Free My Island Homicide by Catherine Titasey Page A

favourite, with soy sauce and fresh chilli. I love sucking the eyeballs out and . . .’
    â€˜So when are we seeing Franz?’
    â€˜As soon as.’
    â€˜Should Salome come with us, since she’s the police liaison officer?’
    â€˜She’s still on days off. We’ll be right. Franz has seen me around, but it’s more likely we’ll have to talk to Izzy, his sister. She’s sort of related to Fred, generations back, but I’ve never been able to work it out.’
    â€˜ Kai kai ,’ said Shay, marching in with two brown paper bags bearing the green triangle recycling logo. ‘ Matha nice .’ She smiled coyly at Jenny and me. ‘Isaac is teaching me Broken English.’
    â€˜Ain’t love sweet,’ said Jenny, chewing her carrot.
    The aroma of heated food sent my tastebuds into a frenzy. As Shay turned to leave, I unwrapped a burger that was so small it was more like a scone.
    â€˜Hang on, Shay. What is this?’ The patty was the colour of slime and stuck to some green leafy stuff with a substance similar to mortar.
    â€˜It’s a burger with tahini and garlic yoghurt cream.’
    â€˜It doesn’t look like a burger. For one it is too small and two, it’s green.’
    â€˜It’s a vegan lentil burger.’ She sort of humphed as if I had asked what the first day of the week was.
    â€˜There is no meat in it. Or pineapple, beetroot or egg.’ What was a burger without the essential ingredients? Like low-fat milk and sugar-free cordial. It ain’t milk or cordial or a burger!
    â€˜That’s why it’s vegan. It’s got rocket.’
    â€˜What are these?’ I pulled out a limp orange strip from the paper bag.
    â€˜ Kumala , sorry, sweet potato chips. They’re low GI and cooked in cholesterol-free vegetable oil. Sven, he runs the cafe, says that canola oil can cause macular degeneration, whatever that is. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Isaac at Front Beach for lunch.’
    Jenny apologised for not warning me about Shay’s health-food fad and announced with great pride that she had hidden a bottle of tomato sauce in her bottom drawer. ‘She’s only been on this health kick a month. She’s trying to get rid of the cream biscuits in the tearoom and make this a healthy workplace.’
    â€˜You know, she’s right. We both want to lose some weight and could do with healthier food. I mean, look at her and then look at us.’
    â€˜She’s also in her early twenties. Eat that and we’ll go and find Franz. I might grab a fried head from Triple F on the way.’
    â€˜No. Eat these.’ I held out the paper bag of sweet potato things. Better she eat them than me.
    Jenny and I ate in silence at my desk. I don’t know about the orange things but the burger had the texture and taste of damp shredded paper.
    â€˜It’s no wonder vegans tend to be miserable, I mean thin,’ I said.
    Although it was just after midday when we left, the sky was like dusk in a thousand shades of grey I’d not known existed. The mango and sea almond trees lining the wide main street thrashed as the angry wind whipped the tiny island. There were no workers walking to or from lunch, no mums pushing prams, no kids cycling with unclipped helmets. The black and white dog that chased us yesterday was curled up under a shop awning but the skinny mutt wasn’t outside the council chambers.
    The air was like a low-pressure vacuum, pressing insidiously against me. I imagined the barometer plunging and hoped there would be some relief with the first downpour, however violent. I would have been very worried about a cyclone hitting the island but, fortunately, according to my mother, the Torres Strait rarely suffered cyclones. Mum told me she was 12 when the last one blew through and knocked her school down on Warral. I was shocked, but she laughed and said it hadn’t been that bad; the