Field Walking

by John Bishop

teachers much either. Max is both. Is that how he got under your skin?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I’d like to understand.’

  ‘Your husband gave evidence against me. I went to gaol.’

  Max nodded. ‘Where you were probably treated as royalty.’

  ‘You are a perceptive pair, aren’t you?’ There was the hint of a self-satisfied smile. ‘It’s true. Inside, I was respected by screws and colleagues alike. But I do not like having a timetable imposed on me. I do not like taking orders, however politely expressed by some screw who doesn’t want to find himself on Lenny’s famous list. And I had a lot of time to ponder who it was who put me there.’

  ‘So is that the reason?’ Judith said.

  ‘Jesus wept!’ Lenny said sharply. ‘You are becoming a bore, Mrs Kingsley, a damned bore! I did not come here to be cross examined by some jumped up rich bitch and I do not intend to justify, to you or anyone else, my intention to kill His Reverendness! Is that clear enough?’

  Seeing the change in Lenny’s mood, Max tried to think of something to say which might reduce the tension. He was still grasping for an idea when events took a new turn.

  No army burst through the door, but the explosive shattering of the window at Lenny’s shoulder caused all of them to react. Max was surprised to find himself on his feet, lunging across the room—an action he later realized was entirely reflex.

  Tony came lumbering up the verandah steps carrying a garden fork as though on a bayonet charge. Panting from exertion, he stopped and took in the scene.

  Lenny had twisted quickly towards the window but turned back immediately. As Max bore down on him Lenny lifted the pistol, his face distorted with pain. He pulled the trigger but the effort was too much; the shot went wide, the gun dropped to the floor, and he clutched his stomach. Max picked the weapon up. Lenny closed his eyes and started gasping quietly.

  Catching his breath, Tony said, ‘I think the young folk say “thanks for the heads-up.” Are you both all right?’

  ‘I think we might be in better shape than you are Tony,’ Judith said. ‘You should sit down.’

  ‘Yes. Yes of course. Getting old. Sit down.’ After puffing a while longer he said. ‘I called Eamon, but when I peeped through the window I decided it might be wise not to wait for the cavalry. They’re on their way. Pity about the window. A diversionary tactic seemed to be required. Found a stray brick out there. Surprised at my own strength. That’s adrenaline for you. Makes the old ticker pound a bit though. All right, sitting down, sitting down.’

  Satisfied that Lenny was no longer a threat, Max crossed to Judith. ‘The keys are in the roll-top desk,’ she said. He retrieved them and freed her. After hugging him, Judith crossed the room and stood over Lenny. ‘Well, Mr Big. I don’t like to see people in pain; but, for you, I’ll make an exception. It’s all I can do to stop myself poking my finger into your rotting guts.’

  Tony said, ‘Should we tie him up or something?’

  ‘He looks harmless enough to me,’ she said. ‘If he makes a move, we’ll get to find out how good Max is with a hand gun. I’ll call Tom to join us and to bring a shotgun, just in case. Then I’m going to make some tea so I’ll have something to offer the police when they arrive. That’s right isn’t it Mr d’Aratzio? Those detective shows you watch on TV. It’s what the rich bitches being questioned always do. Offer the police a cup of tea.’

  Tony opened his mouth to speak, but decided not to. After Judith had left, he said. ‘My goodness, Max, normally she’s such a gentle person. I’m afraid Mr d’Aratzio has raised her ire, somewhat.’ He peered at Lenny whose face was a pale grey. ‘Do you think we should call for an ambulance?’

  ‘You’d be lucky to get one. Arajinna has been waiting for an ambulance service to be established for years. The police are his best chance of getting to a doctor. It’s the way in the country, though. Lenny understands these things.’

  A File Remains Open

  Monday 24th August 1992

  Tuesday 25th August 1992

  It was not essential for Justin Brody to make the trip to Arajinna. It was something he wanted to do. He left Sydney less than an hour after Eamon called him. Shortly before 4pm, he stopped at the hospital in Calway Junction. His first call was to see Meg. He found her in a bed with a cage supporting a tent over her legs and feet.

  ‘Sorry boss,’ she said. ‘Things went pear-shaped this morning. I guess this means brownie demerits.’

  ‘Not the way Eamon tells it.’

  ‘He won’t be in trouble, will he? For leaving Judith?’

  ‘Having an officer down changes priorities Meg. He knew it was his call. I’ve already told him I’d have done the same.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  Justin tapped the cage protecting her legs. ‘So how bad is it?’

  ‘The doctor thinks I should make a full recovery. He reckons if Judith hadn’t hosed me down so quickly I’d probably be looking at skin grafts. I’ve been greased with something that looks like molasses and smells like rotten eggs. If the inflammation isn’t too bad when they wipe the muck off in the morning, I’ll be discharged with a supply of some other ointment. I’ve been promised it will be less pungent.’

  ‘I’ve heard most of the story. The truck was obviously a diversion to cover Lenny’s arrival. We’ve posted an APB for the driver. Judith got a good look at him so we’ll be able to put out an identikit sketch. She’s offered to go to Sydney to work with our artist.’

  ‘You’ll have to get me a desk job for a few weeks. I won’t be able to put on shoes until the skin grows back. I’ll get myself a wheel-chair.’

  ‘Hell, woman. You’ve been injured in the course of duty. You can put your feet up and watch TV for a week or two.’

  She pointed to a television set in the corner. ‘There’s nothing to watch but soapies and cop shows, and they’re mainly re-runs. I’d rather be doing some real police work.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it when there’s a clearer prognosis for you. I’ll pick your gear up from the Criterion and be back to collect you tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, I’m going to check on Lenny and his battered henchman.’

  ‘It’s a pity I won’t get to thank Judith.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you see her when she comes to Sydney’.

  ‘Thanks. That’s one gutsy lady, boss.’

  ‘So I’m told. And so are you Meg.’

  As he rose to leave, she said, ‘Are you planning on closing the file?’

  ‘Not until Lenny’s finally dead and buried!’

  ‘I was thinking about the file on Max Kingsley.’

  Justin shrugged slightly. ‘The best we can hope is for it to remain inactive. But I don’t think we should send it to the archives, Meg. Not yet.’

  Lenny d’Aratzio had been put in a private room. Although it was obvious there was no flight risk, a constable was sitting on a chair in the corridor. As Justin entered the room, a nurse was leaving the bedside. When Justin identified himself she said, ‘I believe he’s been a naughty boy. Right now he’s a naughty boy in a lot of pain. I’ve just given him a shot of morphine.’

  ‘I’d like you to stay in the room while I speak to him. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Okay.’ The nurse sat on a visitor’s chair.

  Justin stood at the end of the bed. ‘So Lenny, things went pear shaped for you too.’

  ‘It’s Sir or Mr d’Aratzio to you, copper. I thought the fuzz was schooled in the art of sarcastic politeness.’ Lenny’s expression was probably intended to be contemptuous, but his speech was laboured.

  ‘I’ve got to hand it to you,’ Justin said. ‘I thought my visit to your office last week might put you off looking for another hit man. I didn’t expect you to have a go yourself.’

  ‘Last throw of the dice.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘It’s the reality now. No point fooling myself. The consolation is you’ll never get me to court. My lawyer will be so upset. He was hopin
g to get the chance to piss on you one last time. Of course that was before today. He might have found the latest evidence a bit of a challenge. But poor old Tom Jones can sing all he wants to now. I don’t give a rat’s arse. The prosecutor will never get to present any of it. What a pity Brody. What a pity.’

  ‘He’ll get to use some of it when we catch up with your helpers.’

  ‘If Brody, if. You don’t know I had any.’

  ‘There’s the truck driver for starters.’

  ‘If I thought I’d be around to collect, I’d lay you good odds you’ll never track him down.’

  ‘Time will tell, won’t it? Even if you aren’t around, time will tell. At the very least we’ll get to see Tom Jones in the dock, by some name or other.’ Brody turned to leave.

  Lenny raised his voice slightly and called after him. ‘By the way. I didn’t get to top His Reverendness, but I was able to tell his wife about his violent tendencies. I reckon he would have been really shat off by what I said. You should ask her.’ Lenny shifted uncomfortably, closed his eyes, and waved Brody away.

  Justin thanked the nurse and went into the corridor. ‘Where’s the man who calls himself Tom Jones?’ he asked the constable.

  ‘In a ward up the end there. The Sarge told me not to bother watching out for him. You’ll see why.’

  Brody entered the ward. He nodded to the occupants of a couple of beds. A label identified Jones as the heavily bandaged patient lying in traction surrounded by a system of ropes and pulleys. It would be days before an interview would be possible.

  Brody left Calway Junction