Out of the Blue

by JR Carroll

  ‘On second thoughts maybe you’d better not, Graham,’ he said. ‘Stick with the painkiller. Don’t want to attract attention, do you?’

  ‘You’re right, Teddy. I was thinking the same thing myself. Although I do have a tame doctor.’

  ‘Best not to take chances.’

  ‘No, all right.’

  ‘Cops’ll be everywhere looking for us. There’ll be descriptions of us in the papers.’

  ‘There will be.’

  Teddy smoked his last cigarette. The bottle had one shot each left in it. Teddy remembered with regret the cartons of cigarettes he’d dropped on the floor. It was five-twenty now.

  ‘Wonder how much we got?’ Graham said. ‘Why don’t you count it, Teddy?’

  Funny, Teddy thought. Hardly thought about the money at all until now. Other things, Goldilocks mostly, that image of his body exploding in midair, had occupied his thoughts. But now he tipped the six cash bags out onto the floor and started counting. It took fifteen minutes, and the total came to $ 17,300 and change.

  ‘Seventeen grand plus,’ he said.

  Graham nodded. ‘Take ten for yourself.’

  ‘That’s not half. We split it down the centre, fifty-fifty. Eight and a half each.’

  ‘Take ten, Teddy. You earned it.’ He added, rather tiredly, ‘To be honest, the money doesn’t really matter to me. That’s not why I did it.’

  Teddy considered asking the question that hung in the air, sensing that Graham wanted to tell him all about it, but then thought: Who needs to know. He counted out ten large and stuffed the bundles of notes into his various pockets. When he looked at his watch again it was six-fifteen and starting to grow light outside.

  ‘How about a coffee?’ Graham said. ‘Then we’d better think about fucking off. We can phone cabs from here.’ He added, ‘I think I’ll give myself the day off.’

  ‘Right,’ Teddy said. He wondered what Elaine would think, Teddy coming in at this time of day. But he had half a bottle of Scotch in him and could easily say he’d been out on the piss with mates. She’d jib, but big deal. He thought about Elaine a little more, saw her nude little body writhing around between the sheets, mumbling in her sleep the way she did. Teddy got a hard-on thinking about her. She was a horny little girl when she wanted to be, although lately he’d had to work a lot harder at getting his end in. Women got like that, he reasoned. Something mysterious in their make-up. More worryingly, however, he had his work cut out keeping her in line these days. Maybe she was going off him. Maybe she was fucking someone else. Maybe a lot of things. Anyhow, he had plenty of cash now and could afford to spoil her a bit. One thing about women, they always responded to that, when you threw money at them. He might take her up to Jupiter’s for a few days, see how she liked that. He continued to think about Elaine rolling around in bed, only Teddy’s there too now, giving it to her. Elaine’s all over him, loving it. Graham’s not in the room with him any more. In his mind Teddy’s got this tremendous horn. She’s trying to fit it all in her mouth, blowing him now. He goes ‘Ah-h’, and comes in her face.

  NINETEEN

  Dennis slept for a few hours at the local bush nursing hospital with the help of several pills and woke at seven to the sound of a telephone ringing. Straightaway he remembered everything; saw and heard the blast. He touched the bandage on his cheek and different swellings on his skull. His right eye was half-closed. When he stirred, pain shot through him and he fell back helplessly. He could see through a window from his bed: a grey day with rain trickling down the glass.

  A young woman, pale and unsmiling, approached him in a nurse’s uniform. ‘Good morning’, she said. ‘How are you feeling?’

  He licked his dry lips and said, ‘Been better. Been worse.’

  ‘Doctor Wallace is on the phone if you’d like to speak to him. He said you would.’

  ‘Yes—yes.’ He struggled, with her assistance; got to his feet. Tottered a little, then steadied in his hospital-issue pyjamas. She led him to the wall phone at the end of the hall, got him a chair, then went away.

  ‘Hello, Doc?’

  ‘Dennis. How are you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ He took a breath and said, ‘What’s the news, Doc?’

  ‘He made it through the night.’

  Dennis closed his eyes, gave thanks. The phone trembled in his hand. He felt faint.

  ‘The surgeon described his condition as critical but reasonably stable. Reasonably. That’s the best report we could have hoped for, and frankly it surprised me, having seen the state he was in. Heartbeat’s erratic but persistent, working overtime, against all odds, I might add. Extensive transfusions have helped, of course. Importantly, he hasn’t gone into a coma. That’s a big plus.’

  ‘Has he been conscious at all?’

  ‘Once or twice, yes. Briefly. He’s fighting hard, Dennis. He’s doing everything he can. So is the hospital, round the clock. All we can do now is just wait—and pray.’

  Dennis felt cold, clammy. ‘Where was he hit?’

  ‘Right shoulder and upper body took the brunt of it, although pellets are embedded in many parts of his body. Vital organs appear to have escaped major injury. Just a fraction to the right and he’d be dead, no question. As it is, the tissue damage is enormous. The shock alone would be enough to kill a normal man.’

  ‘Brett’s not a normal man.’

  ‘Apparently not. Anyway, Dennis, as I told you last night, it’s an uphill battle, a minute-by-minute proposition. What I’m telling you is there’s no cause for optimism just because he’s made it this far. One setback, however minor, would be too much for him to withstand.’

  ‘I understand that, Doc.’

  ‘If you can imagine two barely functioning organisms, a heart and a brain, suspended in space and connected by a fine thread … an almost invisible thread … the slightest movement in the air, just a breath of wind, could be enough to sever that connection, ending life.’ He paused. ‘That’s the best way I can describe his condition for you.’

  The image had already printed itself in Dennis’s brain with perfect clarity: a balance almost too delicate to sustain itself, to carry its own weight …

  ‘Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.’

  ‘My pleasure. The next three days will tell the story, Dennis. If he survives those, well … who knows?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll keep you posted. Get some rest yourself.’

  ‘I will. Goodbye, Doc.’

  He replaced the phone and immediately felt exhausted. There was cold sweat all over his body, making him shiver. He sat there for a minute, mustering strength, then dragged himself back to bed and fell on it, trembling. With pitiful slowness he finally worked his way into the blankets, then in a little while the nurse returned with a breakfast tray; setting it down, she plumped pillows behind him and asked if there was anything else he wanted. Dennis shook his head uninterestedly and she left. On the tray were scrambled eggs, toast and a steaming pot of tea. He poured the tea, strong and black, adding two sachets of sugar. The act of sipping it made him feel fractionally better. He held the cup to his face, sipping and staring at the rain-streaked window. Soon the shivering stopped. When the cup was empty he put it down carefully, slid into the bed, saw lights flicker briefly, then let sleep take him again.

  Here he remained all day and that night, leaving the bed only when necessary. Doctor Wallace phoned at dinnertime to inform him that there was no change in Brett’s condition, that he had broken through into short periods of what the surgeon had called ‘shallow consciousness’. Dennis took comfort from this and from the barely discernible note of encouragement in the doctor’s voice.

  The next morning he returned to the hotel, where forensic investigators had completed their task. Someone, Peggy probably, had tidied up, although Brett’s blood still stained the carpet darkly; no amount of hand-scrubbing could have removed it. He would do something about that immediately, get it cleaned properly or replaced.

  Later in
the day two armed robbery detectives arrived from Melbourne and questioned him for an hour. He knew the sergeant vaguely, a beady-eyed man in his thirties with thinning hair named Col Westerway; Westerway admitted, guardedly, that he remembered Dennis too. He gave the detectives a blow-by-blow account of the hold-up and supplied them with as accurate a description of the bandits as possible, considering the fact that they’d worn balaclavas. He did not say that they had probably been in the hotel on the previous Saturday, nor that they had stayed at the Golden Lizard—he was alert enough to realise that Westerway would seize upon that and want to know why Dennis had taken an interest in them at that stage, and on the questioning would go, until Dennis himself became the subject of an investigation. Dennis assumed that they had already learned something of his troublesome activities from Frank Stannard, even Grimshaw, but Dennis saw no reason to encourage them any further down that road. Let them speculate all they liked. Dennis could tell from Westerway’s manner that the detective had already formed an unfavourable opinion of him, no doubt from reading his file. Largely by omission and by the careful way he framed his questions, Westerway even managed to communicate the view that Dennis himself had in some way brought this thing upon himself, that he had ‘asked for it’. Dennis played dumb. He knew very well that if you gave men like Westerway any opening at all they would go for the jugular. In Westerway’s position he would have done the same thing himself.

  The hotel had remained shut during this time. Dennis intended to keep it that way for a while yet. On Wednesday night he sat on his bed, assessing his condition. Much of the pain had receded, and could be borne. The lump under his eye had turned yellow; the bandage on his face would remain for a couple more days. He tampered with it even now, itching to get it off. He picked up the phone and called Frank Stannard at his home. Frank enquired after his health and Dennis waved away all concerns.

  ‘Dennis,’ Frank said, ‘we seem to have got our wires crossed recently. I’m sorry that happened.’

  ‘Takes two, Frank.’

  ‘I know. But … well, you’ve had a hell of a bad run. No one deserves that. I’m sure my behaviour could have been better. Certainly more professional, anyway.’

  Dennis didn’t say anything.

  ‘When I said, I hope you suffer, I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘I know. It’s neither here nor there, Frank. Forget it.’

  ‘It’s been on my conscience a bit.’

  There was nothing Dennis wanted to say about Frank’s conscience, so he said, ‘I’m more concerned about Brett at the moment.’

  ‘Of course. So am I. The whole town is.’

  ‘I thought I might go and see him—if they’ll let me.’

  ‘Right. Well, give him my best if you do.’

  ‘I will. Frank, I thought I’d go away for a while. A week, maybe. D’you think it’d be all right if I closed up for the duration?’

  ‘No sweat. I’ll inform the Licensing Inspector in the morning. And keep an eye on the place.’

  ‘Thanks.’ There seemed to be nothing else, so he started saying goodbye, but Frank broke in a bit breathlessly, as if he’d worked himself up to this.

  ‘Dennis, you might not have been far off the mark after all.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘I mean about Karen.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I didn’t believe any of that for one second. But then since the letter, now this …’

  ‘Letter? What letter, Frank?’

  Frank bit his lip. ‘The threatening letter someone sent you.’

  ‘How’d you know about that?’

  An embarrassed pause, then: ‘Grimshaw told me.’

  ‘Did he? Grimshaw told me he didn’t know anything about any letter. Isn’t that curious?’

  ‘Okay. You got me. I told Grimshaw there probably wasn’t anything in it. At the time that was my opinion. It isn’t now.’

  Dennis thought, if he hadn’t changed his opinion by now he’d be a candidate for a brain transplant. Not even Frank’s that thick-necked.

  ‘I guess Grimshaw threw the fucking thing away,’ he said without much interest.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘The city dicks won’t be too impressed with him. That’s real evidence now. If they find out about it they’ll want it.’

  ‘That’s Grimshaw’s problem.’

  ‘Yeah, fuck Grimshaw.’ He wanted to add, Fuck you too, Frank, but managed to suppress the outburst. In the course of this conversation he’d come to the conclusion that he had no time at all for Frank Stannard, blowing around like a reed in a gale, all this brown-nosing and apologising. Meaningless. He simply didn’t care what Frank thought or said. The man was weak.

  By Wednesday morning Brett Jennings still clung to his fine thread. Dennis asked Doctor Wallace if he thought Dennis would be allowed to visit him at this stage, and Wallace said that since Brett was in intensive care visitors would not be particularly welcome, but that they might give him five minutes. Dennis said he’d give it a try, anyway. He informed the doctor that he was going ‘away’ for a few days or a week, and Doctor Wallace said he thought that was probably a good idea.

  Dennis had an appointment with Des Carlysle later that afternoon, the Wednesday. He planned to keep it. If he got going now there would be time to see Brett first. He pulled a suitcase down from the top of his wardrobe and packed it. The last thing he put in was the Walther.

  Elaine didn’t want to go to Jupiter’s. She didn’t want to go anywhere. When Teddy had turned up at seven-thirty on Monday morning she was still in bed, awake, but when he’d climbed in with Scotch on his breath and a hard-on that he pressed on her she got straight out. Teddy wasn’t impressed, getting left holding his own dick. He’d been thinking about getting his rocks off for a good two hours now, and if Elaine wouldn’t come across he’d go and see Josie later. That was a guaranteed score. But right now Teddy was tired, suddenly dog-tired. He spread himself out in the bed, half-listening to Elaine in the bathroom, then started snoring.

  When she came back into the bedroom to get dressed, seeing Teddy on his back with his mouth open, Elaine experienced a wave of revulsion, then shame that she could ever have seen anything attractive in this disgusting, violent person. He snored loudly, vibrating in his throat, building to a crescendo and then cutting out suddenly as if someone had put a cork in him. She looked at the clothes he’d discarded on the floor, wondering if she could be bothered putting them in the laundry, decided not to, then her eye was taken by a roll of notes sticking out of one of the pockets in his japara. Only the corners were visible, but there was no mistaking money when you saw it.

  She glanced at Teddy, rumbling restlessly, choking off snores, then withdrew the notes. Flicking through them, she thought there was about three thousand, all tens and twenties and a few fifties. She put it back, then felt the other pockets and found two more rolls of about the same amount. Teddy was carrying about ten thousand dollars around in his japara. She wondered where he’d got it, what crime he’d committed, who he’d hit over the head; she wondered, too, if this Graham had anything to do with it.

  When Teddy woke up just after noon Elaine wasn’t home. He walked around the house with nothing on, looking for her, then poured himself an orange juice and sat at the kitchen table drinking it and wondering where she was. He drummed his fingers on the table, patted his firm belly and then felt an erection coming on. Curiously he watched it rise, then started playing with himself. He wished Elaine was here to take care of it for him. Here he was with this royal boner and nowhere to park it except in his own fist. He started to masturbate and then thought, No, bugger it; I’ll go and see Josie.

  Within an hour Teddy was in Josie’s bed, immediately getting her to sit on him so he could hold her silky hips and watch her tits bouncing around. That and the sloppy sound of her cunt made him come straight away. Disappointed, Josie said, ‘Oh-h-h?’, Teddy having ripped her clothes off and thrown her into bed like a savage, getting her all excite
d. Now she had a ten-minute wait. Didn’t matter— the child was having its afternoon sleep and the boyfriend was temporarily off the agenda, so they could settle down for a full afternoon’s sex. Teddy had already decided on the order of proceedings; next he’d go doggy, then if he had anything left she could blow him. Impatient, Josie toyed with his undersized cock, feeling for the first signs of arousal.

  While she was doing this, Elaine pulled up outside, intending to visit her good friend Josie and discuss the personal problems currently being experienced by both women. Josie was a very supportive friend and gave sound, practical advice, which Elaine, always indecisive, almost never followed. But it was helpful just talking things over anyway.

  Getting out of her car she saw Teddy’s VK Commodore parked in front of the neighbouring house. Strange, but it was definitely his. Elaine looked at Josie’s house. She could suddenly feel a crisis looming, as if matters had finally been taken out of her hands. She walked across Josie’s lawn and along the side of the house, where she knew the main bedroom was. There were curtains and a Holland blind that had been pulled down almost to its extremity, but there was enough of a gap for Elaine to see inside. What she saw was Josie stroking Teddy’s erect cock. Elaine watched. Teddy was squirming around, groaning with pleasure. Then she saw him get to his knees, and, holding his cock, come into her from behind, doing it doggy fashion the way he liked to with Elaine. Elaine became aware that she was holding her throat. Teddy fucked aggressively with short, sharp thrusts, slapping Josie’s rump and saying ‘Baby!’ over and over.

  Elaine ran blindly back to her car and sped away. She didn’t know where she was going, just away. Elaine felt utterly stunned, numb. She was a dumb bitch, an object of laughter and contempt. It wasn’t Teddy’s betrayal of her, but Josie’s. Josie was her best friend. What did that mean now? What did anything mean? She put her foot down and drove fast. She wanted to keep driving, never stop. She wanted to drive right across Australia and then into the ocean. But first she wanted to kill Teddy, or Josie. Or both of them.