by Robin Storey
‘Yes, it was. But you should have called the police as soon as you found out about it. Then none of this would have happened.’
‘He threatened to kill my wife if I told the police – and me, too.’
‘That’s a pretty good reason for reporting it.’
‘What could they do? Hire us a bodyguard? I couldn’t take the risk. Much as I didn’t want you killed, I didn’t want Carlene to be bumped off either.’
‘You really think he would have killed her?’
‘Why not? He nearly succeeded in killing you.’
She blanched again and he was instantly contrite.
‘Sorry. But I wouldn’t underestimate Frank. He’s an idiot, but he’s a foolhardy one and they’re the most dangerous kind.’
She drew in a deep breath. ‘I suppose I have you to thank that I’m sitting here right now.’
He shrugged. ‘All in a day’s work. Perhaps I’ll set up as a private detective when I get out.’
She returned his smile and in her expression, for a fraction of a second, he saw the acknowledgement of him as a man and not just another offender, someone she might chat to over a coffee. Then she pressed the button on the wall in front of her. Two officers arrived – one escorted her out and the other unlocked his door and led him away. He felt cheated that he couldn’t watch her leave.
***
‘Reuben, come in.’
The door to the far interview room opened and a middle-aged, bespectacled woman stood in the doorway. As he sat down, she slid in behind the desk, tapped away on the keyboard, then looked up and said, ‘Hullo, I’m Beth.’
‘Where’s Lucy?’
She looked surprised and at the same time reproving. She had one of those mouths that turn down easily and become permanently disapproving in old age.
‘Lucy’s been seconded to another department,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m taking over your supervision. I need to ask you a few questions.’
As Reuben left the interview room – his appointment slip for a fortnight in his jeans pocket – he pondered Lucy’s secondment. Why hadn’t she mentioned it when she visited him in prison? Then again, why should she? Maybe she hadn’t known about it then. Had she sought it? Perhaps she’d had enough of being a parole officer and learning of Frank’s plan had tipped her over the edge. He couldn’t blame her for that.
He trudged down the stairs and opened the front door. As a shaft of afternoon sun dazzled him, the realisation hit him. It was okay that he wouldn’t see Lucy again. He hoped she’d be happy in her new job and if their paths never crossed, he could live with it. The goddess who’d vanished upon her visit to him in prison had gone, maybe forever. Lucy was a flesh and blood woman with cellulite, morning breath and infallible shoe-sale radar who could drive you crazy just like any other. He’d always known it, deep down. The ache inside him was not because he was going to miss her – well, maybe a bit – but sadness for a part of his life and himself that he would never get back.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he forgot to cross the road to bypass Joe’s Cafe and almost bowled over a woman coming out of the entrance.
‘Reuben!’
Nina stood in front of him in her waitressing uniform. Some of her hair had escaped from its plait and curled around her face in frizzy tendrils. It seemed as if she were someone he’d met in a dream. A long time ago.
‘Oh ... hullo.’
‘It’s good to see you again too.’
Her mocking smile was familiar. She was definitely real.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry I just up and left. It’s a long story.’
‘I know.’
‘You do?’
They were in the middle of the pavement, pedestrians swarming around them. ‘We can’t stand here,’ Nina said. ‘Come inside and have a coffee. I was on my way to the bank but I can go anytime.’
Reuben peered inside. ‘Is Joe in?’
‘Don’t be a wimp. He’s not, as it so happens.’
They went in and sat at a corner table. It was three o’clock, an hour till closing, and only two of the tables were occupied. A young waitress was behind the counter stacking coffee cups.
‘Sally, could you could make us a latte and a short black please?’ Nina said.
Sally gave Reuben an appraising look. ‘No problems.’
A boy appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He was thickset with blotchy skin and the beginnings of a moustache. Seventeen, at the most. He scooped up a tray of cups and saucers from the counter, and disappeared.
‘Your replacement,’ Nina said. ‘His name’s Victor. I don’t know where Uncle Joe found him; he hardly speaks any English but that’s a good thing. Uncle Joe says the most insulting things to him and he just smiles and nods his head.’
‘So that’s where I went wrong,’ Reuben said. ‘Not enough smiling and nodding.’
‘He’s a whizz at chopping onions too.’
Sally appeared with the coffees, forestalling any further elucidation of Victor’s virtues. When she left, Reuben said, ‘So what exactly do you know?’
‘That you punched your brother-in-law at a ball on New Year’s Eve and were charged with assault.’
‘There’s a story behind that.’
‘I figured there had to be.’
‘How did you find out?’
She raised her eyebrow. He’d never taken a good look at her eyebrows before – not as a separate part of her. They were dark and thick, but well shaped. He wasn’t a fan of thick eyebrows in women but they suited her. Somehow, her features, which were not attractive on their own, were appealing when combined with each other – the whole, different from, and better than its parts. Was that a mathematical equation?
‘You were in the newspaper for a couple of days. On TV as well. Didn’t you know?’
‘I’m afraid they haven’t progressed to newspapers and TV in the watchhouse. I was there for three days before they took me to Wacol.’
Why hadn’t Andrew mentioned anything to him? Maybe he’d thought it would upset him.
‘Anyway, I can’t understand why. It wasn’t news – people assault each other every day.’
‘Not usually at a society ball, and not claiming to be threatened by a man with a gun, who then mysteriously disappears.’
‘No one believes me, but there was a man with a gun … by the time they searched the place he’d escaped. They didn’t expect him to be hanging around, twirling his pistol and waiting to be caught, did they?’
Nina smiled. ‘If it’s any consolation, I believe you. I suppose there’s a story behind that as well?’
‘You guessed it. I suppose the papers made me out to be a nutcase.’
‘Not really. Apparently a journo from The Courier-Mail was at the ball and he recognised you from the Becker ad, so he did the story from that angle – Mr Nice-Guy bartender has a bad boy side to him – not evil-bad, like Lex Luthor, more naughty-bad, like Captain Jack Sparrow.’
‘That’s all I need.’ Reuben drained his cup and slammed it into the saucer. ‘Now that the world knows I’ve got an assault charge against me, I can kiss goodbye to any job prospects.’
Nina looked at him appraisingly. ‘Do you want me to tell you the rest?’
‘There’s more?’
‘They obviously did some digging around because they also mentioned your history of fraud convictions and your prison sentence.’
Reuben let out a long sigh. ‘It’s not as if it’s fresh news – it was reported in the paper at the time. But I suppose it’s too much to hope it could have stayed in the past.’
Nina touched his hand briefly. It was cool but surprisingly comforting. ‘It’s not so bad. Any publicity is good publicity in showbiz. You never know, it could land you a job.’
‘Yeah.’ He pushed his chair back. ‘I guess I should be going. I’ve got to collect my things from Carlene’s parents and find a place to stay tonight. Thanks for the coffee.’
Sh
e stared at him. ‘What’s happened to you and Carlene?’
‘She’s moved back in with her parents. She considers knocking her brother-in-law out for no good reason, apart from the fact he’s a complete fuckwit, being carted away by police in front of the cream of Brisbane’s society, and causing the complete humiliation of her and her family as good enough reasons to end the marriage. I guess she has a point.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Nina said. She sounded as if she meant it.
Just then, Joe bowled in through the front door. He stopped dead when he saw Reuben.
‘Hi Joe, good to see you.’ Reuben got up and held out his hand. Joe looked at it as if it were a lump of maggot-ridden meat.
‘Listen, here, boy, don’t think you can just dance in here as if you’re my best mate, which you never were and never will be, after walking out on me.’
‘I didn’t deliberately walk out on you. If there was any way I could have called you, I would have. I’m sorry.’
‘Pah! You’re sorry! What good is that? Anyhow, what do I care if you get yourself in a fight and go back to jail? It’s no skin off my face.’
‘It was a nice break from you. Some of the screws actually talk to you without yelling.’
Joe snorted. ‘See? Jails are soft these days. What happened to hard labour?’
‘Uncle Joe.’ Nina got up from the table and touched his arm. ‘Reuben doesn’t have anywhere to stay tonight. Can he stay with us?’
‘Hold on,’ Reuben said. ‘It’s okay, I’ll find somewhere.’
Joe glared at him. ‘Where is your good lady wife?’
‘We’ve separated. Look, I appreciate your offer but I’d rather be on my own for the moment.’
‘What offer? I offered you nothing.’ Joe waved his hand in dismissal. ‘If he changes his mind, Nina, you can make up the spare room.’
He strode off to the kitchen.
‘I won’t change my mind,’ Reuben said, ‘but thanks. That was a generous offer, coming from him.’
‘I told you he likes you. But not enough to give you your job back.’
‘Probably just as well. I think I can strike kitchen hand off my list of potential careers.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Anyway, I’d better go.’
Nina looked down at her feet and then at a customer entering the shop.
‘You’ll have to tell me your story sometime.’
‘What? Oh, yeah, that story. I’ll give you a call when I’m settled and we can have coffee.’ He grinned. ‘Somewhere where the proprietor doesn’t insult you.’
Nina gave a shy smile as she moved off to serve the customer. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
***
Out on the street, he flagged down a passing taxi. ‘Hamilton, please. Ibis Street.’
He slumped down in the back seat and stared out the window. Could things get any worse now that not only his latest misdemeanour but the full litany of his crimes had made headlines? At this rate he’d have to migrate to Uzbekistan to live a normal life and get a job.
And he’d done it all to save Carlene from being shot and thrown in a dark alley, or some equally horrific end. Not that she’d ever know. She probably wouldn’t even give him the chance to explain it. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the ball, since his last glimpse of her wide-eyed shock as the police carted him away. Going to Nancy and Alec’s house was like walking into the lion’s den. He’d phoned from prison that morning to ask if he could call around that day to pick up his gear.
‘The sooner the better,’ Nancy snapped before hanging up on him.
In his mind’s eye he saw the letter he’d received from Carlene ten days into his prison sentence. Two typewritten pages, her round, flourishing signature at the bottom.
‘Dear Reuben (she hardly ever called him by his full name, so he knew instantly it was serious)
I’m sorry to do this by letter but I simply can’t come and visit you. To be there in the visiting room with you in your prison browns would bring back too many memories of happier times. So I’ll make this short and to the point.
‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how furious I was at the whole New Year’s Eve fiasco, not to mention humiliated – not only me but the whole family. What on earth could have possessed you to punch Wayne, I’ll never know. The police told me you said it was all part of a plan to save your parole officer from being blown up, which of course was news to me, but then you never told me anything that was going on with you.
‘And frankly, I don’t want to know. How could Wayne possibly have anything to do with blowing up your parole officer? He doesn’t even know her. It’s obvious you’ve become quite delusional and I can only hope you’re getting some psychiatric help in jail. It’s also obvious our marriage isn’t going to work – not at least until you deal with your problems and by then it may be too late. I can’t hang around forever waiting for you to get yourself sorted.
‘To add insult to injury, I got a phone call at ten o’clock on New Year’s Day from some mad woman from a car rental agency, ranting and raving about how you hadn’t returned her MG, and she and her boyfriend were supposed to be going away and their plans were ruined. Of course I had no idea what she was talking about and she said she’d have to report it to the police as a stolen car. I said, ‘Go right ahead, he’s already in jail.’ Then she swore at me and hung up. After everything that had happened, that was the last thing I needed.
‘Then your solicitor called around the next day and gave me the keys to the MG and your suit. I rang the car rental woman back and said I had the car keys and she said the car had been returned to her, along with a bill for parking overnight in the car park and another from the towing company – a total of five hundred dollars – and she was passing them both on to you. Then she said she had possession of your scooter and would sell it to recoup some of her losses. I told her that was illegal and she swore at me again, and said if I wanted it I’d have to come around right then and there and pick it up.
‘I’ve put up with a lot for you, Reuben, but being sworn at by a woman I’ve never even met, about a car I had no idea you’d hired, is more than any wife should have to put up with. I’m not going to ask why you hired it – I can see that it’s perfectly logical that driving around in a beat-up MG when you have a perfectly good scooter and a car at your disposal is all part of the plan to save your parole officer from being blown up. I went round there and picked up the Barbiemobile – not for you, but because I knew how much Jo and Indya wanted it, so that’s where it is at the moment. You’ll have to use all of your charm and more if you want it back.
‘I’ve given up the lease on the house and moved back in with Mum and Dad. I need to be somewhere I can get some support. You can come around when you get out and pick up your things.
‘That’s all I wanted to say. I’m so disappointed in you. You have so much potential but you’re just throwing it all away. I’ve given this a lot of thought, it’s a big decision to end a marriage after only six months, but it seems we are travelling along different paths. I still love you, but it’s obviously not enough for you.
Carlene
‘PS AND you stole Pastor Bryan’s mobile phone! Being the generous, saintly person that he is, he’s forgiven you – not that you’d care.’
Her letter had evoked mixed emotions – sadness, but also relief. Because they’d both known it wasn’t working and neither wanted to be the first to say it. Reuben wondered why he’d ever thought it would. What had he been thinking – marrying someone he’d known for only two months and only from within the confines of prison? It was a huge, foolhardy leap into the unknown – like taking a plunge into a rock pool that looked cool and inviting from the top of the cliff, not being able to see what lay beneath the water, but just shutting your eyes and hoping for the best. A triumph of optimism over realism. But then no one had ever accused him of being a realist.
He realised the cab driver had said something. ‘Pardon?’
&n
bsp; ‘What number, mate?’
Reuben looked around. They were on Ibis Street already. Time flew when you were contemplating your failures.
‘Thirty-three, thanks.’
Jo and Wayne’s Range Rover was parked in front of the house. Jesus, the whole family was here to welcome him home. The cab pulled up behind it.
‘Would you mind waiting?’ Reuben said. ‘I just have to collect some things.’
The driver nodded and turned the engine and the meter off. ‘Take your time, mate, I’ll have a smoke break.’
Reuben opened the front gate and walked up the zigzag pebble path. Late afternoon was slowly fading around the spotless lawn and immaculate flowerbeds. There was something artificial and staged about the front garden, its stillness and neatness. You could put a frame around it and hang it on the wall.
Children’s voices and splashes floated around from the rear of the house. They were out at the pool. He wondered whether Wayne and Jo were here because they knew he was coming. If anything, he thought they would have gone out of their way to avoid him, but perhaps Wayne wanted to exact revenge. Good luck to him, he could beat Reuben to a pulp but he wouldn’t lay a finger on him. There was no way he was going to cop another assault charge and parole suspension.
He pressed the doorbell, heart hammering. He had a vision of the family lurking behind the front door and as soon as he stepped inside, falling upon him and tearing him to pieces, like a pack of wild dogs. The door opened and Nancy stood there. Just one mean-eyed bull terrier.
She stood aside to let him in. ‘Stay here,’ she barked, as if he were liable to run riot through the house and make off with the silver.
She went to the bottom of the internal staircase and called out, ‘Carlene!’
As she turned to go back into the house, Reuben said, ‘Just a minute, Nancy.’
She stopped.
‘I remember what you said about making Carlene unhappy and I’m really sorry it didn’t work out. I gave it my best shot. We weren’t a good match in the first place.’
‘You won’t get any argument from me there,’ Nancy said.
‘And whatever Carlene’s told you, I wasn’t having an affair. There was stuff going on I couldn’t tell her about but it was nothing to do with other women.’