All Fall Down by Matthew Condon Read Free Book Online Page A

work.
    ‘He loved it there. Lying in bed and hearing the sound of the birds, the koalas. He wanted to get away from everything. We never made anything off the farm either. Everything was run at a loss.’
    Another Murphy family member said: ‘He never had any enemies at Stradbroke.’
    Still, growing flowers in the village and eventually carting them back to the mainland to sell to florists and at markets was not something that happened every day at Amity. ‘We didn’t know what that bloke was doing there,’ says one long-time resident. ‘It was something strange. The island is a long way removed from Brisbane. It’s out of the limelight. It may as well be on the other side of the world.’
    Murphy’s near neighbours in Tosh Street say he was an excellent neighbour and always willing to lend a helping hand. ‘He was the best neighbour you could ever wish to have,’ they said. ‘Maureen and all the kids were lovely. The house was nothing ostentatious. Tony was a good family man. They drove a Black Chrysler; they did not have flash cars.’
    Murphy soon joined the newly established Amity Point Community Club, a place for locals to meet and have a social drink. The club convened in an old wooden hall at the end of Gonzales Street, on Ballow Street. Maureen attended a ‘cocktail night’ with some of the local women once a month. Another local remembers Murphy from the club bar and also the Point Lookout Hotel. ‘He stood and drank on his own,’ he says. ‘He’d look at you, he’d look at everyone that walked in the door and he’d check out who you were. You could tell he was a policeman.’
    Author Peter James, who in 1974 published his explosive book, In Place of Justice: An Analysis of a Royal Commission 1963–1964 – a damning indictment on a young Murphy and Glen Patrick Hallahan at the time of the National Hotel inquiry – remembers coming across Murphy in the hotel at Point Lookout.
    James’ book had caused controversy on publication, and at one point James was in fear for his life. He received an anonymous threat, and the company that printed the book was mysteriously burned down not long after it was released. In addition, word got back to James that copies of the book suddenly disappeared from Brisbane libraries, even the State Parliamentary Library.
    At the hotel, James says he was drinking with friends when Murphy walked in. ‘I thought, Oh God, it’s Tony Murphy,’ says James. ‘He looked at everyone in the bar, scanned their faces, but he passed over mine and didn’t recognise me.’
    By all accounts, a once frenetically busy Murphy settled into quiet village life. He rarely fished, and neighbours reported few visitors. One, however, stood out. ‘Terry Lewis did come over once,’ a neighbour says. ‘I remember Maureen saying, “Mr Lewis is coming”.’
    The Breslin Cup
    One of the most conspicuous and impressive characters who began appearing regularly at the Police Club in the city was a man called Paul John Breslin. He was born and raised in Gladstone where his father, John Edward Breslin, ran a local funeral parlour and was involved in other businesses.
    Paul Breslin was a promising student. ‘I was very, very good at English … social studies, ancient and modern history and English, and I was particularly good at logic – top five in Australia for Year 12,’ Breslin says. ‘It was my own fault because I was lazy. I was pretty good at the more florid subjects, as they say.’
    He was also something of a budding entrepreneur. ‘I used to run cabarets at the Queens Hotel, which was, believe it or not, above my father’s office, simply because the block of land was owned by Castlemaine Perkins,’ Breslin recalls. ‘On weekends, on a Friday night, I’d run a disco for underage people … no grog … and we always had one or two uniformed police officers on the door to ensure there was no alcohol and that undesirables didn’t go in.’
    Then life changed for the Breslin family