Blood Redemption hag-1

by Alex Palmer

  ‘Yeah, I do too,’ Grace replied.

  ‘You’ve got a nice voice,’ Gina said after a little while. ‘I wouldn’t have given it away if I could sing like you. I would have kept going.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I still don’t want to. It wasn’t that much fun after a while. It was just everyone wanting a piece of you.’

  ‘Everything’s like that, it doesn’t matter what you do,’ Gina replied.

  ‘What you do now must be like that.’

  Grace smiled. ‘Maybe a bit. No, it’s not the same,’ she said. ‘You’re clean now, aren’t you, Gina?’

  ‘Yeah. I got my mind back. Weird.’

  ‘How’d you do it?’

  ‘It was that or gaol, wasn’t it? I don’t really know how, to tell you the truth. Just did, I suppose. I was helping Mike out. I thought maybe he could do something for himself. Stupid. He was never going to do that.’

  ‘Attached to him, are you?’ Grace said sympathetically.

  ‘Yeah. You do get attached. People start to mean something to you.’

  ‘They do. They get to you after a while.’

  They get under your skin whether you want them to or not. Even if you’re not sure what to make of them. Or what they think of you.

  Gina found Grace a parking spot down towards Rushcutters Bay, near a large run-down terrace, its exterior painted in bright colours. A man sat on a nearby step, his arms tensed, rocking backwards and forwards in the light rain, lost in the drug. Grace looked at him and notched his existence into her mind, an imprint of the outside world.

  They walked past him up a narrow, dog-legged road. They went to McDonald’s on Darlinghurst Road where they had hamburgers with everything, fries and hot apple pies.

  ‘How well did you know Lucy, Gina? Do you want to tell me something more about her?’ Grace asked, ploughing her way through the food.

  ‘She used to come in here.’

  Grace looked up more sharply at this answer. Gina had wiped her mouth clean and was looking around. Her gaze did not seem to have a focus as she stared at the people near her, most of whom looked away, some of them laughing. Her mouth was moving but she did not speak. Grace followed her stare.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ Gina regained a toughness as she spoke. ‘It’s just that we all used to come in here. We’d sit and we’d talk and that. Just over there in the corner.’ Grace looked at a large table, with seating for about six people. ‘We’d sit in here all afternoon and we’d just laugh.’

  ‘She really was your friend?’

  ‘Yeah, she was. For a little while.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just time. You don’t see people any more for all sorts of reasons. She can’t be my friend now. She’s going to gaol for ever because of me. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.’

  ‘What do you think might happen to you?’

  ‘I was just saying that. Anything can happen to anyone. You never know what’s going to happen, you could walk under a truck tomorrow.

  But we used to come in here. We used to have fun. I wanted to have a look at it again because of that. Because they were good times. She’d say these things, she’d make you laugh. She wasn’t frightened of anything.’

  Grace glanced around at the plastic fittings, the bright lights against the light-coloured walls and mirrors.

  ‘And she liked a hamburger as well?’

  ‘She did. And a chocolate thickshake. That was her favourite meal.’

  Gina was shredding her used napkin into small soft snowflakes of paper.

  ‘Do you want to go somewhere else and have some coffee? I want to get out of here now. I know a place where they have really nice baklava, they make it themselves. We can smoke in there. I need a cigarette.’

  ‘That’s fine with me. I could use a smoke too.’

  They walked out into the damp, crowded night-time street, full of light and movement. Gina looked around, her mouth moving silently as it had in the restaurant.

  ‘I used to work back down there a bit. You can get really tired by the end of the night. But I don’t care about that, you know. I love it here. I do. There just isn’t anywhere else for me.’

  ‘Does there have to be anywhere else for you? If this is what you want,’ Grace asked.

  ‘I’m just saying it. It’s really nice to be here right now.’ She stretched her backbone, her mouth a little open, drinking in the soiled air. The rain touched her face, she laughed. ‘It’s just being here. That’s all I want. Just for this little while.’

  ‘I’ve got more time than a couple of hours if you want it, Gina,’

  Grace said. ‘If you want help, I can try to help.’

  ‘No, I’ve got to be somewhere. Let’s go, okay?’

  Inside the cafe near the other end of Crown Street the air was blue with cigarette smoke. They sat at a table at the back and were served thick sweet coffee and small diamonds of baklava dripping with honey.

  ‘You know Lucy,’ Gina said unprompted, ‘she did things no one else would do. She could steal anything that wasn’t tied down. She used to take orders.’ The girl laughed. ‘She got me clothes, all my make-up once. She never wanted any money for them, nothing. If she wanted any stuff for herself, she’d just go and take it. But then other times she just gave things away. She used to rip things off just to give them away. Anything. It was a game, that’s what she was doing all the time. She used to say the whole world is crap so what does it matter what I do. That was her way of letting everyone know it. I don’t really want to see things that way. You don’t have to think like that. You’ve got to hope sometimes. Don’t you think?’

  ‘I do think that,’ Grace said. ‘Sometimes you just have to hang in there till things get better. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can do.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. That is the way it is. That’s how I see it.’

  ‘What are you hoping for now, Gina?’

  ‘That things will work out. What else would I want?’

  The conversation faltered. The girl looked at her over her cigarette, a challenge in her eye.

  ‘Did you ever do any sex work?’ she asked. ‘While you were singing maybe? You could have done. You could have made a lot of money.’

  Grace shook her head, mindful that everything they said was being listened to and recorded.

  ‘No, Gina, I’ve never sold sex. Just my voice,’ she replied quietly.

  Yes, her voice, that was all she had ever sold of herself. It had still been her though, up there on display on the stage. No, Gina, I don’t sell sex, I never have, I never will. I give it away and sometimes I go out looking for it. That’s my choice. Just so long as I can choose who and when and how, it’s okay.

  Gina was still talking.

  ‘It’s a good way to get money if you need it. But if you work the way I do, you’ve got to be careful about your customers. They could be anybody.’

  So can the people you sleep with for nothing, for love or the passing need. It’s all on the finest balance between love and hate and you never know what the man you’re with might do next, no matter how close you get to him or how naked you both are.

  There was silence.

  ‘Are you armed? Have you got a gun?’ the girl asked suddenly, aggressively.

  Grace, whose firearm was nestled against her ribcage under her armpit, did not answer.

  ‘You are, aren’t you?’ Gina said.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Well, if you really want to help me out, you can give it to me.’

  Grace shook her head.

  ‘If you want help, why don’t you just come in, Gina? Talk to someone. Talk to me,’ she said.

  The girl laughed softly at her, shaking her head.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  Grace looked at her watch. ‘It’s still early. Half past nine.’

  They sat in silence for a little while longer. Grace watc
hed Gina look down into the coffee cup, checking the thick black leavings, and then look up again. The girl’s blank stare meant terror, nothing simpler. She shook back her hair.

  ‘Time to go. I can’t wait around any more,’ she said but did not immediately move. ‘Thanks for the talk. And the smokes.’

  ‘Gina, ring me if you’ve got any more to tell me. You can get me on the numbers on that card any time. You remember that. Any time.’

  ‘Yeah. Why not?’

  They went out into the street. It had begun to rain heavily. The roadway was greasy in the wet, shining with the lights of passing cars.

  ‘Do you want a lift somewhere?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Nup.’

  Standing in the rain, the girl spread out her arms like a dancer about to spin out of a spotlight. She laughed aloud.

  ‘See you sometime maybe, Gracie.’

  ‘Gina … ’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Remember you can call me.’

  The girl laughed once again and then she was gone, half-walking, half-running along the empty street until she disappeared from sight.

  Grace called in to say she was on her way back, and then sat in her car where it was parked off the road in another spot that Gina had found for her. She thought, I won’t see that girl alive again. She sat quietening her breathing, letting her hands lie loose in her lap. You have to draw a line. You have to do that now.

  She drove away, unable to follow the girl on the one-way street that channelled her car in the opposite direction. So where was Gina going now? Don’t even think about it, because there’s nothing you can do.

  Once Grace had called in for the night, Harrigan collected his things and left. Trevor had already gone, leaving the graveyard shift ticking over ready for the next day. Harrigan left instructions for them to call him as soon as they had an address, an identification, anything at all.

  Lucy Hurst’s picture was already appearing on late-night news broadcasts and Internet news services.

  He did not go straight home but snatched another half hour and went via Cotswold House. Toby was still out of bed, waiting for him.

  As he entered the room, Toby signalled to him with his good hand.

  ‘Hi, Toby,’ Harrigan said, and looked over his shoulder at a website dedicated to mountain climbing in Peru.

  Look dad See how steep it is? Do u know these mountains arereally high Next highest after the Himalayas?

  ‘No, I didn’t know that,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

  I’m ok I guess Wot about u??

  ‘I’m okay, bit tired maybe. Toby, I’ve got something I’ve got to talk to you about.’

  Wot????

  Harrigan had sat down.

  ‘Mate — I shouldn’t be doing this, okay? I’ve got to ask you this.

  Are you going to warn her? If I tell you this.’

  U know who she is??

  ‘Yeah.’

  Toby turned his wheelchair in a small circle to look at his father.

  His good hand rested on the keyboard.

  U said u would find her Wots her name?

  ‘Are you going to warn her?’

  She’s not talking 2 me dad I can’t warn her

  ‘You’re out there looking for her.’

  It’s 2 late for u 2 ask me that now anyway dad I can just send heran email Firewall they know who u are be careful

  ‘Will you?’

  Why are u doing this?? Wot do you really want to know dad? WhoI love more? Her or U?

  ‘No, mate. It’s not like that.’ He hunted for an explanation. ‘This way you know where we are. I don’t know what’s going to happen from now on in. I don’t know what she’s going to do, or even if she’s going to walk away from this.’

  Are u going 2 shoot her??? Is that wot u want 2 do??

  ‘I don’t use guns until I have to. That depends on what she does. If I can avoid it, I will.’

  Why shouldn’t I warn her then??? She’s out there Maybe u’re goingto shoot her and if u don’t, u’re going to lock her away She’s neverbeen locked away before That’s going to be horrible 4 her

  ‘And if I don’t reel her in, Toby? What’s she going to do then? Kill someone else.’

  Toby sat tapping his good hand on his desk. Harrigan watched his own gesture reflected back at him.

  Sometimes I think she might I don’t know what to do then

  ‘You don’t take that on, Toby. You call me, I keep doing what I can.’

  They sat in silence for a little longer.

  Can’t save her Wish I could Who is she??

  ‘Lucy Hurst, Toby. She’s the Firewall. This is what she looks like.’

  Toby manoeuvred the identikit to the centre of his desk with his good hand.

  It looks funny

  ‘Yeah. No one looks human in these pictures.’

  I thought she would look a bit like that

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  I dont know It just looks right somehow She’s sort of pretty don’tu think?? I do It’s not a bad face dad She doesn’t look evil

  ‘It’s going out on every outlet in the city at the moment, Toby. We have to find her soon. Someone is going to tell us where she is.’

  When u do will u ask her if she wants 2 talk 2 me? Coz I want 2

  talk 2 her

  ‘If that’s what you want, yes, I will.’

  They sat without speaking.

  ‘Why do you want that, Toby? She told you to go away. Why ask her back?’

  We’re connected dad We understand each other I’m going to behere for her

  ‘You and her?’

  Yes her amp; me

  How can you be connected to her?

  ‘Whatever you want, Toby.’

  U dont mind???

  ‘No. It’s whatever you want. Look, I’m going to go now, Toby. I’ve got to get some sleep while I can. I’m going to try and get back to see you but I don’t know when that will be now. You email me if you need anything. Okay?’

  Can I keep this??

  ‘That’s for you. I brought it for you.’

  U amp; me are different dad She doesn’t stop us from being who we are She does that to me, Toby, even if you don’t know that.

  Even so, when he left Cotswold he felt a lessening of the pressures.

  It had to be finished with soon.

  26

  When Harrigan arrived home, he found Menzies curled up on the kitchen window ledge, snoring happily, shedding fur with the rise and fall of his rib cage and radiating the indefinable odour of old cat. He decided he would try his luck at sleeping as well and went to bed with some journalist’s much hyped expose of a well-known Sydney racing identity. The book was more entertaining for what it had wrong than any other feature and he could have written a fairly acidic, laugh-a-minute review along those lines if the information had not been so dangerous. Perhaps it did relax him. When, sometime before dawn, he was woken out of a deep sleep by the sound of the telephone, his bedside lamp was still on and the book was lying dropped on the coverlet. His first thought was for Toby; his second was for Lucy Hurst.

  ‘Harrigan.’

  ‘It’s Grace here. I’m sorry to wake you up so early.’

  She was the last person he was expecting to call him at this or any other hour. He sat up, the book falling to the floor with a light thud.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve just had a call. From someone on the job I’ve never heard of before. They’ve found Gina. And her boyfriend.’ She stopped and seemed to be gathering breath. ‘They’re both dead. They’re in Surry Hills just off Foveaux. I’ve been asked to go down there. But I’ve been asked to go alone and without telling anyone I work with. He said just come by yourself and we’ll work out the rest later. I don’t see why it has to happen like that.’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Jerry Freeman. Do you know the name?’

  Shit! Harrigan thought.

  ‘Yes, I do happen to know Jerry. W
hy did he call you?’

  ‘Gina had my card in her pocket. He said it made him curious.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘I’m still in my flat.’

  ‘Give me twenty minutes. I’ll meet you there. Don’t get there before me. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah, okay. But who is this person?’

  ‘Ask me that question later, Grace.’

  If Freeman was up to his old tricks, then this slotted in under the heading of Murphy’s law at work and the unpleasant odour Harrigan had detected last night had just got a lot nastier. As he showered and dressed, he wondered if his old sparring partner had even bothered to call in the pathologist or the crime scene people. He drove through Birchgrove up to Darling Street in the strange quiet between sleeping and waking. It was still raining, the roads were slippery with oil. He approached the city, the lights of the tower blocks were distant in the darkness of the early morning, slurred with the rain.

  When he reached Foveaux, his car lights illuminated an inner city landscape of factory outlets selling cheap clothing and dark shop windows barred up against the street. Racks of clothes, ranged like the outlines of people, disappeared into the shadows. Bright lights surrounded a small crowd of police cars and people near the entrance to a short dog-legged alley several blocks up from Central Station. A few bystanders, derelicts and alcoholics were watching from a distance, dark figures gathered on the edge of the light. At least there were other people on the scene and it wasn’t only Freeman leaning against a car, waiting for Grace to show up. Harrigan parked his car and then introduced himself to the sergeant in charge. From a distance, he looked briefly at the bodies on the other side of the ribbons, before standing aside to wait, having no desire to be involved. Freeman, a big man who was fifty plus, overweight and balding, appeared from out of the crowd.

  ‘Good morning, mate,’ he said, ‘haven’t seen you for a while.

  Thought you’d still be in bed. I was looking for your girl. She must be the careful type if she went and called you up. Unless you were there when I rang. What happened? You get lucky, did you?’

  He guffawed and slapped Harrigan on the arm.

  ‘No, mate, I was home alone,’ Harrigan replied, shaking the man off. ‘But good morning, Jerry, it’s nice to see you too. What do you want her for?’