Saving Billie ch-29

by Peter Corris

  'Stop there!'

  He did, but he was poised to come on. 'You won't shoot me.'

  I lowered my aim. 'I won't shoot you in the chest, you're right. But I'll put a couple in your legs and what if I miss, go a bit high? I mean it… Johnny. Put down the fucking stick, take out your car keys and drop them on the ground or I swear I'll cripple you. I've done it before.'

  'I just want to talk to her.'

  'Sure you do. Well, we might arrange that, but not here, not now.' I moved the pistol a fraction. 'Do it… Johnny.'

  He hated me addressing him that way, but he reached into his pants pocket, took out the keys and dropped them without taking his eyes off me. This guy had been in tight situations before and knew how to behave. Me too, but his size and composure were impressive and I knew I couldn't control him without shooting for much longer. Praying she could drive a manual, I gestured at Sharon to turn the Falcon around: my waving fingers said do it slowly.

  'Big mistake, you making.'

  'Shut up!'

  I heard the wheels on the dirt, a slight bump, the grind of gears, and then two sharp beeps on the horn.

  I backed a few steps and saw he was preparing to rush me.

  'I'm good with this at thirty metres,' I said, 'bit erratic after that. I'd advise you to keep your distance.'

  I retreated. Give him his due, he came after me, closing a little, probably hoping I'd trip over. I didn't. I reached the car, got in and Sharon gave it the gas, slewing back down the track.

  'D'you think he'll follow us?' she said as she got the car under full control and slowed down a touch.

  'Would in an American movie.'

  She giggled. 'I hate to admit it, but that was sort of exciting. Would you really have shot him?'

  'I don't know.'

  'You want to drive?'

  'No, you're doing fine.' I looked back when we hit a straight stretch but there was no sign of pursuit. 'I took a punt you'd be able to drive a manual.'

  'Are you kidding? We started off in old bomb Holdens and Vdubs. I still like the Vdubs.'

  'Yeah, they're good.' I realised I'd kept the pistol in my hand and shoved it back in the glove box.

  'How many people have you shot, Cliff?'

  'Not many lately and I'm not anxious to add to the tally. The paperwork's horrendous.'

  'You're trying to impress me with your toughness.'

  'Right. And myself.'

  We drove on in silence for a while and reached the main road. She made the turn and pulled over. 'Now what?' she said.

  'My guess is he'll hang around and then probably send someone to keep an eye on the place. You can't go back for a bit.'

  'Great. I've got a living to earn. I've got jobs on hand and a class on Tuesday.'

  'Well, that gives us a couple of days. I think you ought to meet up with Lou Kramer and talk a few things through.'

  'Like where Sam is?'

  'And money to help Billie.'

  'Shove over.' She got out and went around to the passenger side. I slid across as she got in, scrabbling in her shoulder bag. She pulled out her wallet.

  'I've got twenty-three dollars in cash and about another sixty in my keycard account. That's it. My Mastercard's at its limit. How'm I going to get by? I've got no clothes… no…'

  The adrenalin fuelling her through the confrontation with Manuma and the helter-skelter drive had ebbed away. She let her head drop back and her body sag.

  I reached over and put my hand gently on her shoulder. 'You can stay at my place. Lou Kramer's pretty much your size. I'll ask her to bring some clothes. And you can phone your kid and tell her what you need to.'

  'Okay,' she said. 'Okay. You win.'

  But it didn't feel anything like a win. Not yet, not by a long stretch.

  I took it easy on the drive back to Sydney to give Sharon time to adjust to what was happening. She looked disconsolate for a while but brightened up when we got closer in.

  'I used to love this place,' she said, 'the people, the energy, the pubs…'

  'I still do.'

  'It's different for men. When a woman reaches a certain ^a g ^e..'

  'Come on, that's old-style thinking. Anyway, the thing about Sydney is you can be what you want to be. Young and sensible, old and silly-you'll find somewhere it's acceptable.'

  'You really believe that?'

  'I do.'

  'First I've heard of it. Well, I prefer the country now- the quiet, the routines, the trees and everything.'

  I nodded and kept driving. She was well on the way to being her balanced self and she was going to need to be to cope with what was coming. The painkillers had worn off and I was feeling the odd stab around the eye. I must've reacted.

  'What's wrong?'

  'Bloody eye hurts a bit still.'

  'Did this Clement do that?'

  'Not him. One of his helpers.'

  'And you'd like to meet up with him again?'

  'Under the right circumstances.'

  'What would they be?'

  'When the eye doesn't hurt. But the point is there's something big at stake here. I don't know what it is, but Lou Kramer and Billie and Sam and me and now you, possibly, are all caught up in it.'

  'I've been doing some thinking. Maybe Billie's safest where she is with the Bible-bashers, and Sam the same.'

  'Maybe. But d'you think cold turkey and Jesus are really going to work with Billie?'

  'No, but it could be a toss-up between that and millionaires who have thugs to bash people.'

  'Hmm. Let's at least hear what Lou Kramer has to say. Here's Glebe Point Road. Almost home.'

  I drove past my house a couple of times, checking the street for anything out of the ordinary. Sharon looked puzzled.

  'What're you doing?'

  'Just being careful.'

  A while ago I installed an alarm, and security doors front and back and on the windows. Hated to do it and resented the expense, but a break-in and a nasty encounter with an aggrieved client had made it necessary. I did the unlocking and deactivated the alarm.

  Sharon took a look at the two rooms off the passage, glanced up the stairs with its faded runner and two uprights missing on the rail, and went through to the kitchen- renovated in the sixties, but not since.

  'Good place,' she said. 'Worth a bit.' 'Bought for a song when Glebe was still Glebe. Have a seat. D'you want coffee or a drink?' 'I want a sleep.'

  'Upstairs, at the back. Titchy bathroom next door. Should be a towel in it. I mostly use the one down here.' She smiled. 'Titchy?'

  'When I was young, little things were called titchy. Small blokes were always Titch.'

  'You probably talked about bodgies and widgies.' 'That was more a Melbourne thing, I think.' I got her a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. 'These're for the head. Get it down and then we'll have a talk before I contact Lou.'

  She nodded and went up the stairs, dragging her feet. I heard the shower running and then the spare room door close. Cliff the Good Samaritan needed some more Panadeine Forte and a drink.

  I did my thing with the names and the circles and squares and connecting arrows and dotted lines in my notebook, while I washed down the tablets with a big glass of cask red. The day had given me quite a few more entries to make. I put a big question mark alongside my note on Mr X and his Beemer's registration number and knew that there at least I was on track to learn something. The day cooled down the way it does at this time of year; I found a clean flannel shirt and hung it on the knob of the spare room door. 'No, no, no.'

  She was moaning in her sleep. Sharon was obviously in better mental and physical condition than her sister, but we all have our demons. I left my mobile switched off and in the car. I'd talk to Lou Kramer when Sharon and I were ready. I was awaiting the bank notice about the dishonoured cheque. Bound to come. Re-present and wait how long? I wasn't prepared to give my client quite everything I knew or suspected just yet. As I'd said to Sharon-call me careful.

  I went out to the
car and retrieved my mobile and the pistol. I was about to turn the mobile on when the phone in the house rang. The machine picked up.

  'Hardy, where the hell are you? What's going on? I-'

  I grabbed the phone. 'Take it easy, Lou. I'm here. Everything's more or less under control.'

  'Says you. That woman who rang me. What're you playing at? I've been trying your mobile for hours ever since.'

  'As she told you, she's Billie Marchant's sister. Hang on.'

  I went to the stairs and listened but heard nothing.

  'What now?' Lou snapped when I got back on the line.

  'I've got her with me here. We've had developments. I found Billie.'

  'Great. Where is she?'

  'Still where I found her. Listen, Lou, it's all a bit tricky. But the sister knows where Billie's son is and she's halfway to helping us get hold of Billie. So calm down.'

  'All right, all right. But you know how important talking to Billie is to me.'

  Me, me, me, I thought. I said, 'To you, yeah. But Billie's strung out and with some dangerous and strange people and there's the kid's safety to consider.'

  I could sense her fighting for control, trying to keep the aggression and impatience out of her tone. 'You're calling the shots,' she said.

  'Sort of. I want you to come to my place tonight and talk things over with Sharon. She's about your size and she needs some clothes, something functional-jeans, a blouse, a jacket, sandals, like that.'

  Lou laughed. 'She's naked? Hardy, you devil.'

  I let her have that one. 'And some money.'

  'Shit. How much?'

  'Say a hundred bucks.'

  'All right, you had me worried for a minute.'

  'The subject'll come up again, I guarantee. And one more thing, Lou-don't tell anyone about this, and I mean anyone. Okay?'

  'Sure, but how about you give her the hundred and put it on your account. I don't think you've knocked down that retainer yet.'

  'The cheque hasn't been honoured yet.'

  'It will be. What's the address and what time do you want me there?'

  I looked at my watch. 'About seven. We'll be having a curry. D'you like curry?'

  'No,' she said and hung up.

  Despite myself, the election talk was sucking me in. The opposition was promising free health care for citizens over seventy-five. Not yet. The government wanted to make it easier for small business to sack people and was swearing to keep interest rates low. No appeal for me there. If small business had its way they'd be putting people on and laying them off as it suited them, and devil take the hindmost. And I didn't have a mortgage any longer.

  A while back I'd helped a lawyer who was trying to get a refugee out of a detention centre. Didn't happen. The detention centres hadn't rated a mention so far to my knowledge. I couldn't think of a single reason to vote for either of the major parties. The Greens in the Senate, maybe, to keep the bastards honest, the way the Democrats hadn't.

  10

  Sharon got up and heard me working on the computer in the room next to where she'd slept. She came in wearing my flannie.

  'What're you doing?'

  'Just seeing what I can find on Clement.'

  'Much?'

  'Too much and probably all bullshit. I looked up that community protection mob as well. All very churchy, but there was a bloke mentioned as a counsellor that I've heard of, a Maori.' 'And?'

  'Used to be standover man working for a fight promoter.'

  'He probably got born again.'

  'Yeah, in his case it wouldn't hurt. How're you feeling?'

  She fingered the shirt which came down to her knees. 'This's more like me. Wouldn't go with the sandals though.'

  I told her Lou Kramer was coming over with some clothes and to have a talk.

  'You said we could discuss that first.'

  'I know. Sorry. She called and there wasn't any other way to handle it.'

  She wasn't happy but she let it go. She called her daughter and told her she was in the city for a day or two with a friend. She grinned as she listened.

  'Behave yourself. Listen, darling, my car's parked at the pub. Could you get Craig to run you out there and pick it up? You've got a key. You could hang on to it for me for a couple of days… In your dreams. Thanks, love. Bye.'

  She hung up. The conversation had improved her mood. 'She worries about my love life, or lack of one.'

  'Sounds as if you get along well.'

  'We do.' I'd taken another glass of red up to the computer with me and she looked at it. 'I could go some of that now.'

  'Do you like curry?'

  'Love it. Take out, right? I looked around your kitchen and didn't see any cumin and coriander.'

  'That's right. When I curry something, mostly sausages, I do it with the help of Clive of India.'

  'Yuk. Well, if you had the fixings I'd offer to make it, but you don't and I don't reckon I'm quite up to cooking just now. I can, though.'

  'That's okay. You've had a hard day and there's a very good place up the street.'

  I went out on foot to the Taste of India. A little light rain had fallen, laying the dust and setting free the scents from the gardens. When I first got to Glebe the small spaces in front of most of the terraces were filled with weeds, rubbish, and supermarket trolleys. Now they sprouted well-tended native gardens, and the old, rusted, gap-toothed wrought iron fences had been replaced by intact modern versions of the same thing. The security doors and window bars were another innovation.

  We had the food spread out in its containers on the eating bench in the kitchen by seven o'clock. We were both hungry and got straight into it. We ate and drank in silence for a while.

  'No woman, Cliff?' Sharon said as she took a pause.

  'Not as of now.'

  'Why's that?'

  'They don't stick around, or I don't, or both.'

  'Can't commit?'

  I forked in some rogan josh and chewed on it. 'Maybe,' I said, 'but it's more than that. It's to do with the work. If you'd lived in Canberra, say, that's where I'd be tonight. Anyone living with me'd be on their own a good bit of the time. Hard to plan a night out.'

  'Let alone a family.'

  'Let alone.'

  'So, no kids?'

  'I've got a daughter I didn't know about until she was grown up. For one reason or another her mother didn't let on to me. I see her from time to time now but that's about it. I'm glad she's there and doing okay, but I can't claim any credit for it.'

  'I can claim it for mine.'

  'You're lucky.'

  She ate a few mouthfuls, then shook her head. 'Has to be more to it than that. These days there's lots of professional women leading busy lives, working odd hours. They don't require their blokes to be home by six for tea. And there's more to you than you say. I've had a look at your books.'

  'I suppose so. But when I'm working, and that's pretty much all the time to make a living, I get very preoccupied. Nothing much left over.'

  'Are you happy about it?'

  Before I could answer the doorbell rang.

  'That'll be Lou.'

  'What's she like?'

  'Tricky.'

  Lou trooped in wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and a denim jacket. She carried an overnight bag, her backpack and a bottle of white wine. I introduced the two and Lou handed over the bag. 'Some clothes as requested. Hope they're your size.'

  'Thanks,' Sharon said, 'I'll get them back to you soon as.'

  'I can make you a sandwich, Lou.'

  She shook her head and smiled. 'I was just pissed off with you. I like curry. Got enough?'

  We finished the food down to the last grain of rice and scrap of pappadum. Sharon had had a glass of red and accepted a small one of Lou's white. I poured myself a bigger one. Lou said she'd wait for coffee. 'I've still got work to do tonight. Can we get down to it?'

  We sat around the low table in the living room and I ran quickly through the events of the day. The two women eyed each other o
ff in a way that didn't fill me with optimism. A mutual dislike was immediately apparent.

  'My sister's in a very bad way,' Sharon said. 'I reckon her physical and mental health are in danger and I'd like to get her away.'

  'Understood,' Lou said, 'and you think your knowing where the kid is gives you some leverage.'

  'I wouldn't put it quite like that.'

  'How would you… never mind. Why can't we just get some sort of court order? Have the cops take her away?'

  'I don't think it'd be quite that easy, Lou,' I said. 'You'd have to give some sort of notice of the proceedings and the people she's with would probably just move her. From what I can gather there's a sort of vigilante network out there. They'd probably know as soon as some outside cops or social workers got anywhere near the place.'

  Lou drank her coffee in a couple of gulps and I topped her up. 'Okay,' she said. 'You mentioned money on the phone, Cliff. What's on your mind?'

  'If we can get Billie away there's going to have to be money to take care of her-doctors, detox, rehab-all that.'

  'How much?'

  Sharon almost snapped to attention. 'I know what's on your mind, Ms Kramer. You're thinking I'm in this to do myself some good.'

  Lou shrugged. 'You said it, not me.'

  'Shit,' Sharon said. She went out to the kitchen and I heard the cork coming out of the bottle.

  'Flaky, like her sister,' Lou murmured.

  'Take it easy. She's your only avenue to Billie.'

  Sharon came back in and stood behind her chair. 'I don't know about this, Cliff.'

  'I was hasty,' Lou said. 'I'm sure I can organise some money. Would twenty thousand do it?'

  I tried not to react too obviously. I had no idea how much Lou's advance had been, but the fact that she was still working at the paper suggested it wasn't a lot. How would she lay her hands on twenty grand? The only answer I could think of was Mr X, and that gave me something else to worry about.

  Lou had turned on the charm as she spoke, something some people can do at will. She smiled, repeated her apology to Sharon and sucked her in, at least for the moment.

  Sharon said, 'That amount would probably do, but I still don't know how to get Billie away. I mean, if there was some way I could tell her about the help we can offer and that she could see Sam, she'd probably cooperate. But how?'