And All Our Yesterdays, page 9
‘I asked him to be.’
‘Well that answers half the question. So why did you ask him to be there?’
‘Because you’re working for Bill.’
‘That’s supposed to explain everything?’
‘Look, Dave. You need to understand. Bill takes security very seriously and he takes his privacy very seriously. You’re going around asking questions of a lot of people about the death of his son.’
‘I still don’t get it.’
‘It’s like I said. Bill takes security and his privacy very seriously. He doesn’t want people to know what you’re doing, other than those you’re talking to of course.’ He paused, doubtless because he knew that as far as answers went, that one was only going to lead to more questions. ‘He also has enemies. You don’t get where he’s got to without attracting them. So he never gives them a chance to get one over him. That means taking care of any person who is connected to him.’ Before I could butt in, he switched course. ‘There’s also the press. He’s got PR people to feed them titbits and cover up any cracks, but he knows that to control what gets in the newspapers, he should try and make sure that there aren’t any cracks to begin with.’
I was undeterred. ‘You said that he takes care of any person who’s connected to him?’
‘Exactly. And given that you work for him now, that includes you.’
‘What do you mean “take care”?’
‘Just that. Vince saved your bacon. You were about to get your head kicked in.’
‘And now? What about Vince? What about those blokes he presumably put in hospital and the one who got away?’
‘Well Vince will probably get a medal; he’ll certainly get a bonus. As for those other blokes, including the runner, the sergeant gave me their names and addresses. They’re not going to cause any problems.’ He smiled.
‘If you think that smile is reassuring, I’ve got news for you.’
‘And I’ve got news for you, Mr Wise Guy.’ Joe slowed the car as we approached a set of lights, looked at me as he did so and spoke very deliberately. ‘You should be reassured. As to those blokes, they are going to give me an assurance that it goes no further.’
Best to let things lie, especially as Joe was driving me home, which was on the other side of the city to the suburb where he met me.
The rest of the trip proceeded in silence until we arrived outside my apartment block. We pulled up and at last conversation resumed.
The other inevitable question.
‘So how come you were in that part of the world?’
‘That strip has two second-hand bookshops that are open till late. Two of the best in Sydney. I go there of an evening every so often, find a couple of bargains, have a late-night coffee and just chill. It’s a bit of a hike but it’s worth it.’
What’s more, it was consistent with what I had told Victoria were my intentions for that evening when we were chatting about my appointment with Melissa. If Joe sought to check up on me, he’d at least get the same story. I was a man with no secrets.
‘Sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.’
‘You should try it.’
‘I’ll let you know when I get the urge, but don’t hold your breath.’
As I got out of the car, I turned and, before shutting the door, said, ‘I have to say, thanks, Joe. I’d also like to send a note to Vince to thank him. Can you give me his details?’
‘I’ll send you a text. Take care. And I haven’t forgotten about that fishing trip either.’
As he drove off, I felt in my pocket for my mobile phone to tell Hannah why I hadn’t shown up.
Chapter 19
Twenty years before
‘She was a lovely girl, Clare.’ Tom sat back in his armchair and slowly stirred his tea. The pastel rose pattern of the chinaware was an interesting contrast to the large, weathered hands that held the saucer and the dainty silver spoon that he now placed beside the cup. He focussed his attention on the disappearing eddy, the result of his long and deliberate stirring.
‘You knew her then?’
He looked up. His pale blue, rheumy eyes held no sparkle, just a sadness, long forgotten and now painfully reawakened. ‘Of course. This is a small town. I knew Les as well.’
He was speaking slowly and had lowered his voice so that I felt the need to lean towards him, lest I failed to catch what he was saying and perhaps upset him by asking him to repeat himself. He paused before continuing. The only sound was the buzz of an angry fly insistently circumnavigating the windowpane and the sombre tick of a large grandfather clock that stood sentinel at the door leading to the formal dining room, which I guessed hadn’t seen too many dinner parties in recent times.
‘I’ve gathered my notes and clippings from the Sydney papers. I expect you’ve seen what I wrote for the Clarion, of course. I’ve even pulled out a scrapbook that I put together.’ He stopped and then hastily added, as he contemplated what he had just said, ‘Not that there was anything about the sordid mess to want me to keep mementos. The fact is that I thought of writing a book about it and I needed to record things as a reference source. I started writing one but gave up. I didn’t have it in me. Anyway, I’ve put all the stuff together for you.’ He pointed to a battered suitcase that stood next to a glass-fronted cabinet that displayed his “good” crockery and painted porcelain figurines of milkmaids and farm animals. ‘You can have it.’
Again, his attention drifted. I said nothing and just waited for him to return to the present. I sipped my tea and nodded.
The tick of the clock seemed to grow louder and at last broke the spell that it had contributed to in the first place. Tom resumed.
‘As I was saying, Clare was a lovely girl. Rather quiet. Not at all plain. Just… reserved. She came from around here. Father died when she was young. Mother had a dressmaking business and Clare worked in her shop. Les was also a local. His parents had a small farm and he worked on it and did some labouring on some other properties in the district. He was a bit of lad but never got into any real trouble. They started courting and that seemed to quieten him down a bit, although he did get on the drink from time to time and make a fool of himself. I suppose you could say that they had an understanding and then the war came. Like so many of us, they married just after he enlisted.’
The last few words marked the return of the gloom and Tom sank further into his armchair as he grew silent.
‘How about I make us another tea, Tom?’
I stood up and Tom looked at me, nodded and said, ‘Thanks, David. I’ll be right in a moment or two. I just get tired these days.’
I went to the kitchen and marvelled at how neat it was. I had assumed that the unhygienic chaos that was the defining feature of the kitchenette in my small flat at the back my aunt and uncle’s house was standard practice for a male who lived alone. I told myself with all the conviction that I could confect that I really would do something about putting some order in my life.
The dog sensed that someone other than Tom was in the kitchen and proceeded to bark outside the window.
‘Brutus!’ shouted Tom. ‘On your mat!’
The dog begrudgingly yielded, gave two perfunctory barks just to show his displeasure yet resignation at his master’s command, and presumably retired. I wasn’t going to tempt fate and open the kitchen window to check just in case Brutus was waiting for curiosity to present an opportunity to kill this particular cat.
I returned to the sitting room bearing the replenished tea pot only to find Tom standing.
‘Tell you what, David. Let’s go for a walk and talk about this. I could do with some fresh air. It’s not just a story I’m telling you. The terrible thing is that it’s the truth.’
Chapter 20
Bill was irritated. I thought to myself that perhaps I should give him the benefit of my pharmacological opinion. Just to add to his level of irritation.
He didn’t stand up or even look up as I entered his office. Instead, he continued glaring at the laptop. His hand reached out mechanically to an empty cup, raised it to his lips then looked at it in disgust. ‘Get Magdalena to get me another coffee will you,’ he shouted to the departing figure of Vicki as she was closing the door and leaving me with the Sun King. Only then, with a curt nod and a barely disguised scowl, did he acknowledge my presence.
‘Take a seat. I’ll only be a moment.’
Funny how moments can be of different durations to different people in different circumstances. To Bill, a moment meant as long as he liked in the world where he, as monarch of all he surveyed and with scant regard for Einstein’s opinion on such matters, could command time to stop.
On another occasion, his presumption that I should just sit there until he was good and ready would have caused me to smoulder at his casual indifference to my self-regard. But now, Bill’s moment and the silence in the office presented me with the temporal space for some Zen-like contemplation. Well, not exactly – I wasn’t really using this as an opportunity to nourish my spirituality. I was thinking of my swelling bank balance, courtesy of another instalment paid by one of the satellite companies in the Hendry Group. I wondered what tax-deductible expense may have been constituted by my investigation into the death of Justin three years previously. No doubt the little Aussie taxpayer was doing his or her bit, unconsciously it must be said, to assist in financing my enquiries. Most of all, I allowed my daydreaming to turn to the subject of Hannah and our morning’s lovemaking.
Presently, I noticed Bill stir himself into readiness for the next confrontation of the day as he emphatically hit the return key with his index finger and prepared to fix me with his Great White stare. Time to tease.
‘I think it’s the coffee.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Forgive me, but how many have you had today?’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘Sorry, but you seem distracted and… tense. It might be the caffeine.’
He looked blankly at me, which was an improvement on the prospect of the laser-like glare of the shark that he always put me in mind of. Perhaps if I smiled, it might disarm him. It didn’t.
‘Listen, mate. I’m furious. You want to talk to Phil Sturmont about Justin. And you want to talk to me about… coffee. Jesus Christ!’
‘As I explained to Joe…’
‘I know what you’ve said to Joe and it’s bullshit.’
I had already done my calculations: there was still too much money to come in to tell him what he could do with the remains of our business arrangement. So I needed to play a straight bat while continuing to poke sticks at the egotistical beast. Most of all, I needed to avoid mixing my metaphors.
‘Well, if that’s what you want. Fine. Anything else?’ I got up to leave.
‘Listen to me. You can meet with Phil but keep it brief. You can ask him about Justin. But don’t you dare ask anything about the business. That’s off limits. Got it?’
‘I understand. Frankly, I don’t want to ask about the business. It’s only Justin that I’m interested in.’
Then seizing the opportunity that I had presented, Bill changed direction in order to show me the charm for which he and other Great White Sharks are so well renowned.
‘I’ve gone through your reports and I note that you have been very thorough. I didn’t agree with the approach at first but I see the sense in it now. Looking at the “what” and “why” questions.’
I sat down. The temperature in the room was cooling.
The reference to “what” and “why” questions had been made to Joe of course. There was no such reference in any of the progress reports I submitted. That Bill was now quoting what I had said showed – and was plainly meant to show – he was taking a keen interest in my enquiries and was interrogating Joe as well as to those enquiries.
The lull in the skirmish was apparent to those waiting behind the door, which after a hesitant knock was now opened by Vicki in order to allow Magdalena to bring in a silver tray with coffee and a decanter of water and glasses. ‘Would you like any coffee, Mr Kincaid?’ she asked in her robotic voice. ‘No, thank you, Magdalena.’
I was about to add something like, ‘I’ve had too many today,’ but checked myself. I looked at Bill, who guessed what I was thinking. We both started to laugh and, at least for the moment, hostilities were brought to a close.
Magdalena looked at us quizzically. Bill at least had the decency to put her mind at rest. ‘Just a private joke between Mr Kincaid and me, Magdalena. Thank you. That will be all.’ Now reassured and with her expression rearranged into its customary blankness, Magdalena turned and exited. With the soft click of the door, our conversation resumed.
‘You’ve seen quite a few people already.’ Bill was now glancing at a typewritten page that I assumed held a list of names of witnesses. ‘Are there many more you want to talk to?’
‘A few perhaps, and I want to talk to some of them again.’
‘Yes, Joe said that you might. Who?’
‘Gavin Maxwell, Melissa Phillips-Harcon, maybe a couple of others. I don’t know.’
‘Why do you want to speak to them again?’
‘Simply because I didn’t get through everything that I’d planned to talk to them about. There’s still some ground to cover.’
‘Well in the case of Melissa, I can imagine that you would like to see her again, of course.’ He looked up from the page and smiled.
‘Quite. But I still need to finish the interview.’
‘Well, speak to Vicki. She’ll set up the meeting with Phil.’
Bill looked with distaste at his laptop and before he could bark, ‘Anything else?’ I jumped in and said, ‘I just want to say thanks.’
‘What?’
‘I want to say thanks. You may have heard that I very nearly got mugged a few nights ago but Vince was there and stepped in to stop it. Joe told me that you had organised some protection for me, and I am very grateful.’
‘Yeah, Joe told me about it. He’s a good guy Vince. Not the sort of person to tangle with.’
‘And very discreet also. I had no idea he was following me.’
‘Well, he doesn’t follow you all the time you know. I’d go broke if I had to provide 24-hour security for people doing work for me. It just happened that one time you needed protection he happened to be there.’
‘A coincidence then. Not that I’m complaining. Quite the opposite. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have ended up in hospital.’
‘Or worse.’
‘I just wanted to say thanks.’
‘Got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. Vicki will see you out.’
A buzz on the intercom and Vicki materialised.
We left Bill to answer his phone with a curt, ‘Now what?’, the answer to which I suspected would be followed with a fast-flowing river of expletives interrupted by blasphemies. Normal transmission would thus be resumed.
*
Vicki’s voice, despite her habit of ending sentences with rising inflections, became something of a drone. I tuned out of her monologue as we descended the stairs and proceeded across the foyer. Instead, I was spooling back my conversation with Bill.
‘David?’
I’d evidently been caught out. ‘Sorry, Victoria, my mind was elsewhere.’
‘That’s all right. And I did tell you, you can call me Vicki. I was just asking whether you had ever been to Kandooshka?’
‘Sorry?’
‘We were talking about bars and I asked whether you’d ever been to Kandooshka.’
I didn’t know that we had been talking. It had seemed a very one-sided affair as far as I was concerned. Evidently, she had assumed my occasional contribution of, ‘Mmm’ as a counterpoint to her peculiar melody constituted conversation.
‘Right. Er, no.’
‘Perhaps we could meet up there some time?’
This had me completely floored. ‘Well, I…’
‘I think you’d love it. It’s very… very. Oh, what’s the word? Exotic.’
‘Well that would be great. I’m not much of a bar-type but sure, that would be lovely.’
She stopped, smiled and began that curious twirling of a strand of her hair around her index finger. Did she know how odd this gesture was, I wondered. Why was she suggesting that we meet for a drink? Why was she now leaning against the door preventing my escape from Glenmordlen? Was it my imagination or was she trying to do an impression of coquettishness? There was something of a gleam in her eyes and she now spoke with a breathiness that was definitely un-Victoria like.
‘I’ll give you a call. I might get some other people along. You’ve met Gavin of course and got on with him.’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘Great. See you soon.’
At this point, she turned and opened the door. I stepped into the morning sunshine.
As I headed down the winding hill, I found myself thinking over the morning’s encounters at Glenmordlen. The unexpected overture by Vicki was so startling that it almost swamped my wondering about the topic of Bill’s provision of protection. There was no 24-hour guard but why did I happen to have a chaperone that particular night?
I arrived at the wharf, so deep in my thoughts that I almost failed to register that the ferry was about to pull out.
‘Come on, mate,’ called out the deckhand, anxious to shut the sliding barrier, draw in the gangplank and set off. He had a shift to finish.
‘Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘Know the feeling. Just as well it’s Friday. Couple of beers and you’ll be right.’ He grinned, and with a well-practised flick pulled the last remaining rope off its bollard. With a shout of, ‘All clear’ to the bridge, the SS Contemplation eased its way into the harbour and I settled back in my seat.
The thoughts came crashing. What was going on? The prospect of my talking to Sturmont had got everyone jumpy. I get attacked after meeting Melissa. The caped crusader just happens to be on duty that particular night. I receive an invitation to drinks delivered in a curiously flirtatious manner by a woman constitutionally unsuited to the role of temptress. And in the process, Gavin’s name is thrown in. To cap it all off, no sooner had my journey started when I received a text from Joe proposing some dates for our long-promised fishing trip. Yet another coincidence?
