- Marea has always had investigative instincts, but she didn’t immediately follow her passion.
- After working as an administerial secretary, at age 49, she decided to take a leap of faith into the world of private spies.
- Although she may look like a sweet granny, Marea is now always on a mission.
Here Marea Smith, 76, Melbourne, Vic, tells her own story in her own words.
Adjusting the wig on my head, I lifted the binoculars to my eyes.
This could get dangerous, fast, I thought, nervous.
To anyone passing by, I looked like a regular nana sitting in her car, but the truth was, I was a spy on a stakeout.
And today I was serving debt collection papers, in disguise as a delivery driver.
I’d spent weeks scoping out the lavish mansion, barricaded by high gates and fences that were securely bolted to the ground.
My target was someone from the inner circle of Robert Trimbole known as ‘Aussie Bob’, who allegedly had ties to the Italian Mafia.
Now as I pulled up to the gated driveway, I fought to stay calm.
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Earlier in the day, my client had given me the home phone number for the person at the address.
‘You’ve been served’.
With no other way to get inside, I dialled the number, telling the person on the line I needed to drop off a package.
‘You’ll have to open the gate to receive it,’ I told a man who answered with a stern voice.
When the gates swung open, I flung the papers through my window at the man who’d come to meet me.
‘You’ve been served,’ I said, slamming my foot on the gas to get out of the property before he could catch a glimpse of my face.
Adrenaline surging through me, I whipped off my wig as I tore away.
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As a mother of three, and a grandmother to five, my life hadn’t always been so dangerous.
Before becoming a spy in 2001, I worked as an administrative secretary.
While I was happy in my job, I knew I was destined for more.
I’d always been naturally curious and was known as a stickybeak in the family.
As a mother of three, and a grandmother to five, my life hadn’t always been so dangerous.
But it wasn’t until one day at Wanda Beach, NSW, in January 1965, when I was 16, that my interest in the investigative field was truly piqued.
I’d spent hours splashing about in the waves and catching the sun’s rays with my friend, when the bodies of missing teens Christine Sharrock and Marianne Schmidt were found.
Tragically, the two friends had been badly beaten and stabbed.
Police swarmed the area, and the teenagers’ murders made headlines for weeks.
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But no-one was ever found responsible for the girls’ deaths.
‘What is taking them so long to solve this case?’ I stressed to my brother John, then 13.
Even after we’d told police about a potential suspect, it never went anywhere.
I’ll catch the killer one day, I vowed.
After finishing school, I began work in the administrative space. And in 1970, aged 21, I married a man named Peter.
We went on to have three beautiful kids, Shane, in January 1973, Jon-Paul, in May 1975, and Melissa, in November 1976.
I’ll catch the killer one day, I vowed.
Sadly, Peter and I divorced after seven years.
Juggling being a single mum with making ends meet, my sleuthing dreams were all but forgotten until 1999.
Then, aged 49, I spotted an advertisement in the local paper for a private eye course.
This is my chance, I thought, enrolling right away.
For the next three years, I continued working in admin during the day, then at night I joined a classroom full of aspiring spies to train alongside detectives and police.
There, I learned how to handle firearms, run covert and overt surveillance, and hone my investigative skills.
Finally, in 2001, aged 51, I graduated with a master licence in private inquiry and commercial agency.
‘We are so proud of you,’ my kids, who were all grown up by then, cheered.
On graduation day I was gifted a plaque for my accomplishments, and coined ‘Ms Marple’ because – like the famous fictional female case cracker – I had the ability to hide behind my older demeanour while staking out people.
In 1998, I started my own private investigation business called the Blondell Group, where I specialise in serving papers on behalf of debt collectors.
As the jobs rolled in, I found leaning into my age helped me stay undercover.
Who’s going to suspect a granny like me, I’d mutter, popping on a cardigan and grabbing my laundry basket, camera, pen, and GPS trackers.
Over my 24-year career I’ve snuck into buildings, hidden behind garbage bins, and rolled under closing garage doors to deliver papers to people trying to avoid paying bills.
I’ve also built of a collection of wigs, hats and glasses to help with my disguise. And, I’ve even roped my daughter into a job at a bar with me – under the guise of us being two friends catching up over a drink, while really I was staking out the establishment.
My line of work has seen me rub shoulders with some scary characters, including one dubbed ‘Mr Businessman’.
I’d been hired to serve him debt collection papers, tracking him to his Sydney office, where I made it inside using my delivery ruse.
But once the papers had been served, his eyes darkened.
‘You tricked me!’ he shouted, as he grabbed at me, blocking my exit to the elevators.
‘I am just doing my job,’ I retorted, fighting the rising panic in my chest.
Breaking free, I was able to slip out of his reach and escape to the lift.
Fleeing the building, I reported him to the police.
Despite facing some sticky situations, I love my work.
And I’ve even inspired my son Jon-Paul to join the police, where he helps catch criminals of his own.
Now when I tell people what I do for a living, my occupation almost never fails to shock them.
But what I cherish the most is when my grandchildren boast about their cool nana to their school friends.
I plan to study criminology next year so I can keep my vow of catching the Wanda Beach killer.
Those girls’ families deserve answers.
My family and friends still ask when I will hang up the binoculars.
But even after more than two decades in the private investigation business, I have no plans to retire.
There are always more cases to crack.
