Dunbar Case

by Peter Corris

  ‘Concierge.’

  ‘Mr Twizell, please. Flat ten.’

  ‘Apartment. Just a minute, sir.’

  Sir waited impatiently. When the concierge came back on the line she sounded apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, sir. The number doesn’t answer. I know Mr Twizell is in because he had a visitor a short time ago.’

  ‘Male or female?’ I gave it a conspiratorial tone to which she didn’t respond. ‘Male.’

  ‘What floor’s Mr Twizell’s on?’

  ‘He’s on the top floor. Is there anything wrong?’

  ‘No,’ I said, thinking, yes!

  Back to Mayfield under a leaden sky. I used the GPS to guide me and found the Mayfield Apartments to be a three-level modern block packed onto a tight bleak cul-de-sac. There were spaces for cars but I wouldn’t have wanted to manoeuvre the Falcon into any one of them. The apartments had to be one-bedroom jobs with everything miniaturised that could be. The only thing generous about the set-up was the size of the rubber-tree plants in the tiny garden.

  The concierge sat at a small desk in a small tiled lobby. She was thirtyish with a neat, efficient-looking appearance. She glanced up from the computer keyboard she’d been tapping.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I rang a little while back for Mr Twizell. Would you try him again, please?’

  She frowned, worried, and hit a button on her phone. I could hear the ringing.

  ‘No answer,’ she said.

  ‘Did he leave a mobile number with you?’

  ‘I wasn’t here when he arrived.’

  ‘Please look. It’s important.’

  She tapped some keys, found a number and rang it. ‘No answer again,’ she said. ‘What’s the problem?’

  I headed towards the lift.

  ‘You can’t just go up. I’m supposed to notify the residents.’

  ‘You tried,’ I said.

  I rode the lift to the top floor and got out into a narrow carpeted area. Three apartments up here, with number ten at the front. The lift door closed noisily behind me and the door to apartment ten opened. Hector Tanner stepped out. He was immaculate in a suit and tie as before but this time he was carrying a pistol fitted with a silencer. He pointed the gun at my chest.

  ‘Saw you from the window, Hardy. A pleasure to meet you again.’ He gestured with the pistol. ‘Step inside.’

  17

  I walked down a short passage to a living room with windows that looked out to the street. Twizell was sitting in the middle of the room on a chair, with his arms drawn back; both his feet were pinioned to the chair legs by plastic restraints. He was wearing an old dressing gown and looked very vulnerable and afraid. He evidently hadn’t had time for a shower since getting back because his scratches were still untreated. He had a black eye and his mouth was puffy with a split upper lip.

  Hector pointed to a chair drawn up to the table. ‘Sit over there, Hardy, and sit very still. Johnnie and I have been having a little talk.’

  I wasn’t too worried about Hector’s gun. I had my .38 stuck in the waistband of my pants in the small of my back under my shirt-tail. I thought I could distract Hector long enough to get it out and make matters even. ‘He goes by Jack now,’ I said.

  ‘So he tells me, but I think I’ll stick with Johnnie. That’s how I knew him when he came to us with a very interesting proposition. That’s before he nearly killed my sister.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘after you’d filled him full of some kind of truth drug.’

  ‘True, but he was on something already and the combination did the damage, so it was partly his fault.’

  That was interesting. Hector looked to be one of those people who didn’t take the blame for anything. A weakness.

  I relaxed in the chair and scratched my chin. Best to keep moving in small ways as a preliminary to a big move.

  ‘Why’d you go into hiding, Hec? I wouldn’t have thought the cops would have much on a cautious man like you.’

  ‘I didn’t go into hiding. I just happen to have a few places to stay that nobody knows about.’

  ‘So you’ll show up at your father’s funeral tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll have to think about that.’

  ‘But you’ll be there in spirit. I wonder if they’ll let Joseph out to attend?’

  ‘Shut up. I’m grateful to you for getting Johnnie out early. Now you can help me persuade him to tell me where the money is.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Jack,’ I said. ‘The Tanner mob is finished. They’re in debt all over the place and with Jobe and Joseph out of action Hector’s fucked. He needs the money worse than you do.’

  ‘He doesn’t have a choice,’ Hector said. ‘I’ve sent Clem for some bolt-cutters. Persuaders, you might call them. You remember Clem, Hardy. He’ll be happy to see you.’

  That changed things. I could imagine Clem’s enjoyment at the situation. It was time.

  ‘Better tell him then, Jack,’ I said.

  Twizell’s head had been slumped on his chest. He jerked up and shouted, ‘Whose side are you on, you—’

  Hector focused on him for long enough. I was out of the chair and had my gun free in one movement. Hector swung back towards me but too late. I smashed down on his gun hand with mine; his fingers opened and he dropped the gun. I put the .38 to his temple.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ he said.

  ‘You’re right.’ I moved my hand away, changed my grip and brought the gun butt sharply back against the side of his head. On the button, as the boxers say. His eyes rolled up and he fell hard.

  ‘Jesus, Hardy, thanks.’

  I had my Swiss army knife sawing at the plastic restraints before the words were out of his mouth.

  ‘Get dressed quickly and collect up anything you need. We have to get out of here. The guy he mentioned, Clem, is bad news and he has a big-time grudge against me.’

  Twizell looked as though he’d like to kick Hector but his bare feet wouldn’t do much damage. ‘Can’t you handle him?’

  ‘Get moving! He’s a big bastard. If he came at me with a set of bolt-cutters I might have to shoot him and I don’t want to do that on your account.’

  Twizell got the point. The last thing a recently released parolee needed was to be involved in a shooting. He bolted into the bedroom and I heard him opening and closing drawers and cupboards. He came out dressed in his suit and carrying a bulging overnight bag.

  Hector hadn’t moved. I checked his pulse; it was strong and his breathing was regular. I picked up his gun, a Beretta automatic, and stuffed it inside my shirt.

  ‘Let’s go! Leave the door open.’

  We went down in the lift past the startled concierge. Big Clem was coming up the path carrying a Mitre 10 shopping bag. It seemed like a silly thing to do but I pulled out both pistols and pointed them at him. ‘Go up and see your boss. He needs help.’

  He gaped, recovered fast and reached into the bag but we were past him by then and running for my car. I had a quick look back as I started the motor. He stood in the middle of the path holding a pair of large bolt-cutters with blue blades and red handles.

  Twizell saw him, too. ‘Jesus Christ, he’d only have to have taken those things out of the bag and I’d . . .’

  We got moving. ‘Don’t think about it. Do you have anywhere else to go for a while?’

  ‘No. What about my car?’

  ‘If they know what it is, Clem’s likely to go to work on it with the bolt-cutters.’

  ‘They don’t know.’

  ‘Okay. You can come to my motel and fix yourself up a bit. Then we can go back and get your car. Hector’ll have another shot at you.’

  ‘I owe you, Hardy.’

  ‘Blood oath you do, and you can pay me back by finding Kristie.’

  I figured protecting Twizell was a justifiable expense, so I booked him into the room next to mine in the motel. He took some time to get himself cleaned up and composed. When he knocked on my door he looked presentable. He’d showered, washed and combed his hair
, and the scratches on his face had stopped bleeding. I could smell whisky on his breath. I had the feeling that Jack Twizell was looking to hitch a ride with me for as far as he could. Maybe even as far as the money.

  I drove back to Mayfield for his car. Twizell was quiet.

  ‘What’s the matter, Jack?’

  ‘Just thinking.’

  ‘About the buried money?’

  ‘Kristie told you, did she?’

  ‘Yeah, you’ve got a problem there you might not know about.’

  ‘I’ve got enough to be going on with, but you’d better tell me.’

  Without naming her, I told him about Marisha’s book and the possibility that information about his hiding of the money was more widespread than he realised. Templeton was in the know as well, but I didn’t mention him. No telling who he might or might not have told.

  ‘So?’ Twizell said.

  ‘Could be pretty hard people, the ones who stole the money in the first place. They wouldn’t have been happy when they found it wasn’t where they left it.’

  ‘Tough.’

  ‘Probably kept their ears open for information.’

  ‘I’ve thought about it.’

  ‘Have you thought about why it was hidden at all?’

  ‘Of course. The serial numbers were on record.’

  ‘But you were willing to go for it straight away. How come? I’m asking just out of professional interest; I couldn’t care less whether you get the money or not. Finance companies are just corporate thieves as far as I’m concerned.’

  He laughed. ‘Got a mortgage, have you? Well, that’s one of the reasons I went to the Tanners. They’ve got connections to launder the dough—sell it at a discount maybe. I’d still have come out with a lot if they hadn’t got greedy.’

  ‘What’s your move now?’

  I caught his sidelong glance. ‘Look, Cliff, I said I owe you and I do, but that doesn’t mean I totally believe what you say about the money and finance companies, or that I totally trust you.’

  I shrugged. ‘Believe what you like. All I’ve got is a mild professional interest in that stuff.’

  He didn’t reply. We were in Mayfield close to the apartment building. I circled the block a couple of times.

  Twizell was alert, checking everything. ‘I’ll answer one of your questions. It’s the time-lapse factor. The security company had the numbers but they’d replaced the money with cash of their own. They didn’t give a shit about the numbers. The guys that lifted it must’ve just waited a while to see how things broke. Didn’t look as if it’d been there very long. The money’d still have to be managed, but no one’s looking out for it.’

  For the second time I realised he was smarter than people gave him credit for.

  ‘Except the ones who stole it and, as I say, word might be getting around.’

  ‘Negotiable,’ he said. ‘Looks all clear here. I’m going for the car.’

  I gunned the motor and shot away.

  ‘Hey! My car!’

  ‘Didn’t you say you had to check in with the police?’

  ‘Yes. Next stop.’

  ‘No car, no check-in until you take me to Kristie.’

  18

  It felt good to be taking some decisive action instead of just reacting to things as they came up. Tight-lipped, I drove a couple of kilometres making turns at random. When I stopped I had no idea where we were. I turned to Twizell.

  ‘Time to stop pissing around, Jack. You put me in touch with Kristie or I drop you here and check you out of the motel. You can swing in the breeze with Hector and Clem and the guys who stole the money after you.’

  He checked his watch. ‘I’m supposed to see my parole officer in half an hour and check in with the police straight after.’

  ‘You’ll make it if we have an agreement, otherwise I’ll keep you here and you’ll be fucked. Want to add the cops to the list?’

  ‘Okay, okay. As soon as you get me back to my car and I get through the appointments I’ll try to take you to her.’

  ‘No way. You’re without wheels until the moment I see her.’

  ‘Jesus, Hardy. I said I’d try.’

  ‘Try hard,’ I said. ‘Try very hard.’

  I drove back into the city and waited in the soulless building that housed people in what Wakefield had called the custodial industry, while Twizell saw the parole officer. He was in and out very quickly.

  ‘Did he ask about your scratches?’ I said.

  ‘She. No, she hardly gave me the time of day. I don’t think she liked me.’

  We walked two blocks to the police station and I sat on a bus stop seat outside while he went in. I reflected that I’d broken my undertaking to Kerry Watson to tell him if I ran into Hector Tanner, but the circumstances were against it. Tanner said he had places to go that nobody except him knew so there wasn’t much point in telling Watson about the encounter now. Next time, maybe.

  It was late in the afternoon when Twizell came out of the police station.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Bastards.’

  That’s all he said. We walked back to the car. I sat with my hands on the steering wheel.

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘It’s time to find Kristie.’

  ‘You’ve phoned her?’

  ‘Of course—landline and mobile. No answer. I went to her address. A neighbour said she hadn’t been seen since the balloon went up. Is there a friend she’d go to?’

  ‘She had a girlfriend named Michelle who lived in Broad–meadow.’

  For the next couple of hours we drove around, visiting people Twizell named and trying various places like a gym, a dance studio and a florist where Twizell said Kristie had worked part-time. We came up empty.

  ‘I guess my information’s out of date,’ Twizell said.

  ‘Try to think outside the box,’ I said. ‘Think of somewhere she might go with a lover she wanted to impress or help.’

  ‘Has she got a lover? You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Think.’

  ‘I could do with a drink.’

  ‘Later.’

  We were sitting in my car, parked outside the florist shop in Charlestown. Twizell’s fingers drifted up to his face where his scratches had started to scab. He took them away quickly. ‘What sort of a bloke?’

  ‘Tough, tougher than you.’

  ‘Tougher than you, Hardy?’

  ‘Yet to be seen. Younger.’

  ‘I get it. I’ve had a thought. There was this place out in the Humpback Range country. Kristie and that girlfriend in Broadmeadow and someone else used to rent it and share. Hot chicks. You know, go different weekends. You swim and go bushwalking and fish and screw, but there was also this fucking rock face. Must’ve been, I dunno, fifty metres high maybe. Anyway, Kristie challenged me to climb it. She said she did that with all her boyfriends.’

  ‘You’ve just remembered this place?’

  ‘Man, I’ve tried to forget it. I’ve been in some scary places caving but this . . . I still don’t like to think about it.’

  ‘Did you climb it, Jack?’

  ‘I did and I was shit scared every inch of the way. It looked sheer from the bottom and there were really only toe and finger holds in most places and if you fell you hit sandstone hard.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  He looked at me. ‘Why d’you think? She was . . . You’ve seen her, haven’t you . . .?’

  ‘You wrecked her face. They rebuilt it but she’s not beautiful.’

  He went quiet and thoughtful. I doubted he was remorseful more than just a little. Knowing Jack, he was calculating. ‘From what you say about this bloke, I reckon Kristie would be sure to test him. Anyway, it’s a nice place to stay, especially if you’re keeping your head down.’

  ‘Phone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How far away is it?’

  ‘Too far for now and I’d never find it in the dark.’

  We went back to the motel, both a bit worn down by
the day. I called Marisha’s landline, got her voice mail and called the mobile.

  ‘It’s Cliff. Where are you?’

  ‘Out and about.’

  ‘I’ve had a run-in with Hector. He’s looking nasty.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  I didn’t want to mention the bolt-cutters. ‘Just be careful.’

  ‘Almost exactly what that copper, Kerry Watson, told me.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Hard to say. Just checking on my story and warning me about Hector. Have you told him about seeing Hector?’

  ‘I’m supposed to have, but, no, I haven’t.’

  She laughed. ‘Always keep the cops guessing. Watson said he’d have his boys keeping an eye on me. I don’t like that much.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Moving forward.’

  She laughed again.

  ‘You bastard. I’ll expect more.’

  There was a hamburger joint near the motel and we settled for that. Neither of us felt social. We took the food into our own rooms. I watched the news on television and read for a while. About 10pm I knocked on Twizell’s door. He was in pyjamas, watching television.

  ‘Let’s make an early start,’ I said. ‘Eight?’

  He groaned. I saw several beer cans and miniature spirits bottles on the table. ‘Nine.’

  ‘Eight-thirty then. Goodnight.’

  I went back into my room and listened. If I’d been in his shoes and was planning to sneak away, I’d have made it look as though I was ready for bed and it wouldn’t have hurt to have pretended to be drunk, but I doubted Twizell was playing games. He had nowhere to go and he was getting a free ride from me. I could still hear the TV half an hour later. Then I heard it go off and silence descended apart from the buzzing and humming—traffic and electronics—that seem to be with us no matter where we are.

  I slept poorly and woke early. I killed time by Googling the Humpback Range so as to know a bit about where I was heading. There wasn’t much information and it didn’t surprise me that there were vineyards in the area. It’s hard to go anywhere these days without vineyards.