by Jay Darby
Porter arrived at Crooked River hospital just after nine on Friday morning. He stopped at the canteen, bought bottles of Sprite and a rugby magazine, then made his way to Ronny Goodwin’s private room. He hovered in the doorway and peered inside. Ronny already had a visitor.
The thin Koori lady in a lilac dress turned towards him, her black eyes twinkled. She wore her grey hair in a tight bun, and a few strands fell over her walnut colored forehead. He guessed she was just past sixty.
“G’day...” he said to the lady, then strolled to the opposite side of Ronny’s bed. He handed him the drinks and magazine. “I know you love your footy, mate.”
Ronny sat up. “Thanks.”
Porter studied Ronny’s bruised face, and a hammer banged a nail of guilt into his hollow chest. Ronny had risked his life to expose the Thompson’s, but he’d been too caught up in his own vengeful obsession, and had failed to protect him. He glanced to the lady. “You’re mum?”
“Yes, Margaret…And you’re Ronny’s friend?”
Ronny stopped guzzling Sprite. “He’s Dan Porter, mum, my new bro. I used ta, ta to hate him, but we’re all good now.”
“Good to meet you,” Porter said. “Margaret...?”
“Goodwin, same as Ronny.” She smiled, then frowned at Ronny. “Why’d you hate such a nice man?”
Ronny shifted. “Remember when Ben Neilsen got shot in the city? People blamed Dan, but he never did it.”
“Oh...” She turned to Porter. “You’re, that, Dan Porter?”
He met her gaze for a second, then dropped his to the bed. The question put a lump in his throat every time. “That’s me…”
“Only that Betts fella is bad, mum.” Ronny yawned and slipped down in the bed. “Porter’s a good fella, sa, sa, same as his mate Lionel was…Before the spirits ta, ta, took him away.”
“Lionel?” she asked Porter. “Lionel Roberts, the human rights lawyer?”
“Yeah.”
She swayed on her feet and gripped the bed rails. She steadied herself, then bent to run a hand over Ronny’s forehead. His eyelids flickered closed. She straightened and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Poor darling, the medicine’s made him sleepy.”
Porter noticed her trembling hands. “You knew Lionel?”
She shook her head. “Just upsets me, seeing Ronny like this.” She watched him sleep. “Didn’t know Lionel Roberts, but heard what he’d done for Kooris. Saw nothing in the media regarding his death. How did he die?”
Did she already know the answer? He searched her face for a clue. “We chased suspects. He died in a car accident.”
She closed her eyes, her chest rose, then she opened them. “Awful, so young…Did you work with him on the investigation I’ve read about?”
“Yeah, Carinya...And you’re spot on, Lio was a champion of the Koori cause. Don’t worry, we’ll finish what he started, and won’t let him die for nothing.”
Her head fell to the side, wise eyes studied him. She reminded him of the way his Aunt Sue would judge ‘best poodle’ at the South Coast annual show.
She kissed Ronny’s cheek. “He’s fast asleep…I have questions, Dan, regarding what happened to Ronny. Let’s talk outside, so we don’t wake him?”
He followed her from the room, down a corridor, and into a courtyard. They sat on a wooden bench.
She smiled at him. “I told Ronny once, that our ancestors had lived in this district for many years. But when he went missing, I didn’t think he’d come out here...”
“Why’d he leave Sydney?”
“My husband found out he was dealing drugs with Neilsen, and other bad ones around Redfern. They had an argument, Ronny said I’d taken my husband’s side, and he ran away. Last night’s the first time I’d seen him in a year…”
“You've got him back now...”
Her moist eyes met his. “Yes, and listen, there’s more I need to tell you.”
He recalled what Ronny had told him. Bill Thompson’s a rapist pig, and I’m his bastard son. He had an idea what Margaret wanted to tell him and decided to save her the pain of saying it. “I'm sorry, that Bill Thompson hurt you as a child.”
Her mouth fell open, her eyebrows formed a valley. “Why would you say that?”
He realized his mistake, that she hadn’t intended to reveal herself as a victim. He watched a tear fall from her eye, gave himself a mental uppercut, and waited while she composed herself.
She squinted at him sideways. “How dare you assume to know what’s happened to me…”
He scratched his forehead with a thumb. “Sorry. Ronny told me.”
She clutched a hand to chest. “Ronny told you what?”
“That Bill Thompson raped you...Sorry you’ve found out like this. Ronny saw photos Bill had taken of you…”
She shuddered and raised shaking hands to her face. Her eyes were closed when she took them away. “Yes, it’s true…” She opened them and turned to him. “Sadly, I was one of many.”
“Again,” he said, “I’m sorry…” He waited for half a minute, in respect of her need to reflect. “Elders told us what police did to Koori girls in the ’60s, but none gave names. Too scared. Bill being the boss back then, it’d made him our main suspect. Ronny was brave to come to me, and he’s evidence confirmed it.”
She sat upright and stared at him, the same way a felon sentenced to life imprisonment stared at a Judge. “Please, tell me that Bill doesn’t know…” Her fingers spread across her throat. “Does he know that Ronny’s his son?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Nah, don’t reckon he does…”
“Oh, thank God.” Her eyes darted over his face. “Were you and Lionel friends?”
“We had a rocky start, but ended up as good mates…”
“And you worked closely? He would’ve shared everything with you?”
“Reckon so…Why?”
Her expression went blank. “You may know me as Shirley...Shirley McMahon.”
The revelation punched Porter in the face. Shirley had been Lionel’s best informant, and he’d told him she’d been murdered in Scotland, betrayed by Interpol agents loyal to the Knights of Alba. But she lived, and she was the mouse-like, courageous Koori women sat next to him.
He scowled when he thought of Fred Klose, the KA mole. Lionel had been wise to keep Shirley’s survival a secret. “Seems that Lio didn’t tell me everything after all…”
She dropped her gaze to the paving stones. A tear slid down her cheek, she wiped it away. “I went into hiding after they murdered Colin, with friends in the north of England. Lionel said it was safer to let them think they’d killed me too.”
He dipped his head, he agreed.
“When Lionel didn’t reply to recent emails, I just assumed he’s busy, that he’d get in touch when safe for me to come home. I’ve been keeping off social media and the internet as much as possible. Had no idea he was dead.”
He swallowed grief. “There was stuff all mentioned about it here, let alone in the UK…”
“I arrived back in Sydney on Tuesday. Two days later I’m getting a phone call from Emma saying Ronny’s close to death.”
He had read Shirley’s emails to Lionel. “You told Lionel of a girl named Rosie. You said to ask the elders about her, but not when Tommy Davis was present. Why?”
She hesitated before answering. “Because I’m Tommy’s niece. My real name is Rosie Davis.”
His head rocked back. “What? Wait…Now I’m bloody confused…Didn’t you just say you’re Shirley?”
“I am. It’s complicated.”
He smiled. “Not wrong…Rosie.” Then he noticed the thick scar that ran from her mouth to the bottom of her chin and frowned.
“It’s okay, you can call me Rosie. I like it…” She sighed, as though resigned to a long explanation. “Where to start?”
“Beginnings are always good…”
“Okay...” She fiddled with fingers. “When I was thirteen, the welfare board officer, Ferguson, planned t
o sell me to a man in Germany. You know of Ferguson?”
“Yeah, from your emails…Me and Lionel interviewed him.”
“Well, I was about to leave for Germany when I became pregnant with Bill’s child. Ronny. Bill stopped the sale, wanted to keep me for himself. And then I began to show…”
“Bill found out you were pregnant?’
“No, thankfully…But I couldn’t stay. The minute he saw me with child I would’ve been dead. Was no way he’d let his bastard half-caste into the world, it would’ve destroyed him.” She scoffed. “I also knew of payments he received from Ferguson and corrupt politicians. Bill had contacts overseas, and helped them with the sales. Would’ve ruined his precious family name if I ever talked…”
He laughed at the irony. “And now Ronny has helped to ruin the Thompson name. And Bill, the silly old bastard, doesn’t know it.”
She smiled. “Yes, I suppose you’re right…Anyhow, Doreen from the mission put me on a bus to Sydney, and I never came back. Until now. Changed my name to Shirley Goodwin, sure Bill would come looking for me. Then I got married, took Colin’s surname, and became Margaret McMahon, to make it even harder for Bill to track us down. Still use Shirley now and again, like a nickname…”
She paused to watch him, as though she gave it time to all sink in.
He frowned. Most of it did, but not all. “Why didn’t you tell Lio everything from the start? You could’ve named Bill and the other rapists, uncovered the corrupt government officials, the blokes who’d sold Koori girls as sex slaves…Why didn’t you end it long ago?”
Her shoulders slumped, she let out a long sigh. “Everything I’ve done, and how I’ve done it, has been to protect Ronny. From Bill, from the truth. Was very scared, and I still am…I hoped the elders would tell my story to Lionel, and name the men involved. And I prayed that if they did, Bill wouldn’t be able to find me.”
“The elders didn’t tell us much about you...”
“They’ve always feared Tommy, because of Bill, but it was worth a shot. I hoped they’d give Lionel enough information, evidence, for a successful investigation. And hoped they’d never be named as informants and would be safe from Bill and the others.”
Porter pictured Old Man Simpson and John Rhodes, and he smiled. He scowled in disgust at a vision of Tommy Davis. All three had been murdered for knowing too much, and he doubted that elders on the mission would ever be safe. He considered asking if she knew about the Knights of Alba, then chose not to. There was no need to endanger her with the knowledge, and her life seemed complicated enough.
“Doreen and the other elders protected your secret when we spoke to ‘em,” he said. “Told us you disappeared from the mission, but said nothing of sending you to the city. They did mention your cousin. Malcolm?”
“Malcolm was Tommy’s adopted nephew…He was two years older than me.”
“Where’s he now?”
“Who knows? He followed me into the city and fell into the wrong crowd. Drugs and crime.”
“When was that?”
“Hmm…Late ’68?”
“He lived with you?’
“No, for various reasons…I distanced myself from him then cut contact altogether. After ten years or so, I heard he’d got a girl pregnant. Poor thing died giving birth. Malcolm got caught stealing, and with his record, went to prison for three years. No-one’s seen him since. I heard he’d moved to Queensland...”
“And his baby?”
Her eyes twinkled. “The church adopted the baby...You see, Malcolm is Lionel’s father...And I’m his aunt…”
The washing machine in Porter’s head kicked into spin mode. Could it all be true, or was she taking the piss? He decided on the latter, and was about to accuse her of telling porkpies, then recalled a conversation with Tugger Walford. Lionel had been raised by the church and didn’t know his parents. An unknown benefactor had supported him through school and university.
He waggled a finger at her. “You sent Lio money. You put him through school…”
She bowed her head. “I apologize for lying earlier, when I said I didn’t know Lionel…Colin and I supported him until the day he graduated, he just didn’t know it.”
“Why didn’t he live with you?”
She groaned. “Not proud of it, in fact, I’m ashamed. But he couldn’t, to protect Ronny.”
“I don’t get it…”
“When word got back to Crooked River that I’d had Ronny, Bill came looking to kill us. He asked all over the city for me. Fifteen years he kept looking, I lived in constant fear. He even had men follow Malcolm, hoping he’d lead them to us.”
“That’s when you ceased contact with him…”
“Yes. And I wasn’t sure if Bill knew that Lionel lived at the church…If I’d taken him in, it could’ve led Bill to us and placed Ronny at risk. I couldn’t…”
“Must’ve been hard watching Lio grow up, and not being able to reach out…”
“Terribly frustrating. But Colin and I worked hard to ensure he wanted for nothing. Always been proud of him, especially when he went into human rights. And when they started abducting those girls from Sydney a few months back, instinct told me they were the same men who’d done it in the ’60s, and I trusted Lionel with the information.”
“And you gave him just enough…Too much and too precise, and it’s obvious to Bill you’re Lionel’s informant. Bad guys come looking for you and Ronny again…”
She closed her eyes. “Exactly…Was torn between helping Lionel find the missing girls, and a need to protect Ronny.” She opened them and smirked. “Imagine my reaction when I heard that Ronny’s here in Crooked River, living under Bill’s nose…”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t read about it…Still can’t believe you’re Lio’s aunty.” He paused, thought back to Lionel’s burial ceremony. “He preferred to die out here, away from the city. I’ll take you to see him if you like?’
“That would be nice…”
“I should tell you this too…Tommy Davis died recently.”
Her face showed no emotion. “How?”
“They reckon he drowned.”
“Unusual, he was always a strong swimmer. Can’t say I’m saddened by it.”
“Don’t reckon you would be. What kind of a man turns his back on helpless children the way he did…?”
Rosie scoffed. “Tommy wasn’t a man. Only a gutless drunk who never tried to stop men from raping me, or bashing Malcolm. He was happy to turn a blind eye to get his gin and smokes. He’s always been a gofer for the devil and them other coppers.”
He spun to face her. “Did you just say, the devil?”
“Yes.”
“The elders mentioned a ‘white devil.’ We asked around town, and everyone denied knowing the nickname. Are they one and the same?”
“Yes, and the elders know his real name, but it’s bad luck to say it. Bill Thompson’s the white devil.”
“I suspected that, but part of it still confuses me…I saw paintings of this white devil. Wasn’t he fat?”
She winced, as though the memory caused her pain. “All those coppers were fat back then, but Bill was huge. I heard he got sick and lost a lot of weight. He was the White Devil, but then again, they all were.”
Porter saw himself shake Bill’s bony hand and remembered the loose skin at his neck. It reminded him of the photo in his jacket pocket. The picture of Bill fishing in a river, with a timber cabin in the background. “We can’t find Bill, there’s no sign of him.” He handed her the crumpled photo. “Found this in his house. Any idea where it was taken?”
She held it, her hand shook. “I know it too well. It’s his winter fishing cabin.”
His heart thudded against his chest. “Serious? Remember where?”
“Not too far from here. Off Crooked River road, maybe five k’s past Bunyip Hill.”
He realized why they hadn’t found Bill and scolded himself. The search had started too far from town. “Can you show me the way?�
��
Her black eyes bored into him. “Yes…But on two conditions.”
“Name ‘em.”
“One…Ronny’s told nothing of this, or of anything we’ve discussed just now. He’s to be left out of any future investigations, and never called as a witness.”
“Done.”
“Two…We go alone. You and I. No-one else.”
“Rosie, you have my word…C’mon, we’re off.” He stood and helped her up. “It’s time to end this.”
FIFTY FOUR
Twenty minutes after they’d left the hospital, Porter obeyed Rosie’s direction and made a turn off Crooked River road. He knocked the visor down to shield his eyes from the rising sun and drove the Landcruiser down a bumpy dirt track surrounded by majestic eucalypts. His heart pounded his ribcage, his guts churned. Would they find Bill Thompson up ahead? Would he finally get his hands on the Cumal files?
They came to a thick screen of mulga bush, and couldn’t drive any further.
Rosie shifted in the passenger seat, her expression apprehensive. “We have to walk from here…”
He parked across the track, then peered ahead through red dust. The track became a path, it sloped downwards and out of sight. He glanced at the car’s Navigator screen. “We’re close to the river. This path leads to Bill’s fishing cabin?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s the one…But the cabin might be gone?” Her voice quivered. “And he may not be here?”
He smiled and tried to ease her fear. “Can’t believe you remembered how to get here…”
“Have tried to forget for fifty years, but I never will…It’s a place in my nightmares.”
“I know what you mean…” He paused to contemplate the task ahead. It was a risk to take Bill on without backup, one that’d place Rosie in extreme danger. But she insisted she’d go all the way to the cabin with him, just the two of them, and he had to respect her wishes. And if he found the Cumal files, the fewer people present, the better. “Did Bill keep guns in the cabin?”