Not Your Average Murder

by Paddy Killeen

My qualifications in law enforcement are based on my experience in Canada, where I emigrated aged 24 and joined the Toronto Metropolitan Police. I would have still been on the force today if it hadn’t been for a case of character assassination. On my last assessment, I was described by my chief as being obnoxious and ill-mannered, with an obvious disdain for authority. The second page wasn’t much better. During my ten years on the force, I had gotten married to a beautiful woman but that didn’t last either, it seems I have a problem with authority, whether it is matrimonial or occupational.

Welcome to Atua Athol

Before I returned to Ireland with my tail between my legs I decided to take a holiday and I signed on for a cruise in the pacific. Now when I say cruise I don’t mean one of the big ships with ballrooms and swimming pools, this was just a yacht with twelve passengers meandering from island to island.

Our journey started in beautiful Tahiti and our captain took us from one delightful place to another. The company was congenial and the wine cooler was well stocked. Everything went perfectly until we were way out in the middle of the ocean and the engine began to cough. A few minutes later the captain announced that we had a problem but it would soon be resolved, that didn’t happen.

Eventually, we had to resort to sail and head for the nearest land which was Atua Athol, a tiny coral island that nobody ever visited. There was little wind and so it took us a considerable time to reach it. The captain plowed through his charts to make sure he wasn’t going to run aground as we pulled into the beautiful lagoon were boats came out to greet us. Contacting the ship’s owners back in Pape’ete by satellite phone he was informed the part would have to be flown in from the States and we might be marooned for several days.

We were anchored in a very sheltered spot and so we would have been quite comfortable except there would be no aircon. The only other major problem was the wine – with nothing else to do except sit around and drink, I didn’t know if our supplies were going to last.

The inhabitants were very friendly and the self-appointed King named Tearri came out in a boat and offered us his hospitality. That night a great feast was laid on and I got thoroughly bombed on Coconut wine.

An adorable poet named Martine, who was in search of herself, helped me into the dinghy and again when we got to the yacht’s ladder. In fact, she helped me into my tiny cabin and even into bed.

The next morning at breakfast I felt quite ashamed, I knew that my eyes looked like two piss holes in the snow but so did everyone else’s, except for Martine. She was a non-drinker and was all bright and bubbly to the point of being annoying. As my spatial skills seemed to be a bit out of whack, she even began to play mother and took the top off my soft-boiled egg for me.

She was a sweet person really, around forty with a better than average figure, probably due to her vegetarian diet and yoga, which she told me about in great detail. I must say I found her French accent rather appealing, and as I battled with my egg spoon I vaguely remembered her tucking me into bed, kissing my cheek and saying “Bonne Nuit.”

The only other passenger I had any contact with was a Commander Simmons, who insisted on being addressed by his rank. He didn’t say much but when he did, it was always about his late wife. She had apparently died in a car accident in New Zealand some six months prior. The purpose of his trip was to heal his heart but I didn’t think he’d succeed if he insisted on talking about her all the time.

“My wife used to love the Pacific Ocean,” he’d say, “she’d sit by the window of our apartment in Tauranga for hours and just gaze out across the endless water.”

Sometimes he’d have all the women in tears and occasionally he’d cry himself. I wasn’t unsympathetic but I didn’t go on that cruise to talk about personal loss and bereavement. I tried to get him to go to the feast, hoping it would cheer him up but he said he just wanted to stay in his cabin and catch up with his diary.

As the second day in the lagoon got hotter and hotter it was decided that we’d take some food and have a picnic on the island. The women folk helped the cook to assemble some sandwiches and I was put in charge of the wine. Once again I tried to get the Commander to participate but he said he had a touch of gout and couldn’t climb up and down the ladder.

It was a very pleasant island and we found just the spot to lay out our blankets. Martine was wearing quite a small bikini and her tits almost fell out when she was trying to spread out a large tartan bed cover. She insisted that I join her and a few of the others exchanged glances as if they thought something was developing.

I’d not even opened my first bottle of wine when King Tearri appeared on the scene. He smiled at me as if I was an old friend and sat his corpulent frame beside me on the blanket.

“I hate to disturb you,” he said, “But I understand that you were once a policeman.”

“Yes, I was,” I replied, “for quite a few years.”

“Well as you look like being here for a few days waiting for the engine parts to arrive I wondered if you could do me a small favor.”

“Sure – if I can.”

“Well – I’d like you to solve a mysterious death,” he said, “it happened about twenty years ago and the trail might have gone a bit cold but with your expertise who knows what you might turn up.”

I was too shocked to answer him right away, but I figured I’d listen to what he had to say just to be polite. Martine was very excited and asked if she could be my Watson.

“If that will make you happy – why not?” I replied.

After shooing off a few kids that were starting to take an interest in our fancy cakes, he began to tell us the story.

“It was Vaiana, Arui’s wife that was killed,” he began, “things were not going well with their marriage, he drank too much, he was cheating on her and they were fighting all the time. But we never ever thought it would lead to murder – it that’s what it was.”

“How did he do it?”

“How?”

“Yes – was she shot – strangled –stabbed?”

“Well we don’t know really, Captain Jack found the body.”

“Captain Jack?”

“Yes he was the British Government Agent for all of the Fanshawe Island, he was based on Pepea Athol and he used to fly a plane with no wheels.”

“No wheels?”

“Yes, it land in the lagoon.”

“Oh it was a float plane,” cried out Martine, anxious to be part of the investigation,”

“Yes a float plane, he used to fly in supplies, bring us mail and deal with government business but since the budget cuts we just get a mail boat once a month.”

“And where did this Captain Jack find the body?”

“In the store – over there – Vaiana looked after it. It’s also our post office and bank, so she had a very responsible position.”

“Did a doctor examine the victim?”

“We don’t have a doctor, we only have two hundred people, we don’t even have a nurse anymore.”

“Budget cuts?” Martine interjected.

“Budget cuts,” said the King, with a big sigh.

He went on to say the Captain just sealed off the area as he looked for clues and then he carried the body out to his plane and took it back to Pepea.

“Did you get a report back?” I asked, not being able to believe what I was being told.

“We did get a paper saying that the cause of death was inconclusive and that it may have been an accident. Unfortunately, I lost the paper during a typhoon that destroyed my palace,” he said. Referring to his hut constructed of plywood and corrugated iron.

“So it may not have been a murder,” Martine interjected once more.

“That’s right but poor Arui has been living under a shadow ever since, along with his new wife and six children.”

I promised I’d do what I could but twenty years after the fact with absolutely nothing to go on didn’t look very promising, and I was getting hungry. The King politely turned down our offer of sandwiches and left. Martine and I got stuck into our lunch, polished off a bottle of wine and then lay back on our blanket to take a little sun. I soon felt her hand searching for mine and when she found it we entwined our fingers and stayed like that until I was sweating so much I had to sit up and take off my shirt.

The poor woman seemed to be completely turned on by my hairy chest and when I lay down again she leaned over me and gave me a long lingering kiss. After that, our fellow travelers never took their eyes off us for a minute.

Before we left for the yacht I decided to take a look inside the store. It was packed with just about everything anybody would want on an isolated island. Beside cans of Spam, Coca-Cola, and Marlborough cigarettes, there were straw hats, those Muu Muu dresses that women wear and some items of furniture.

Arui happened to be in charge of the place and I asked him if he’d mind answering a few questions. He seemed to be overjoyed at the prospect of me clearing his name, even though I told him I couldn’t promise anything. In the end, he didn’t tell me much more than the King had. However, he assures me that when the body was discovered he was on the other side of the island doing some spear fishing.

“Did anyone see you there?” I asked. He shook his head.

Before we left he told me that he and his wife did not get along because at that time he drank too much,

“But I would never have killed her,” he said, “she make love a lot better than my new wife.”

Martine had a little giggle, and off we went back to the yacht. I didn’t intend to stay in my cabin because it was just too darned hot but I wanted to put on a clean Tshirt. I wasn’t expecting my lunch companion to follow me in but she did, and she flipped the latch on the door, smiled and pulled the strings on her bikini.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re absolutely gorgeous?” I asked, hardly able to take my eyes off of her beautiful tits.

“You just did,” she laughed, “now take your clothes off and I’ll pay you a compliment.”

I slipped off my t-shirt and she crushed those warm soft tits against my chest. I put my arms around her slender waist and I kissed her beautiful full lips. While our tongues were engaging each other I felt her undo my belt buckle and soon my pants and underwear were around my ankles and she was on her knees gently kissing the end of my dick and fondling my balls.

She paused for a moment, looked up at me with her deep brown eyes and then she slid my cock all the way into her mouth and just held it there, tickling the underside with her tongue and then bursting into action, sliding up and down it, pulling and stretching my scrotum as she did so.
I was hoping desperately she would let me cum in her mouth, I just didn’t want to take it out, it felt so good.

“I’m cumming,” I whispered, not wanting our neighbors to hear us through the thin walls. She ignored the warning and soon I was coating her tonsils with a liberal amount of hot sperm.

As she kept milking it I put my fingers in her hair and face fucked her until my balls felt completely drained. I was getting so tense and excited I grabbed hold of her and sat her on the bunk. She still had her panties on which I quickly removed and then I placed my face between her thighs and kissed her bush. Martine dug her fingers into my shoulders as I opened up her crack and licked it from her ass to her clit in great swipes. She had a hard time stifling her cries as I punished her labia and reached up and squeezed her tits at the same time. However, when she came she let out a scream that must have spooked the passengers and crew.

The bunk was just the right height for me to poke her in a standing position so I lined up my cock and rammed it in. This solicited a rather loud, “Oh fuck,” and caused her to grab onto my forearms to urge me on.

I didn’t need much urging as her bouncing tits and her soft moans drove me to fuck like a deranged rabbit. When I blew my load, she screamed once more and then leaned forward to embrace my head. On a scale of one to ten, it was definitely eleven, and I suddenly didn’t care if we were marooned on that ship forever.

Good sex should always be followed by a good wine and I just happened to have a bottle stowed away. It was when we were still sipping in the afterglow that I had one of those pings were ideas race around my head and I believe I’m close to solving a case. Of course, sometimes I’m wrong, but in this case, I was pretty confident.

Coming back on board I’d heard one of the other passengers referring to Commander Simmons as John. Now many are Johns are referred to as Jack and Captain Jack could have given himself a promotion to the more impressive rank of Commander.

I was so anxious to speak to him I rushed to the cabin door without realizing that I had no clothes on. Quickly I threw on some shorts and a shirt and made my exit without explaining to my sexy Watson what had come over me.

Knocking at the Commander’s door I could hardly wait for it to open. When it did he just peeped through a narrow crack and asked me what I wanted.
“I want to speak to Captain Jack,” I said, and I jammed my foot in the door before he could close it. As vague as the evidence was, I laid it before him, and soon I had him spilling his guts.

“Bonbon and I were very much in love,” he said, pausing to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, “I called her Bonbon because I always brought her a package when I delivered the supplies. She was very fond of them – they’re little candies coated in chocolate.”

I told him I was familiar with them and after taking a deep breath he continued his story.

“She desperately wanted to get away from that drunken and abusive husband of hers and so I devised a plan.”

“You simply walked into the store that day, pretended she was dead, sealed off the area and then insisted on handling the body yourself and off you flew.”

“I did send a report to Tearri.”

“The King?”

“Yes, and I told him the tests were inconclusive, and as the body was beginning to putrefy I’d have to bury her on Pepea Athol. I faked a little funeral, had a headstone made and sent photos of the grave.”

“Then you terminated your contract with the British Government and the two of you settled in New Zealand.”

“Exactly, and we had almost twenty very happy years together.”

I shook my head in disbelief, I couldn’t figure how he ever got away with such a hair-brained scheme – but he did. Although they were possibly some illegalities involved, I was powerless to do anything but I did insist on him meeting up with the King and Arui.

After supper, the Commander, Martine and I landed back on the island and went straight over to the King’s palace, where the tattered Union Jack still flew alongside the Atua flag that the King’s wife or Queen, had sewn together.

When His Majesty came out he just stood there for a moment, squinting in the fading light at a man he’d not seen for twenty years.

“My god it’s Captain Jack,” he cried.

The two embraced, and it looked like a very a friendly reunion, but that was before Jack had relayed his tale of deceit and subterfuge. The King listened intently with a somewhat somber look on his face, and then he shook his head from side to side and spoke in a very serious tone,

“You did a bad thing Captain Jack, and as King, I cannot overlook it, you must be punished, I owe that to my people and especially to Arui.”

The Commander’s faced dropped, as he obviously thought, after his heartfelt confession, all would be forgiven. Quite frankly I was expecting the same. But then we both had to wait as the King sat there on the steps to his palace deliberating. After a couple of minutes of deep concentration, he was ready to pass judgment.

“Tomorrow,” he said, sternly, “you clean out all of the pig pens.”

Commander Simmons looked almost relieved, but he was obviously not looking forward to his penance. The next evening when he returned from work all covered in shit, hoping for a hot shower, the Skipper wouldn’t let him back on board. A couple of us just lifted him and tossed him into the lagoon along with a bar of soap.

With the parts delivered and the engine repaired we were ready to depart. King Tearri and Queen Eeva, bearing gifts of fruit and fish, came on board to bid us goodbye as the whole population waved to us from shore and broke into some kind of beautiful song of farewell. The commander immediately broke into tears and rushed to his cabin, while the King took me to one side and suggested that I might speak to the Canadian President about a free trade deal with his little country.

Martine and I spent the next two weeks together, a lot of that time in my cabin. In part because we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, and also because the passengers and crew were inclined to smile at us knowingly every time we passed. When we eventually docked, back in Tahiti, I think she’d found herself and she was going to dedicate her next book of poems to me. I was thrilled that my sexual prowess was going to be preserved in iambic pentameter and there was also talk of illustrations. THE END

LEGAL
Copyright 2016 -2017 Paddy Killeen
The characters portrayed in my stories are, for intents and purposes fictional and any similarity to persons living or dead is purely a product of your imagination.

You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of my stories or images in any format, or claim ownership.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In an effort to blend reality with fiction the author and the protagonist are essentially one and the same. Their oneness is reflected in their choices, their backgrounds and their obvious dislike for the conventional.

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