Cold Cuts

by Calder Garret

  ‘Hell,’ said Arbor. ‘And Peter? He never told your mum or dad?’

  ‘Christ, no,’ said Susie. ‘No doubt, he should have. I reckon that might have helped. And they would have stood up for him, too, I reckon. But, no. Peter was the type. You know. He would have died of shame. He did, in the end, I reckon.’

  ‘How did he … If you don’t mind me asking. What happened to him?’

  ‘They said it was a farm accident. I was still living down south at the time. But I know it wasn’t an accident. Everyone that knew him knew that it wasn’t. Peter knew his way around a combine too well.’

  ‘Again, I’m sorry,’ said Arbor.

  ‘Hey, it was nothing to do with you,’ said Susie. ‘But just so’s you know, Constable. If you’re thinking I might have held a grudge against Paterson all this time, you can forget it. I let all that go a long time ago.’

  ‘All right,’ said Arbor, ‘I reckon I’m getting the picture. But it’s a worry, isn’t it? I mean, he was still coaching the Nippers up until last week.’

  ‘More than a worry, Constable,’ said Susie. ‘The way I see it, there’s maybe thirty years of child abuse been going on in that town.’

  ‘But I can’t believe it,’ said Arbor. ‘No one’s said anything. How come? If everyone knew it was going on?’

  ‘It’s hardly surprising, is it?’ said Susie. ‘Chatton’s a small town. Small-minded, too. Everyone in everyone else’s pockets. Would you want to grow up with all your mates knowing you’d been buggered by the town butcher?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘You guess not.’

  Susie laughed.

  ‘There you go, Constable,’ she said. ‘I guess it’s not quite the happy ending you had in mind, but it’s maybe a motive for you to work with.’

  Yes, thought Arbor, maybe a motive. At last. But very little evidence and very few suspects. He got to his feet.

  ‘Thank you, Susie,’ he said. ‘That couldn’t have been easy for you.’

  ‘Ah, you know what they say,’ she said. ‘Better out than in.’

  She moved close. Arbor could feel the heat from her body.

  ‘So, Constable,’ she said. ‘Come out and see me sometime. You look as stiff as a board. I’m sure I can help you get rid of all that tension.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll do that,’ he said.

  ‘Special rates for the boys in blue,’ she laughed.

  Arbor headed out the door.

  ‘Do you think Snippy Lawrence ever played footy when he was a kid?’ asked Arbor.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Jenny. ‘I can’t imagine he did. He’s not the type really. He’d be too busy getting into trouble. Lending money to his nana, no doubt. Why do you ask?’

  They were sitting on Jenny’s back verandah, enjoying the setting sun.

  ‘No reason,’ said Arbor. ‘It’s just … I went to see Susie Crawford today.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Jenny. ‘And how did that go?’

  ‘Fine. She was great.’

  ‘I told you so. Did she give you a happy ending?’

  ‘Hardly. No, she didn’t. But she told me about her brother.’

  ‘Peter? God, I haven’t thought about him for years. That was a crying shame what happened to him. He was a real nice bloke.’

  ‘Well, Susie suggested … Well, she more than suggested … that Butch might have had something to do with it. She was adamant, actually.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘She reckoned that Butch used to molest him. As a kid. On a regular basis.’

  Despite the sunshine, Arbor could see the colour pale in Jenny’s face.

  ‘Did you know?’ he asked. ‘The rumour was that he was doing a few of the boys.’

  ‘I guess it all makes sense,’ said Jenny. ‘There was always something about Butch. He was always just a little too friendly, if you know what I mean. And, despite her ways, Susie’s not one to spin you a yarn.’

  ‘You played footy, didn’t you?’ he asked. ‘He didn’t?’

  ‘No. I was much older, eighteen or twenty, when they brought in the girls’ comp. I never had anything to do with him. Just as well. I’d have killed the prick.’

  ‘I just can’t get my head around it,’ said Arbor. ‘Imagine. Think of all the blokes out there that he might have interfered with. As I said to Susie, he was still coaching the Nippers up until a week ago. That could be thirty years’ worth.’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ said Jenny.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Arbor. ‘But then, I reckon you’ve got to think about it the other way, too. Like it or not, eh? Think like a cop. It makes for a hell of a lot of suspects. Just about every bloke in town who’s ever pulled on a pair of footy boots. And that’s not forgetting their mums and dads.’

  ‘I get you,’ said Jenny. ‘But where do you start?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Arbor. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue. I might start at the game tomorrow. I might ask Toddy and a few of the boys what they know. It stands to reason. They’re all locals. I guess a few of them might have played Nippers. Surely they’ve heard whispers. They might even be amongst Butch’s victims themselves.’

  ‘And what? You think they’ll talk about it if they are? Just open up to you, practically a total stranger, about it?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Arbor, peeling away the label from his cider. ‘But I reckon I’ve got to start somewhere.’

  ‘And what about all the youngsters? The ones that are playing now? Do you think he might have still been …?’

  ‘I don’t know. And with them, I really wouldn’t know where to start. I was thinking about the Jones kids. But I’m not so sure. They all seem a bit too … healthy, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘So you think you can tell, can you?’ said Jenny.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Arbor. ‘What about your kids? The ones you tutor. Do any of them play footy?’

  ‘Yeah, a few of them, I think. But I tell you what. Your sergeant’s not going to enjoy hearing all this.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Are you staying?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘I might as well,’ said Arbor. ‘If you don’t mind. I’ve pinched Warren Simpson. I doubt that he or his mates will be back at Amira’s. The Revengers. What a joke. But I guess I’ll have to talk to Amira about moving home again.’

  ‘Leave it for now,’ said Jenny. ‘I told her she can stay on for a few days yet.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said Arbor. ‘She doesn’t eat much, does she?’

  ‘No,’ said Jenny. ‘Not much.’

  SUNDAY

  Despite every effort Danny Arbor made, by three-quarter time, the Chatton Blue Tongues were down by ten goals and any run in their legs had been reduced to a slow and difficult crawl. Although he had been reported early, Tony Short was still showing some dash in the middle and Nathan Webb continued to be solid off a halfback flank. But the rest of the team, Matt Todd and Benjie Wood included, had their shoulders slumped and their hands on hips. Not to worry, thought Arbor. The team was a work in progress. He had a full week of training before they all faced another test.

  By packing the backline in the last quarter, Arbor managed to stem the bleeding. It was a sixty-one-point final margin. It was nothing to write home about, he knew, and in employing such negative tactics, he had embarrassed himself, but he figured that, in the long term, the team would remember their own backs-to-the-wall resilience rather than their new coach’s defeatism.

  He had purchased, out of his own pocket, a couple of dozen Powerades and had them waiting when the players came from the field. Most of them accepted the drink and pat on the back with good grace. Some accepted with a scowl and a mutter.

  ‘It better not be lolly water every night,’ he heard one say.

  ‘Too true,’ said another. ‘I only came for the beer.’

  He thought it the right time to speak to the collective.

  ‘Hey, guys. If I can have a sec. As your new coach, I d
on’t have many rules, but those I do, I thought I’d better spell out for you. I was keen on a no grog policy …’

  Groans.

  ‘But … Wait for it. After a chat with Toddy, we’ve reached a compromise. Training days you can do what you like, but on game day, on the ground, we’re dry. Okay?’

  More groans.

  ‘Once you’ve left the ground, you can do whatever the hell you want. You can get rat-arsed if you want. Fair enough? But not here.’

  The murmurs seemed to register assent.

  ‘Good,’ said Arbor. ‘I’m glad that’s sorted.’

  The team was already breaking into cliques, uninterested in much more that he might say. He was in no mood to argue. Instead, he beckoned Mike Todd, Tony Short and Benjie Wood, pulling them out of earshot of the rest of the team. As the team’s senior players, lifelong Chatton residents and, he assumed, family men, he hoped that they might shed some more light on the Butch Paterson affair.

  ‘I’ve been told,’ he began. ‘Yesterday I heard a story. About a guy out Whitney way. A few years ago. Crawford? Peter Crawford?’

  He watched their faces. On each, he could see some concern.

  ‘Yeah, that was tragic,’ said Todd. ‘Real tragic. Peter was a nice bloke. You think him topping himself had something to do with Paterson?’

  ‘Well, what do you think? It’s been suggested that Paterson might have … you know …’

  Arbor’s words met with silence.

  ‘I guess there were stories,’ Todd continued, finally. ‘But nothing we wanted to talk about. Nothing beyond the odd dirty joke. But when I think about it, I reckon we all left Peter high and dry. He could have done with a few mates back then.’

  ‘And none of you,’ said Arbor. ‘And none of you … Paterson never bothered any of you?’

  He could feel the macho wall going up. But it might just be the subject matter, he thought, not a reaction to any subjective experience.

  ‘I don’t think any of us …’ said Mike Todd. ‘I mean, I can’t speak for either of you blokes, but he’d have known all about it if he tried it on with me.’

  ‘Me and all,’ said Benjie Wood, ‘but I reckon he might have fancied Shorty here.’

  Tony Short gave him a healthy punch in the guts.

  ‘Get fucked,’ he said.

  They laughed.

  ‘Danny,’ said Todd. ‘If you’re coming back to my place for the barbie, do me a favour. Don’t mention this. It’s hardly a conversation starter, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said Arbor. ‘Hey, do you mind if I call Jen and ask her along?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ said Todd. ‘The more the merrier.’

  He was barely able to think. Toddy’s music was deafeningly loud, the footy team and their partners were all trying to outdo it and every scream or squeal of the half a dozen children running around the garden pierced his eardrums. He wouldn’t be staying long.

  He sipped his Coke, standing alone, aware that the cliques he had seen after the game were forming again here. Toddy was busy at the barbie. Karen was bringing salads and condiments from inside. Nathan was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘A penny for them.’

  Arbor turned. Jenny was coming through the side gate.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘I had something on the stove,’ she said. ‘But this sounded a lot better. Have you eaten yet?’

  ‘No,’ said Arbor. ‘We haven’t been here long. Where’s Amira?’

  ‘Watching the box,’ said Jenny. ‘I thought she could do with some time to herself. Excuse us. I’ll see if Karen needs a hand.’

  ‘No, don’t,’ said Arbor. ‘Hang around a minute. Apart from Toddy and them, I don’t know many of them yet. I feel a bit like a stuffed chook at the moment.’

  ‘Yeah, no worries, babe,’ said Jenny, taking his hand. ‘How did the game go?’

  ‘Shithouse,’ said Arbor. ‘We got done by ten goals. But at least I know where to start.’

  ‘And Butch? Did you ask about him?’

  ‘I mentioned him,’ said Arbor. ‘But I didn’t get much. They closed ranks. I’ll wait until training. Maybe I can catch a few of them alone.’

  ‘Hey, Tony!’ said Jenny.

  Tony Short, too, was standing by himself. He seemed surprised that Jenny was waving him over, but seemed happy to join them.

  ‘I meant to say hello to you the other night,’ said Jenny. ‘But I got gas-bagging with Karen. How’s things?’

  Jenny and Tony exchanged a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug.

  ‘Is this your new boyfriend then, Jen?’ said Arbor.

  ‘No, an old one. Hey, don’t laugh about it, Danny,’ said Jenny. ‘He was once. When we were young. I could easily have been Mrs Short, eh, Tony? But, then, somehow, I don’t think it would have worked out, would it? … Oh, shit, mate. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

  Arbor’s look of confusion got no answer from her.

  ‘It’s fine, Jenny,’ Tony said. ‘I’m over it. Mostly. She’s talking about my missus, Danny. Emmy shot through on me about eighteen months ago.’

  ‘Took his kids, too, the bitch,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Talking about kids,’ said Tony. ‘What about these little monsters?’

  The Todd children had embraced Tony’s legs, their little faces hidden by plastic masks.

  ‘Who are you?’ Arbor said to the eldest.

  ‘I’m Batman!’

  ‘And who are you?’ To the youngest.

  ‘Wonder Woman!’

  ‘But you’re a boy!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter!’

  Off they ran again.

  ‘Mad,’ said Arbor.

  ‘Mike and Karen think the world of them,’ said Tony.

  It got Arbor thinking again, but before he could think any more, he heard the shout.

  ‘Grub’s up,’ said Toddy. ‘Come and get it.’

  Not ten minutes ago, he had been ready to leave. Now Arbor could feel his stomach rumbling. He grabbed a plate and fell into line behind Jenny. Tony fell in behind them.

  ‘You played a good game, today, Tony,’ Arbor said. ‘Except for that dust-up just before half-time. What was that all about?’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t know,’ said Tony. ‘Normally the game itself will help me blow off steam. But that tagger was really getting up my nose. So I clocked him one.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Arbor. Being big and slow, he had never himself been subject to tagging, but he knew a few players who were, and they had all worked out their own ways of taking revenge.

  Benjie Wood pushed his way between Arbor and Tony.

  ‘What did you think of my game, Danny?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure, Benjie,’ said Arbor. ‘Were you playing?’

  ‘Playing? You bet I was,’ said Benjie. ‘I had twenty-four touches.’

  ‘Touches of what?’ asked Tony.

  ‘Bastard,’ said Benjie. ‘I reckon I got leather poisoning in that last quarter.’

  ‘Speaking of leather poisoning, Danny,’ said Tony. ‘Watch out for Toddy’s steaks. They’re a bit …’

  ‘Thanks for the warning,’ said Arbor, as he stepped up to the barbie.

  ‘Just a few snags, thanks, Mike,’ he said. ‘Karen’s salads look too good to say no to.’

  Arbor waited until Jenny had turned off her light before speaking.

  ‘You know, it’s not easy,’ he said, ‘but I reckon I’m starting to get a few ideas. At least I think I am. I think I’m getting a clearer picture of it all now, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘What, you’ve found some prime suspects?’ said Jenny.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Arbor. ‘No, that’s not what I meant at all. On that front, I’m still bloody clueless.’

  ‘So, what then?’ said Jenny. ‘What’s your thinking?’

  ‘It’s just … I’ve been doing some brainstorming,’ said Arbor. ‘If that makes any sense. And I’ve come to the conclusion that there are only three possible lines o
f inquiry.’

  ‘Uh-huh?’ said Jenny. ‘And what are they, Poirot?’

  ‘Well, there’s Snippy Lawrence and his mates, for a start. As far as I can tell, Burke and Cole still have them in the frame. And probably rightly so. They’re a fucking nasty bunch.’

  ‘That’s one.’

  ‘Then, I hate to say it, and despite the impression I got from her, I’m still not sure I can rule out your mate, Susie. In everything she said, I could tell she really felt for her brother. And even if she didn’t do it, I’ve a feeling those two mongrels that hang out at her place would do just about anything for her.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure I agree with you there, but that’s two.’

  ‘And then, of course, there’s the Nippers line. The whole notion that Paterson’s been hurting little kids for the last thirty years. But, then, apart from Susie Crawford’s story, there’s no proof of that, is there? We only have her word for it.’

  ‘But what about that flyer you found?’ said Jenny. ‘That’s sort of proof, isn’t it? Has O’Reilly shown it to the Ds yet?’

  ‘No, not that I know of,’ said Arbor.

  Jenny stroked his hair.

  ‘This might seem strange coming from me, babe,’ she said. ‘But I reckon it’s about time you let them in on what you know. Because when the shit hits the fan, if any of this Nippers stuff comes out, and it will, you’d better be sure you’re in the good.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but—’

  ‘Say, you don’t think …?’ said Jenny.

  ‘What? O’Reilly?’

  Arbor thought about it.

  ‘Nah, no way,’ he said. ‘I reckon he’s just looking out for a mate. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel a bit sorry for the old fart. Do you know what I mean? I feel like I should give him a chance. I mean, I reckon he was only protecting Butch’s rep.’

  ‘Yeah, but knowing what you know now, do you think it’s a rep worth protecting?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Roll over, Beethoven,’ said Jenny. ‘I’ll cuddle up to you … Speak to him first then. Tell him your concerns.’

  ‘Give him an ultimatum, you mean?’