by Paul Taylor
Mavis was leaning up behind the counter having a fag when Ben walked in and he smiled to himself. Did she work here twenty-four seven? he wondered.
"G'day, mate," she said. "Glad to see you're still in the land of the living. I heard you had a bit of a run in with the local welcome wagon."
"Sure did," said Ben. "Real enthusiastic they were, too."
"Yeah, they can be," she said. "Still, I suppose that's what happens when a man starts cutting another bloke's lawn."
"It's not what you think," said Ben.
"No?" said Mavis, blowing out a curl of smoke. "I suppose young Kathleen Bryce is a volunteer at the hospital, then? She runs around and fetches personal stuff for patients, does she?"
"We were—" Ben stopped. "I don't have to explain myself to you, it's none of your business."
"My business or not," said Mavis as Ben walked away. "I got an eye for what's goin on around town and you better listen to me when I tell you Kath's husband has got his eye on you. Him and his mates. They'll be watchin you!"
Mercifully, her prophet-of-doom voice faded as Ben walked back outside to his room. He tried to tell himself she was full of shit but it didn't stick. What she'd said was true and he knew it. That was the problem. And Ben had an idea that Neil was the kind of guy who'd use his fists as a first resort rather than a last. A fact which only served to increase his worry for Kath.
What if Neil had found out she'd been to see Ben in hospital? What if she'd told him? For all Ben knew Neil could be on his way to the motel right at that moment to beat the shit out of him.
The thought was so compulsive that Ben turned to look behind him, half-expecting to see Neil walking across the gravel parking lot. But there was no one there, the only sound of footsteps was Ben's. Then he heard the crunch of gravel in front of him and his head shot up like a kangaroo scenting fire.
A man and a woman were walking towards him. Ben recognised the man as the one he'd seen the other day when he checked in. They were dressed oddly, wearing jeans and flannel shirts that were brand new. They looked like kids going to a school dress-up day.
He smiled and said hello to them.
The woman stopped and smiled, inscrutable behind her dark sunglasses.
"How are you?" she asked. "I'm Cecile, we, uh, ran into each other a few days ago?"
"I remember," said Ben. The memory of those eyes had all but faded from his memory, but seeing her brought it all flooding back, that shift and twist of her pupils.
"Mavis said you'd been in a bit of a blue," said Allan, the sunglasses bobbing as he looked Ben up and down. "You know, if you want, we can help you out with that. Provide you with some training, teach you certain, skills, to ensure no one bothers you ever again."
"Ah, no, thanks," said Ben. "I'm fine, really. Listen, I've got some stuff to do, so I'll see you later." And with that he turned and hurried into his room, making sure to lock the door behind him. Thoughts of the mysterious strangers didn't occupy his mind for long though. He had greater things to worry about. Like why Kath hadn't shown up. And what might have happened to stop her from showing up.
Ben switched on the electric kettle and turned on his laptop while he waited for it to boil. Kath worked for a solicitor, he remembered she'd told him, but he couldn't think whether she'd told him the name or not. Not that it really mattered because he couldn't remember either way.
A quick search of the online yellow pages came up with six solicitors in Casino. None of the names jumped out at Ben, so he saved the page, broke the internet connection and reconnected the telephone. There were only six, he could afford to ring each one of them.
"McDonald Donovan Solicitors," said a female voice. "Can I help you?"
Ben clutched the phone to the side of his head with one hand while the other twiddled with the cord. He'd phoned the other five solicitors and this was his last chance.
"Could I speak to Kathleen Bryce, please?" he said, forcing his voice to sound light.
There was a pause on the other end and Ben twisted the phone cord into a knot. That was what all the others had done, paused before telling him sorry, but there was no Kathleen working there.
"I'm sorry," here it came. "But Kathleen's not in today."
Ben started to tell her thanks anyway and stopped. "Sorry," he said. "Did you say..."
"Kath's not in," she said again. "She's off sick. Is there someone else who might be able to help you?"
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. "No. It's personal. Thanks anyway, I'll try her at home."
Ben dialled directory assistance to get Kath's number (under Neil's name of course, Neil wouldn't want anything under her name) and called her house.
"Hello," said a gruff, male voice and Ben hung up.
"Shit," said Ben. He stared at the phone, a hot flush creeping over him, and wondered.
Neil should have been at work. Kath hadn't said anything about him being on shift work or having time off, so there was no excuse for him being home.
Except no sooner had Ben thought that, than excuses began lining themselves up like solders in a neat little line in his head. There were only two plausible excuses out of these and one seemed far more likely than the other.
The first excuse, and less likely one, was that Kath was so sick Neil had decided to take the day off to care for her. This didn't sound like the Neil Ben knew and loved.
The other excuse was that maybe those free and easy fists of Neil's had finally turned on his wife.
He couldn't, Ben thought. How could anyone ever even think of raising a fist against Kath?
It happened, though. It happened and Ben knew it did. He'd come across it enough in the city. Girls so beautiful you felt you couldn't even breathe when you were around them. Only to find out later that at night they went home to be regularly verbally or physically abused by their husbands or boyfriends. The only thing was that even if Kath was a victim, what could Ben do? He'd heard often enough that there was no point trying to help them until they were ready to be helped. For now Ben would simply have to admit that even if Neil was bashing Kath (a fact that he was conspicuously absent of proof for) there was nothing he'd be able to do about it until Kath chose to confide in him. If she ever did.
In any case, the motel room had suddenly become too stuffy and close for Ben, he needed to get out.
The afternoon was clear and bright, the sun still only casting small holes of shadow in the day. Too early yet for dinner but neither was he ready to go back into his room and work. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at this. Since arriving in Casino he'd worked for a total of maybe three hours. If he didn't finish the site soon he'd be getting nasty phone calls from his boss, wanting to know why their client was still waiting for the new web-site.
Despite this Ben found himself walking across the parking lot towards reception. The electric eye buzzed as he stepped through the sliding door into the air-conditioned, somewhat smoke-tainted, office-cum-restaurant. Mavis sniffed and looked at him like a bit of cow manure someone had trod into the carpet.
"What now?" she said.
Ben leaned on the counter and smiled at her. "How are you?" he asked.
"Happy as a pig in shit," she flashed a sour grin at him. "What do you want?"
"I was wondering... the other day you were telling me about that couple staying here, the people from out of town...?"
"Yeah," said Mavis. "So?"
"I was wondering whether you might be able to tell me anything about them?" he said.
"Tell you anything about them?" she echoed. "What would an old busy-body like me know about anything?"
"I'm sorry about that," said Ben. "I guess I'm just a bit worried and run down. But do you know anything about these people? They seem a bit suspicious."
"They're out-of-towners," snapped Mavis. "Like you. You're all suspicious as far as I'm concerned." She looked back down at the desk and started writing something.
"Fine, thanks anyway," said Ben, and stormed off in search of somewhere to get
a decent arvo snack.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN