The Cafe by the Bridge

by Lily Malone

  The way Pam Woods said leather, you’d have thought Will rode in to the Woods’ family lamb roast on the back of a Harley, a pack of Hells’ Angels behind him wanting roast lamb too.

  * * *

  Taylor reversed the Redline into a spot behind a neat-looking Toyota not far from the street lamp outside Will’s place. His house looked pretty much the same as it always had: a copy of its neighbour. Low-slung rendered brick, iron roof, with a bullnose verandah making some concession to an architect’s aim for Federation-style.

  All the blinds across the front windows were closed but a light from inside glimmered around the edges, and a solar light in the front garden illuminated the patchy lawn.

  When she knocked on the door and he opened it, he stepped out before she could step in, but not quite fast enough that Taylor missed the mess strewn just inside the door. A view of his lounge, cushions everywhere, pizza box on the coffee table, papers, magazines, a pile of books on the floor, cans of coke and a scattering of coins.

  ‘Thought we’d go to the Grand,’ he said, tugging that leather jacket higher up his neck. ‘Tuesday is schnitzel night. All you can eat for fifteen bucks.’

  ‘That sounds fine,’ Taylor said as Will’s eyes darted everywhere at once. The street. Taylor’s car. His neighbours’ homes.

  ‘How are you, anyway? Get up to much down in wherever that town was where you’ve been?’

  ‘Chalk Hill,’ Taylor supplied.

  ‘Yeah. There. Where was that again?’

  ‘Between Manjimup and Mount Barker. I had a good time.’ She kissed his cheek and copped a scrape of whiskers. She got over the shock of whiskers on her normally clean-shaven brother, but then got her arm around his back and had to get over more shock at the size of his shoulders. Will had always been strong as a bull, solid as a rock. Now there was nothing to him. Much like Greta, Will had wasted away.

  The Grand was the pub nearest to Will’s place, a brisk walk along quiet suburban streets before turning into a longer stretch where the strip met the city. The walk was just long enough to make Taylor wish she’d worn boots and not heels because it had been a long day with her toes squished into her work shoes—no matter how lovely the shoes—and her legs were still that bit stiff and sore from Monday’s Skywalk expedition.

  The pub wasn’t too busy, given the early hour, and she was happy to sit for a bit. They ordered their meals and listened to a singer flay his guitar through a stream of popular hits. He wasn’t great but he wasn’t awful.

  ‘How’s work?’ Taylor asked Will as the guitarist launched into another song.

  Will checked over his left shoulder before returning to her, and then his eyes couldn’t hold hers and slid away. ‘It’s okay. Busy.’

  She knew he was lying. Did he have problems at the office now too? ‘And Alex? How’s he going? They must have had their baby now?’

  ‘Yeah. A boy. Jet, they called him. Alex was off for a couple of weeks when he was born. Back at work now, though. Seems to all be going okay. Taking fatherhood in his stride.’

  ‘Make sure you congratulate him for me.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘What about Mum and Dad? Have you seen them lately?’

  Will checked over his right shoulder before he answered. ‘Had lunch with them Sunday. They’re okay. Talking about going on one of those cruises to Canada.’

  Taylor huffed. Her parents had been talking about a cruise to Canada for years. Their father didn’t like boats. Her mum had been extolling the virtues of motion sickness medicines to her dad for most of their marriage. He wouldn’t get on a plane either. Hated buses.

  ‘What about you, Will? How are you? Really?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Will studied his beer, staring so hard at the frothy head he might have been counting the bubbles.

  ‘You don’t look good,’ Taylor pressed.

  Will downed the rest of his drink in two gulps. ‘Well, that didn’t hit the sides. You want another?’

  Taylor put her hand over her glass. ‘I’m good.’

  Will clambered up from the table and went to the bar.

  So much for that.

  The line-up for the bar wasn’t deep, but it was building as more of the after-work crew in their expensive suits shuffled in from the city.

  Taylor sipped her wine, mentally checked out what everyone was wearing, plus the shoes, and waited.

  A blonde woman in the line-up at the bar (with great shoes) gave Will the once-over. Nothing particularly subtle about it.

  Was it the leather jacket?

  The Will she’d known all her life had never owned a leather jacket. It did give him a darker edge. Maybe because he’d lost weight, it gave him a leaner, hungrier look. Like he needed a home-cooked meal and a night in clean sheets.

  ‘New jacket?’ Taylor said when he returned to the table with a fresh pint.

  ‘Like it?’

  She nodded. ‘That lady who was up at the bar with you seemed to like it too.’

  He jiggled his foot beneath the table, making his thigh bounce. ‘What lady?’

  Taylor singled out the blonde. ‘Her.’

  He took a look but that was all. His eyes came back to his beer as if the drink was a long-lost friend.

  ‘What are we going to do with you, William Anthony Woods?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  She wanted to kick him under the table like she would have done when they were kids. ‘Your place for a start. What’s with all the pizza boxes? Why didn’t you want me to come inside?’

  ‘Maybe because you would have hassled me about the mess. I said I’ve been busy.’

  She ignored him. ‘You haven’t stopped checking over your shoulder since we got here.’

  Will glanced sharply at her and stopped jiggling his foot. ‘So?’

  ‘You expecting anyone?’

  ‘Nup.’ His eyes turned flat and cold, and in that moment he reminded Taylor of Abe that first time in the café when she’d asked him about Amanda and he’d roared at her to get the hell out.

  Amanda. That bloody woman.

  The waitress delivered their schnitzels.

  Taylor had time, while they cut, chewed, listened to music and didn’t talk, to think more about Amanda in the context of Will and Abe.

  What did she see in those two that made her target them, specifically?

  Taylor had never considered before that Will and Abe were a type … but in the leather jacket, with a scrape of whiskers over his chin, Will had more of the devil about him and far less of the man who would advise you on stocks and shares and whether your income protection insurance could cover you appropriately in the event you fell off a ladder while trying to retrieve your child’s football from the roof.

  Abe said he met Amanda in his tapas bar. Late night bars were a good backdrop for Abe. He had that look about him—danger, risk-taker, high voltage. She’d never suspected Will had that side to him, until now.

  Sociopaths were predators. There was something in a victim that spoke to the sociopath. The victims were weak in some way, or vulnerable. It wasn’t a stretch to think of it like the lion and the zebra on the African savannah. There were a million zebra and only a few lions, yet there was always something that made the lion choose just that one particular zebra. Sometimes it was young. Sometimes it was old. It might be on its own, separated from a group. It might be injured.

  Something about the victim spoke to the predator, called its name.

  What was it in Abe and Will? What had Amanda seen in them that Taylor, with all her psychological experience reading people and reading minds, didn’t?

  Will ate like his life depended on it. Possibly hoping that if he kept his mouth full, Taylor wouldn’t ask more questions he didn’t want to answer.

  Well, too bad, William Woods.

  Taylor put her knife and fork down and took a sip of her wine. He might not want to say anything, but he couldn’t stop her from doing the talking.

  So
here goes.

  ‘I went to Chalk Hill to meet someone.’

  His eyebrows flashed the yeah? who? but he didn’t speak.

  ‘You’ve met him too actually.’

  Will stopped chewing.

  ‘He was the guy who came to Amanda’s place that day you were there before Christmas last year. Remember? He said he had pizza, and she told you he was an ex-boyfriend out to cause trouble.’

  Poor Will. You want me to shut up now but your mouth is full, and you won’t talk with your mouth full, you’re way too polite.

  Will’s hands worked, though. His right hand circled at her as it gripped his knife, making bobbing motions that said ‘Shut up’ clear as day while his throat worked to swallow.

  Taylor wasn’t shutting up. ‘Well, his name is Abel. Abe. He owns a café by the bridge in Chalk Hill. I met him. He lent money to Amanda too. He hasn’t been paid back either.’

  Finally, Will managed to swallow but he needed a sip of his beer to wash the mouthful down.

  ‘Abel didn’t want to talk about Amanda at first. He still doesn’t. Not really. I think I can convince him to eventually. I think he’ll be prepared to go to the police about her, or take her to court. Press charges.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’ve done,’ Will said, voice pitched low.

  ‘Yes I do,’ she shot back. ‘I’m helping you.’

  He pointed at her with his fork and his hand shook.

  ‘Someone has to stop her, Will. She’ll keep scamming other guys. Surely you don’t want to see what happened to you happen to someone else? If Abe will press charges, can’t you too?’

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t say anything.’ Will glanced over his left shoulder towards the bar.

  ‘Promised who? What are you talking about?’

  Another check over his right shoulder where a heavy-set bouncer guarded the door. That’s when Taylor worked it out. He wasn’t looking for someone he wanted to see. He was looking for someone he didn’t want to see. He was scared.

  Who was he scared of? Amanda?

  ‘What did you promise, Will?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve talked to that guy. You’ve told someone. I’m already dead.’

  CHAPTER

  23

  ‘Amanda can’t touch you if you go to the police,’ Taylor said, leaning forward, pushing her plate out of the way so she could get her elbows on the table. She wanted to take his hand but Will shook so much he might spike her with his fork.

  ‘You had to get involved. You always have to try to fix it. When can you ever leave something the hell alone? It’s none of your effing business.’

  Taylor sat back. Of course she sat back. Will never swore, plus he had a fork, a knife, a glass and a china plate that could be cracked over her skull, all within reach.

  Anger stained his face every shade of red through purple.

  ‘Can we discuss this like adults?’ she asked him.

  ‘No.’ Will resumed his attack on his schnitzel.

  ‘We are so going to talk about this, Will,’ Taylor muttered. ‘The woman’s a sociopath. When will you work that out? She’s manipulative. She lies. She’s controlling. She only cares about herself.’

  ‘She loves her daughter,’ Will said, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘Sure. I bet she’d also leave her daughter without thinking twice if there was something she had to do, or somewhere she wanted to go, or if being a mum just didn’t suit her that particular hour of that particular day.’

  Will baulked.

  ‘What?’ Taylor stormed, watching her brother’s face.

  ‘Well, there was one time I went to her place and Amanda was out. Keeley was home’—he looked at his beer—‘on her own. Keeley let me in and I waited there, you know, till she got back.’

  ‘How long was that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Couple of hours. She’d been shopping.’

  Taylor blew out a breath. ‘She’s six years old. Anything could happen in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Okay, alright? I get it.’ He checked left, right and over Taylor’s head.

  ‘Who are you looking for?’

  ‘I’m not looking for anyone.’ His fingers gripped his beer glass, bringing it up and then down with a frustrated thud that made the wine in Taylor’s glass ripple.

  ‘Please can you tell me what’s got you so worried? Is she threatening you? She can’t hurt you. It’s all over now. You’re not with her anymore.’

  His eyes flicked up, flashed away, but not before Taylor saw the guilt.

  ‘You’re still seeing her,’ she said, as the air in her lungs deflated.

  ‘A couple of times. She needed my help.’

  ‘She doesn’t need you at all.’

  ‘She rang me, okay? She said her ex had been there, yelling, telling her he was going after custody of Keeley. She was scared.’

  ‘So you went over there.’ Knight in shining armour. Good, responsible Will.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Was he there?’

  ‘No.’

  Taylor shook her head.

  ‘She said he’d just left. He’d been there, Taylor, alright? I asked Keeley. She said Daddy had just left and that he’d been yelling at her mum. He’s a loose unit, this guy. He’s in one of the bikie gangs, big bloke, covered in tats, built like Arnie.’

  ‘I’ve seen him,’ Taylor admitted.

  Will’s eyes narrowed. ‘Seen him?’

  ‘When I was watching the place. Keeley ran straight to him in the front yard when he visited one day. He hugged her, swung her up in the air, like any regular dad.’

  ‘Yeah. Bet he did.’

  ‘He did, Will. Did you ever stop to think Keeley might be better off with her dad?’

  Will sat straight, swallowed the last of his beer and pushed his plate away. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Wait. Why? You’re not finished.’

  ‘He’s not a normal dad.’ He stood, pushed his chair in, strode two paces with his hands on his hips before he turned back to where Taylor had only just got around to reaching for her handbag. Her phone buzzed inside it but Will didn’t give her time to answer.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  Taylor had to chase him into the street, struggling to pull her jacket around her shoulders. Only when they were clear of the hairspray, perfume and aftershave cloud hovering over the people all waiting in queues to get into nightclubs and pubs did Will stop. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and kept the collar up.

  Taylor reached for his arm. Her fingers caught soft leather. ‘Tell me, Will.’

  He jerked his arm away. ‘Amanda’s ex is a crazy son of a bitch and he knows where I live. He’s been to my house.’

  Taylor missed her step. ‘Your house?’

  Will’s chin jerked towards the pavement, the fastest nod in the universe. A Subaru WRX passed them, four young men hanging out of it, elbows on the window sill, black car, twin exhausts, music thumping a deep bass beat and four sets of fingers tapping along. Fast car. Serious car. She hoped the driver knew what he was doing.

  ‘How do you know he was at your house, Will?’

  ‘I saw him. I was home. He delivers gas bottles and the delivery truck came by.’

  ‘You didn’t let him in?’

  ‘Course I didn’t let him in. I didn’t open the door. I hid in the lounge like a scared little kid.’

  ‘Slow down, Will. Tell me everything, okay? We’ll work this out. I’ll help you.’

  This changed things. This wasn’t about an unpaid debt anymore. This was intimidation. If she could get evidence of it, they could definitely go to the police.

  * * *

  A dead bird on Will’s doorstep.

  A broken egg in his letterbox.

  Phone calls in the middle of the night where the person rang off before Will could get to the phone!

  No wonder her baby brother looked like hell.

  She put her hand on Will’s shoulder and s
queezed. They were at his place and they’d cleared enough space on the couch that they could sit on a cushion and not in a pizza box.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ Taylor asked him quietly.

  Will banged his clenched fist on his thigh. ‘She said if I told anyone, he’d know. She said his gang has networks all over Perth. She said as long as I kept my mouth shut, it would all be okay. I was trying to keep you guys out of it. You and Mum and Dad.’

  For Amanda, her manipulation of Will was all about control. Taylor could spot it a mile away. Amanda had Will right where she wanted him, scared, uncertain, isolated.

  ‘She’s trying to control you, Will. No one’s going to hurt you,’ Taylor said. ‘It’s about keeping you right where she wants you. That’s what sociopaths do. She’s got you trapped by your own fear.’

  Will exploded. ‘That biker ex is real, Taylor, okay? I saw him with my own eyes. He’s built like a tank and he came here. He. Came. Here. I never called for a gas bottle to be delivered. I may be going out of my mind but I know what I saw.’

  ‘I believe you, okay? I believe you. If you’d go to the police, Will—’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Taylor. Give it a rest.’ He slapped the couch and stood, paced to the window, shifted the blind slightly so he could double-check the lock.

  She wanted to tell him he’d already checked every lock on the window, and the doors, twice. She wanted to slap some sense into him, she really did. There was an end goal here, and Will couldn’t see it. Wouldn’t!

  Will let the blind fall back into place.

  ‘What did the other guy say?’ he asked.

  ‘What other guy?’

  ‘The Chalk Hill guy. The other loser. Bet he won’t go to the police either.’

  ‘I’m working on him,’ she said. ‘I haven’t given up.’

  Will stared at her for a long, silent moment.

  ‘He’s not a loser, Will. Abe’s a nice guy, we—’

  Taylor’s phone buzzed in her handbag, sounding about as frustrated as she was. It had rung a few times but she’d ignored it. Now it was getting late and she still had to drive back across the city to get home. She’d eaten so little of her meal she was starving and pretty much the only thing she had to snack on at home was potato chips. Not great right before bed.