The Cross

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I’d returned to my room after my foray in the nightclub but was still wide awake – sleep nowhere in sight. I dug out my old war diary that I’d remembered to pack. I decided to reacquaint myself with the first impressions I’d had of Brodie. I hadn’t read the diary since I’d returned from the war.

I sat on the bed and held the diary. I turned it and looked at the creases, the stains, the wear, and remembered the months and years I’d had it with me. I used the diary from the day I enlisted and wrote down everything, from the things I went through and the things I saw. It was an old habit I’d nurtured from the early days of my investigation business.

In the first twelve months of the war I wrote in it every day, but as the war dragged on, I struggled to keep up with it. Every day turned into the same as the previous day. The same routine, the same food, the same jungle, the same insects, the same diseases, the same killing – the same dying.

I found the entries I wrote about the first time I’d met Brodie, in early March 1942. He was then Staff-sergeant James Mitchell Brodie. A career soldier. A tough-as-nails type but there was something else about the man that made him down-to-earth, genuine and, at times, even kind. There had been nine of us in Brodie’s platoon and we were part of B Company of the 41st Infantry division. Brodie got us together on our first night to describe who we were, our backgrounds, and our life experiences.

He asked everyone to answer one simple question, “What’s the most important thing in your life?”

Brodie just listened, as he pointed to one guy after another. He didn’t appear to be making any judgements that night. I knew he was trying to balance how we would respond as a group in the face of life and death decisions. At the end of the night Brodie told the platoon his story.

He said he hailed from Montana. At the age of four he was orphaned when both his parents perished in the great fire of western Montana. Brodie called it the Devil’s Broom fire. That fire had taken away his whole family. From that time on, Brodie grew up in foster home after foster home and, when he was older, went from job to job, until he enlisted in the National Guard in 1928. It was the first time he felt a sense of belonging. At the age of twenty-two Brodie trained with the Montana National Guard to become a professional solider. After the big war broke out, the Montana National Guard became the 41st Infantry Division and he was promoted to Staff-sergeant.

I remembered Brodie stopped and looked at each one of us in turn. Then in a strong voice he announced, “From this day forward gentlemen – each one of you runts are the most important thing in my life, and I will not allow any of you to be lost! Is that understood?”

We all responded, “Yes, sir.”

He turned around and bellowed, “You don’t call me ‘sir’! I work for a living!”

“Yes, Sergeant!” we answered.

I remembered how Brodie drilled us in those first few weeks in the art of becoming fighting soldiers. He pushed us as a unit and as individuals. He taught our rifle platoon how to use and care for our gear, in particular our firearms. He instructed us on how to load, clean and store our rifles, side arms and other equipment. Brodie knew everything about war and tools of war, and how to fight war. The platoon was glad he was there to lead us.

I put the diary down and lay on the bed as a cloud of darkness crept in to fill my eyes. I stepped willingly into the void of sleep. I had a restless night with faded dreams of the war, of Brodie, of nightclubs and neon lights…

*

I suddenly awoke. I felt like death. The lack of drinking made me feel like s**t and the different time zones were really messing me up. I was still in the same clothes I’d fallen asleep in. I didn’t know where I was as I looked around and didn’t recognise anything. I blinked and felt the right side of my head start to pulsate. I reached around on the bed and touched the diary to my right. I closed my eyes. I didn’t know if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner – but knew I was hungry.

I was half awake but still in bed. I drifted in and out of sleep and then I yawned and raised the back of my hand to my mouth. My eyes began to focus. The wristwatch in my face ticked to eleven-thirty. My brain started to spark. Twelve-thirty – Janet! I had an hour to get it together.

I got up, shaved and washed. I decided to put on my black suit, white shirt and blue tie. I looked in the mirror and saw I was neat, clean, shaved and sober. I knew I was everything a well-dressed private detective should be.

I stood out front of the Oxford with a smoke in my hand as I cased the street traffic passing by the hotel. I looked at my watch as the second hand ticked over to twelve-thirty. On my right, I spotted a white car. It began to slow. I dropped my smoke in front of me and stepped on it as I walked towards the car that had pulled up.

A woman had the passenger side window down as I walked up to the vehicle and said, “Hello, Janet.”

She smiled and nodded.

I opened the door and slid onto the front seat.

“Good afternoon, Mister Dallas. Thank you ever so much for coming over to Australia to help us.”

“It’s just Jack – no need for that Mister stuff.”

“Okay, Jack.”

I turned to look at Janet and admired how much more attractive she had become since the last time I’d seen her, five years ago. She wore a deep cream-coloured blouse and tight black skirt, no make-up, and her dusky blonde hair was curled inward at shoulder length. However, her face was slightly more lined since the last time I’d seen her. I noticed her blue eyes had little dark smudges around her lower eyelids; probably due to stress or tiredness or crying, or all three.

“I wish the circumstances of your trip were for a happier occasion, Jack, but I’m very glad you’re here at last.”

“So am I. It’s great to have my feet back on the ground.”

I tilted up the brim of my hat.

“How far’s the ride to the folks?”

“We’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

I nodded.

“Mind if I smoke?”

“Go right ahead,” responded Janet.

We drove without speaking for a while, not knowing where to start or what to say, but I knew I had to get out what was on my mind.

“Listen, Janet, I’m sorry for being frank here but I’ve got to tell you, I just can’t figure why you need me.” I turned to her. “Haven’t the local authorities already determined the case?”

“They have, but…”

“So, what can I do? You know I have no real jurisdictive or investigative rights around here, so why have you spent all this money to fly me half-way across the world?” I paused. “I’ll grant you that I considered Brodie a good friend, and he saved my life during the war, and I know I’m a private investigator by trade, but what can I really do? You know I can’t change the fact they’re both dead.”

I wanted to get that off my chest now I was here. I looked at Janet intently and noticed she seemed taken aback. She’d become uncomfortable. I turned away. A gloomy silence filled the already tight, up-front situation of the car.

I decided to moderate my stance. I turned back to Janet. “Okay look, I think you and your family can’t believe, or won’t believe, the official outcome of what’s happened. I’m considering you feel this to be all some ruse to an evil plot.” I loosened my tie. “As I say, an apology for being frank, ma’am. I guess it’s your call and you’re paying me, and for the flight, and somewhere to hole up, and expenses…”

“Mister Dallas, sorry, Jack, whatever you deem as your expenses, they will be reimbursed in full,” Janet said in a worried tone.

“I appreciate that, Janet.”

I took a moment to look out my window. “Okay, based on my expertise as a private investigator you want me to dig around the incident to see what I can find and all for disclosed fee, right?”

Finally, she said, “Jack, we the family, well myself in particular, just want justice. There’s something wrong with everything about Carol and Brodie’s deaths. I just feel justice hasn’t been served in this case.”

“What do you mean by justice?”

“I sense everything that happened to them hasn’t been completely uncovered. I mean the police probably did the best they could, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure on that.” Janet waited then said, “I just want you to take a look and see what you can make of it, please.” She threw me a pleading glance. “You knew Brodie better than most people. You knew how much he loved Carol. Please do it for me and my family.”

I said nothing.

Why wasn’t she a hundred percent convinced on the police investigation, I thought to myself?

Janet looked at me quickly then turned back to traffic. “Jack, I remember when you and Brodie were in Sydney, during the war. I could see you had such respect for him. Remember when I met the two of you with Carol. You recall how much Brodie was in love with my sister, what he thought of her, how he felt for her. In the years since their marriage, Carol and Brodie’s feelings towards one another never changed. Never. The question that keeps coming into my mind is how Brodie could’ve been capable of killing…” Janet inhaled a deep breath air through clenched lips. “Carol.”

Janet looked at me with tears in her eyes. I handed her my handkerchief. We drove in silence for a while as the gloom set in again. I looked out the side window and knew she was right. I’d had the same thought over the past two weeks after Janet sent me the further cablegrams about the tragedy. Brodie kill Carol? From what I knew of Brodie, it would’ve been highly improbable he could do it. The Brodie I knew would’ve cut off his arm before he’d hurt Carol. But…?

I decided to try again. This time I would peel out the facts that were buzzing in my head.

“Janet, with all due respect, you have no idea how war affects people. I mean, over time, some people can lose their mind from what they did and what they saw.” I tapped my fingers on the dashboard. “Now, could Brodie be capable of this? Very much so, yes! Brodie would be more than capable. Could Brodie kill himself? Maybe? I really don’t know. I just don’t know what was going on here with him after the war.”

I paused and let that sink in.

Janet remained mute.

“Will I be able to give you justice? Will I be able to piece everything together? I really don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see what facts I can rope together.”

I saw a look of appreciation across Janet’s face.

“Oh, thank you, Jack,” she said with relief.

I took out a new notebook from my breast pocket.

“Janet, let’s start up this investigation.”