The Family Cleaner, page 11
“Hi, Fred,” David replied, not returning the shake.
He flipped his sunglasses down, pulled his collar up, put on his cap, and turned away.
“Friendly bastard aren’t you,” Fred said.
They landed in Rockhampton, and David found the nearest rent-a-bomb place to the airport. All he needed was something to get him the four hundred kilometres to Blackwater and back with no questions asked.
Chapter 12
Blackwater, Queensland, 16th May 2018
It was late by the time David arrived in Blackwater. He drove along what appeared to be the main street and circled a couple of blocks in the centre of town till he saw a flashing red neon sign advertising a ‘otel’ which had an ‘acancy.’ He pulled into the driveway entrance, stretched to get the kinks out of his back, headed for the door with ‘RECEPTION’ in faded gold letters stencilled on it and pressed the night bell.
He pressed again and waited.
“Keep ya shirt on,” he heard from somewhere behind the door at the back of the reception.
A girl who looked to be in her mid-teens shuffled towards the door wearing a leopard skin ‘onesie.’ Her bright pink short-cropped hair matched her pink moccasins. It was quite a look.
“Your sign says you’ve got an ‘acancy,’ he said and smiled.
The look suggested she’d heard that one before. David watched a large bubble of pink bubble gum form and then collapse on her lips.
“Yeah, and it’s an ‘otel;’ everyone’s a comedian these days,” she said and headed towards the front desk.
“Hundred a night, cash,” she said and handed him a room key.
“What’s the work situation like up here?” He said.
“Pretty good, as long as you have a trade they need. They don’t ask too many questions. Are you thinking of staying around?”
“Maybe.”
David recalled that Jake had worn his employer’s jacket when he was interviewed. “Someone told me about a mining company called Blackstream, do you know where their office is?”
“About ten clicks out of town. The mine’s nearby.”
David sat through two shift changeovers till he saw Jake lumber through the mine gate. There was no mistaking that overweight shape, a feature of all the boys. Jessica was lucky she inherited her mother’s genes.
Jake squeezed himself behind the wheel of one of the many Toyota Hilux four-wheel drives in the car park. David followed at a distance as Jake headed back into Blackwater and pulled into the driveway of a cottage. Two small boys ran out to meet him.
Shit, I didn’t need to know that.
David had grown up without a father and the thought of depriving these boys a father stung a little.
Jake scooped the boys up like they were toys, one in each arm, and carried them inside.
David sat in the sole chair in his sparse motel room, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The sight of Jake with his kids had made him confused and angry. He leaned back in the chair and took several breaths, pushing the telltale sensations away.
Click, clack, click, clack — a seemingly endless coal train rattled past and startled David out of his fugue. The idea that Jake had kids had never occurred to him.
He shook his head trying to shake the thought away.
The best restaurant, according to the motel receptionist, was not far away, and David headed there to eat and contemplate.
Kids needed a father. Even a log like Jake.
Dinner wasn’t much in the culinary stakes and he needed a drink. He found the bar. A large room, more like a works canteen, all Laminex, glass and aluminium; not a redeeming feature to be found. It was filled with miners in various states of dress, from those in clean jeans and T-shirts to others in hi-vis jackets covered in black smudges. Among the throng, he saw Jake who was the centre of attention of a small group.
David found a stool in the corner and pulled his collar up and his cap down. He ordered a beer from the attractive server behind the bar. She had purple hair and ear studs running down the edge of each ear.
“What do they call you?” David said.
“Janie, you?”
David mumbled a response. “Jamie.”
He nodded in Jake’s direction. “He seems to be Mr Popular.”
“That’s Jake, he’s the union delegate for the day shift so he gets all the free drinks.”
“Does he spend all night here drinking free beer?”
“No, he’s waiting for my shift to end,” she replied as she cleared the glasses from the dishwasher.
“He gets free drinks and the server?”
She smiled and gave a shrug of resignation. “Slim pickins’ hereabouts,” then added as an afterthought, “He’s not so bad as long as he doesn’t drink too much.”
“How often does he drink too much?”
She shrugged again. “Often enough.”
Maybe the kids would be better off without him.
David kept drinking, trying to wash the vision of those little boys away.
“I’m closing now. Drink up,” Janie said.
He drained his glass, pushed some loose change across the bar, and left. As he walked out the rear door he swapped his cap for a beanie he had tucked into his back pocket and removed his jacket. A wisteria vine that festooned over a pergola near the door provided cover under which he waited.
Jake soon emerged and leaned against a wall, calling out to the others as they headed for the carpark. Janie made her way out about fifteen minutes later. He threw an arm around her shoulder, trying to kiss her.
She pushed him away. “Give me a break, Jake, I’ve just finished a ten-hour shift.”
“Jake Chisholm!” David called.
“Who wants to know?” Jake turned, hands akimbo, his paunch pointed in David’s direction.
“Me.”
“Were you the one asking Janie about me?”
“Yeah, I was.”
“Well, it’s none of your fucking business who I am. We don’t like people comin’ round asking questions.”
“Come off it, Jake. You’re famous now, on the TV and everything.”
Jake took two steps closer, but David stayed where he was. Janie took a few steps towards the car park.
David levelled the silenced pistol, illuminated by a light near the back door. “Stay there!” He demanded.
“Janie, throw your phone towards me,” David said.
She obliged.
“Now why don’t you run along and let Jake and me have a little chat.”
“Don’t fucking move,” Jake growled at her.
“Jake, he’s got a gun,” she said and ran.
“Fucking bitch,” he yelled.
David stepped out of the shadow.
“Fucking David, that’s you, ain’t it?”
“Yes, Jake, fucking Pissy David.”
“What are you going to do with that thing?” He said, pointing at the pistol.
“I was going to encourage you to take me for a drive in your lovely new Hilux over there.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I wanted a chat. It’s part of the healing process I’m going through with your shitty family.”
“Fuckin’ what process?”
“I know what you mean, bit late for that.”
“What have you done with Mum and Dad?”
“Me? Nothing. Just paid them a visit to discuss old times.”
“Bullshit,” Jake said and lunged at David.
David fired two warning shots into the ground and Jake stopped.
“Nothing needs to happen. You just take me to where I say, and we can talk. Now head towards your ute,” David said. “Get in behind the wheel.”
Jake eased his large frame in behind the steering wheel as David got into the front passenger seat and poked his Beretta into his ribs.
“Now, nice and easy, nothing stupid, just out the carpark and turn right.”
“Where we goin’?” Jake said.
“Head on down this road till we get out of town, I’ll tell you where to stop.”
They drove for twenty minutes, leaving Blackwater behind them.
“Someone’s following us,” Jake said.
“I know. Keep on driving.”
Ten minutes later he said, “Pull over here. Down behind those trees. Right, turn off the lights and get out,’ David said.
“I am not likin’ this,” Jake said.
“Tough, just do it.”
The night was pitch black and this far out of Blackwater, there was no background light. You had to strain to see your hand in front of your face. The chilly night air was still, you could have heard a rabbit fart a hundred metres away. The cooling motor ticked in the silence.
David turned on his phone light and shone it in Jake’s face.
“Tell me, Jake, how many kids do you have?”
“None.”
“I followed you home and saw two little kids run out when you arrived.”
“I haven’t been home yet. You must have followed me to Jimmy’s place. He’s another union rep.”
“So you don’t have kids? Are you married?” David asked.
If it hadn’t been so dark Jake would have seen the look of relief on David’s face.
“Nah, shacked up with Janie for now.”
“Shacked up with Janie for now! What a class act you are.”
“What happens now?” Jake said. “You wanted to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you Jake, it’s all I can do to stand this close to you without shooting you.”
“Why are you so shitty with me?”
“What do you reckon, Jake, the crap you all gave me as a little kid, could you blame me for doing something to pay you back?”
“Payback’s in your blood,” Jake spat the accusation out.
“What’s that mean?” Whump, whump, whump, David’s head throbbed and the bitter taste in his mouth told him he was in danger of shooting Jake. And that wasn’t the plan.
“Your old lady killed your old man ’cause of the way he treated her, so it’s in ya blood.”
He whipped the Beretta across Jake’s face.
Jake staggered, clutching his bloodied cheek.
“Fuck! You busted me jaw.”
David moved in close and jabbed his finger into Jake’s chest. “You don’t talk about my mother.” He screamed into the night.
Too close. Jake’s large fist swung through the air and hit David in the arm, sending the Beretta spilling from his hand.
Jake went for a second swing but it sailed past David’s head. David punched up hard into Jake’s exposed rib cage. There was a crack, and Jake sank to his knees, clutching his side.
David took a step towards Jake, who reached out and dragged David to the ground then threw himself on top of him.
David tried to reach the Beretta that lay tantalisingly close on the ground.
“Get off him!” A female voice from the darkness said, “Now.” A single shot spat and lodged in the ground nearby.
Jake hesitated long enough for David to roll away from his clutches.
“Bit sloppy, David,” the voice said.
Jake rolled on the ground holding his face and clutching his side. David got to his feet and retrieved the Beretta.
“Yeah, you can go now, I’ve got this,” David said.
“You sure you are okay to take it from here?” The voice said.
“Yep, thanks. All good. I’ll leave him where we agreed,” David replied.
“Who was that?’ Jake said.
“No one you need to worry about, yet.”
“Whadya mean, yet?”
“Now where were we?” David said. “That’s right you were asking why I was shitty with you.”
Jake, a large, crumpled heap on the ground, tried to get up, but David planted his foot on his chest and pushed back him down.
“You bastards treated me like I was a dog. No, worse than that. I was nine years old for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we did treat you bad. Especially Mum, she’s a piece of work.”
“Piece of something, Jake, for sure. When did you come up here?” David said.
“A while ago. I wanted to get away, I was jack of ’em all.”
“When did you see Jess last?” David asked.
“She left pretty much as soon as she could. She did well at school and went to uni in Melbourne. I haven’t seen her since.”
“What happened after I left?”
“You left when?” Jake asked.
“Fifteen.”
“Jess was about the same age. That’s when it really started.”
“What started?”
“Kevin and Dad started messin’ with her seriously. I mean, before that they did a bit, but when she got older they really ... well, you know.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothin’. I don’t know exactly what went on, but Mum just pretended nothin’ was happening and then Freddy was in on it as well.”
Whump, whump, whump. Not now! He spat out the taste.
David pushed his pistol hard into Jake’s temple. “Your old man and two of your brothers were abusing your little sister, and you and your useless excuse for a mother did nothing?”
“Mum told me to mind me own business. I think the same thing happened to her when she was little.”
“And you did nothing?” David screamed.
“What could I do? I caught Kevin at it once and he kicked the shit outta me. I got outta there and put as many miles between me and Bendigo as I could. That’s why I’m here.”
“Jesus, Jake, you’re pathetic.”
“What could I do?”
“You could have told the cops; you could have told the school. They would have done something.”
“So, what happens now?”
“I don’t know Jake, what do you reckon?”
Chapter 13
Brisbane, Queensland, 17th May 2018
It was a long drive from Rockhampton to Brisbane, but fortified with coffee and hamburgers, David made good time in the beaten-up old campervan he had swapped for the vehicle he had used to get to Blackwater. The sweat of the previous five hundred or so people who had used the van didn’t make for a pleasant drive, but it had the advantage of being non-descript, and old enough to not have an onboard GPS.
He pulled into a motel near Doomben racecourse, exhausted but elated. The anticipation of what he was about to do had been building for the past six hours. Motels Australia-wide must have all been built in the same era and to a formula. If you closed your eyes you could fairly accurately describe every feature. The breakfast hopper, the sliding aluminium door out onto a minuscule balcony, the stale cleaner smell; this one had all that. and they accepted cash and didn’t ask for ID.
The next morning he sipped multiple espressos at a café with a view of the entrance of Mincorp’s head office. Brown appeared at noon, dressed in a suit, looking like a banker.
Wanker.
Brown waved to two others who scurried towards him. After the ritual handshake and backslapping, they turned and headed towards a group of nearby restaurants.
He followed on foot at a distance, then sat on a bench opposite the Italian restaurant from which Brown reappeared an hour later.
He followed him back to Mincorp’s office and then went to pick up four parcels that he’d posted before leaving Geelong. Two from Australia Post and two from Transdirect. Returning to his room he assembled the SR98 that he had broken down and posted. He unwrapped the silencer and scope. He broke down and assembled the rifle several times as he rehashed the plan. It was important that, in the end, Brown knew it was him.
At five o’clock the same day, he waited in the campervan near the car park entrance beneath Mincorp’s building. An hour later he watched as Brown’s BMW eased out of the carpark. He struggled in the old campervan to keep up with Brown as he tailed him home. Brown drove like the arrogant prick David knew he was, swapping lanes and cutting off others as he went, and finally arriving at his home in Newstead. David waited a short distance from the house, considering his options. He needed Brown alone. Fifteen minutes later Brown, dressed in jogging gear left his house and headed down the road. David scrambled out of the van, following at a distance on the opposite side of the road, ducking behind trees where he could. About one kilometre down the road, Brown entered Windsor Park and started running laps. David noted the point where he was farthest from any roads.
Perfect.
David banked on Brown being a creature of habit and waited in the back of the campervan at the same time the following day. Brown entered the park on the opposite side. David scanned. A young couple pushing a pram waved to Brown, who stopped and chatted. He didn’t need witnesses. He watched keeping an eye on the couple and Brown as he jogged.
Leave, for fucks sake.
He held his breath and willed the couple to go.
He exhaled as he watched them approach the exit and leave the park.
He let Brown complete two circuits then on the third as he jogged straight towards him, David pushed open the rear door when Brown was thirty metres away.
“I hope this hurts like buggery, you bastard,” he said quietly.
David aimed and fired, hitting Brown in the right kneecap. He collapsed, screaming and clutching his shattered knee and rocking back and forth, writhing. He looked up and around and fumbled in his pocket. His phone fell out and he scrabbled in the dirt to pick it up. Then he zeroed in on the van and saw David.
David flicked him the bird and resighted.
“What the fuck are you doing, you maniac?” Brown yelled.
David aimed and another round spat from his rifle, this time hitting Brown in the shoulder. At this distance, David could hit anything he chose.
Brown stopped yelling, seemingly in shock. He opened his mouth several times, but no noise came out. He felt for his shoulder and looked up as David shot him in the face. He sat in place momentarily, both arms at his sides and then collapsed sideways.
There was no whump, whump, whump, no bitter taste in the back of his throat. Just a sense of pure, unadulterated release.
Back in the motel, David disassembled the SR98. He wrapped it, along with the scope and silencer.
