by Peter Corris
~ * ~
Kristie came towards where I was sitting in the pub. She had her leather coat belted tight and moved confidently in her high heels. I wondered what work she’d done before Twizell put her on the disabled list. I got up politely and she almost sneered.
‘A gentleman, are you?’
‘Sometimes. D’you want a drink?’
‘Why not? Vodka and ice, slice of lemon.’
I realised I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I bought two packets of chips, her drink and a red wine for me.
‘It’s a picnic, eh?’ she said.
‘Knock off the tough act, Kristie. We’re in a complicated situation. We’ve got two dead people ...’
She sipped her drink. ‘Like who?’
‘The backpacker Twizell left in the cave. It must have crossed your mind at some time that he was expendable, given the amount of money supposed to be involved and Twizell’s record. And there’s my private detective contact in Newcastle. That could be connected to this business,’
‘I suppose.’
‘So let’s be serious. I’ve just heard Hector warn me off. If he found out your friend Rod’s in touch with me ...’
‘Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m scared and the tough act is ... camouflage.’
‘What did you do before—’
‘Before Johnnie sliced me up? I was a marine biologist— well, a marine biologist’s assistant. Doing a part-time degree. No more diving for me. Among other things, Johnnie punctured a lung and ruptured an eardrum. Shit, I’ve lost the thread. Why’re we here?’
After all that had happened I’d lost the slick version of Wakefield’s story I’d trotted out before. Now I put it together again as best I could without giving away too much.
‘My client’s a historian. He wants to find out some things about the wreck. There’s been some talk of a written account and mention of a family Bible. Twizell knew what I was talking about when I mentioned that.’
‘Yeah, he would. He told you we were related?’
I nodded. We’d been sharing the chips and drinking. It was almost convivial.
‘Twizells and Tanners hooked up a few times over the years. We’re probably a bit inbred. Might account for how crazy some of us are.’
‘The Bible.’
‘Grandma Tanner’s cousin had one. She was a Twizell. By the time I saw it, it wasn’t really a Bible—all the guts had fallen out of it.’
I sighed and finished off my wine. ‘Bugger.’
She smiled and her heavy features changed and I could see how attractive she might have been before the surgery. ‘No, no. It was just sort of a shell of the thing, like a big folder. There were lots of papers inside—letters and ... documents. I had a quick sneaky look once and there was something about a shipwreck. I was interested because I’d dived on wrecks.’
‘What was in the papers? Letters, photos?’
‘Could be.’
‘Come on, this is important. It’s why I’m here.’
‘You’re here, big deal. What’s important to you might not be important to me.’
‘What is important to you?’
I realised that was a hard question for anyone to answer at any time. She stared at her clasped hands and said nothing.
‘Kristine?’
‘It was years ago but I was interested in it as a kid and they took notice of that. Most kids, especially the boys, couldn’t have cared less about old women and their stuff. All they cared about was their cooking and what money they could screw out of them. So, in a roundabout way, it came to me when the old girls all dropped off. I had a quick look at the stuff then but...’ She touched her face. ‘It was before all this happened. I just forget what was in them.’
~ * ~
12
I had a surge of hope that I might be able to complete this part of the business at least satisfactorily. ‘And where’s this stuff now?’
She smiled again. ‘Well, I’ll have to think about that. Is it worth any money?’
‘It could be. That’s between whoever actually owns it and my client. That is, if it’s really what he’s looking for.’
‘How much?’
‘No idea.’
‘You’ve been on the job a while and I imagine you don’t come that cheap. Must be money in it, but I’m more interested in trying to keep you on our side. Rog ... Rod says there’s talk that Johnnie could be getting out soon.’
‘Jesus,’ I said, ‘d’you realise how dangerous it is for you two to be chatting back and forth on your mobiles? I suppose that’s what you’ve been doing.’
‘We take precautions.’
‘You’d better. So, how do you want to play it from here, Kristie?’
She got up. ‘I’ll let you know. Thanks for the drink and the chips.’
She walked out, cinching in her belt and ignoring the appreciative looks she got from some of the drinkers. As things stood, she had the upper hand. Searching for a card to play, I remembered that Twizell had mentioned his grandparents’ historic cottage. But ‘historic’ could have just been a figure of speech. In any case, where was it and which grandmother? I was thinking about this when my mobile rang. I looked at the incoming call number—Marisha.
‘Cliff, I’m sorry I blew up at you. I need your help. Something terrible’s happened.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Jobe’s been shot. I was with him and I got him to the hospital but he’s in a bad way. Now everyone knows I’ve been talking to him and there’s a man here ... Joseph, Jobe’s son, who’s waiting for me. I’m scared to move away from where I am. From the look he gave me and the way he talked to the doctor, I... I think he might have shot his father or had something to do with it.’
‘I’ll come,’ I said, ‘but I’m some hours away. What about the police?’
‘Two detectives came and wanted me to go with them but I wouldn’t. I faked a faint and a panic attack and I’m in a room under observation. I’m not completely faking. I’m bloody scared.’
‘Did you know the cops?’
‘No, not really. I mean, I know who they are. I know they are police, but after what Jobe’s told me about how things work I couldn’t trust them.’
I knew where the hospital was from my visit the day before and told Marisha I’d be there as quickly as I could. I got on the road and was grateful the late afternoon weather was fine and the traffic was light. Having driven it just the day before, I was confident of the route and able to keep the speed up to the limit and beyond.
I tried to sort out in my mind what this meant in the current state of things. Marisha’s cover was blown and she was definitely in danger. Whatever information Jobe Tanner had given her, Joseph and Hector—perhaps Joseph in particular, as the more volatile of the two—would want to suppress. If Marisha’s suspicion was right, perhaps he had tried to suppress it the hard way. Turning up in support of Marisha would arouse the Tanners, but there was nothing to be done about that.
As I drove I used the hands-free phone system Hank had installed to call Rod Templeton.
‘This is Hardy. Can you talk?’
‘Briefly. What?’
‘Jobe’s been shot. Maybe by Joseph. Any ideas on that?’
‘Fuck. It’s possible. There’s been a falling out between Hec and Joseph. It’s to do with your mate McKnight. Joseph found out about... I have to go.’
I was on the freeway driving fast. I’m too old for this, I thought. Then I remembered how Marisha had looked when she’d wrapped her legs around me and, in a quick mental segue, how bored I’d been in my enforced retirement. I kept the pressure on the accelerator.
~ * ~
The reception area of the hospital was a madhouse. Television and print journalists jostled with police trying to get information from the medicos. I didn’t see Joseph but I did see DI Kerry Watson. He approached me with a look that fell short of friendly.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Marisha Henderson’
s a friend of mine.’
‘That’d be right. At the moment she’s obstructing police.’
‘She’s probably in shock.’
‘Not too shocked to bring you running. She’s not taking calls, even from her colleagues.’ He pointed to the milling reporters. ‘You must be special. What’s she told you about Tanner being shot?’
‘Just that he was. She also says she can’t trust the police.’
He shook his head. He looked more tired than he had before and much less assertive. ‘I can’t tell you how sick I am of shonky journalists, and lawyers and chancers like McKnight and busybodies like you getting in the way of me doing my fucking job.’
It was the kind of complaint I’d heard before and always from honest police. Watson looked too worn down to be on the take.
‘Does Marisha know you?’
‘She does.’ He held up his phone. ‘But she doesn’t...’
‘She’ll talk to me. Can you organise for us to get away from here to somewhere safe and with no ... prejudice?’
‘Meaning?’
‘No arrest. No taking her in to help with enquiries. None of that.’
‘You’re not asking much.’
‘She’s a strong character. She’ll stall; she’ll bring in her editor and her doctor.’
‘Okay, okay, but I get to hear what she has to say.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Jesus, Hardy, you’re an operator.’
~ * ~
Marisha responded to my call and Watson and I went through to where she was being treated in a casualty ward. We negotiated with a doctor and nurses and were shown through a series of passages to a back door. We used my car to get to Watson’s flat in Hamilton, not far from where Pete McKnight had had his office.
Watson lived alone in a nondescript building. The flat was untidy in a comfortable way that had a calming effect on Marisha.
Every time I’d seen her, apart from when she was drunk at Lily’s wake, Marisha had been in complete control, formidably so, which probably helped to account for her still being single. She’d been a reporter for close on thirty years and had seen some rough things but now she was shaken. Watson, who’d barely spoken other than to guide me to the address and escort us to the fiat, produced a bottle of Johnnie Walker. Marisha’s hand shook as she drank. Neither Watson nor I needed to ask what the brown marks on her cream linen jacket and blue skirt were.
‘He was sitting right across from me,’ she said, more to herself than to us.
Watson spoke gently. ‘This is where? We’ll have to ...’
Marisha shook her head. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Ms Henderson, I—’
‘Easy,’ I said. ‘Let her tell us what she can.’
‘I wasn’t meaning to say anything.’
‘Look, Marisha, your life’s in danger. You and I both know why.’
‘I don’t,’ Watson said.
It took time and Marisha was very economical with information. She’d been with Tanner in what she called a safe house. She said she’d been blindfolded by Tanner when he took her there so it wasn’t that she wouldn’t reveal the address, she couldn’t.
Watson’s patience was eroding. ‘You must have seen where it was when you left.’
‘I was in a panic. I just didn’t notice.’
Watson wasn’t convinced and neither was I, but he would know a journalist would be selective with the truth. He nodded for her to go on.
‘He wouldn’t let me call an ambulance. I suppose he had a tame doctor to go to. He didn’t say. He drove away with blood everywhere until he almost passed out. I just managed to ease him onto the passenger side and I drove to the hospital.’
Watson grunted. ‘That was sensible.’
‘He won’t be happy.’
‘Why d’you care whether a crooked old fart like Jobe Tanner is happy?’
Marisha flared, recovering a good measure of her composure. I tried to soothe them both by getting Marisha to describe anything she could about the person who’d fired the shot.
‘Two shots,’ she said. ‘I think the second one was for me but Jobe pulled me down despite ...’
The shakes returned. After more whisky she repeated what she’d said to me. She had a feeling Joseph Tanner was responsible for the shooting.
‘A feeling?’ Watson said. ‘That’s not worth a—’
‘Based on what?’ I said.
‘On how he looked at me at the hospital and what Jobe’s told me.’
‘Jesus,’ Watson said. ‘If you’ve got inside information on a war between Jobe and his sons, I want to know about it.’
‘One son, probably,’ I said.
Watson was swilling the last of his drink and almost spilled it. ‘What the fuck do you know about it?’
It was a tricky moment. The more I learned and heard about the Tanners, the more I seemed to get drawn into their machinations and steered further away from what I’d been hired to do. I had dangerous information myself—knowledge of the cop inside the Tanner network and the sister’s role in the scheme of things—and I didn’t feel able to reveal any of that. On the other hand, I wanted to get as clear of it all as I could and coming semi-clean to Watson was a way to do that.
Watson wasn’t dumb. ‘I can see your beat-up brain working, Hardy. You’re wondering how many lies to tell.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m wondering how to protect Marisha and myself and my client’s interest first and then how to help you.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
‘I’d like you to nail whoever killed Pete McKnight.’
‘Oh, that’d be a sort of bonus, would it? You’re a scavenger, Hardy.’
‘I’m tired,’ Marisha said.
I looked at Watson.
‘There’s a hotel we use. You’d both be safe there.’
I put my hand gently on Marisha’s slumped shoulder. ‘And you’d be able to keep an eye on us.’
‘Give me something, for Christ’s sake,’ Watson said.
I wanted to talk to him about stolen millions and a missing backpacker, to get some corroboration of Templetons and Kristine’s story, but it wasn’t the right time.
~ * ~
13
The hotel was of a higher standard than I expected. There was room to move around, good lighting and fittings, and even white terry-towelling bathrobes. Marisha took a very long shower and wrapped herself in a robe as she watched me making coffee.
She was rapidly regaining her confidence. ‘Put yours on and we could be like Bob and Blanche.’
‘No thanks.’
‘You ever think of getting married again, Cliff?’
‘Don’t see the need. Look at Julia and what’s-his-name.’
‘Tim. You’re right, I never felt the need, ever. Why did you say Joseph might be at war with Jobe but not Hector? What dealings have you had with them?’
‘Is this research or ... ?’
‘Oh, shit. I’m sorry. It must sound like that. No, I just want to know to help me work out what to do next.’
What to do next, I thought. Good question. I was sick of holding everything in and I told her pretty well the whole story, stressing that she’d have to get my okay to publish some of the stuff I’d spoken about relating to Wakefield and the supposed Dunbar documents.
Colonial history didn’t interest her; she homed in on the present. When I finished she said, ‘I’d like to talk to Kristie.’
More single-mindedness. ‘So you’re going on with the Newcastle underbelly stuff?’
‘Hell, yes. I need a book to my name. I want to get back to Sydney. I thought I’d had enough of it and coming up here was the right move, but I miss it.’
I could understand that. Couldn’t live anywhere else myself, and the prospect of her being back there was attractive. At my age you need all the friends you can get. I decided I’d help her as much as I could, hope the Tanners would resolve their differences one way or another and leave the way clear for me to per
suade Kristie to help in Wakefield’s quest. It was all a bit speculative but the best I could do.
We ordered a room service meal. Marisha spent a good hour fielding phone calls. She told her editor she’d be filing tomorrow. She fended off other journalists and reassured a few people she was all right. I phoned Templeton. Again, he said he could talk for a short time.