Free Frog Whistle Mine by Des Hunt

next thing was to find out if this Mururoa was anywhere near Mangareva. A map site soon gave him the answer—theywere two hundred kilometres apart. On the scale of the Pacific Ocean, they were next-door neighbours.
    Tony had another visitor that night. It arrived at about two in the morning and danced on his roof for the next hour.
    As he lay in bed trying to sleep, Tony wondered what sort of animal it was. It could be a possum, yet it could also be something much more interesting. It could be an escaped circus animal that had lived in the scrub for years. Maybe it was a man-eater. That would explain why so many people went missing from the area.
    His mind continued like this for a while before admitting that it was probably just a boring old possum. The next question was: why would it climb onto his caravan? There was no food up there, it didn’t lead anywhere, and there was nothing warm for a bed. Perhaps it hadn’t chosen to be there; perhaps it had been placed there and the racket was the thing trying to escape?
    He was still awake when it finally found a way to get down. The peace didn’t last long before the most awful scream split the air. It went on and on. Tony looked out the window. He saw nothing. He tried another window and still could see nothing. He would’ve liked to have seen what was happening, but he sure wasn’t going outside. Again his thoughts returned to the circus animal—maybe he hadn’t been wrong, and it was now attacking some other creature.
    Eventually the screaming stopped. Seconds later, a weka called three times: Weeeeka, weeeeka, weeeeka.
    Tony smiled to himself as he realised what had happened. The possum had escaped from the top of the caravan only to meet up with the weka family. It had been hit by the Butcher brigade. No wonder it had screamed: those beaks and feet could damage any animal. He wondered how much would be left by the morning.
    The answer was most of it, though it was in a sad state. There was fur and blood everywhere. The gut had been opened and some of the organs removed. Otherwise only the eyes were gone.
    When he investigated the caravan he found scratches and blood marks all over the roof. The animal had been injured before it got up there. Which prompted the question of how could an injured possum climb up the slippery walls of a caravan? The answer was it couldn’t. The thing must have been planted there, and Tony was certain he knew by whom.
    While he was having breakfast, Duggan arrived with the daily delivery of fresh vegetables. ‘How are you this mornin’, Mrs B?’
    ‘Much the same as yesterday, thanks Jamie. What have you got for me this morning?’
    ‘Och, just the usual. But I’m goin’ oot to do a wee bit of fishin’ today. Would you like a nice bit of fresh kingfish in the mornin’?’
    ‘Yes, please. That would make a lovely Christmas Eve dinner.’
    ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m tryin’ out some new lures and I’m hopin’ they’ll work a treat.’ Then he left without even a nod to the boy, almost as if he intended to ignore him.
    Rose couldn’t go into the mine until she’d TXTed all her friends, so Tony headed to the shed to get the gear ready and have a chat with Fred. He asked about Jamie Duggan.
    ‘Oh, that’s going back a bit,’ said Fred, thinking. ‘When did young Jamie arrive? Must have been about ninety-six, I think. He’d just arrived when I turned seventy.’ He chuckled: ‘I know he was the life and soul of the party. Everyone took to him straight away. He fitted in really well. Jamie’s been good for Charleston. Most of the kids get their first job up at that place of his.’
    ‘Was his wife with him?’
    ‘Nah. She’d died not long before, so he said, anyway. She was an island woman, I believe.’
    Nineteen ninety-six, thought Tony, that fitted in well with the arrest. Maybe they even chucked him out of Tahiti.
    ‘Did you ever show him the mine?’
    ‘Yeah, soon after he bought the property. See, most of