Somebody Murdered Maggie

By Cenarth Fox

A toddler cries but is ignored by his young mother. Maggie's in another room, dead. The Homicide Squad led by DCI John 'Robbo' Robertson arrives. Who murdered Maggie? She struggled as a single mother and mixed with nasty characters. And when the PM revealed Maggie was pregnant, it becomes a double homicide.
As the detectives tackle a list of suspects, the new police pathologist, the aptly-named chocoholic Dr Gabrielle Strange, reckons a motor cyclist who crashed at speed was actually murdered. Really? So detectives face separate homicides with more suspects than red herrings. And when some killers discover they've murdered the wrong victim, we've got cops chasing crooks chasing crooks. Look out, he's behind you!
Robbo's youngest granddaughter is Joanna Best, aged 6. As the detectives struggle to solve both homicides, Joanna and her sister visit their Pop and score a chocolate frog. Little Joanna sees a photo on Pop's desk and asks a simple question which turns one of the homicides on its head. Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings …
It's not surprising that years later, Joanna Best joins Victoria Police with the dream of one day following her Pop and becoming a homicide detective. She does, and this is where it all began.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cenarth Fox
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005915582

Cenarth Fox

Playwright, composer, novelist and writer of non-fiction. My plays, musicals and novels are sold around the world. I have written three stage shows about Sherlock Holmes, a series of five books about the schoolboy Sherlock Holmes and the novel Sherlock Holmes - Playing the Game. I have written novels about the Brontes, Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle and Shakespeare, a series of 8 crime fiction novels - The Detective Joanna Best Mysteries, and a trilogy of WW2 thrillers - the Plum Trilogy. The sweeping saga called A Sweeping Saga is about a boy in poverty in London in 1810 who is transported to Van Diemen's Land and lives through a bloody war.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Glossary of Terms

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Meet the Author

Glossary of Terms

For readers not familiar with Australian expressions

AC - Assistant Commissioner

an ambo - an ambulance officer

away with the pixies - non-compos mentis, not sane

blower – telephone, on the blower

Blue Poles - abstract painting by Jackson Pollock bought by Australian Government and has increased in value by more than 2000%

bricking it - extremely nervous

Cattle Class - Economy class

Centrelink - government welfare agency

chapter and verse - every detail

Child Protection - government department responsible for children’s welfare

choccies - chocolates

clapped-out - old and battered

cocky - acting tough, (also a farmer)

copper - cop, police officer

crack on - get started

cubby - a small space, a cubby house in which children play

DCI - Detective Chief Inspector (police rank)

DI - Detective Inspector (police rank)

divvy - a divvy or divisional van, a police vehicle for transporting prisoners

EPA - Environment Protection Agency

extract the digit - pull your finger out, get a move on

the filth - the police

funny buggers - playing games, tricking someone

holdall - a gym bag

Intervention Order - issued by court aimed at stopping violent person going near victim

Mummy/Mum - Mommy/Mom

nappy - diaper

night-cart - vehicle for collecting pans from toilets where sewage was not installed

to ping - to trap or capture

pissed - intoxicated (can also mean angry)

played the man - went hard at an opponent

plonker - a fool

postie - the postman or postwoman

punter - client

RSPCA - Royal Society for the Protection of Cruelty to Animals

RTA - Road Traffic Accident

Senior - short for Senior Constable

Shank’s Pony - to walk, travel by foot

snout - informant

socks - sox

solicitor - lawyer, attorney

squiz - have a squiz, have a look, check this out

TAFE - post-high school institution, Technical and Further Education

taking the piss - mocking

Triple Zero - 911 in the USA and 999 in the UK

uni - university, college

wheelie-bin - trash bin

Chapter 1

KAIDEN WAS NEARLY TWO. Parts of his breakfast and lunch decorated his face, his tee-shirt needed a wash yesterday, and his nappy was at full capacity. He’d been put to sleep at two pm and an hour or so later the little mite awoke and cried. He felt miserable. Who wouldn’t in his condition?

His single mother, Maggie, struggled in her rented single-fronted timber house in working-class Collingwood. She couldn’t afford a cot and put her son to sleep on a mattress on the floor. Maggie’s thinking was simple; the toddler couldn’t fall.

He rolled off the mattress in the bedroom and cried. Normally his mother would respond, pick him up and realise the child needed a major clean. Maggie ignored him.

Kaiden’s bare feet padded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. His dummy filled his mouth but didn’t stop the grizzling. He reached the kitchen door and pushed. It wouldn’t open. More grizzling. He slapped the door. No response. Somehow he managed to remove his dummy and yelled in frustration and despair.

‘Mummy. Mum-my.’

She continued to ignore him.

It might be impossible to know the thoughts of a toddler although when in despair, one can take an educated guess. He wanted his mother. He wanted food. He wanted to lose his putrid clothing. He wanted comfort. Why were these basic requests being denied? Why was his mother ignoring him? He sat on the floor beside the kitchen door and wailed.

After ten minutes, Kaiden went quiet. His crying caused more misery than his hunger and discomfort. He went from sitting to lying to falling asleep.

An hour passed. It was late afternoon. Maggie’s friend Mel arrived and knocked on the front wire door. Mel was a young mother too but the State removed her child. Mel and drugs did not a healthy environment make and especially not for her baby boy. The father was useless so the government stepped in.

‘Maggie, it’s me,’ called Mel.

The only response was a baby crying. Kaiden woke up and announced yet again his sadness and discomfort. More knocking from Mel. She opened the wire door and knocked on the main door. It moved. She pushed it and it opened. Mel stepped inside and called.

‘It’s me, Maggie, where are ya? Maggie?’

Maggie didn’t respond so Mel wandered down the hall and discovered the crying toddler.

‘Kaiden, where’s Mummy?’ He replied by crying. Mel bent and scooped up the boy. ‘Jeez mate, you stink.’

She called again to her friend then pushed the kitchen door. No joy. It was stuck. Not locked but jammed. Mel walked outside and from the concrete jungle of a backyard, looked in through the kitchen window. She nearly died. The kitchen door wouldn’t open because Maggie was blocking it. She lay on the floor and wasn’t moving. Maggie’s face was a mess.

During her young life, Mel witnessed some scary things—drug overdoses, domestic violence and a nasty rape. Isn’t every rape nasty? But this was a first. This looked for all the world like murder.

Holding the now screaming child, the visitor hurried back through the house, into the street and to the house next door. She banged hard on the front door.

The resident and owner was the widow Watson, pensioner of this parish. Using her walker, Dot headed for the front door. More banging. ‘All right,’ she called, ‘I’m coming.’

‘Help me,’ responded Mel with Kaiden sounding as if he knew his mother was dead.

Dot opened her door. She went to speak but Mel ran the show. ‘You have to help me. I need to ring the police.’

‘What’s happened?’ asked Dot.

‘Please let me use your phone. Maggie’s been attacked.’

Dot wanted to help but she was like the SS Queen Mary and turning on a sixpence proved tricky. She reversed with difficulty as Mel entered holding Kaiden. Dot pointed to her front room, the parlour with its antimacassars and flying ducks, and with a small table beside Dot’s favourite chair on which was an old green telephone. It was circa 1976 in 1996.

Kaiden, still wailing, was placed on the floor and Mel made the call. Triple O was the emergency number in Australia and the operator answered immediately.

‘My friend’s been attacked,’ blurted Mel. Questions followed and Mel scared the life out of Dot, and worse, Kaiden seemed to understand every word her mother’s friend said. Death was an unknown concept for the toddler but the despair and body language from Mel and now even Dot, left the wee child in greater despair. Tragedy struck his young life.

A divvy van arrived within minutes. Two constables in pristine uniforms at the start of their shift double-parked and raced into Number 24. ‘Police,’ they called. Mel exited Dot’s house holding the terrified child.

‘Here. I’m the one who called you.’ She pointed to Maggie’s house. ‘She’s in the kitchen. This is her little boy.’

‘Wait there,’ said one constable and both entered the property. They seemed to take an age. One came out and asked questions.

‘Is she dead?’ squeaked Mel. The look on the constable’s face spoke louder than any dialogue. Mel froze. Shock kicked in. She wavered. Dot screamed and the constable dived onto the property and grabbed the woman still clutching the child. He lowered her gently to the verandah. Kaiden’s cries moved up a gear.

The constable lifted the boy from his rescuer and tried to cradle the mite. Kaiden stopped crying long enough to throw up. The constable’s immaculate uniform underwent a major makeover.

‘Shit,’ exclaimed the cop holding Kaiden at arm’s length. The boy wriggled causing his new carer to bring him closer. This coincided with a major breach of nappy security and the constable saw human waste in liquid and solid form added to his work wear.

Despite the tragic nature of the event, Dot stored some cracking yarns to tell her Bingo buddies.

The second constable came outside and saw his colleague’s battle dress. The pristine cop wanted to laugh but didn’t—just. Wanting to help but not wanting to help, the second constable saw an ambulance, ran into the street and waved.

Things moved fast. Ambulance officers went inside and, as advised by the police, went into the back yard and around the side of the property gaining entrance through the laundry door. The ambos realised Maggie was beyond help and