream. Explaining that to suddenly pick her up and rush to my vehicle with her under my arm, with her screaming her lungs out was out of the question, what with the mending scar, the hundreds of people about and well.... because that wasn’t me!
She looked at me sideways again before she began another giggling outburst. Arrh...I had an appreciative audience at last, to my sense of humour! She took some moments to accept my offer as though this was the most important decision that she may make for the rest of the day. Perhaps convincing herself that I was not indeed Jack the Ripper resurrected. Incarnated. Though it was hinted that I could play the part most convincingly, with my horror countenance.
“Um...yes. Why not”. She replied after some moments.
She offered me her hand.
“We should introduce ourselves if we are going to share a coffee”.
“Oh, I'm not that miserly…we don't need to share the one mug…I'll buy two…one each”.
Again, this moment of unsureness before she 'got' the humour in it.
I had this sudden urge of laying her across one of the small outdoor tables and having my way with her. That had never happened before. I was shocked at the image projected in my mind for one moment.
“Penelope Catt”. She stated pleasantly. Completely ignorant of the visions flashing across my mind's eye. Thank God. I'm not usually a leech like that, though it had been some time, I had to admit to myself. Possibly that was it!
“Penelope Kathleen Catt. My middle name after my mother. I'm a Primary School Teacher on a pupil free day”.
I looked around at our surroundings.
“Seems like a good day for both your students and me…” I gave her my most appealing smiles. “What is it with this place? The streets are not lined with gold but apparently pennies”.
She looked at me, a frown spoiling her natural good looks.
I waved away her doubt. “A too long a story…” I dismissed the comment…two Penelopes…Pennies on the same beach…what's the odds? It loses in translation…
She lifted her chin as though she was willing to listen to it. I wasn't in that type of mood to start carrying on about former lovers…and I thought it was crass to open up like that.
“Joseph Lind. My father's name is Frank.... I seem to recall...I have no idea whether he is still alive…and if so, where he lives…so I'm glad that I do not have that name as a middle name. Then again, Frank may have been all right. My mother's name was Sue...that wouldn't have done at all”.
I didn't know either one as fact. I was saying it to keep the conversation light. I only finding out their existence and history after my Grandmother had died. It was she who had reared me. I had always known her as my Mum. I must admit she was most vocal about her daughter's actions when I was no older the three months. She couldn't bear the responsibility of looking after a new-born baby…I don't know to this day where she was…I may use my excellent skills of detection to track her down…maybe one day…
“I don't think I need to go any further”. I continued deadpan. A blank look on my face. I took a deep breath knowing that what I was about to confess would ensure how the next couple of minutes would go.
“I'm a Grade Three Detective with the Murder Squad of the NSW Police Department on enforced Sick Leave. Pleased to meet you, Penny Catt”.
We gently shook hands. There was no disrespect or nasty opinion of all coppers…in Uniform or not…I was surprised and pleased…
