‘I haven’t decided yet,’ said O’Reilly, his face now in a sudden scowl. ‘I might. If I see the case headed in that direction. But if it doesn’t, there’s no point in sullying a good man’s reputation, is there? I mean, Butch Paterson was a pillar of this community for the best part of forty years. Look, Constable, I reckon you’ve asked just about enough questions for today, haven’t you?’
O’Reilly drained his cup and passed it to Arbor.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Go and make that cuppa then get on with your work. Before we know it, it’ll be lunch time and you won’t have shifted one bloody file.’
Arbor headed for the kitchen, turned on the tap and filled the kettle. Bugger this being low man on the totem pole, he thought. He’d like to take the pole and shove it up their arses.
Being the lowest man on the totem pole also meant he was the last man to lunch. It was mid-afternoon by the time he got away. The lounge bar was empty and the hotel kitchen was closed. He had to settle for a frozen pie, zapped to the point that it burned his teeth, and a bag of peanuts. He ordered his usual Strongbow and decided on a seat in the corner, with his back to the wall. From here, he figured, he would be able to see anyone who entered before they could lay eyes on him. Not that he was weird. Not really. He just valued his privacy and appreciated the opportunity to ward off any would-be time wasters before they made their move. And Chatton was full of time wasters.
He found consuming the pie a slow torment, each sip of his cider a sweet relief. It was only a matter of moments, however, before the piecrust broke apart and chunks of meat landed back on his plate. By the time he came to finish, he was slopping up gravy with his fingers and licking them clean. He took time to look around the room. It was still empty, thankfully. He didn’t need his terrible table manners displayed to the world.
He wiped his hands, gaining a little moisture from the condensation on his glass. He would wash them again later. Then he took out his phone.
‘Danny.’
‘Hey, Nathan. How’s things?’
‘Yeah, not bad.’
Nathan sounded like he was out in nature. Good luck to him.
‘Are you busy?’
‘No. Not really,’ said Nathan. ‘I was chatting with Toddy earlier, but that’s about it. They’re after someone to take Butch’s place … Coaching the Nippers.’
‘So, what? Are you going to do it?’
‘No. Not me,’ said Nathan. ‘I’d end up strangling the little buggers. Your name came up.’
Arbor laughed.
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I’ll have more than enough on my plate coaching you lot.’
‘That’s what I told them. Anyway, what can I do you for?’
‘Yeah, thanks. I meant to ask you last night,’ said Arbor. ‘You’ve got a trailer, haven’t you?’
‘Uh-huh. Why’s that?’
‘Is it serviceable? Roadworthy?’
‘Well, it’s licensed, if that’s what you mean.’
‘I was wondering,’ said Arbor. ‘I’ve decided that I will move out to Jenny’s. I was wondering if you’d be able to give me a hand. I can use the paddy wagon, but, for some of the bigger stuff …’
‘Yeah. I can manage that. When?’
‘I was thinking this arvo, if we can. If the rain lets up.’
Arbor heard Nathan laugh.
‘Yeah. Like that’ll happen. Ah, you never know. You might be lucky.’
‘I’ll give you a call, eh? When I’m finished.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Nathan. ‘So how’s it all going?’
‘What’s that? The case? Ah, you know.’
‘Yeah, fair enough. I’ll catch you later, brother.’
‘Yeah.’
Arbor hung up and checked the time. He still had twenty minutes. Plenty of time for another pie and another cider.
The door opened. It was Burke. She took a moment to spot him.
‘So this is where you’re hiding,’ she said. ‘Come on. Get a wriggle on. We were going back to his shop, remember?’
‘Yeah, but I’ve hardly had my lunch,’ said Arbor. ‘I’ve still got twenty minutes.’
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ said Burke. ‘That’s a promise.’
Arbor could see little point in this latest exploration of Butch’s shop. As Cole had said just a day earlier, the place was spotless. Every surface shone brightly. Every knife was in its place. Nevertheless, Burke took no time in digging through drawers and cupboards, pulling out every tool and device she could find. If she had a method, Arbor couldn’t see it.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Burke. ‘Make yourself busy somehow. Check out the cool room. See if there’s anything worth looking at in there.’
‘But Constable Cole did that yesterday.’
‘I know he did,’ said Burke. ‘We’ve already established that. But, as we’ve also agreed, that mongrel’s fucking useless. So get in there and have a look.’
Arbor took a step towards the cool room door. And then he understood. There was method in her madness. Burke had positioned herself in such a way that in trying to pass her, he would undoubtedly make contact. To make matters worse, he could see, she was thrusting her arse backwards towards the shop’s display cabinets and directly into his path.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant,’ he said, pressing himself hard against the glass. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind in the least, Constable,’ she said. In one swift and graceful turn, she had him pinned against the wall. As tight as any tagger, Arbor thought. He felt her breasts pushing hard against the small of his back and her hands sliding down his sides and towards his groin.
‘Sergeant,’ he said.
‘Shush,’ she said. ‘You know you like it.’
She pushed closer, fondling him.
‘No,’ he said. He used actual force to pull himself free.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked. ‘You were keen enough last time.’
‘I told you before,’ said Arbor. ‘Things are different now. I’ve got a girlfriend.’
Burke laughed. She gave him a look that ripped the hairs from his balls.
‘That shouldn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I thought any bloke your age would jump at the chance of a free root. And besides, she needn’t know. I can keep a secret.’
‘She’d know. And besides, I’m not interested.’
Burke laughed, something mean and designed to cut.
‘Pussy-whipped, are you? Ah, go on. Go and do your work.’
Arbor backed away, annoyed at the embarrassment he felt, angered at the way in which Burke could take her liberties with impunity. And he knew, any complaint he made about her to O’Reilly would fall on deaf ears. It had before. The sergeant had made it plain that to complain was not the course of action expected of a young red-blooded Aussie male. Arbor should, instead, just give her what she wanted.
He switched on the cool room light and entered. The cold air did little to cool his temper but, for a moment at least, he was glad to put some distance between himself and the detective. He took out his phone. A soft word from Jenny might calm him, he thought. Even a coarse one. But, of course, there was no reception. Instead, he gave the place a once-over.
At first glance, through the mist, all he could see were a dozen or so carcasses and half-carcasses. Lamb, pork, beef. Nothing more to report here, he thought. It was just the typical cool room of a typical butcher. And despite Burke’s low opinion of the other detective, he figured, Cole wasn’t a complete idiot. If there had been more to see, he would have seen it.
Ah, what the hell, he decided. He could survive the cold a few minutes longer. He would give the room a closer look. He studied the scene and began to count. Cole had counted twelve carcasses the day before.
Ten, eleven, twelve … As he stepped deeper into the room, something caught Arbor’s eye. It hung in the gloom in the far corner, a shape like none of the
others. He pushed his way towards it.
Four for four, he thought. Leg, hand, head and now … torso. Burke, for sure, would have something to say. And, more so, either he was having a streak of very bad luck or someone was telling him something.
‘Well, that’s a bloody sight, isn’t it?’ said Burke. ‘It sort of reminds you of something, eh? A tailor’s dummy?’
It was cold, black and missing every appendage.
‘Constable,’ Burke continued. ‘Run down to the station and round up the others. And get your sergeant to ring the doctor. It looks like we’ll be having another afternoon of it.’
‘I can use the radio,’ Arbor suggested. ‘It’ll save us some time.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ said Burke. ‘It won’t need all of us. And I’m sure Sergeant O’Reilly will want you to mind the store.’
Fuck off, he thought. While they might be logical, her instructions were bloody unfair. He, after all, had been the one to find the evidence. But it didn’t matter. She was discharging him as she might a spent prick.
Stuff it, he thought. At least back at the station he would have the freedom to think his own thoughts and do his own thing. He left the store and took the short walk to the station, dodging raindrops all the way.
Cole and O’Reilly took the news in different ways. Cole blamed Arbor, swearing black and blue that the torso wasn’t there the day before. He was keen to join his partner to set the record straight. But O’Reilly kept him waiting. Arbor watched, amused, as his sergeant boiled the kettle and poured a thermos of coffee.
‘I’ll be buggered,’ he said, ‘if I’ll pay Jack and Jill’s prices all afternoon. It might be all right for you city slickers, with your expense accounts, but for us local yokels, every cent counts.’
He was putting it on, but Cole couldn’t tell and Arbor wasn’t about to tell him. Finally, O’Reilly was ready.
‘Grab your brolly, Constable Cole,’ he said. ‘A nice walk in the rain might do us some good.’
The detective grumbled his way out the door. Arbor enjoyed a laugh at his expense. Good riddance, he thought, and he turned on his music.
A parting of the clouds did, in the end, give Arbor the few hours he needed to make his move to Jenny’s. He met up with Nathan as planned and they hooked up Nathan’s trailer to the paddy wagon before crossing the road to Arbor’s place. The trailer was more rust than metal, Arbor figured, but he chose to turn a blind eye to it. He appreciated the favour and would have been stuck otherwise.
There were only half a dozen large pieces to move, and they worked together as a team to get these loaded in a straightforward and methodical manner. There were no arguments about which piece should be loaded first, or about how they should be positioned. Not one bad word. It was only during the packing of the rest of Arbor’s gear that voices were raised. They had spent nearly half an hour assembling packing boxes and piling in Arbor’s dirty laundry and other sundry items before Nathan realised that there was a mountain of other stuff still waiting for them in the kitchen.
‘Fuck me, Danny,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it. You’ve only been here in town for, what, five or six months? How did you manage to collect all this shit? And I understand that you wanted to leave off packing all your clothes until the last minute, but I thought that you might have had all this crap in boxes already, ready for us to go.’
‘I didn’t think it would take us this long,’ said Arbor, scrambling.
Out of the kitchen cupboards came crockery, Tupperware bowls and, it seemed, every small kitchen device known to man. Arbor laid them all carefully inside two more packing boxes.
‘My mum …’ he said. ‘This is my first time away from home, really. I think she was … You know … just looking out for me. I’ve hardly used any of it. I’ve eaten at Jenny’s, mostly, and it was all takeaways before that.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Nathan. ‘Jenny’s cooking. You can’t go wrong, eh?’
‘No. It’s pretty good. Not as good as Mum’s, but …’
‘Don’t let her hear you say that. Hey. Those Tupperware things. Did you say you don’t use them?’
‘Yeah, I did. Why’s that?’
‘Because I’m sure Mandy could. I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want them.’
‘No, I’m sure. Go for it. Take them.’
‘Beaut,’ said Nathan. ‘I’ll get her to bake you a cake or something.’
He reached into the box and retrieved the bowls.
‘So,’ he said, stacking the Tupperware in a neat pile. ‘I hear you’ve got another one to add to your collection.’
‘Another what?’
‘Another body part. Do you think it means anything, you finding them all?’
‘Well, the kids found the first two, sort of … You saw O’Reilly and the Ds, eh? At the shop?’
‘Yeah, I reckon the whole town did.’
‘It doesn’t take long … No, I’ve no idea if it means anything, me finding them. Maybe someone’s got it in for me.’
Nathan grinned.
‘Mind you, I fucking hope not,’ said Arbor.
‘Woo, spooky,’ said Nathan.
He picked up a wooden spoon and gave Arbor his best Psycho rendition.
‘Please, don’t, Nathan,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s fucking creepy enough as it is.’
‘Left hand down,’ said Nathan. ‘You’ve still got another couple of metres.’
It was well past sunset and the tail lights of the trailer were shining brightly. Arbor was backing trailer and paddy wagon slowly into the corrugated iron shed that lay to the south of the Martin farmhouse. Jenny and Amira stood to one side, sharing an umbrella.
‘You were bloody lucky with this rain,’ said Jenny. ‘Another five minutes and it’ll be pelting down.’
Arbor alighted from the wagon and peered into the shed.
‘Are you sure it’ll all be safe in here?’ he said. ‘It looks a bit suss to me. Are you sure the water won’t get in?’
‘I’m sure enough,’ said Jenny. ‘The shed’s been there twenty years, and it’s been dry all that time. Look, we’ll leave you two to it, eh? I’ve got dinner on. Nathan, I assume you’re staying?’
‘Yeah. If you’ll have me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m relying on this man of yours to get me home.’
‘Just come in, then,’ said Jenny. ‘When you’re ready. Danny, anything that’s coming into the house, just stick it under the verandah. We can sort it out later.’
She shook the umbrella and she and Amira re-entered the house.
‘While you’re at it, Danny,’ said Nathan. ‘If you want to, just unhook the trailer and leave it. Drop it back to my place when you’re finished with it.’
‘Are you okay with that?’ said Arbor.
‘Yeah, fine,’ Nathan continued. ‘It beats us piss-farting about now, doesn’t it? Will you manage to unload by yourself?’
‘Yeah, I should do,’ said Arbor. ‘Give us a hand, then. We’ll dump these clothes boxes under the verandah. I’ll bring them in tomorrow.’
‘I wonder what’s for eating?’ said Nathan.
‘Something nice, I hope,’ said Arbor. ‘All I’ve had today was a microwave pie at the pub. It was barely edible. Last night was nice, though. We had one of Amira’s curries.’
‘Yeah? And how’s all that going? With Amira?’
‘Well enough, I suppose,’ said Arbor. ‘The poor girl’s still stuck in a pretty bad place … And I’m not sure I help much. Jenny’s great with her, but me? I find it all a bit hard to work out. How to act. What to say. Do you know what I mean? I feel like I’m walking on eggshells.’
‘Yeah, I get you,’ said Nathan. He patted Arbor on the back. ‘Just be yourself, Danny. I reckon that’s all you can be.’
Arbor took a moment for a sip of cold water.
‘You’ve totally nailed this, Jen,’ he said. ‘I used to go to the Mexican restaurant back in Mandurah all the time, but your chilli is way better. Real authen
tic, I reckon.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Jenny. ‘There’s more left, if you want it.’
‘Yes, please.’
Both men held out their bowls.
Arbor could tell Amira was keen to ask him something. And he had a fair idea what it might be. He got in first. A little white lie or two, he decided, would not go astray.
‘Everything’s fine, if that’s what you’re wondering, Amira,’ he said. ‘As you saw, the co-op blokes did a decent job of boarding up the window. And the glazier will be up from Perth in a few days. I’ll keep a close eye on it all for you.’
‘And the house?’
Arbor bit his tongue. He had decided to wait a while before telling her about the graffiti, if at all. He spoke with a straight face, as dispassionately as he could manage.
‘Yeah, no problems,’ he said. ‘At least so far. I’ll be chasing up a few of the likely culprits in the next day or so.’
‘The Revengers?’ said Jenny, with a smile.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Arbor.
‘And who might they be?’
‘I’d rather not say,’ said Arbor. ‘I’d rather not drop someone in it if they don’t belong.’
‘But the house is okay?’ said Amira.
‘Yeah, the house is fine.’
‘Danny was right, Jen,’ said Nathan. ‘That was to die for. That was one mean chilli.’
‘Yeah,’ said Arbor. ‘Just about perfect, I reckon.’
‘Do you want anything else?’ asked Jenny. ‘I’ve got some fruit salad.’
‘No, I’m stuffed,’ said Arbor.
‘I could manage something,’ said Nathan. ‘Tonight is Mandy’s pool comp night. There won’t be anything waiting for me when I get home.’
‘Sure thing,’ said Jenny, opening the fridge.
Arbor stood and began clearing the table.
‘Is she any good at it, Nathan?’ he asked. ‘At playing pool?’
‘Yeah, not bad,’ said Nathan. ‘She takes it bloody seriously, I can tell you that.’
Cold Cuts Page 9
