by Peter Corris
The barman put a clean glass in front of him and O’Fear ignored it. ‘Bloody prat,’ he said, ‘I like to stick to the same glass.’ He drank deeply. ‘This has the breath of freedom in it. Well, Hardy, you almost got me killed, so when are we going to start talking money?’
‘Eh?’
‘This has got to be big. I’m inside there, cruisin’ along and mindin’ me own business. Me only worry is that I haven’t see me boy Danny for a bit. Come to think of it, I could’ve hired you to look about for him. Anyhow, one fine day I talk to you, and the bail’s up and some bastard sticks me. Now, it was worth somebody’s while to do that, so it has to be worth my while to put me life in hazard.’
‘Christ, what do you want? I got you out, didn’t I? That’s my own money I put up.’
‘So it is. And you’ll get it back when I stand trial. What would you say to a fifty-fifty split?’
‘I’d say no.
‘If I go to Tasmania you’ll lose the lot. I hear the folk scene’s still very big down there.’
‘You wouldn’t be hard to find.’
‘But think of the expense. Come on, boy, you want to know what happened to Todd, don’t you?’
‘Do you know?’
‘I can help you find out. Now, don’t be mercenary about this. We’re in the same boat.’
‘How’s that?’
He finished his drink and licked froth from his lips. He belched deeply. ‘Honour demands that you complete the job and commonsense demands that you be paid for it. I need the money too, and by Christ my honour’s at stake.’
He poured another schooner full and I let him top up my middy. It had been a long time since I’d drunk stout and I wasn’t sure I still liked it. I thought I could probably acquire the taste again. O’Fear sipped at the froth and grinned at me. ‘It’s grand for the pain.’
‘I’m curious about your honour.’
All the lilt and blarney were suddenly gone from his voice. ‘No one puts a knife in Kevin O’Fearna and walks around to boast about it. Have we got a deal?’
I thought about it while another mouthful of stout went down. O’Fear was no one’s idea of a perfect partner. He was reckless; he had a bad temper and he got too drunk too often. On the other hand, if it came to a fight there was no one better to have on your side. And a feeling was growing inside me that this was getting bigger than a one-man job. I had the beginnings of some plans—trap setting and such—all of which would require manpower.
‘I don’t know whether to be flattered by your enthusiasm or overwhelmed by your generosity,’ O’Fear said.
‘I’m being realistic,’ I lied. ‘Maybe you don’t know anything at all, at all.’
‘I know something. But I don’t know enough to make sense of it.’
‘What about your own case? Could this be related in any way?’
He hesitated, but only for a split second. ‘I think not. It’s my opinion that little matter’ll take care of itself.’
I told him about the searches of Todd’s houses and Warren Bradley’s suspicions regarding the way Todd’s car had left the road. He nodded and touched his side tenderly. ‘Like I said, something serious.’
The drink had relaxed me; I was musing now. I allowed myself a thought I wouldn’t have entertained before my conversation with Piers Lang: Maybe Todd was blackmailing somebody. But I said, ‘Somebody’s looking for something Todd had. What would it be? Evidence of some kind. If Todd had evidence, why didn’t he do something with it?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
My mood was almost philosophical now. ‘Yeah. He couldn’t trust the cops.’
‘Or didn’t know which ones to trust. He might have made enquiries though. And where one person can enquire, another can enquire too.’
‘You should have been a lawyer, O’Fear. A judge. Instead of a dumb mick brick-shifter.’
‘I’ve met a few judges. I can’t say that I liked them much.’
‘You’d better tell me what you know. And for five thousand dollars, it better be good.’
He grabbed my hand and pumped it, which hurt me and must have hurt him too. We were a couple of minor casualties. ‘We’ll make a great team, Cliff. But can I tell you something?’
‘What?’
‘You could do with a shave.’
15
I thought the first problem would be to get him out of the pub. I didn’t want to start off with a boozy ramble about this and that, in which the connections were apparent only to minds leached by alcohol. I was wrong. He came willingly, without even finishing his third schooner and leaving a good bit in the bottle. We drove to Maroubra, my old stamping ground, where the memories are fading as the landscape changes; most of the shops where we bought the sweets that ruined our teeth are gone, and parts of the beachfront have had more facelifts than Liz Taylor. But the sand and water do not change and we sat in the car and looked down at the pool and up and out into infinity.
‘A fine place,’ O’Fear said.
‘Where I grew up.’ I pointed to a kid on a surfboard, bobbing out beyond the breakers. ‘That’s me, thirty years ago, when I wasn’t delivering papers or cutting the grass or sneaking a smoke behind the dunny.’
‘I knew Barnes Todd longer than that,’ O’Fear said. ‘You knew we met in Korea?’
I nodded.
‘We stayed in touch, more or less. Two wild men, you know what I mean? Well, we’d have a few jars and a natter. Barnes got me out of several little bits of trouble from time to time, and I’d return the favour.’
‘How?’
‘There’s a deal of sabotage in truckin’. I cracked a few skulls when it got tried on.’
‘Did Barnes do any sabotaging of his own?’
‘By way of reprisal, yes.’
‘Shit.’ I watched the surfer get up gracefully as the wave took him. He powered along with it, sweeping across its face and turning sharply to get the force behind him for the run to the beach. ‘He could’ve had a hundred enemies.’
‘He could. But there was one in particular.’
I swivelled in my seat and looked at O’Fear. It was warm in the car and sweat was trickling from his hairline towards his eyebrows. Suddenly he was nervous. I looked around us; no other cars parked nearby and a clear view in all directions. ‘There’s no one around,’ I said. ‘You can talk.’
‘I was remembering the night,’ he said softly. ‘I have to admit I was scared, although devil a thing really happened.’
The dramatic tone irritated me. ‘If this is blarney, O’Fear, I’ll …’
‘This is straight goods! He had me driving around to all manner of places. I didn’t know where I was half the time. The whole of the bloody city we were covering.’
‘What was the purpose?’
‘I’m buggered if I know. He’d have me wait near the car while he sneaked off somewhere. He was taking photographs, that I know for sure. Had this bloody great camera around his neck.’
‘What sorts of places?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Don’t go coy on me.’
‘Be buggered. I was taking a drop or two at the time. From me flask. Well, it was all so bloody boring. I can drive like Stirling Moss no matter how pissed I get. I can drive all right, but I couldn’t always swear to where I am.’
‘You’re a disgrace. Go on.’
‘Well, he’d hop back into the car and give me a grin, and it’d be off to the next place. But one night it was different.’
‘When was this?’
He moved slightly, easing the wounded side. ‘I’m talking about the last time I saw him. Let’s see, that was about two weeks before he died, or a bit less. I’m not certain. I don’t keep a bloody diary, you know.’
‘When did you go inside?’
‘A couple of days after the night I’m talking about. I was bashed, of course, and I’ve had a lot on me mind. You’ll have to understand if I’m a bit muzzy on the details.’
I took ou
t my notebook. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pull you up if you get too vague. Go on.’
‘This place I’m talking about. It was big, I know that, because he had me drive around the area a few times. Around the streets. I only caught a glimpse of the place itself. Look, I’ll admit I’m confused. I don’t where the bloody hell it was.’
It was rare for O’Fear to admit that he didn’t know something. A sign of truth? ‘Get on with it,’ I said.
‘Barnes was being extra cautious. He was dressed like a burglar, soft-soled shoes an’ all. And he had a gun as well as his camera. I didn’t like it. I tried to persuade him to take me along, but he laughed at me. Would you believe it? He had a thermos of coffee with him. Told me to drink it and sober up.’
‘Did you?’
‘I drank it, but I spiked it from the flask.’
‘You must have some idea of where you were?’
‘Oh, sure. Between the bloody Blue Mountains and the sea.’ Either the calming effect of the alcohol was wearing off or the memory he was about to dredge up was difficult for him. He looked at me testily. ‘D’you want to hear this or not?’
I nodded.
Sweat was standing out on his forehead. I got some tissues from the glovebox and he dabbed at his face. ‘Thanks. Barnes was away longer than usual. M’ nerves were on edge what with one thing and another. He came running back—first time I’d seen that. He had this bundle with him.’
‘What sort of bundle?’
‘One of those big plastic garbage bags. He shoved it in the back seat and told me to get moving as quick as I could. I did it, too.’
‘Hang on. This bundle—heavy or light?’
‘Pretty heavy. He had to lift it, like.’
‘Did it make a noise?’
He strained to remember, failed and became angry. ‘What is this? The bloody secret sound?’
‘All right. Then what happened?’
‘I drove off but I was pissed. After a bit Barnes drove. I went to sleep in the car and woke up when we got back to his place in Botany. He paid me, called a taxi and I went home.’
‘You don’t know what happened to the bag?’
He shook his head. ‘I let him down. I swore I never would again, but I never got another chance.’ He looked at me; sweat had plastered the red hair to his scalp and his collar was a rag. Anyone else in that condition might look defeated, but O’Fear looked ready to start a fight. ‘I’d like to help now, and that’s not the booze or anything else talking.’
‘I don’t quite understand why this rocked you so much, O’Fear. I mean, it sounds a bit toey, and you were pissed, but …’
‘I’ll tell you. It wasn’t any of that rattled me. I’ve done more than my share of scary things at night. It was this—Barnes Todd was scared that night. Did you ever see him scared?’
I found it hard to even imagine. ‘No.’
‘Nor me. I saw him in Korea, remember. Bloody millions of Chinks around all tryin’ to kill us, and it was like a day at the races to him. It was him being afraid that scared me.’
I had been making notes, preparing to haul O’Fear back from fantasy or evasion, but his account was coherent enough. ‘How many places did you go to that night?’
‘Two or three.’
‘What was the usual number?’
‘It varied. Sometimes only a few, sometimes a hell of a lot.’
‘Did Barnes have a list or a chart of some kind?’
He considered the question and I was convinced that he was making a genuine effort at recall. Eventually he shook his head and then tapped his temple. ‘No. He had it all inside.’
I looked at my notes and wondered what to make of O’Fear’s story. Nothing came.
‘He must’ve had some name for what you were doing. What did he call this midnight rambling?’
‘Reconnaissance.’
The surfer I had watched before was back out in the deep water again. The wave rose and he was up, balanced and forceful; crouched, driving the board, he resembled a powerful machine, perfectly designed for the job it was doing. ‘What sort of car did you drive on these reccies?’ I asked.
‘A Ford Laser. Barnes had a small fleet of them at Botany.’
‘Mulholland, you black bastard.’ O’Fear and Bob Mulholland shaped up and exchanged mock punches. O’Fear’s left jab was just a sketch, and he kept his damaged side protected.
‘You didn’t tell me you knew this lunatic, Cliff,’ Mulholland said.
‘I was trying to forget it. I’ve just bailed him out of gaol.’
‘That’s right! Tell the world me life story.’
‘Calm down, O’Fear.’ Mulholland prodded O’Fear’s belly. ‘Prison’s done you good.’
‘Prison never did anyone any good,’ O’Fear growled. ‘You remember when I was drivin’ for Barnes?’
Mulholland nodded. ‘I remember the dings you put in the cars.’ He stopped when he saw me looking at Anna Carboni’s empty chair with the dead screen in front of it. ‘Oh, Cliff, I left a message on your machine. Anna’s been sick for a couple of days. You’ll have to wait for that work.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope an’ pray?’ O’Fear said.
‘Gastro, or something like that. From the wog tucker, I expect.’
O’Fear waved a finger at him. ‘Prejudice.’
‘When you two get through with your routine,’ I said, ‘maybe I can do some work. I might not need all the details now, Bob. I think we have a closer focus on the problem. That’s if this bloody Irishman can remember where he was on a certain night.’
Mulholland looked puzzled and O’Fear gave him a wink. ‘He owes me money. Makes him testy. Are you goin’ to look at the car?’
It was difficult to stay annoyed with O’Fear for long. ‘I am that,’ I said. ‘Can we take a look at the Lasers, Bob?’
Mulholland pointed to three sets of keys hanging on hooks near the door. A truck roared into the yard and I heard shouting. ‘I’m pretty busy,’ Mulholland said. ‘Do you …?’
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘We’ll try to keep out of your hair.’
He strode to the window of the office and gesticulated at the truck driver. O’Fear and I went out and walked towards the part of the yard where the Lasers were parked. We had to wait for two trucks to back past us towards the loading bays.
‘Busy around here,’ O’Fear said.
I told him about Felicia Todd’s decision to keep Barnes Enterprises afloat. He glanced at me slyly.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘a woman in the case. And you have an eye for her.’
I ignored that. We reached the cars and I tossed a set of keys to O’Fear. ‘I don’t suppose you know which one you drove?’
‘I’d say I drove them all at different times.’
‘We won’t find anything, but let’s take a look.’
‘It’s only right,’ O’Fear said.
We searched the cars thoroughly. The only thing of interest I found was a crumpled sheet of paper ruled up into columns with a space for headings. ‘What would you say this is?’
O’Fear, the old truckie, had no doubt. ‘A log sheet.’
Back in the office, we found Bob Mulholland elbow-deep in paperwork and close to bad-tempered. I put the keys back on the hooks. ‘Sorry to interrupt again, Bob.’
Mulholland grunted.
‘Trouble?’
‘A bit. Riley again, and others.’
I turned to O’Fear. ‘Do you know this Riley character?’
‘I do.’
‘Could it have been something to do with him that night?’
O’Fear shook his head. ‘Wasn’t his place, at least. I’d know that joint drunk or sober from some earlier doin’s Barnes ’n’ me’d had there.’ Mulholland tapped a pencil impatiently on the desk.
It had been a fairly long day with a few miles covered and many words spoken. I could have worked up a bit of impatience myself, but I held it in check. ‘Could I have a look at the log sheets for the Lasers, Bob?’
He pointed to a stack of thick loose-leafbinders. I flicked through the top sheets in the first binder. The logs showed times, mileage, fuel costs. I patted Anna’s desk and beckoned to O’Fear. ‘Job for you, mate. I want you to sort through these. Do every car. See if you can isolate the night in question and work out the radius of the area you travelled. Know what I mean?’
‘Jesus,’ O’Fear said. ‘Do I have to?’
I slapped him on the shoulder and he winced. ‘Sorry. I think it’s a good idea. Might jog your memory.’
‘And what’ll you be doin’?’
‘Checking on a demolitions man named Brown in St Peters. Think you could’ve been in St Peters that night?’
O’Fear shrugged. ‘A heavenly name for a hellish spot. Shouldn’t we be conducting a big search for the photographs and the bag?’ O’Fear retained the ‘g’ in upmarket words like ‘conducting’.
‘Tomorrow. Have you got somewhere to stay tonight?’
O’Fear had taken off his jacket and hung it over the back of Anna’s chair. He had the stack of binders in front of him and was clicking a ballpoint pen he’d taken from his pocket. He gave me one of his ingenuous smiles. ‘I thought perhaps your place, Cliff.’
I reminded him of the address and told him where the spare key is hidden. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘Is there drink in the house?’
I said there was.
‘Then I’ll be fine. If I can’t make me way from Botany to Glebe, then it’s time I retired.’ He clicked his pen. ‘I’m not too keen on this, though. I’m a man of action.’
‘We need a man of brains just now.’
‘Well, after all, I’m a graduate of Trinity.’
Mulholland looked up. ‘What pub’s that?’
O’Fear opened a folder. ‘I won’t be disturbin’ your good lady, then?’
‘You remember my wife, O’Fear. The blonde architect? She left ten years ago.’
‘She was never the woman for you, Cliff.’
I still had the log sheet in my hand. I crumpled it and threw it into a wastepaper bin. ‘Her sentiments exactly,’ I said.
