Cold Cuts

by Calder Garret

‘Open ours next, then,’ said Nathan, thrusting one of his boxes towards Arbor. Arbor opened it.

  ‘What can I expect here?’ he asked.

  ‘They’re the real deal,’ said Nathan. ‘Sort of.’

  A pair of Aviators. Reflective.

  ‘Ray Bans,’ said Nathan. ‘At least that’s what the bloke I bought them from said.’

  Arbor put them on.

  Nathan continued with a laugh.

  ‘What we have here,’ he said, ‘is a failure to communicate … But here. There’s another one. But it’s not from us.’

  ‘Who’s it from, then?’ said Arbor, examining the package.

  ‘I think it must be from the footy blokes,’ said Nathan. ‘I found it sitting on your door step.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Arbor. ‘That’s nice of them … I guess.’

  He pulled at the wrapping and then opened the package.

  It wasn’t from the footy blokes. In fact, it couldn’t have been from anyone who wished him well.

  Beyond the mortification, all Arbor felt was the desire to hide the contents of the box from his mother and Amira. His dad could handle it. He was fairly certain of that. Jenny and Mandy could handle it, too. And to Nathan, it would be like water off a duck’s back. But Mum … Amira … He closed the box quickly and stood.

  ‘What is it?’ said Nathan. ‘What did they give you?’

  ‘I’ve got a phone call to make,’ said Arbor.

  ‘But what is it, Danny? What’s in the box?’

  ‘I’ll show you later,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s a bit rude.’

  He took a few steps towards the kitchen.

  ‘Are you all right, son?’ said Margie.

  ‘Yeah, Mum,’ said Arbor. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  He entered the kitchen, placed the box on the counter top and took out his phone. Deep breaths, Danny, he told himself. Deep breaths.

  After a few moments, Jenny entered.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she said. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘It’s the same ghost over and over,’ said Arbor. ‘You can have a look if you like. But be warned.’

  ‘Will I regret it?’ said Jenny.

  Arbor glared deeply at the box.

  ‘Yeah, I reckon you will,’ he said.

  But somehow he knew. Jenny could not resist the temptation. Her fingers inched closer to the box and lifted the lid.

  ‘Jesus!’ she said. ‘I expected something, but I didn’t expect that. That’s horrible.’

  ‘Do you reckon he was still alive?’ said Arbor. ‘Now that would be horrible.’

  ‘What would?’ said Nathan, entering the room. He dumped a few empty bottles on the counter beside them.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he continued. ‘Have you moved the party?’

  He leaned over Jenny’s shoulder for a better view.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Nuts and all. They’re like a fucking goat’s.’

  ‘Nathan,’ said Arbor. ‘Please … I’ve got to phone the sarge.’

  ‘We’ll give you some peace,’ said Jenny, grabbing Nathan’s arm. ‘But try not to be too long. Your mum and dad will wonder what the hell is happening.’

  ‘Yeah. All right.’

  He hit the station number in his favourites. First the station and then the residence rang out. Although he had been warned against it many times, Arbor called the sergeant’s mobile. O’Reilly was strictly old school and he had made it plain. When it came to weekends, his mobile was for personal calls only. When he finally answered, Arbor could sense the anger even before the sergeant spoke.

  ‘This had better be good,’ said O’Reilly. ‘I’m on my down time. And besides. Isn’t this your birthday? Shouldn’t you be off popping your balloons?’

  ‘I got a present tonight, Sarge,’ said Arbor. ‘Paterson’s tackle. All of it. It came gift wrapped to me. As a present. What do you want me to do? Bring it in?’

  ‘No. I’m out … What? Do you think I don’t have a life of my own? Look, there’s nothing we can do tonight. I know Doc Phillips has gone over to Ashby for some convention. The detectives will be well and truly sauced up. And, sure as hell, I’m not coming back into town. The best thing you can do is stick them in your fridge and bring them in in the morning.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Arbor. ‘That seems a bit …’

  But the more he thought about it, the more he realised. O’Reilly was right. And besides, it would have been incredibly unfair on his mum and dad to leave them without explanation. He closed the box again and wrapped it tight in a plastic bag, before hiding it deep in the crisper section at the top of the fridge. Then he helped himself to his third cider, opened it, took a swig and joined the party next door.

  SATURDAY

  Amira’s frequent visits to the chook pen meant that there were eggs galore for breakfast. Margie insisted on cooking, John had slept in, as had Amira herself, and Nathan and Mandy had headed home in the wee small hours, so that left Arbor and Jenny free to do their own thing. They took their coffees and sat in the warmth of the front verandah.

  ‘Do you think she knows?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Arbor. ‘But if she doesn’t, I’ll tell her. This morning. I promise.’

  ‘I guess that would be nice,’ said Jenny. ‘But you don’t have to … Do you think they heard us last night?’

  ‘God, I hope not,’ said Arbor.

  They laughed.

  ‘Are you taking the … You know … in this morning?’ said Jenny.

  ‘Yeah. I told O’Reilly I would,’ said Arbor. ‘Mum and Dad have to shoot through soon enough, so I’ll get them to drop me in town. I’ll bring the paddy wagon back when I’m finished.’

  He looked down at his bare feet, flexing the digits.

  ‘It’s a grisly bloody business,’ he said. ‘And it’s not getting any better.’

  ‘Will they let you work on the case?’ said Jenny.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Arbor. ‘As sure as hell, I’ll spend the day stamping forms or get stuck on some back road doing traffic duty again.’

  The screen door opened and John Arbor emerged. Arbor could tell with a look that his father was hungover. He was scratching his scalp and squinting at the bright sun.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ asked Arbor.

  ‘Yeah, well enough,’ said his father. ‘If it wasn’t for the racket.’

  ‘What racket was that?’ Arbor continued.

  John Arbor stepped off the verandah, continuing to scratch.

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me,’ he said. ‘About half past two. I checked my watch. It sounded like someone was giving the walls a good old shake.’

  ‘It was probably the trucks,’ said Jenny. ‘We get a lot of trucks going past on the main road in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Yeah, it must have been that, then,’ said John.

  ‘Did it wake Mum?’ asked Arbor.

  ‘No,’ said John. ‘She slept clean through. Just as well, eh? Loudest bloody trucks I’ve ever heard.’

  He gazed into the scrub.

  ‘You don’t have a dog, Jenny?’ he said. ‘I thought you might have a dog.’

  ‘No. I had one,’ Jenny replied. ‘But it died. It was a farm dog. You know. A kelpie. But I haven’t had the heart to get another.’

  ‘A shame,’ said John. ‘A home is never the same without an animal of some kind.’

  ‘I’ve got Danny, now,’ said Jenny. ‘Does he count?’

  John Arbor laughed.

  ‘Yeah, he counts. He counts for sure. Just keep a tight rein on him. You can manage that, can’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Yeah, I think so, too.’

  John Arbor pulled up alongside the police station and kept the engine running as his son alighted. Arbor collected his parcel from the seat beside him and leaned in his dad’s window.

  ‘Don’t be such a stranger,’ said John.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ said Arbor. ‘I�
�ll try and get down in a few weeks.’

  ‘It’s not for me, mind,’ said John. ‘I couldn’t give a shit if I never see your ugly mug. But it’s your mum. She misses you. God only knows why.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Dad,’ said Arbor.

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  They laughed. Margie beckoned Arbor to the other side of the car.

  ‘Jenny’s a lovely girl, Danny,’ she said. ‘You’re a lucky boy.’

  Arbor blushed, a little surprised.

  ‘Yes, I am, Mum,’ he said.

  ‘Just make sure you do the right thing,’ said Margie.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll try to,’ said Arbor.

  Margie leaned out the window and kissed her son on the cheek.

  ‘Right, driver,’ she said, slapping her husband’s thigh. ‘Onwards.’

  With a wave and a toot, they were gone. Arbor watched them go and then opened the door and stepped into the station. His first act was to the remove the box from the plastic bag and place it on O’Reilly’s desk.

  ‘Christ, I don’t want them,’ said the sergeant. ‘Give them to the Ds. They’re going around to see Doc Phillips shortly.’

  Arbor approached the detectives. They were looking at their laptop and whispering between themselves. Eventually, Burke looked up and smiled wryly.

  ‘Hey, big fella,’ she said. ‘What’s in the box?’

  As if she didn’t know. Arbor placed the box on the desk before her, allowing her to open it.

  ‘Have you checked it all for prints?’ she asked.

  He hadn’t. Of course, he hadn’t. And, anyway, his own and Nathan’s would have been all over the box before he had a chance.

  ‘No, I haven’t, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘It came to me as a birthday present. We all had our hands on it at some stage.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ she said, slipping on some gloves. ‘We’ll check it nonetheless, inside and out.’

  She opened the box as if opening a case of precious jewels.

  ‘Fuck. Look at the size of them.’

  Arbor could see her grimace. He decided not to interrupt.

  ‘Someone got their jollies doing this,’ she said.

  I reckon they might have, thought Arbor.

  Burke put the lid back on the box, slipped it all in an evidence bag and then removed the gloves.

  ‘Come on, Jack,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if we can get some sense out of the good doctor.’

  They rose and pushed their way past Arbor. Out of the way, freight train coming through, he thought.

  ‘We’ll see you later, Sergeant,’ Burke said to O’Reilly on the way past. ‘We’re off to see if the doctor will give us any answers. Then we’ll maybe nip around and see that Snippy character again and then, all things being equal, we might pop next door for a bit of lunch. You’ve got my number, but, unless someone’s come in to confess, I’d rather not know. Sound fair?’

  ‘Yeah, sounds fair,’ said O’Reilly.

  The detectives left. Arbor was sure Burke had passed wind on the way out.

  ‘And you?’ asked O’Reilly. ‘What mischief are you getting up to?’

  Arbor thought about it. It was a fair enough day. He would rather be out than in.

  ‘I’ve a few files to finish, Sarge,’ he said, ‘but they’ll take no more than an hour or two. I reckon I might head out Whitney way again first. Maybe do some more traffic.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said O’Reilly. ‘I’ll see you when I see you.’

  Arbor made a grab for his cap and keys.

  As far as Arbor could tell, the Crawford property consisted of just a few open fields, a few smaller paddocks closer to the house and sheds, and a house that was ready to fall apart. The regulation chickens were running wild, a few horses were penned up in one of the paddocks and several goats were lazing or chewing on the olive trees that grew beside the house. Several people were sitting on the verandah, out of the sun. Arbor pulled up nearby and approached.

  There were two men, aged anywhere between forty and sixty, and three woman, younger, but not by much. Arbor had a sense that they might have all, for a time, run with a gang of bikies.

  ‘What can we do for you, officer?’ said one of the men. ‘You’ve come a long way.’

  ‘Which of you is Susie Crawford?’ said Arbor. ‘I need to speak to her.’

  ‘Ah, Susie’s not here,’ said the other man. ‘She’s gone into town.’

  Bugger it, thought Arbor.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ he said, turning away. ‘When will she be back?’

  Then, laughter.

  ‘No need to fret, pet,’ said one of the women. ‘I’m Susie.’

  Susie Crawford seemed to have more tats and piercings than the rest of them put together. But if tats and piercings were to taste, Arbor figured, with her slim build and waist-length auburn hair, the woman was a stunner. She outshone even Jenny. Were it true, he could see how she might complement her income with happy endings.

  ‘What is it you’ve come to see me about?’ she asked. ‘Business or pleasure?’

  ‘Business,’ said Arbor. ‘Definitely business.’

  Susie opened the screen door and beckoned him in.

  ‘Then come into my parlour,’ she said.

  To the sniggers of those that remained, Arbor entered.

  ‘Sit where you like,’ she said, as he walked through the door.

  As his eyes grew used to the darkness, the first thing Arbor noticed was the age and condition of the furnishings. But for a few threadbare rugs, the flooring was bare concrete. The two reclining armchairs featured torn cushions and faded armrests. More cushions lay scattered across the floor. A chipped laminate cabinet sat shrine-like in the corner. Arbor moved towards the nearest chair.

  ‘You’d best grab another cushion, Constable,’ said Susie. ‘That’s what they’re there for. Those chairs can be hard on your arse.’

  Arbor grabbed the largest cushion on hand and positioned it on a chair. He watched as Susie slid to the floor in one long graceful motion, until she struck a meditative pose opposite him. She looked at him with a gaze that both calmed and unsettled him.

  ‘So, how can I help you, Constable? You may have heard some stories about me, but I can assure you, I’m mostly friendly. Mostly. We hardly ever strangle chooks these days. And we stopped drinking each other’s blood a while back.’

  Lovely, thought Arbor.

  ‘It’s …’ he started. ‘I suppose you’ve heard about the butcher? Bill Paterson?’

  ‘Old Butch?’ said Susie. ‘Yeah, I heard. You’ve got some grisly goings on back there in Chatton.’

  ‘But it’s got nothing to do with you and your lot, has it?’ Arbor squeezed in.

  ‘No,’ said Susie. ‘God, no. Why should it? Why bother asking us about it, Constable? As I said, we’re all pretty tame these days. We keep to ourselves mostly. Me, I barely ever leave the property.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Arbor. ‘But if that’s the case, then maybe through your other pastimes? I thought you might have …’

  Susie laughed.

  ‘And what pastimes would that be, Constable?’ she said.

  Another laugh.

  ‘Oh, you mean my gentlemen callers?’

  ‘I just thought,’ said Arbor. ‘I just thought you might have heard something. Did Butch ever visit you?’

  ‘No,’ said Susie. ‘No way. I would have turned him away if he did.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? And why’s that?’

  ‘That’s between me and the Devil,’ said Susie.

  She squeezed her mouth shut.

  ‘As I told you,’ she said finally. ‘Butch’s end had nothing to do with us.’

  ‘But there is something else, isn’t there?’ said Arbor. ‘Something you’re not telling me?’

  Susie thought for a while. Arbor noticed a glance towards the cabinet in the corner.

  ‘No, I’m not sure I should say, Constable,’ Susie said. ‘Bad energy and everything. His spirit might come back and
haunt me.’

  ‘Whose spirit? Butch’s?’

  ‘No. Not his. I couldn’t give a crap about his.’

  ‘Then whose? You can’t leave me hanging, Susie. Please.’

  Susie considered for a moment, then got to her feet.

  ‘Ah, what the hell,’ she said.

  She walked to the cabinet, reached in and pulled out a box. Returning, she placed the box in Arbor’s lap.

  ‘It was just a matter of time, I suppose,’ she said. ‘That Paterson bastard’s been bringing Chatton down for as long as he’s been there. So, cross my palm with silver, Constable. I have a story to tell.’

  What story? What sort of game was this? He hadn’t the time.

  ‘What’s in here?’ he said, tapping the box.

  ‘That’s Peter,’ said Susie. ‘My brother. Or, at least, what’s left of him.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Arbor. He felt a sudden need to dump the box on the floor.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t,’ said Susie. ‘Not now. Obviously. He died a few years ago.’

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry,’ said Arbor. ‘But what does this have to do with Butch Paterson? Did he know him?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, he knew him,’ said Susie, biting her lip. ‘Or, rather, Paterson knew him. Time and time again, the prick. Do you know what I mean? When he was playing footy. With the Nippers.’

  She was still biting her lip. Arbor feared she might draw her own blood.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he said. ‘You mean Paterson? The Nippers?’

  ‘As I said,’ she continued. ‘Bad energy. It hardly bears repeating.’

  She drifted into thought again, the connection between them almost gone.

  ‘I’m not sure I should tell you, Constable,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure Peter would want it out there. Even now … But hell. He’s long gone, I suppose. It can’t hurt him now. I’ll tell you what I know … It was years ago, when we were all still at school … Girls didn’t play footy in those days, so I never saw it first hand, but it was rumoured … At Nippers training, Paterson would single out some of the boys and take them into the dunnies. You know … For a head job or a ride … Peter never said much, but from what he did say, I sort of guessed that Paterson had made him one of his favourites.’