Cold Cuts

by Calder Garret

  ‘But he said he might. He helps a lot of blokes.’

  ‘What, out of the goodness of his heart? I don’t think so. Can’t your dad help you?’

  ‘Nah, he’s as tight as a duck’s arse.’

  ‘And Snippy,’ said Arbor. ‘He doesn’t want anything in return?’

  ‘He said he’d take a lien out on the car.’

  ‘Do you know what a lien is, Nobby?’

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘Listen, if I were you … I suggest you get into your car and put some space between you and this dickhead. Otherwise you’ll soon find yourself walking everywhere. Look, drop in and see me at the station.’

  ‘Why, will you lend me …?’

  ‘No, I won’t lend you. But I will point you in the right direction. Are you okay with that?’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon so.’

  ‘Good,’ said Arbor. ‘Now bugger off before things here turn ugly.’

  Rodgers headed for his car.

  ‘Hey, Constable,’ he said. ‘Have you chased up any of those blokes yet? The NPL blokes?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ said Arbor. ‘I haven’t had time. But I will. Whatever you do, don’t let on I’m chasing them, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  ‘Hey, Nobby!’

  Snippy was calling him to the house.

  ‘Are you bad mouthing me, Constable?’ he said.

  Arbor ignored him. He ushered Nobby into his car and watched him drive away. He could hear the crunch of gears from one end of Carter Street to the other.

  Despite his issue with Arbor, it seemed as if Snippy Lawrence was in a reasonable mood. He happily agreed to accompany the detectives back to the station to ‘clear up a few misunderstandings’. His mates, he laid down the law, were welcome to stay so long as they drank no more of his piss. They all left. Lawrence led the way to the vehicles.

  ‘But I’m not …’ he said. ‘I’m not getting in the back of the paddy wagon. I’m not letting you display me to the town like I’m some sort of crim.’

  ‘All right,’ said Burke. ‘You can ride with us. Cole, get in the back with him.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Snippy. ‘I was thinking you might like to join me.’

  ‘Yeah, in your dreams, darling,’ said Burke, as she got behind the wheel.

  His attention drawn to the crowd milling on the other side of the street, Arbor unlocked the paddy wagon doors. They were mostly women and children. The men, he assumed, were at work, or were too afraid to show an interest in Snippy’s apparent demise.

  ‘Come on, son,’ O’Reilly said to him, getting in the passenger side. ‘I’m sure you’ve seen a crowd or two before.’

  The Chatton police station had been erected in 1913. There had been no allowances made for the needs of modern policing. There was no designated interview room. Even the holding cell out back, with its limestone walls and grey iron door, had all the character of something from the colonial past. When it came to interviewing Snippy Lawrence, the detectives had the choice between Arbor’s desk and the kitchen table. Burke chose the softer option and offered Lawrence a seat at the table.

  ‘Take a pew, Mr Lawrence,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer if you’ve got one,’ Snippy.

  Burke ignored him.

  ‘Arbor,’ she said. ‘Put the kettle on.’

  Glad to be of service, thought Arbor. Once again, he did as commanded.

  ‘So, Mr Lawrence,’ Burke continued. ‘We just want to ask you a few questions. And, as I explained in the car, you have the right to an attorney or to keep your gob shut if you’re so inclined.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Snippy. ‘There’s not an attorney within cooee of here. And once I start talking, I can’t stop. No. She’ll be right. I’ve got no secrets. At least nothing I need to hide from you lot. So fire away.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Burke. ‘Bill Paterson. The butcher. You knew him?’

  ‘Yeah, of course I knew him. Everyone in town knew him.’

  ‘It’s come to our attention that he owed you some money … Mr Lawrence?’

  ‘Yeah, he might have done. He needed new fridges. Early last year. He couldn’t get the money from anywhere else. So he came to me. But he was paying it back. In dribs and drabs, but he was paying it back.’

  ‘At what interest rate?’

  ‘My usual,’ said Snippy. ‘Thirty percent. But, hey, I’m legal. I’ve got a licence to lend.’

  He turned to Arbor.

  ‘You, Constable,’ he said. ‘If you’ve done me out of a deal with that Rodgers kid, I’ll be as dark as hell.’

  ‘Leave Nobby alone,’ said Arbor. ‘The poor kid wouldn’t know if his arse was on fire.’

  ‘That’s his problem,’ said Lawrence.

  ‘Mr Lawrence,’ said Burke. ‘About your relationship with Mr Paterson. When was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Weeks ago, I reckon.’

  ‘And Saturday night. Where were you?’

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ said Lawrence. ‘Look, I see where you’re going with this. I mean, I might have leant on a few people from time to time. What independent businessman hasn’t? I might have leant on Butch. Especially when he started falling behind in his payments. But do that? Cut the poor bugger into pieces? Steady on. Fair suck of the sauce bottle. I’ve heard about wanting a pound of flesh but … Well, that’s taking it too far.’

  Burke looked at Cole and then at O’Reilly. Arbor dropped a coffee in front of Lawrence.

  ‘It’s all right, Constable,’ said Burke. ‘Mr Lawrence won’t be staying.’

  ‘Ah, you’re joking, aren’t you?’ said Snippy. ‘I only just got here. I was just starting to enjoy myself.’

  ‘Stiff bikkies,’ said Burke. ‘But, as the saying goes, don’t leave town. We’ll want to speak to you again.’

  ‘No worries about that,’ said Snippy. ‘I haven’t left town in ten years. I hate dust, I hate the big smoke and to me every country town looks just the fucking same. Do I get a lift home?’

  ‘Yeah, you get a lift home,’ said Burke. ‘Constable, take Mr Lawrence home, will you?’

  ‘Yeah, Constable,’ laughed Snippy. ‘Take me home.’

  Jenny was bringing in laundry. The clouds had cleared by mid-morning, offering the first blue skies for days.

  ‘Where’s Amira?’ asked Arbor.

  ‘She’s out collecting eggs,’ said Jenny. ‘But I’m sure she hasn’t a clue where to find them. She might be a while.’

  Arbor laughed. He joined Jenny in her task. The sooner they finished, he thought, the sooner they might … After an afternoon spent with Chatton’s vermin, he was in desperate need.

  ‘We pulled in Snippy Lawrence today,’ he said. ‘We thought he might have had something to do with Butch’s murder. But we let him go again.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ said Jenny.

  ‘It wasn’t up to me,’ said Arbor. ‘I guess the Ds reckoned there was nothing to hold him on.’

  ‘And, of course, they’d know best, wouldn’t they?’

  There was a hint of sarcasm in Jenny’s voice. Arbor didn’t mind it.

  ‘And I had some words with Nobby Rodgers again. Yesterday, he gave me a few names. The names of the blokes who might be bothering Amira. But I think I put my foot in it today.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘He was at Snippy’s on the scrounge for money. I told him he should come and see me.’

  Jenny laughed.

  ‘You didn’t?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Arbor. ‘And he took it the wrong way, too. He thought I’d lend him some.’

  ‘Serves you right,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Hey, there’s something else,’ said Arbor. ‘I have to tell you something.’

  ‘Yeah, and what’s that?’ said Jenny.

  Arbor fell silent.

  ‘What is it, babe?’ said Jenny. ‘You don’t look happy.’

  ‘
No, I’m not,’ said Arbor. ‘Not really. You see, I got a phone call from Mum.’

  ‘Uh-huh? What’s the problem?’

  ‘They … That’s her and Dad … They’re coming up for my birthday.’

  ‘Yeah?’ said Jenny. ‘And what’s so wrong with that? It’ll be nice to finally meet them.’

  Arbor fell silent again. He held the screen door open as Jenny entered the house. Jenny dumped her basket on the kitchen table. Arbor sat beside her.

  ‘What? Do they embarrass you or something?’ she said. ‘Don’t you want me to find out about your bogan roots?’

  ‘No. It’s not that,’ said Arbor. ‘If only.’

  ‘I don’t mind, Danny,’ said Jenny. ‘Seriously. You could be a wombat, for all I care.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that,’ said Arbor. ‘But …’

  ‘But what? What is it? … Come on, Danny. What’s going on? Are you hiding something?’

  ‘Yeah, look, try to understand, Jen,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s just that … I mean, I haven’t—’

  ‘Oh, God,’ said Jenny. ‘You haven’t told them about me, have you? Is that what it is?’

  She laughed.

  ‘What is it?’ she continued. ‘Are you too scared to tell them that you’ve shacked up with an old chook?’

  ‘Yeah, well, not really,’ said Arbor. ‘But I guess … I reckon it might be something like that. I just thought I’d wait.’

  ‘Wait for what, Danny?’ said Jenny. ‘The fucking wedding? Oh, Christ.’

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry, Jen,’ said Arbor. ‘I really am.’

  ‘Well, so you should be,’ said Jenny. ‘No, it’s cool, mate. It’s really fucking cool.’

  ‘But it’s not, is it?’

  ‘You work that out one for yourself, Danny,’ she said. ‘How would you feel? … Hell, if you don’t want them to know about us, that’s fine. We’ll just keep it our little secret. We won’t tell a soul.’

  She was folding her laundry with venom now.

  ‘No, we don’t have to, Jen,’ said Arbor. ‘Honest. We don’t.’

  ‘Weak as piss, Danny,’ she said. ‘No, don’t worry about it. We won’t let on … And so … Is that it? Is that why you came out here? Just to tell me that? Aren’t you supposed to be guarding Amira’s place?’

  ‘Yeah, I was. I am,’ said Arbor. ‘I will be. But it’s … It’s been a few days. I reckon I missed you.’

  Jenny laughed.

  ‘Jeez, you can be obvious sometimes, Danny,’ she said. ‘Are you putting me on the spot? Is that what this is? You want a root, don’t you? Yeah, great timing, babe.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ said Arbor. ‘I thought that might be a problem.’

  ‘And you still asked me?’

  Jenny resumed folding her laundry, then stopped.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Danny,’ she said. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can sit there until your balls go blue. Or you can chase your detective girlfriend. Try her on for size.’

  ‘When are they coming up?’ she asked.

  She still seemed distant. He was in Salim’s armchair again. She was … He didn’t know, but she was beyond Amira’s hearing.

  ‘Tomorrow arvo sometime,’ Arbor replied.

  ‘Uh-huh. And where are they staying?’

  ‘They mentioned the pub. But I …’

  ‘They’re staying here, okay?’ said Jenny. ‘I’ll strip my bed, put on clean sheets and everything. They can sleep in there. Amira’s got the spare bed and I’ve got a camp bed I can use. Will you be staying? I guess you will. You won’t want to leave your parents with strangers, will you?’

  ‘No, I guess not,’ said Arbor.

  ‘You can sleep on the lounge,’ said Jenny. ‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you? And if you feel like telling them about us while they’re here, well, then, that’s up to you. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds fine,’ said Abor. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Look, if you don’t want to tell your folks about us, that’s cool,’ said Jenny. ‘But we can at least help them enjoy themselves when they’re here.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. There was a little laughter in her voice now. ‘I bet Nobby Rodgers haunts you now. He’ll be coming into the station every other day, asking you for money.’

  ‘He’d better bloody not,’ said Arbor. ‘His old man’s got, what, close to eight thousand hectares? And he’s doing well. Nobby’s got no need to be asking other people for money.’

  ‘Yeah, well. People’s relationships with their parents. They can be difficult sometimes.’

  Arbor felt it burn.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry about it, Danny,’ she said. ‘Whatever’s going on in that crazy head of yours, I reckon your heart’s in the right place. Most of the time, anyway.’

  FRIDAY

  Mindless television, Arbor decided, was best viewed in a darkened room, with a bag of Twisties on his lap and the light from the television flickering, reflecting upon the walls and furniture. He was watching tribes of loud Americans debate the ownership of a bright red pick-up truck. Lots of pushing and shoving was going on, with all the veracity of the WWE. But the incessant arguing grew tiresome. Not even the sight of several bikini-clad women refusing to move from the vehicle’s tray could keep him interested. He turned down the volume and closed his eyes.

  He woke with a start. The television was now offering a deal on mattress toppers and there was light from a set of headlights flashing through the blinds. He checked his watch. It was nearly one o’clock. Happy birthday, Danny. Twenty-four today. He killed the television and listened. Sure enough, he could hear car doors closing and the voices of two or more men in the garden outside. He lifted his belt from the floor and put it on. His firearm was safely locked away at the station, but other than that, he was fully loaded. Taser, baton, pepper spray, cuffs. The whole shebang. He opened the front door as quietly as he could and stepped out into the night.

  There were three of them, and a late-model Mustang on the lawn. More money than sense, he decided. The men were standing close to the wall, examining the repairs made to the damage done a few nights before.

  ‘I told you,’ said one. ‘It’s like we hadn’t bothered. I saw the cop car, too. Clean as a whistle.’

  Arbor could hear the rattling as they shook the can. Up and back, up and back.

  ‘I’ll sort the prick out,’ laughed another. ‘How do you spell constable?’

  ‘With a u,’ laughed yet another.

  ‘I’m not surprised you can’t spell,’ said Arbor.

  ‘Fuck!’

  The can was dropped and the boys were gone. Arbor watched them disappear down the street.

  ‘All well and good, guys,’ he shouted. ‘But one of you has left your car. In fact …’

  He bent down, picked up the can and shook it loudly.

  ‘Hey, how about “dickhead”?’ he shouted. ‘Can any of you spell “dickhead”?’

  ‘No, wait a minute!’ came a cry. ‘You can’t do that!’

  Out of the darkness, a solitary figure emerged, shuffling. Closer, the face confirmed Arbor’s own theory. It was Warren Simpson. His family owned a large property out past the Hogg place. About the biggest around.

  ‘You could get time for this sort of shit, Warren,’ said Arbor.

  ‘It wasn’t my idea,’ said Warren. ‘I didn’t think it up. It was …’

  ‘Who?’ asked Arbor, but he knew the boy wouldn’t tell. Some screwed up sense of loyalty. But what to do now? It was the middle of the night. O’Reilly would have his guts if he wakened him at this hour.

  ‘Stand over there,’ he said. ‘That’s it. By the house. Here. Hold the can.’

  He took a few photos, snapped another few of Warren’s car. This would have to do as evidence, he decided. But with his own testimony and the can itself, he felt confident he could manage a conviction.

  ‘Think about it, Warren,’ he said. ‘It’ll go a lot
easier if you tell us who else was involved.’

  ‘No way,’ said Simpson. ‘They’d do me.’

  ‘Then how’s about the other night?’ said Arbor. ‘Was it you lot then? That brick through the newsagent’s window? Come on, Warren. Out with it. Are you one of the Revengers?’

  The boy remained silent, shuffling.

  ‘Bright, Warren. Real bright,’ said Arbor. ‘Look, it’s your funeral either way … Go on, then. Scram. You’ve disturbed my beauty sleep enough for tonight. But I want you at the station first thing, okay? By seven o’clock at the latest. And bring your dad.’

  ‘My dad’s away,’ said Simpson. ‘In the city. Why? Are you going to charge me?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Arbor. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Look, I’ll see your old man when he gets back. But I still want you there. Have you got me? Now, go on. Clear off … Seven o’clock … And I’m warning you. If anything else happens tonight, anywhere, well, you know who I’ll be looking for.’

  ‘But that’s not fair,’ said Simpson.

  ‘That’s tough shit,’ said Arbor. ‘Now go.’

  The boy climbed into his car and started it up. Arbor stood on the lawn until the car was long gone and the sound of its engine was just a distant rumble.

  Jenny had woken him early to wish him a happy birthday, but he was still half-asleep and remembered little of the call once she was gone. He showered and dressed in a daze and then headed for Jack and Jill’s. He ordered something hot and cheesy for breakfast. He was thankful that the Simpson boy was waiting for him outside the station. He had no desire to go chasing him.

  ‘Any more thoughts about dobbing in your mates ?’ he said.

  ‘No way,’ said Simpson. ‘Besides, I phoned my old man. He says you’ve got nothing on me. I didn’t actually do nothing. You didn’t see nothing.’

  ‘Is that right?’ said Arbor. ‘Well, if that’s your thinking. You know, I was just about ready to let you off with a warning, but now I might just throw the book at you. Do something for me, Warren. Ask your old man how he feels about coughing up six grand to cover your fine for you.’

  ‘Six grand?’