‘Yeah, right,’ said Jenny. ‘Grab a towel. You can dry. And Amira. You’re on the coffees.’
They finished up and took their coffees out onto the verandah. Although the rain was still heavy, it was warm and they sat and watched as the dirt in the nearby paddocks turned to mud.
By the time Arbor headed back into town, the road too was a sea of brown. Even the hundred-metre track that led away from the house was treacherous. Sliding left and right and back again, Arbor inched his way slowly towards the Melton road. At the intersection, in the glare of his headlights, all he could see was a dirty stream, running hard and fast down the slope towards him and over the edges of the Melton Creek Bridge. As he crossed the bridge, he could hear the torrent. The small stream that separated Jenny’s property from the Blairs’, the same stream that ran mostly dry four months ago during the search he and Nathan had made for Amira, was now a whitewater event.
It took him twenty minutes rather than the usual ten to get to Amira’s place in town, and it poured all the way. For a moment, he considered standing in the rain to open the carport door, but, instead, he left the wagon in the driveway. He raced for the shelter of the verandah, fumbling for a moment with the keys before letting himself in.
He turned on the living room light and then headed for the bathroom, stripping off and getting under the shower, letting the day wash away with the dirt. Clean and dry, he slipped on his PJs, a dressing gown and his Uggies and then went to the kitchen. A solitary cider remained in the fridge. You deserve it, Danny, he told himself, after the day you’ve had. He settled into his chair and reached for the remote.
There was nothing that grabbed him. Just reality shows and movies he had already seen. He picked up his phone.
‘Hey, babe,’ said Jenny.
‘How’s things?’ said Arbor. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I’m just bored shitless back here.’
‘No, that’s cool,’ said Jenny. ‘I’m just kicking back with a vino. Amira’s asleep on the couch.’
‘Yeah, she looked pretty stuffed.’
‘Sleep’s good for her,’ said Jenny. ‘You know, I don’t know how these chicks do it.’
‘Do what?’ said Arbor. ‘What chicks?’
‘I’m watching The Bachelor,’ said Jenny. ‘As far as I can tell, these guys are all up themselves. I wouldn’t touch them. I’m serious. I don’t know what the chicks see in them. They’re a bunch of drongos.’
‘The chicks are just as bad, if you ask me,’ said Arbor. ‘Nothing like you.’
They laughed.
‘Yeah, right,’ said Jenny. ‘Maybe we’ll both apply next year … Listen, I’m real glad you didn’t bring it up at dinner. Butch’s head, I mean. I’m not sure it would have gone down well.’
‘You would have both brought it up. Literally,’ said Arbor. ‘I mean, you could hardly recognise it. It was ripe. It’d probably been in there since the weekend.’
‘No more, please, Danny,’ said Jenny. ‘But no clues? Is that all you’ve got? A head, a hand and a leg?’
‘Yeah, that’s about the size of it.’
‘That’s weird. And no ideas? No suspicions?’
‘Not really,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s really thrown me. You know, I can’t help but think. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was something really dark about it. You know, satanic? Do you know what I mean?’
They laughed.
‘Say, you wouldn’t know any local Satan worshippers, would you?’ he continued. ‘Or Goths with an axe to grind? Or some card-carrying witches?’
‘No, not really,’ said Jenny.
They were still laughing, but then Jenny stopped.
‘Wait on. You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘Of course I am,’ said Arbor.
‘Well, actually, Danny,’ Jenny said. ‘As a matter of fact … No. No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I’d be reaching …’
‘What? What?’ said Arbor. ‘What the hell is it?’
Jenny thought for a moment.
‘Oh, bugger it,’ she said. ‘I might as well tell you. There’s an old schoolmate of mine. Her name’s Susie … Susie Crawford. She lives out Whitney way. Anyway, Susie brought a few really weird mates back up from Albany way a few years back. I’ve heard they get up to all sorts of nonsense out there, a bit of Wicca included. But I can’t see that they’d be who you’re after, Danny. They keep mostly to themselves. And I’m fairly sure all she gets up to is a bit of voodoo, the odd séance and the occasional massage and happy ending.’
‘Are you serious?’ said Arbor. ‘She gives happy endings? How come I didn’t know that?’
‘Because you walk around with your eyes closed,’ said Jenny. ‘But, in any case, as far as I know, Susie’s crowd only drink each other’s blood. No need for Butch’s. Did you find any teeth marks on his neck?’
‘Now you’re having me on,’ said Arbor.
‘You deserve it,’ said Jenny.
‘Still,’ said Arbor, thinking deeply. ‘I’d better mention them to the Ds, eh? There’ll be hell to pay if they find out about Susie by themselves then discover that I knew about her.’
‘Just don’t …’ said Jenny. ‘Whatever you do, don’t tell them I told you. Susie was a good friend at school and I’d hate for her to think I was dobbing her in.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Arbor.
‘Are you sleeping in the chair again tonight?’ Jenny’s voice was soft now, almost seductive.
‘It looks like it.’
‘Too bad,’ said Jenny. ‘And I’ll have a big wide bed to myself. I might sleep in the raw again.’
‘Bitch.’
‘Too right … Goodnight, Danny.’
‘Goodnight.’
The phone went dead. Arbor could hear the rain clattering on the rooftop, but it didn’t much matter.
WEDNESDAY
It rained all night. Enough to keep Arbor awake. It was the second night in a row that his sleep had been unsettled. He cursed himself as he rose in the dark and headed for the kitchen. He should have realised it driving back from Jenny’s. The rain would keep all but the most ardent and ingenious firebugs away. He could have slept, happily, in comfort, with Jenny beside him. Too late now, though, he thought. He filled the kettle and dropped two slices into the toaster before heading for the shower. He was ready for work just as the sun peeked above the houses to the east of town. Far too early, he thought. As an afterthought he stepped outside and checked the perimeter of the house.
Wet enough for firebugs, perhaps, but not wet enough for vandals in general. Either their attack had come under protection of the rain or he had slept through it. Vandals with a can of spray paint. Red. And it wasn’t a tag. Across the front of the house were words that didn’t bear repeating. And, to cap it off, on the side of the wagon, in cartoon fashion, was the face of a pig.
‘Fuck.’
Arbor kept his voice low. He had no desire to wake the neighbours with an early morning barrage. What to do? The house was bad enough, but there was no way he could arrive at the station with Peppa Pig in tow.
There was no other way. Although it was strictly against the rules and would place any potential conviction in jeopardy, he had to do it. He would destroy the evidence. For his own sake and for Amira’s. But how?
He was lucky. The co-op, he knew, opened early and it stocked all manner of crap. He would find something there. He climbed into the paddy wagon and headed for Palm Street.
The house would need considerable attention and more time than he had. He organised with Karen Todd for Mike and Benjie to pay a visit. The graffiti, Karen promised, would be all gone by the time the day was done. That would be great, thought Arbor. He needed it done quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Amira to see it.
Sorting the paddy wagon was a little easier. With a bottle of acetone and half an hour of rubbing, he had it, if not as good as new, at least decent enough so that O’Reilly wouldn’t notice. He was outside the station at seven
-thirty, ready to face the sergeant and the day.
‘It really bunged it down last night,’ he heard O’Reilly say, as he entered.
‘You’re not far wrong,’ said Cole. ‘I barely slept a wink. These tin roofs are just the ticket, aren’t they?’
They were in the kitchen making coffees. Burke already had hers and had her bum parked on Arbor’s desk.
‘So what’s the story?’ she asked. ‘What’s the agenda? I suppose we should go see this doctor of yours again, eh? See what he can tell us about the head.’
‘I’d rather give it a miss, if you don’t mind, Sarge,’ said Cole. ‘Something I ate, I reckon. I don’t want to embarrass myself.’
Burke laughed.
‘Do you know something, Cole?’ she said. ‘You’re just about the worst bloody detective I’ve come across. You’d go queasy at the sight of a jam sandwich, you would. What about you, Senior? Are you up for it?’
‘No. I reckon I’ll give it a miss as well,’ said O’Reilly. ‘I had enough of an eyeful last night. We were close enough for me call him a mate. I don’t want to see him served up on a dinner plate, with the doctor jabbing all his whatsits into him.’
‘All right,’ said Burke. ‘It looks like it’s you and me again, Constable.’
As if there was ever any doubt, thought Arbor.
‘Do you …?’ The words stumbled from his mouth. ‘Do you mind if I have a cuppa first? I got up ridiculously early. I haven’t eaten since about half past four.’
‘That’s a bit slack of you, Constable,’ said Burke. ‘Sergeant, have you anything for eating in there?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ said O’Reilly. ‘There should be some Corn Flakes in there somewhere.’
‘There you go, Constable,’ said Burke. ‘Plenty of nourishment for you.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ said Arbor. ‘The coffee will be fine.’
‘Nonsense,’ Burke continued. ‘A young guy like you needs to keep his strength up. You never know when you might need it.’
But for the barest of glances to confirm his worst thoughts, Arbor had resisted looking at the head the day before. Now he couldn’t avoid it. It sat on a table much as O’Reilly had predicted, like an offering at a banquet. Doc Phillips was measuring the cuts to the neck with a set of calipers.
‘We’ve had no end of trouble in this town since you arrived, Arbor,’ the doctor said. ‘You’re a fucking albatross.’
‘What? It’s got nothing to do with me, Doc,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s a pure coincidence … Is that the usual colour?’
He was taken by the green hue and a certain marbling effect on the skin.
‘Yeah, pretty much,’ said the doctor. ‘We were lucky we got it on ice when we did. Otherwise it might be black by now. You saw the hand. And the smell, too. We might be standing here holding our noses wondering who the fuck farted.’
‘So what can you tell us, Doctor?’ said Burke. She was clearly keen to get on. ‘Can you tell us anything? I’ve noticed you haven’t bothered opening it up.’
‘Not much point to that,’ said the doctor. ‘I could tell straight away that losing his head wasn’t what killed him. He was dead long before that. Take a look at these cuts on his neck. They’re similar to the ones on the leg I looked at the other day. And the hand. I’m fairly sure that they’ve all both been broken up with a cleaver. I’m not a gambling man but I reckon that’s how they might have done away with the whole body. It’s taken at least three or four blows to get through this. Pretty brutal work. But methodical too. Nothing rushed about it. I reckon that might say something. Maybe whoever it was had a bit of butchering experience. But, then, that could be anyone around here, couldn’t it, Constable? There’s plenty of animal slaughtering going on.’
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ said Arbor.
‘Constable,’ said Burke. ‘Remind me later. We need to have another look in the shop. Cole was in there yesterday, but I reckon he wouldn’t know if his arse was on fire. We’ll have a real good squiz later on and check out the butcher’s own knives.’
Terrific, thought Arbor. He could see another close encounter coming on. And at the crime scene, no less.
It would be easily enough done, he thought, just to succumb and let her have her way. He would be lying if he said he wouldn’t enjoy it. But he knew. There was something about it, something about that complete loss of control that terrified him. At just on two metres tall, topping a hundred kilos, he was nothing more than a giant mouse.
‘Constable,’ said Doc Phillips, bringing him back to the now.
‘Yes, Doctor?’ he said.
‘If you find any more parts you want to add to your collection, just let me know, eh? We can put them together like a jigsaw puzzle.’
‘How do you mean, my collection?’ said Arbor. ‘Why drag me into it like that?’
‘Well, think about it. You as good as found the leg. And the hand. You certainly found the head here. It seems to me the only thing they’ve got in common is you.’
The doctor was right. It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Yeah, thanks for that, Doc,’ Arbor said. ‘But I reckon I’ve just been lucky.’
He laughed, and drew surprising grins from the doctor and Burke. Gallows humour, he thought. If you can’t beat them, join them.
Arbor found Nobby Rodgers under his car. The Monaro was on ramps, Rodgers reaching in the dirt for a spanner.
‘How goes it, Nobby?’ said Arbor.
‘Ah, fucked,’ said Rodgers. ‘This thing’s been nothing but trouble.’
‘It’s not surprising,’ said Arbor. ‘The way you treat it. Have you got a tick?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Nobby. ‘Anything’s better than this.’
He crawled out from beneath the car and dusted himself off.
‘What can I do for you?’ he said.
‘How did you go with your dad?’ Arbor asked. ‘After Sunday’s episode?’
‘Ah, he’s cool,’ said Nobby. ‘His bark’s worse than his bite. So what’s up?’
‘I don’t know if you’ve heard,’ said Arbor. ‘But Harry Hogg and his old man have both changed their pleas. They’ve both pleaded guilty.’
‘Yeah, I heard,’ said Nobby.
‘It’s not them I’m worried about,’ said Arbor. ‘But there’s been some trouble. Local. Someone’s been giving Amira Rashid a hard time. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’
‘No. Not me.’
‘You were never a part of that Purity League bunch, were you? The ones that Hoggy hung with? I thought they might be a place to start.’
‘No. No way. Not me. Rusty Piper. I didn’t like him. I always thought he was full of crap. He tried to boss you around.’
‘Do you know who is?’ said Arbor. ‘Who do you know? Do you know anyone who might be involved? Who were Hoggy’s other mates?’
‘Jeez, I wouldn’t know,’ said Nobby. ‘Take your pick. As far as that Purity League crowd’s concerned, you could be looking at any of them. Johnno Pike, Warren Simpson, Josh Owens, any of them. But I’m guessing. They don’t exactly advertise it, if you know what I mean. And I like to keep my nose out of it. It’s all too much trouble for my liking. Does that answer your question?’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ said Arbor. ‘I’ll chase a few of them up when I get some time. So what’s wrong with the car, anyway?’
‘I’ll be fucked if I know, Constable Arbor,’ said Nobby, kicking a tyre. ‘I’ll be fucked if I know.’
‘There’s something I was meaning to tell you,’ said Arbor, removing his jacket and wiping the rain from his cap.
‘And what’s that, me hearty?’ said Burke. She was at his desk. O’Reilly was at his own desk and Cole was on the phone.
‘I heard …’ said Arbor. ‘I know it’s not my job, but I got to thinking about what might be going on. You know, about what it might take for someone to chop someone else up like that.’
‘Uh-huh. And where did your thinking lead you?’
‘I heard … I was thinking about maybe witchcraft.’
The force of Burke’s laughter pushed him backwards.
‘You what? Did you hear that, Sergeant?’ she said. ‘Your constable here thinks it’s all the work of witches. Ah, give it a rest, boy. You’ve been watching too much Harry Potter, haven’t you? Jesus.’
‘No, I’m serious,’ said Arbor. ‘The word is that there’s a bunch of them out Whitney way. You never know. It’s a place to start, anyway, isn’t it? I can’t see we’ve got any other leads.’
‘Nah, bullshit,’ said Burke. ‘Someone’s been blowing smoke up your arse. Who would that be?’
‘No one you’d know.’
‘Do you know anything about this, Senior?’ Burke said. ‘Do you know if you’re hiding a satanic coven somewhere in your district?’
‘Not that I know,’ said O’Reilly. ‘Who are you talking about, Arbor?’
‘I think her name’s Crawford,’ said Arbor. ‘Susie Crawford.’
‘Oh, Christ. You’re kidding me,’ said O’Reilly. ‘Susie Crawford? Hell, I’ve known Susie since she was knee high. I knew her parents as well. I used to play darts with them. Yeah, she’s got a wild crew out at her place now. I’m sure they get up to all sorts of nonsense. But apart from the odd bit of dope, or maybe more than the odd bit, I can’t see them doing anything illegal.’
‘I’ve heard she does massages … with happy endings.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve heard a lot of things. Just leave it alone, Constable. Leave the serious thinking to the grown-ups. You got me?’
‘Yeah, all right, Sarge.’
‘Now, scram. Go and make us all a cuppa or something.’
‘Yeah, that’d be nice, Constable,’ said Burke, smiling. ‘White and three.’
She smacked his rump and laughed. Arbor backtracked towards O’Reilly.
‘Hey, Sarge,’ he said quietly.
‘What now?’ said O’Reilly.
‘I was wondering,’ said Arbor. ‘That flyer. The one I brought back from my bin search. Are you going to pass it on to the Ds?’
Cold Cuts Page 8
