Oh Matilda: Who Bloody Killed Her? Chapter 22

What’s with all the cameras? Is this ... a reality show? Siobhan McKenna takes up our story in Chapter 22.

 

This is ‘summer reading’ like nothing you’ve read before: a diverse field of writers collaborating on a novel that will captivate you through summer.

Each author had just three days to write their chapter, with complete freedom over story and style; it’s fast, fun and very funny.

Start from the very beginning with Chapter 1 or go to ohmatilda.com.au

Today author and media executive Siobhan McKenna takes up the story with Chapter 22.

By Siobhan McKenna

McCredden and De Kock sat at the bar in the Pandanus Lounge nursing coffees. Both unsure if the other was the murderer. Both unsure if they were next on the murderer’s list.

McCredden sat in frustrated silence. He had played a cop, a criminal, and a judge. He’d even played the odd victim. But while he knew technically what to do, and had accessible emotions running dangerously close to the surface, he had no script. So, he experienced no release.

De Kock had only ever been a murderer. And in its expert capacity his mind was quietly assessing the islands’ murders, critiquing what could have been done better, more neatly, more professionally.

Kamikaze Kev refilled their coffees and fretted. McCredden was still calling him Kamikaze Kev even though he had confessed two nights ago, while they were squeezing Engelbrecht into the meat locker, that he was actually Gilbert Kevinour. And yesterday, during their drive back from dropping Henry and Becky at the seaplane, he had tried to reminisce with McCredden about their time together on the set of ‘Langton Cassidy, Vet Detective’, to no avail.

The three of them watched, appreciatively, as Maya left her plantation house, flicked her silver mane, stretched her swan neck, and sauntered past the teppanyaki zone and the pizza oven and then on down to the beach.

They watched less appreciatively as Mother followed Maya a few minutes later.

Kev assessed McCredden’s likeness to Christopher Plummer while starting to plan for a teppanyaki lunch. Unlike pizza, teppanyaki would provide an opportunity to use up some chicken and beef, before people started asking where the meat was being stored. Plus, teppanyaki involved him holding knives; pizza only a rolling pin.

Champion was lured from his plantation house into the Pandanus Lounge by the smell of Kev making bacon and eggs. He dithered about where to sit. Close to or far from McCredden? Close to or far from De Kock? Which of them was the murderer? He wished Greer and Zoe were up too, so the murderer had more people to choose from. But it was only just after dawn and Greer and Zoe were, not unreasonably, still abed.

“Mother thought I should tell you straight away,” Champion mentioned, once he had been fortified by a mouthful of bacon and eggs.

De Kock turned on his stool. Kev stopped wiping the bar. McCredden kept eating.

“Someone has killed Frank.”

McCredden turned.

“Here’s to crime!” Champion trilled, toasting them with his coffee.

The three men glared at him.

“He was here. In a cave.” Champion explained between mouthfuls, “I was taking him supplies. And other things. You know.”

“Who’s Frank?” De Kock asked, shovelling in a forkful.

“Maya’s husband,” McCredden replied. Feeling regret rise like bile in his throat. He should have shagged Frank when he had the chance, forty-five years ago. At least he unfailingly got it up in those days.

“So where is he then?” De Kock clattered down his cutlery and stood up from his stool. “We’d better get him.”

“In one of the caves. Along the Lookout Trail.” Champion reassured them, “It’s not far.”

“Yeah, I think I know it,” grunted De Kock. “I was doing some maintenance on a camera along that trail last week.”

McCredden scraped his stool back and stood, “Camera?”

“I’m not sure we can fit another body in the meat locker,” Kev observed.

De Kock clapped his hands together, “Right. Let’s go.”

“I haven’t finished my …” Champion whined. But stood up after a withering look from De Kock.

Kev positioned himself last in line so he could enjoy an unobstructed view of McCredden. After 36 hours of freedom from Engelbrecht he was ready for a new ‘owner’. And McCredden fitted the bill.

“What camera?” McCredden asked again as they hiked up the Lookout Trail.

“The comms equipment, mate.” De Kock said, his use of “mate” grating as it always does when uttered with a South African accent. “I arrived a week ago to install the security system and light up the audio/visual assets.”

“I don’t understand,” McCredden was already out of breath.

“This was the set of Temptation Island Season 7 and 8.”

“I didn’t know that!” said McCredden, instantly impressed. But then as he walked and sweated and remembered he became anxious. Had his failure with Maya been caught on film? His photographing of his own scalp? He cursed himself for not having packed more flattering outfits.

As they approached the area with the caves De Kock slowed down and motioned for Champion to take the lead.

Champion blathered, “I was late getting up here last night. We had such a busy, thrilling day yesterday didn’t we? The plane! Exploding! Becky. Henry. Mother insisted I have a nap in the afternoon to get over the excitement.”

They reached the cave entrance.

The blood had leached out of Frank leaving him marble white. His corpse was beautiful. Like a toppled statue of a Greek god. Until one moved around his body. And saw his teeth.

De Kock proffered laconically: “Throat slit. Like whatshername? Matilda.”

“Yes!” Champion turned to him in wonder. “It might have been the same weapon!”

McCredden shifted sweatily. Probably best not to mention he’d stowed the knife that killed Matilda into poor incinerated Henry’s backpack.

Kamikaze Kev worried about his teppanyaki knives. Was one of them missing? Should he change his plans for lunch?

De Kock went into the cave saying, “We need something to carry him back on. A tarp or something.”

McCredden stood motionless, gazing at Frank’s physique. Then visibly started. “I must go! And tell Maya. Poor darling Maya. She must hear this news from a close friend.”

“No,” De Kock said, emerging from the cave with a large polka-dot beach towel. “First we’re going to load the dead bastard onto this. And then we’re going to carry him back down.”

Champion reached out his hand and comfortingly clasped McCredden’s forearm. “Mother was going to tell her at the beach this morning.”

McCredden struggled to take a deep breath. Poor wonderful Maya. Poor wonderful Frank. “I need a moment.”

“The lookout is only a little further on,” Kev said, unhappy about Champion touching McCredden.

McCredden nodded his acquiescence.

Kev tentatively put his arm around McCredden’s waist. Hoping McCredden would lean on him.

Champion pulled McCredden up the trail by the hand.

McCredden started to sing quietly:

I feel a bit fragile

I feel a bit low

Like I’ve learned the right lines

But I’m on the wrong show

De Kock followed. Cursing sentimental artistic types.

The vista from the lookout was spectacular. They could see over the sparkling lagoon, across the coral reef to the turbulent ocean.

Kev’s eyes immediately alighted on Gilbert Engelbrecht’s yacht moored at the jetty. A new beginning! He could take it. Fair payment for his years of servitude. He glanced at McCredden. Surely no one would notice, among all this craziness, if he spirited McCredden away on it?

McCredden, De Kock and Champion saw the speedboat and the two bodies bobbing face-down, further out towards the reef.

McCredden sank to his knees then collapsed into Champion’s chest with a groan.

Champion found himself edging away from the precipitous drop, abstractedly patting McCredden’s wide shoulders. Who were they? The bodies. New people? Or … he ran his mind through those still on the island … Greer and Zoe?

Kev knelt next to McCredden, casting a furious look at Champion. Who shrugged apologetically. It wasn’t his fault he was young, handsome, and successful. Why would anyone choose to collapse into Kev’s chest when they could collapse into his?

“You three! Bring back that guy from the cave,” De Kock ordered. “I’m going down to the lagoon.”

De Kock barrelled into Mother a minute or two down the track.

“Where’s my Bradley?” she called out furiously.

“With McCredden.” He kept up his pace.

Mother gave no more than a glance to Greek-god-Frank as she passed the cave.

Up ahead three men were silhouetted against the sky. Two were kneeling in front of a third. The third man, the one standing, had his back to her. But she would know her baby anywhere. His arms were on the shoulders of the two men kneeling.

“No Bradley. No! There’s cameras everywhere!”

One of the kneeling men lifted his head and looked towards her.

“Bradley, you can’t be caught in flagrante delicto.”

She was almost there.

“Not with TWO men.”

And with that she was upon them, shoving the nearest man away from her son.

“Mother! What on earth are you doing?” cried Champion.

Kamikaze Kev scrabbled at the unstable cliff edge for traction. Reached out his arms to McCredden. But began to fall. Then tumble. He hit his head. Then his hip. Then his head again. He was dead before he disturbed the booby birds at the bottom of the escarpment.

McCredden angrily shook his head. “You’d better be a good cook, Mother.”

Australia’s favourite writers are collaborating on our summer novel, with upcoming chapters from Meg Keneally, Nikki Gemmell and Thomas Keneally. To join the fun, read from the very beginning with Caroline Overington’s Chapter 1 or go to ohmatilda.com.au

Siobhan McKenna is a media executive at Foxtel and Nova Entertainment. She is the author of Man in Armour, published in 2020.