Baby Jamie: Murder & Other Things...

By R L Humphries

Anne Barlow is trapped alone in a Queensland country hotel, being stalked by a crazed Police officer, Pieter Bock, who's been obsessed with her for months, even trying to seduce and then rape her in her own home in Brisbane while her husband Jake is away. Bock believes Anne is meant for him and can't believe that Jake would bring Anne to Monto so close to him. But Jake and Anne are on a special assignment to examine a brilliant young cricketer who's been discovered in the small town. When Jake finds that Bock is there, he wants to send Anne home. She is defiant, not afraid, and refuses to go. Insane Bock formulates a plan to empty the hotel and that part of town with a story of an imminent explosion. He lures Jake away with a story of a murder and disables him with a blow on the head. Then he goes back to search for Anne. But Jake and Anne have prepared for this moment. She locks all the room doors and Bock begins his search, trying each door and then kicking it in. Jake is recovering and forcing himself to get to Anne while she hides in the last room in the corridor. Bock pauses and tells Anne that Jake is dead and she should give herself to him. But Anne waits. She doesn't believe anyone can kill Jake, least of all the insane South African. She sets herself up with her pistol as Jake had taught her, and Bock is outside calling to her. Anne says to herself, 'Well, Anne. Jake gave you this gun, but you wouldn't touch it. You're sure touching it now!' She aims at the door....

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483539218

Book preview

fiction

Chapter 1

Baby Jamie carried the sack very carefully but still the kittens were crying loudly.

He wondered why. Did they know they were going to die? He’d make it quick, or as quick as he could.

He walked out through the gate of the house, across the road, after checking carefully for traffic, and then down to the creek which flowed about 60 metres away. He knew exactly where to go. He knew the creek intimately. He’d grown up on its banks and sometimes in its cold water, when Richard had thrown him in. And then Richard had hauled him out. Baby hadn’t yet got the hang of swimming. Now, he thought, he couldn’t just throw the kittens into the water, in the sack, because Dad would want it back. Somewhere, in the back of Baby’s mind, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this and to lose the sack could lead to questions. Better not to lose the sack.

He found the little ledge which he and Richard used as a base for fishing. He searched out some rocks, put them in the sack, tied some rope around the neck of the sack and slowly lowered it into the water. The kittens mewled loudly and then they stopped. Some small bubbles appeared. He withdrew the bag slowly and the kittens began their crying again. He lowered the bag again, smiling, withdrew it and did that several times, smiling all the time. Then there was no more sound.

‘Goodbye, little kitties,’ he said softly. ‘But Mum wanted you gone. She said so. So I had to do it.’

He sat and waited and then, when he considered the time was right, he raised the sack, opened it and tipped the four dead kittens into the water. One of them, amazingly, was still alive and he watched expressionless as it drifted, struggling and crying, down the creek with its three siblings. They passed out of sight around a bend. And out of Baby’s mind.

Baby looked into the creek. He wondered if there were any fish around. He’d ask Richard, his brother. Richard would know. He knew everything.

Baby walked back over the road, carefully checking for cars, and then up to the house. He hung the wet bag on the fence and went upstairs. He was hungry. He meant to tell his mother of his good deed but it was forgotten now, unless someone raised the subject. Then his strange mind would recall everything with minute clarity. Anyway, it was nearly time for cricket practice in the backyard with Dad and Richard.

oOo

Baby Devon and his mother and father and his older brother, Richard, lived outside a small, decaying dairy town called Monto, near the Great Dividing Range, in South-East Queensland, Australia. Their fine brick house was some distance outside Monto, even though his father was a schoolteacher in town and his mother had been one.

But when Baby was born, tests were eventually done and it was determined that he was mentally deficient. Not badly; he wasn’t a village idiot or anything like that; but an unkind world had left this fine-looking, dark-haired lad with a slightly slow and skewed mind. He was very friendly and charming, but he was simple.

Nature had, however, made up for this deficiency.

Baby was an excellent athlete, well-built with a quick eye and exceptional running speed and catching and throwing ability. In other words, Mr. And Mrs. Devon, of Bukali, Monto, Queensland, had produced a human designed for the game of cricket, Australia’s national game, and played in nearly all the countries of the former British Empire. And James and Hannah Devon didn’t even like cricket.

But, ever the good father, when Baby’s abilities really began to show out, even in his younger years, James built a concrete practice wicket in the spacious backyard and he did his unskilled best to develop Baby’s abilities. Earlier on, a casual farmhand helped, but he’d moved on. There were many broken windows but the Devons forgave all that. Cricketers these days earned big money.

For the moment they ignored Baby’s mental deficiency. They’d face that later.

Baby’s proper name was James, named after his father. Richard had started to call him Baby Jamie and the name stuck. They hadn’t bargained on Baby’s stubbornness and his need to have everything the same---dinner at the same time, the table set just so, his bed made just so and his whole existence ordered. He refused to answer to anything other than Baby or Baby Jamie—never Jamie or James. Obsessive compulsive syndrome, in a big way.

He didn’t attend school, and this is where he missed out on swimming lessons. His mother home-schooled him and the Education Department went along with that. But now his father decided it was time for his cricket abilities to be tested and to do that he had to go to the State primary school in Monto, even though he was past 13 and too old for that school. His father taught at the high school next door and arranged it. Richard was at the high school. There was some trouble when Baby thought he’d be at high school with Richard, and not the primary school, but a wise primary teacher showed him a cricket bat and ball and said they’d have a game if Baby calmed down. Baby depended almost totally on Richard for guidance in life.

oOo

Things had to be carefully arranged. Hannah refused to allow Baby to be exposed to possible ridicule because of his deficiencies. She was aware that people only wanted him because of his physical abilities. She refused to go into the school with them, leaving James to handle the matter. James resented this. He and Hannah had had a difficult marriage for some years now, growing more difficult as Baby grew older. She wanted to keep him home and nurture and protect him forever. James had a father’s desire to see the boy progress in life and if this was the way, then he demanded that it be followed. And there was always the money.

James, Richard and others carefully guided Baby through his first day at school. When he’d settled it was all wonderful to him. Everyone had been briefed about the name thing but there were still some surprised giggles. Baby didn’t respond. He probably wasn’t conscious of them, living in his own world as he often did.

Then, at lunchtime, the sports afternoon began and Baby was fitted out with all the cricket gear, Richard briefed him and Baby walked out to bat….his first time away from the practice pitch at home. He was playing against high school athletes, being deemed too big and strong for the smaller primary school cricketers.

The best bowlers put on their best efforts but Baby had the time of his life, hitting the ball far and wide. He never missed and eventually they had to call a halt while most of the school went to the adjoining fields to search out the balls that Baby had despatched there with such joyful freedom. He never stopped grinning. They found enough balls to continue the game, some of them far beyond where most thought they’d landed.

Then it came Baby’s turn to bowl and it quickly became obvious that he bowled far too quickly and cleverly for schoolboys. They were in danger, and the sportsmaster removed Baby from the line-up with Richard hastily explaining to his brother.

So Baby was put into the outfield and again had a marvellous time. If a ball was hit near him he scooted like a rabbit, fielded the ball and sent it rocketing back, nearly always over the top of the wicket, exactly where it should have been. Some of the boys at the receiving end pulled their hands out of the way at the last minute, afraid of damage. Baby offered a gleeful giggle when that happened. He had a lot to learn about sportsmanship and diplomacy but it all went unnoticed in the face of his remarkable display.

At the end of it all, the whole school staff gathered to discuss what they’d just seen and what to do about it. Baby wanted to get back to Mum, so James left the meeting early with his two sons. Baby was very quiet on the way home and nobody could know what he was thinking. It was no good asking him. At these times he didn’t respond, even to Richard. He was lost in his own world.

That night, the president of the District Cricket Association rang and said they wanted to try Baby out amongst the men in a match to be played on the cricket ground in Monto. James proudly agreed and watched as his wife walked into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

oOo

Baby batted the next Saturday with the same result. He’d been outfitted in cricketing creams and nearly lost his wicket a couple of times, inspecting his pants for spots of dirt or grass which immediately had to be removed. Finally, Richard ran out and told him to forget the nice new pants—Mum would keep them clean. Just play cricket.

Again the game was stopped while spectators and players searched the nearby grounds for cricket balls. A couple had landed in a creek across the other side of the main highway, adjacent to the ground, and they were given up for lost, joining the corpses of the four kittens that Baby had drowned. It was the same creek, but kilometres down.

On the Monday morning the local mayor was on the phone to the Queensland Cricket Association in Brisbane to boast about Baby and to ask the association to send someone up to Monto to have a look at the boy. The association spokesman was wary and suggested that Baby continue to play in fixtures and his scores be emailed to them. They received many such calls.

‘But the kid never gets out, and it’s more than his batting. His bowling and fielding are beyond belief,’ said the Mayor. But he agreed to the suggestion. Indeed he could do little else.

So Baby continued on his giggling, smiling, merry way. His successes were not unanimously welcome. There was some jealousy but even his critics knew they were seeing something special. The nay-sayers questioned how he’d handle a career with his less than perfect mental capacity.

The Australian cricket season runs through the summer and unfortunately, so does the wet season. In a good season for farmers but not for cricket, it rained for weeks sometimes. It was annoying and disappointing, but that was life in the tropics. So Baby’s performances were intermittent.

His scores in the season up to Christmas were emailed and the cricket association members agreed that something should be done. But there were some level heads in the association and they suggested that, given all the circumstances, they keep track of Baby’s scores from the Monto district competition but delay a look at him for a few years.

They chose the legendary Jake Barlow to monitor Baby’s scores and to go to Monto to view his batting when he deemed it the right time. Jake looked at the scores, noted that the kid never was dismissed, and had huge scores. But he decided to wait. It all sounded too good to be true and sometimes these things passed. But he hoped not. He’d go to Monto in due course to assess Baby Devon who calmly played against the men and continued on his happy way. The Mayor kept ringing but eventually gave up.

Chapter 2

Jake

It was our turn to stage the big family Christmas lunch in our house at Hawthorne in Brisbane beside the Brisbane River. I pitched in to help my wife, the beauteous Annie, and my grandson, young Jake, who was sent to us early to help. He loved Anne and she adored him. He spent a lot of time with us and that was ok by us. Anne and I had married at 50 and 52 so there’d be no child. Small Jake was a marvellous substitute, especially for Anne who’d lost a toddler from her first marriage in a driveway accident.

My name is Jake Barlow, once a cricket sensation in Australia, ready to challenge the legendary Don Bradman’s records. But I blew it, because of my inability to resist a pretty girl and in one case the wife of a national selector. We were discovered, I was bashed by her angry husband and banished from the national and State teams. In recent years I’d been forgiven because I was making big scores in the 50-over Legends of Cricket vintage matches. At age 54 I was as good as ever but declined to pit myself against other than old blokes my age. I knew my limitations.

I’d also been a Police reporter in Brisbane and received some fame recently for clearing up a big murder case in my Gold Coast retirement village, in which dozens of old people were killed for their wealth.

I was in the village, at a relatively young age, because I was a hopeless drunk following the death of my first wife, Evelyn. My three daughters persuaded me that this was the best alternative.

It was too, because, within days, I’d met Anne Murdoch, a neighbour, fallen in love, and we were married within weeks. I was 52 and I reckon I looked it, and Anne was 50, and she looked to be 30. We now lived in my boyhood and later family home and I’ve never been more in love nor happier than I am now with Annie— a beautiful, traffic-stopping psychologist who’s the sweetest person I’ve ever known. She has a beautiful face, wide-set smiling eyes, red-brown hair cut very short and a widish mouth that always has a smile on it, or one just waiting to emerge. Her grey/blue eyes are always twinkling. The rest of her is great, take my word for it. We met on her front-lawn after her brutish ex-husband had flattened me and she rushed out and drove him off. She took me to her doctor brother and by the end of that night, which I spent in her house, but not her bed, I was in love with her. My family loves her.

Our family Christmas was a joyous event, made happier by my news that the cricket association had chosen me to vet a promising young cricketer in Monto, a place that Anne and I had visited when I was doing my famous murder investigation. After being an outcast for so long I was now well back in the