by Peter Corris
If contact with me had brought about Pete’s death, although I couldn’t see how, I was sorry. And I was sorry to lose Marisha’s confidence. But sorrow doesn’t solve problems. The only thing to do was return to Bathurst. Just possibly, Twizell might give me something to deflect the Tanners.
I did the drive in a sombre mood and I did it reinforced by the blues. I checked back into the same motel. Same room even. I was distributing things about when there was a sharp knock on the door.
I was back in hostile territory so I’d brought the .38 in from the car. I put it within arm’s reach behind a curtain and opened the door. A tall woman wearing a leather coat stood there with her fist raised to knock again.
‘Cliff Hardy?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Kristie Tanner. I have to talk to you.’
I stepped back and motioned for her to come in. The butt of the pistol was sticking out from under the curtain. She noticed.
‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘you’re jumpy.’
‘Yeah, thanks to a meeting with your brothers.’
‘I know about that. Roger told me.’
I pulled out a chair for her. ‘Roger?’
She unbelted and took off her coat. She wore a dark blue dress, short and tight on her generous figure. She was well above average height but her very high heels made her look even taller. Her features were good but they had a slightly heavy, mannish quality. Her hair was brown and short; she wore a lot of makeup, skilfully applied. She moved purposefully, a bit like brother Joseph, as she dropped the coat over the back of the chair and sat.
‘Roger Tarrant, he . . . drives for Hector.’
I shoved the pistol into my overnight bag. ‘Oh, Rog. Yes, I’ve met him.’
‘He said you broke two of Clem’s ribs.’
‘Two, was it? I was worried it was only one.’ I rubbed the arm where Rog had hit me. ‘I owe him something too.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘He’s a dangerous man. Anyway, he’s on your side.’
I sat on the bed. ‘I’m feeling pretty dangerous myself just now, but I don’t understand. You’d better explain.’
‘Did you go to see Johnnie about the cave?’
‘What cave? And that’s a question, not an explanation.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Johnnie’s a caver, or he was. He says he found a lot of money, all vacuum-wrapped and sealed. Close to a couple of million, he reckoned. This was in a deep cave. He didn’t say where.’
My scepticism must have shown.
‘It’s true. He says he moved it to another cave while he thought what to do. The trouble was, as he was coming back up the cave roof fell in and he was lucky to get out alive. He broke an arm and a leg and hurt his back. He was in hospital for months. That’s where I met him. I was visiting a friend. I knew we were related from his name—second cousins or something. Tanners and Twizells, all part of the same mob.
‘And he told you this story?’
She nodded. ‘Bit by bit. We started a relationship, hands under the bedcovers, screen around the bed when he got more mobile. Like that. Eventually he told me he needed help to get the money out. He knew about my family and he said he needed people like Hec and Joseph. The money was probably stolen; the cave was on private property. He needed equipment after it collapsed and the cooperation of the owner of the land, who mightn’t want to cooperate. You understand?’
‘He thought Hec and Joseph’d be good persuaders?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, what went wrong?’
She sighed. ‘Got anything to drink here?’
I opened the mini-bar. She opted for vodka with ice—a true Tanner. I had a light beer.
‘My bloody brothers,’ she said. ‘They’re greedy bastards. They decided that if they knew where the cave was they didn’t need Johnnie. Joseph would’ve tortured him but Hec wouldn’t go that far, partly out of consideration for me, I think. Hec got hold of some drug that makes you tell the truth. They got Johnnie high on booze and pills and shot him up with this stuff.’
She took a big slug of her drink and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she spoke again it wasn’t much above a whisper, as if the memory had constricted her throat. ‘Johnnie went right off his head. That’s when he attacked me and nearly killed me. He was delusional, I know that. It really wasn’t his fault, not altogether. Anyway, he was yelling and I was screaming and Joseph and Hector were yelling and there was blood everywhere. A neighbour called the police and they took Johnnie away.’
I’d put most of the little bottle of vodka in her glass. She reached for the bottle, added the rest and knocked it back.
‘Johnnie punched me and kicked me and managed to use a knife before Joseph got him off me. They rebuilt my face but I’m not as good-looking as I was. They made me look like a transsexual. A lawyer told me I should sue, but I’d had enough of lawyers and doctors by then. As for the rest of me, want to see the scars?’
‘You hushed all this up at the trial? About the drugs? He could’ve got off on diminished responsibility, or at least a lighter sentence.’
‘Yeah, and that would’ve been the end of the money, wouldn’t it? Johnnie was prepared to do the time. He’d been inside before. He could hack it.’
‘And your brothers were willing to wait?’
‘They had no choice. But Johnnie let them know they were out of the picture and they’re not prepared to accept it. That’s why they put the pressure on you to deliver a message to Johnnie he might believe. But you haven’t done it yet, have you?’
‘No. I’m seeing him again tomorrow.’
‘Will you deliver the message?’
10
Call me self-interested, but my first thought was that this gave me something to work with against the Tanner brothers. The mention of Megan and the sly placement of the coke had pissed me off and countering the threat had become my first priority. But I was still working for a client and I next had to consider how this affected Wakefield’s approach to Twizell. I played for time.
I said, ‘I thought cavers always worked in pairs.’
‘They do. That’s another bit of the . . . hassle. Johnnie said he went down with a young Pommy backpacker he ran into at a pub. The Pom said he’d done a lot of caving at home and was keen to have a go here. Johnnie said this bloke helped him move the money but apparently he was caught when the cave roof fell in. He’s still in there, buried. That’s another reason they needed Hec and Joseph—to deal with the body.’
‘Are they good at that, too?’
Since she’d described the matter of disposing of a body as nothing more than a hassle, I wasn’t surprised at her reply. ‘I think they’ve had some experience.’
‘It’s all very interesting,’ I said. ‘Not sure I believe it, but you seem to. All I can tell you is that it’s the first I’ve heard of hidden money. My business with Twizell relates to something else entirely.’
‘Which you won’t tell me about.’
I shrugged. ‘No, and no need. Nothing remotely to do with what you’ve told me, but I’m left with a question.’
She was playing with her empty glass, moving it from hand to hand. ‘What question?’
‘Suppose I was concerned about hidden money, what was the point of you coming to me?’
‘You’re supposed to tell Johnnie bygones are bygones and that they’ll help him in return for a share of the money.’
‘They didn’t spell it out quite that clearly, but I suppose that’s what they had in mind, once I’d convinced Twizell they were dinkum.’
‘I want to ask you to tell him the opposite—that they’d rip him right off.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want them to have the money.’
I was getting tired of the question/answer format. ‘Because you want it—you and Rog, say?’
‘Forget it.’ She grabbed her coat and took two steps towards the door before I grabbed her.
‘Better let me go,’ she sa
id. ‘Roger’s just outside.’
‘Let’s have him in.’ I grabbed the .38 and threw the door open. He stood there, big and dark, tense, but not alarmed by the gun. ‘Come in, Rog. We’ve got things to talk about.’
He ignored that. ‘You all right, Kris?’
She retreated back into the room. ‘Yeah, he’s an arsehole but he didn’t hurt me.’
He nodded and came in, shutting the door behind him. His composure threw me a little. I let the hand holding the gun drop to my side but brought it up as he opened his leather jacket.
‘Easy,’ he said. ‘I’m not armed. Rod Templeton, Central Coast Serious Crimes, undercover.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘It’s true,’ Kristine Tanner said.
‘He’s convinced you. Let’s see him convince me.’
‘I can give you some names and numbers.’
‘Okay.’
He rattled off three names. One I knew, Ted Power; he’d worked with Frank Parker, my friend who’d retired as a deputy commissioner of police a few years ago. I knew Power had worked undercover in his time and was very likely to be in a supervisory role in that shadowy world now.
I put the .38 on top of the TV. ‘I’ll check with Ted later. Might as well hear your story now, for what it’s worth.’
‘You won’t believe him,’ Kristine Tanner said.
‘I might. We’ll see. At least I’m willing to listen. Sit down, Ms Tanner, and Rog . . . or Rod, why don’t you bring a chair in from outside.’
He knew I was testing him all the way—provisional about believing him and giving him instructions. He handled it well, shot a quick nod to the woman, opened the door, grabbed a plastic chair and brought it in.
I opened the mini-bar and offered one of the little bottles of gin to Kristine, who glanced at her companion and shook her head. I tossed a can of VB to him and picked up my can.
‘Let’s hear it,’ I said.
It wasn’t surprising to learn that the Tanners were a major preoccupation of the Central Coast Serious Crimes unit. The father and sons and several cousins were involved in much of the criminal activity over a wide area stretching up towards the Northern Rivers district, west to Orange and south towards Sydney. They were into drug importation and distribution, armed holdup, protection rackets and a lot more. In fact the criminality had extended back two generations and, while several members of the extended family had served gaol sentences, the Tanners had enjoyed what looked like a charmed life.
‘Mainly due to police corruption,’ Templeton said. ‘But that’s changed lately and they’re under pressure. And when crims come under pressure things tend to happen. You can’t provide something, you can’t protect someone, you can’t settle a dispute. Cracks appear. You’d be aware of that, Hardy.’
I was, and with every word he spoke I was more convinced he was the genuine article.
Templeton went on, ‘Hector and Joseph are in trouble. There’s no green light, not even yellow, and funds are drying up. They badly need that buried money.’
‘What about Jobe?’ I said.
Kristine said, ‘That’s part of what’s happening. Dad’s old and he’s got religion. He was baptised a Catholic and it’s sort of come back to nag at him.’
I finished my beer. ‘Bit late from what I’m told and from what I’ve just heard.’
She looked distressed, almost out of her depth. ‘Catholics can be forgiven.’
‘Jobe knows the old days are gone,’ Templeton said. ‘Hector and Joseph, him particularly, either can’t see it or don’t want to. Jobe’s trying to ease out of all the crooked connections—the drugs, the payoffs, the money-laundering scams through the clubs. He’s trying to keep himself out of gaol and protect Kristie and save Hector and Joseph from themselves.’
‘Big ask,’ I said.
Templeton hadn’t opened his can. He put it on the floor. ‘When I said cracks are appearing, I meant it. It was much too easy for me to get on the strength with them. I had the mocked-up credentials all right, but if they’d really checked properly they’d have backed off.’
‘Still might,’ I said.
Kristine looked alarmed but Templeton shook his head. ‘No, they’re feeling the heat. A few of their heavies have sloped off to other parts.’
I rubbed the arm where he’d hit me. ‘You’re convincing.’
‘I had to let them make the play.’
‘So what do you want me to do? Always supposing I believe all of this.’
Kristine looked tired and stressed. ‘Like I said, don’t tell bloody Johnnie that Hector and Joseph are on his side.’
Templeton shook his head. ‘This is where Kristie and I think differently.’
‘What is it between you two?’
Kristine’s attitude to him, in her looks and body language, which had been wholly supportive, was now half accusatory, half submissive.
Templeton clasped and unclasped his big hands. ‘Look, Kristie came to us with the story, about Twizell and the money and everything. It made sense.’
‘So the money’s real?’
‘We think it is.’
‘You think.’
‘There’s been a rumour around for a while that a big shipment of cash being sent from a finance company to who knows where went missing. The word is that it was an inside job and the security firm hushed everything up and wore it, because they had a huge contract about to come their way and didn’t want any black marks on their record.’
‘What about the people who took the money?’
Templeton shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’
They hadn’t answered my question about their relationship but it wasn’t too hard to work out by this point. The undercover guy and the informant fall in love. It happens.
‘So,’ I said, looking at Templeton, ‘what do you want me to do?’
‘Go along with what Hector’s asking you to do.’
They’d obviously had this out before because Kristine’s voice was resigned. ‘If Hec and Joseph get their hands on that money they’ll bugger up everything Dad’s trying to do. They’ll finance a bloody crime wave.’
‘You know Twizell’s got a parole hearing next week?’
Kristine looked alarmed. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’
‘He won’t pass it,’ Templeton said. ‘They never get anything out of the first hearing and we can delay the next one if we have to.’
Well, I knew something he didn’t know.
Templeton went on, ‘We won’t let them do what Kristie says. They’ve already started to borrow money and make promises to people you don’t break promises to. If they think they’re close to getting the money, they’ll get themselves in deeper. When they don’t get it, and everyone knows they haven’t got it, they’ll be finished.’
‘Ms Tanner,’ I said, ‘have you got a deal with the police about your father?’
‘She has,’ Templeton said.
I looked at Kristine. She nodded. ‘Rod’s way’s safer for Dad and for me.’
Templeton picked up his beer can and lifted the tab. ‘It’s safer all round.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I said. ‘From what I’ve seen of undercover cops they don’t always know themselves what side they’re on.’
‘I know,’ Templeton said.
11
Templeton explained that the way the brothers had taken him on as a driver-cum-heavy indicated how much pressure they were under. He said the police had arrested the man they were using and it hadn’t taken long for Templeton, hanging around with attitude and a fake criminal record, to be recruited.
‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ I said, ‘you and Ms Tanner.’
‘Stop calling me Ms Tanner, for God’s sake. Makes me sound like some old maid.’
‘We know that,’ Templeton said, ‘but if things work out right . . .’
I couldn’t see it happening but hope has its place. The Twizell case had never seemed completely straightforward and now there were a lo
t of balls in the air, perhaps too many. But I couldn’t back out. The Tanner threat was real enough. Going along with them would put that on hold for now and was worth doing on that account. And I still had work to do to earn my fee from Wakefield. I said I’d think it over and let them know. Templeton helped Kristine into her coat and we all exchanged mobile numbers.
‘By the way,’ I said, ‘do either of you know anything about a private detective named Pete McKnight being killed in Newcastle last night?’
‘Heard it on the news,’ Templeton said. ‘I don’t know anything more. I could keep my ears open. Friend of yours?’
‘No, a friend of Kristine’s brothers, or at least working with them.’
‘They don’t have any friends,’ Kristine said. ‘Just each other, and not always that.’
They left. I heard two engines start. At least they weren’t travelling around together. From what I’d heard about the Tanners having eyes and ears far and wide, that would’ve been fatal. Dangerous enough as it was, but perhaps less so if the Tanner influence was waning. Templeton struck me as knowing what he was doing, but love is blind. Was he in love?
I tidied up a bit and was getting ready to go to bed when my mobile rang.
‘Mr Hardy, this is Courtenay Braithwaite. Your client, Professor Wakefield, has asked me to make some recommendations to Corrective Services about Twizell.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m inclined to do it. I didn’t tell you, but I always felt there was something odd about the whole matter.’
‘Odd?’
‘As if the whole story hadn’t been told.’
‘Is it ever?’
‘Sometimes. Anyway, you can tell Twizell I’ll do what I can.’
‘What does that mean,’ Twizell said, ‘he’ll do what he can?’
‘I don’t know—talk to the right people, email them . . . Are you behaving yourself these days?’
‘I’m a fucking choirboy.’ He laughed. ‘Hey, you know what I mean.’
It was the first sign of humour I’d seen from him. The little hint of good news seemed to have improved his mood out of all proportion. It’s like that in prison, no matter how long or short the sentence—you inflate the smallest flicker of hope, particularly if it carries the promise of getting out.