I thought, shook my head. I’d never heard of George Clarke at all.
‘You see? Even after the union was dead, on the face of it nothing had changed. The government still ran the power supply. But what you didn’t see was all the cut-price subcontracting that was going on, to little companies here and there. To build a new substation, to maintain a section of the grid, to manage staff. Anything, as long as it was cheaper. And a lot of those companies were Clarke’s companies, but you didn’t see his name anywhere. You didn’t see his face.’
I thought again of the one photo I’d seen, long ago. I’d only ever been looking at Marvin. The figure next to him was taller, heavier, with a blunt, blurred face. Unsmiling. But there was nothing there, no feature to remember him by. And there was still no connection to Charlie.
‘But what was Clarke doing in the detox ward?’ I said.
‘He . . . he was sick.’
‘Drinking?’
Marvin nodded, puzzled. ‘That’s what I don’t understand. He always drank, but he never had a problem before. He could handle it. I mean really handle it. Like I said, he was a hard man. He grew up tough, out west somewhere. He could drink me under the table and not blink an eye. He was proud of it, you know. It was part of the way he beat people down.’
‘Are you sure alcohol was the problem? It wasn’t for drugs or something else?’
‘It was alcohol. He came in as drunk as you can be and not be dead. And he reeked of vodka.’
‘Vodka?’
‘It’s funny. People think it doesn’t smell. I think it smells the worst. And it’s a mean smell. An ugly smell. It was his favourite.’
‘Marvin . . . you know what they found? In the substation where Charlie died.’
‘Oh yeah, I know. If I didn’t know it was him before, I knew it when I heard that.’
‘So what happened in that ward?’
Marvin’s eyes cast about the room. ‘I couldn’t believe it when they wheeled him in. He was a mess. I mean a real fucking mess. Maybe it wasn’t just alcohol, maybe it was drugs too, who knows what? But he was screaming. A man like that, crying like a baby.’
‘You’d never seen him that way before?’
‘No. And I don’t want to see it again.’
‘But you and Charlie had some sort of contact with him?’
‘More than that, a lot more than that. When I saw who it was and what sort of state he was in, I made sure I stayed by his side. I was trying to help the bastard. So once the doctors had him drugged and the rest, me and Charlie spent the night with him, in his room. I don’t think he even realised it was us, not at first, but I didn’t want him left with just anyone. Not even the St Amand’s staff, and they’re the best. Clarke was raving, George. Saying all sorts of things. And when a man like that is spilling his guts, you don’t want just anyone hearing. God knows, he’s done a lot of things he wouldn’t want anyone knowing.’
‘Like?’
‘Like there are some things you still don’t talk about, George. Things that are dangerous, even now. I told you, he didn’t always solve things just by talking. That union didn’t go quietly. And Clarke wasn’t the only one after all that sub-contracting work. He had competitors. For a while, at least.’
‘But that was all in the old days.’
‘It isn’t just the old days, George. I mean, the old days aren’t really over. They go on and on. That’s the whole point.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Open your eyes, George. Watch the news.’
‘What?’
‘You lose power after the storm last night? At that motel of yours?’
‘No. I know other parts of the city did, but—’
‘Other parts of the city. That’s the thing. There’s always some part of the city, or some part of the south-east, losing power. You know what I’m talking about. All these problems with the power grid. It’s been in the papers. Poor maintenance and understaffing and constant interruptions to the supply. The whole industry is a fucking mess. Even worse than it used to be.’
And a collection of news items and articles surfaced in my memory. About a crisis in the power industry, about a breakdown in staff and infrastructure, about the need for drastic reform. It had been simmering away in the back pages for months. Not that I’d really been paying attention. Any more than I ever had, when it came to the truth about power in Queensland.
‘And Clarke?’
Marvin laughed. ‘That’s what’s so funny. We were always second-rate, me and him. All those scams we ran. And nothing changed. I was second-rate in government, and he’s still second-rate, the way he runs things. No matter how tough he thinks he is, he’s still shoddy and he’s still cheap and he’s fucked up once too often. Laws have been broken. Public money has gone missing. The government is sick of it all. It’s launching an investigation. Contracts are under scrutiny. All the old contracts, and how they were won in the first place. And sooner or later, a lot of it’s gonna come back to him.’
‘I thought you said people like him were untouchable.’
‘Not anymore. Not when the lights start going out. Even in my day, we couldn’t have stood for that. You’ve gotta give people their television. First fucking rule of politics.’
‘So Clarke is being investigated. Is that what he was talking about in the ward? Is that the reason his drinking has got so bad?’
Marvin was grinning at me. ‘Not just an investigation, George. It’s an inquiry.’
I paused a moment at that. ‘An inquiry?’
‘An inquiry. That’s the word they’re using. That’s the word eating away inside Clarke’s head right now. Another inquiry. Only worse than the last one. This time he’s in the middle of it. That’s the hilarious thing. It’s an inquiry into him. And he’s not gonna walk away this time. This time he’s gonna end up in jail. That’s what driven him to drink, George. That’s what he was raving about, in that fucking ward.’
‘But what’s that got to do with Charlie?’
A malign glee had lifted Marvin for a moment, now he crumbled again.
‘Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with Charlie. Me? Maybe they’d call me to testify, sooner or later. I signed a lot of papers for Clarke back then. But so what? There’s nothing they can do to me any more.’
‘Then what happened in that ward?’
‘I don’t know. It got late. Clarke fell asleep eventually. They’d drugged him. I still don’t think he’d even recognised us by then. So I went to bed. I’d done what I could. The problem was I left Charlie there in the room, Charlie wanted to stay . . .’
‘Did Charlie know who Clarke was?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell what Charlie knows now. But something about Clarke got Charlie interested. He wanted to stay, that’s all I know. And something must have happened, ’cause next morning Charlie is shaking me awake. He’s transformed. He’s freaked out. He’s getting out of there, he says. Right that second.’
‘Leaving the ward?’
‘I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. But he said he was going to Highwood. He said he was going up there to find you.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I was half asleep. By the time I was out of bed, Charlie was out the door.’
‘But he’d spent the whole night with Clarke, right?’
‘Right. So I go in and see Clarke. He’s still groggy, he can hardly stand, but he’s freaking out as well. He recognises me this time, sure enough, and he’s not happy. I’m the last person he wants to see.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He wants to know where Charlie has gone. I don’t know why. But something happened between them. Clarke must have woken up after I left. Him and Charlie must have talked. I don’t know what about. But something was said, something a lot worse than anything I heard the night before, something that set Charlie off, something Clarke didn’t want him to know. ’Cause Clarke wanted Charlie back, and fast.’
�
�What did you tell him?’
‘I told him Charlie normally lived in that little detox place in Bardon, and that’s probably where he’d gone. But I said something about Highwood too. I don’t remember.’
‘Did you mention me?’
‘Shit, George, think! It wasn’t the time to be talking about Charlie going to see a journalist—even if that journalist was only you. Clarke was furious enough as it was. He wasn’t even properly sober, and he was angrier than I’d ever seen.’
‘So Charlie went off to Highwood, and Clarke wanted him back, but you don’t know why?’
‘No. And Christ, George, if I’d known what was going to happen I wouldn’t have said anything at all. You believe that, don’t you?’
‘What’d Clarke do?’
‘He got up and left. Straight away. Fuck what the doctors said, he wasn’t hanging around.’
‘He was going after Charlie?’
‘I didn’t know George. What was I supposed to do?’
‘What did you do?’
‘I checked out. I didn’t want detox anymore. Things were too fucked up. I needed a drink. I went home.’
‘The housekeeper didn’t see you.’
‘I was only there one night. First thing next morning I get a call from Clarke.’
‘The next morning . . . this is after Charlie was already dead?’
‘Right. I don’t know where Clarke is calling from, but he still sounds drunk and he still sounds mad. He tells me he’s found Charlie and Charlie refused to cooperate, and so he’s had to deal with Charlie. I still don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. But then he says that I’m next, and that I’d better be more helpful, if I know what’s good for me. Then he hangs up.’
‘He’s dealt with Charlie . . . that’s what he said?’
‘But I didn’t know what that meant until I saw the midday news. Highwood. And that fucking substation. That’s all I needed to hear. I got the hell out of there.’
‘He as good as told you he killed Charlie?’
There were tears in Marvin’s eyes. ‘And I’m next, George. That’s why I’m here. I don’t even know why. I don’t know what started it all. But it doesn’t even matter what that was any more. Clarke knows that I know it was him up at that substation. A man like him isn’t gonna just let a thing like that be. Not if he can find me.’
But I wasn’t interested in Marvin.
‘What could it be?’ I pressed. ‘What could he have told Charlie that would set Charlie off like that? And why would Charlie come looking for me anyway? We hadn’t talked in years.’
‘Who knows? Maybe Clarke let something slip. About the old days, or about something that’s happening now. Something Charlie thought was too important to keep quiet. Maybe Charlie thinks you’re still some sort of hot-shot journalist who would want information like that. I don’t know. Charlie is all messed up. I just know that, all of a sudden, he said he had to see you.’
‘But he hated me.’
Marvin was weary with it all. ‘He didn’t hate you. He thought you hated him.’
I froze. ‘Charlie said that?’
‘He talked about you a lot in that ward. You and Maybellene and the whole fucking mess. He thought it was all his fault. He said he’d always wanted to talk to you two, to apologise for everything, but he thought you’d tell him to fuck off if he even called. He said if he could ever find some way to put it right, he would.’
And God, I didn’t need to be hearing this.
‘There was no way to put it right,’ I said. ‘He must have known that.’
‘Charlie wasn’t himself any more, George. The alcohol had got to him, and the gunshot, and all that time in prison. He was like a little kid. He just wanted everything to be okay again. The poor fucking idiot was so guilty.’
I could barely answer. ‘It wasn’t his fault . . .’
‘Forget it, George. This isn’t just about Charlie. It’s about Clarke. I don’t know what happened in that room while I was asleep, but something did. Something was said. And Clarke is a man who sober wouldn’t breathe a word about his life to anyone. He sure as hell never broke down like that, back in the old days. But now everything is fucking up for him and he’s drunk himself into God knows what sort of hell, and he’s let something out. Charlie was the problem. Charlie didn’t know the rules, he didn’t even know what he was playing with.’
He had another cigarette ready, flicked the lighter repeatedly, over and over until it fired, and the cigarette trembled in his hand.
‘Forget about Charlie,’ he said. ‘It’s too late for him anyway. I’m the one in trouble now. And it wasn’t even my fault, George. Believe me. I was trying to help.’
And he was right. It was too late to help Charlie. I forced myself to think about Marvin, studied him as he sat there, pathetic and fearful. I looked around the room. Dark and hot, oppressive as a jail cell, with an ocean and sun and sand only metres away. He was afraid all right. Only a frightened man would do this.
‘So your solution is just to hide out here?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I thought if I stayed out of sight long enough Clarke would realise I’m no threat to him, that I’m not gonna talk to anyone, not about Charlie, not about anything. God knows I won’t. But I don’t know if that’ll be enough.’
‘What about the police?’
He shook his head wildly. ‘No, no, no. I make a move that way and I’m dead for sure. You think the police aren’t still onside with someone like him? He always had friends there in the old days. He had cops on his payroll. You don’t think he hasn’t still got one or two of them lined up? The Inquiry didn’t get them all, George, no fucking way. No, I gotta make him see I can be trusted, that’s my only chance. I gotta stay hidden and stay silent. And even then . . . even then I don’t know. I used to think he was reasonable, you know, a businessman first and foremost. Now I don’t know. Look what he did to Charlie.’
‘I have,’ I said, toneless.
Marvin was staring about, his foot tapping helplessly. ‘And there were empty bottles everywhere at the scene. That means he’s still drinking. That’s what scares the shit out of me, ’cause I saw what he was like drunk.’
I thought of the photo again, but it was pointless.
‘Tell me what he looks like,’ I said.
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t need to know. You won’t ever see him. Why would you? You’re nothing to him.’
‘Still . . .’
He sat up, alarmed. ‘For Christ’s sake, George, stay out of this. Don’t go looking for this guy. Don’t do a damn thing. Go home to Highwood and forget about it all. That’s why I’m telling you all this. If everyone would just forget about it, then maybe I’ll get through this alive.’
But right then I couldn’t maintain any sympathy for Marvin or his life. It wasn’t his fault, he’d said, and maybe I even believed that . . . but for all he’d told me, he hadn’t told me anything. Not the answer that lay at the centre of it all.
Something that made Charlie steal a car.
Sent him running to Highwood, where he knew I lived.
‘What has this all got to with me, Marvin?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. It was only Charlie. He was confused. Just shut up and lay low, George. Go home. That’s all you have to do. That’s all any of us has to do.’
But he couldn’t meet my eyes.
I stood up. ‘Okay . . . I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘No! I mean, not yet, George. Don’t go yet.’
He swayed up quickly, grabbed the scotch bottle, spilled liquid into a glass.
‘Have a drink,’ he begged, the glass held out before him. ‘Come on. We can still talk. About other things. We can drink all day, like old times, I’ve got plenty of bottles.’
‘Not if you won’t tell me what’s really going on.’
He clutched the glass miserably, a small man, old
and alone and mostly naked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve been stuck here for two weeks, I’m going mad. Please. Don’t go yet.’
‘You said yourself I should go home.’
‘Tomorrow then. You can go home tomorrow. There’s spare beds upstairs.’
But I couldn’t stay. I’d had enough. Of the dark, of the heat, of the smell—of Marvin himself. I wanted air. I wanted to understand what it all meant. And in that room, with the thing Marvin had become, that was impossible. Because he was still as much to blame as ever, despite all the self-pity and fear. No matter how indirectly, Charlie was still dead because of him. And Charlie hadn’t even hated me. He’d wanted to fix things between us, he’d wanted to say he was sorry . . .
There was a pad by the phone, and a pen. I wrote down my number at the motel.
‘I’ll leave this,’ I said. ‘You can call me if you need to.’
Marvin’s face started to collapse. ‘Jesus, George, you want me on my knees? Stay a while. I’ve never asked you for anything before.’
‘You asked me for plenty.’
He staggered, spilling scotch. ‘What are you talking about? We’re friends, George, we were always friends.’
And I was disgusted now, with him, with myself, with everything we’d done together.
‘Call me,’ I said, and headed for the door.
He came after me. ‘Just an hour or two, please.’ But the alcohol had him now, his legs gave out, buckling beneath him. He sank into the couch. He sat there, confused, looking up at me. His glasses had fallen off and his naked eyes seemed tiny, like rats’ eyes, not piercing or hypnotic as they used to be, just desperate and trapped. ‘Only one drink. One drink won’t kill you.’
‘I’m sorry, Marvin,’ I said, and turned away.
‘George,’ he called, as I walked back towards the stairs and the sunlight. ‘You weak bastard. One drink, what’s one fucking drink?’ And he was starting to cry.
I didn’t answer.
Because I was sick of alcohol, of everything it had done to my life, and was still doing. Because right then I wanted a drink more than I’d wanted anything. Because I was an alcoholic. Because I had no power over alcohol. Because one drink was everything, and it was never the last.
Last Drinks Page 24
