The Indiscretions of Overtime

Tuesday April 12, 2022, 6pm

Adelaide CBD Police HQ

Dan

Dan sighed as he filled in the archive retrieval request form. ‘Things I do for her majesty—Eloise Delaney.’

Under reason for retrieval, he wrote, “Relevant to cold case, the fatal accident of Milo Katz.” He had a hunch, but that was all. Had a gut feeling back in 1981 when he was a recruit, and the youth group was a-buzz with the sudden and tragic death of Milo. Something about his then friend, Sven’s behaviour in the weeks after the road accident had disturbed Dan, but being a trainee policeman, Dan put his head down, stuck it in the proverbial sand, and got on with training.

Dan recalled Christmas Eve, Sunday School kids doing their nativity play and Sven never came into the church hall to watch. Just kept loitering out in the carpark, smoking. Cigarette after cigarette. Even his girlfriend, Fifi couldn’t persuade him to join in the festivities.

While Dan hunted in the rolling file cabinets, he nodded and murmured, ‘Sven and Fifi, bonded over missing dads.’ Never discussed. Never. They went missing and their existence vanished with them.

Curious about information the police might have on the elusive von Erikson, he spotted the man’s name on a box on the middle shelf. Detective Dan Hooper pulled out a file titled, “Jan Von Erikson”. The one slip of paper described a disturbance on January 1, at 2:00am, 1977. One word dismissed the event. “Domestic”.

The account read, “Police were called to a disturbance at the home of Jan von Erikson in Somerton. Neighbours had heard loud shouting and glass smashing and called the police to attend. Police in attendance described the perpetrator, Mr. von Eriksson as drunk, belligerent, and angry.”

Dan flipped the page. No mention of von Erikson’s disappearance. No one asked. No one said. Had he disappeared? Or was it all in his youthful imagination?

He stared at the page. 1977, and he recalled Sven turning up to youth group with a brand-new Ford Falcon XB. Shiny red, as he remembered. Dan had been so envious that Sven, a contract labourer, could afford a shiny, red Ford Falcon XB. How could he? Sven was, what, nineteen? Same age as he was. And Dan knew he, at nineteen and a poor police cadet, didn’t have enough money in the bank to buy such an expensive car. Darn! He had to settle for a run-down, ten-year old Ford Cortina. Courtesy of church friend of the family, Gracie Katz.

The detective scanned the single sheet of paper with his phone and mumbled, ‘Something fishy here. Delaney’s onto something.’

After placing the Jan von Erikson file on the shelf, Dan moved the rolling cabinet to the 1978 section. He used a ladder to lift the cream and brown file box from the top shelf titled “Missing Persons, Percy Edwards”.

‘At least his Missus did the right thing,’ Dan said.

He hauled the box out and lugged it over to a desk. Under the light of a wide green hooded accountant’s lamp, Dan leafed through the wad of notes. Witness statements, leads, and character references.

Percy Edwards was a respectable businessman who dealt in antique furniture, art auctions, valuations and insurance. He belonged to the Ford car club which seemed odd to Dan. He remembered Percy from church as a man who exuded airs and graces, who he imagined preferring the elegance of a Mercedes Benz, rather than the common Ford.

Dan chuckled remembering a friend of his, Leigh who had gone camping with his family and Percy and his son Jimmy had come along too. Percy had never gone “roughing it” in the bush before and had complained endlessly, from the start of the camping trip to the finish. Leigh’s Dad never invited the high and mighty Percy on a camping trip again. Not that Percy would’ve gone after suffering the indignities of sleeping on stony ground under the stars.

Jimmy was okay about camping, though. He became a regular for youth group camps, hikes, and the road trip to Western Australia. In Perth, Jimmy was arrested after drinking beer in a public place and spent the night in the lock up. On camps, everyone appreciated the entertainment Jimmy provided with his strong singing voice and his acoustic guitar. He remembered the not-so-complimentary songs Jimmy made up about his father. That was before he disappeared. Jimmy lost his music mojo for years after his father mysteriously left. Started munching through packets of crisps instead.

Dan photographed page after page of the Edwards file. Boxes of evidence must not leave the storage facility. Percy Edwards fine upstanding citizen. Percy Edwards tall, distinguished, moustache, patting Jimmy on his head calling him, “Ma boy”.

Mrs. Edwards, otherwise known as “Primrose the plentiful” (yes, you got it, her real name was Primrose) as she had borne the illustrious Lord of the Edwards manor, eight children. Always pregnant or breastfeeding, yet eternally immaculate, black hair coiffured in a beehive to perfection, and with fashion sense that made her a trendsetter amongst the ladies. President of the church ladies guild, fantastic fundraiser, chairman of the local school’s Parents and Friends association, and all-round super mum. As some of the younger girls at youth group used to say about her, “What a woman!”

Dan smiled remembering how when her husband walked out the door and never returned, Primrose Edwards persevered. She worked on the checkout at the local supermarket, studied part-time and made full use of her mothering skills to become a teacher, and by gum, an exceptionally good teacher.

He thought then of Lillie. It was Mrs. Edward’s tenacity that inspired that socially awkward yet attractive girl Lillie to train to be a teacher. What ever happened to Lillie? he wondered. Is she still teaching?

His youth group had all grown up and drifted. Like Mr. Edwards they had disappeared into their grown-up lives. However, unlike Mr. Edwards, they were still traceable.

And Mrs. Primrose Edwards, was she still alive? Dan made a note to check the birth, deaths and marriage records. Or he could just ask Fifi, the encyclopaedia of life and everyone in Adelaide. Primrose was her mother. Besides, since Eloise was friends with Fifi, all he’d have to do is ask to have a chat with Fifi.

‘Who needs Google when you have Fifi,’ Dan laughed as he finished the final pages of scanning.

[Photo 4: Adelaide Flower Festival © S.O. Gross circa 1960]

Dan entered the lift at the basement and as it propelled him upwards to the ground floor, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

‘Hello Dee,’ Dan spoke.

‘Hey, Dan, I’ve been searching all day,’ Dee said, ‘you don’t happen to have a number for Sven von Erikson?’

‘Hey, Dee,’ Dan chuckled, ‘you must be psychic. I was just thinking of him. Why?’

‘Um, I think he might be key to the investigation.’

‘What? How?’ Dan stepped out of the lift and onto the ground floor.

‘Well, I have found out that he had a red Ford Falcon. Didn’t Mr. Wilke who we saw a few weeks ago say that the motorbike was struck by a red painted car?’

‘Oh, oh, yes, I’d forgotten about Mr. Wilke. Yes, follow that up.’ Dan strode to his desk and packed up his laptop. It’s going to be a long night. ‘Good work Dee.’

‘By the way, did you remember that I interviewed Lillie Edwards, formerly von Erikson, today?’ Dee sounded proud of herself.

‘What?’ Dan dropped his laptop. It thudded on the table. ‘How? How did you…?’

‘When I read the reports, I remembered Lillie from school days. Small world, isn’t it?’

‘Well, I’ll be. It is Adelaide after all. Anything useful?’

‘Maybe. That’s why I would like to speak to Sven her brother. And there was a friend of hers she was always hanging around with. Fifi? Married Sven. Was, I mean.’

Dan snorted. ‘Welcome to the family. I’ll send through the contact details.’

‘You have them?’

‘Yes, just not on me at the moment.’ Dan wasn’t about to plop Eloise, his former partner fighting crime into the conversation. He avoided triggers of the Dee kind as Dee and Eloise never got on. ‘I’ll text them to you as soon as, okay.’

‘Great!’ Dee replied. ‘Bye.’

‘Great work, Dee. Catch you in the morning,’ Dan said and tapped the red button. Must make note to send Dee the details, he murmured while leaving the office.

© Tessa Trudinger 2024

*Feature Photo: Not exactly a Ford, but red. Note the Cortina in the background © Courtesy of R. Trudinger circa 1983

***

Sometimes characters spring from real life,

Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction.

Sometimes real life is just real life.

Check out my travel memoirs,

And escape in time and space

To Central Australia.

Click on the links:

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Or for a greater escape into another world…

Check out my Sci-fi/ dystopian novel,

And click on the link:

The Lost World of the Wends