by Chris Krupa
I asked George for her home address, and created a memo on my phone. ‘How long were they together?’
‘They met back in high school. ‘Childhood sweethearts’ and all that shit.’
‘Which school was that?’
‘Nowra High. That’s where Rob got hooked on ice.’
‘How so?’
George scooped up some of the larger chips and ate them one by one. ‘There were these guys, local dealers, selling to school kids at the back football oval. It was a big problem for a while, you know? Fuck, they reckon it’s worse now. That’s when Rob tried some. I think he was seventeen or so. And mate, it was downhill from there, you know? He just got more and more into it.’
‘Did Rob deal?’
‘Oh, here and there. I don’t know the details, but never in the street. He always transacted at home.’
‘Did Amanda and Rob live together?’
‘No, they kept their own places. I didn’t stick my nose into it too much. It was poisonous. They brought out the worst in each other. I reckon Rob didn’t trust her. Just my opinion. She was a fucking drain on him—emotionally, financially, you name it. I don’t know what he saw in her apart from a tight little arse, know what I mean? Not that she’s got much. Fucking hips like a fourteen-year-old boy.’
‘When was the last time you saw Rob?’
‘Couple of weeks ago. We hardly got together since he wanted to get stoned every day. I flat out refused to get involved in that shit. He was doing his thing and I was doing mine. That was the line in the sand for me. Well, truth be told, we had a falling out.’
‘Over what?’
‘Dad and me leant Rob some money. He was looking at some property and needed some help with the deposit. It fell through, and the developer took the money and disappeared. Twenty-two grand.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Gone. Now Amanda thinks she’s entitled to some money as a de facto. We don’t owe her a dime. I know what you’re thinking, but mate, I didn’t bash my brother’s brains in over money, all right?’
I raised my hands. ‘Yeah, absolutely. I believe you. Any idea why he was at the work site at that time of night?’
‘No idea. The only thing I can think of is the contractors had pressure to finish the job, so the foreman offered overtime. I can’t imagine Rob took him up on the offer, though. His work ethic wasn’t exactly good, so I don’t really know why Rob was there. There’s no way he would have gone back to the site after knock-off time.’
George rubbed his eyes and looked away. Then he raised his hands. ‘Look, this shit is between you and me, yeah? This doesn’t go back to the cops, okay? What I’m about to tell you is personal.’
I nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Do me a favour? If you talk to Amanda, don’t mention me or my Dad. We had nothing but trouble from that bitch since Rob died.’
‘What we say to each other stays confidential.’
The conversation steered away from Rob, and soon we were talking about nostalgic things, memories from weddings and family functions. Time went quick, and soon George told me he had to head back to the shop to work on a mate’s car.
We shook hands.
‘Thanks for your time, George. I really appreciate it. We’ll catch up again before I leave.’
He smiled. ‘No worries, cuz.’
Chapter 7
I felt good after the drinks and the talk with George, not drunk, but on my way. It had gotten dark outside, and I walked the four or so blocks back to my hotel room, where I made myself at home on the bed, poured some wine into a plastic teacup, and booted up my laptop to see what I could learn about ice in the Shoalhaven. I came across a number of articles about what the local minister dubbed ‘the ice scourge’. Over the past five years, the New South Wales police had cracked down on expansive drug networks, and seemed hellbent at taking methamphetamine off the street, with at least forty people arrested across south west Sydney, Berry, and Nowra, thanks to Strike Force Croci.
The problem became so widespread across Victoria and rural New South Wales that the minister, Susan Pritchard, hung her hopes on the Coalition’s National Ice Taskforce, and held a community forum at the civic centre in Ulladulla to discuss the impact of ice in the area, and affected families reacted overwhelmingly. A website showed before and after photos of convicted ice users in the United States. A woman in her late thirties appeared striking in her ‘before’ photo with long, shiny hair, a healthy pallor, unblemished skin, and clear beautiful eyes. Her after photo was shocking—wiry, dull hair hung limp around a pockmarked and blistered face. The most obvious change was her teeth, now brown and decayed thanks to something called ‘meth mouth’, the sure sign of a chronic ice user. I looked it up on Google, and while there are a number of theories as to the cause of ‘meth mouth’, one of them said methamphetamine causes blood vessels to narrow and decrease saliva flow. Either way, it looked horrible.
The room suddenly felt empty, and I wanted something more substantial in my stomach than potato chips. I grabbed my phone and idly checked Zoosk, an online dating app a few steps up from Tinder, which I used to stay in touch with two women. One, an event manager named Cassie, lived in Dubbo, and the other, a part-time security guard named Annette, based in Huskisson. I’d picked up more of a vibe from Annette since we’d gotten in touch with each other eight weeks previously. Since then, we’d flirted off and on. Annette’s photos were always taken in too low or too bright light, but from what I could see, they showed a finely sculpted face framed with long auburn hair, a strong jaw, and full lips. She knew how to highlight her facial attributes with expertly applied make-up.
With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I sent her a kiss, told her I was in the neighbourhood, and waited.
In the meantime, I followed up on one of the names George gave me, Li Nguyen. I searched local, district, and court of appeal matters, and managed to find a transcript of an armed robbery charge against a Li Van Nguyen from Nowra. They’d sentenced him to Silverwater Correctional Facility for a term of five years, so I drew a line through that particular line of enquiry and ruled him out as a suspect.
My phone chirped and checked Zoosk. It was a message from Annette.
‘about time you came to my neck of the woods what u up to?’
I replied. ‘Having a drink with my three friends. Me, myself, and I.’
‘they all sound like very handsome men’
I laughed and wrote, ‘Do you think we can finally meet up? Are the stars aligned?’
After a full minute, she finally replied.
‘sounds nice where?’
‘How about the Tavern in Sussex in an hour? Shall we call it a date?’
‘ok or i could rip your clothes off and rape you (smiley emoji)
That was typical Annette, always going for the hammer blow between the eyes.
I replied, ‘LOL see you then.’
I couldn’t believe my luck, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the impending date, my first since the divorce from Dee, that made me feel so lightheaded. I put on a clean dress shirt, a pair of dark chinos, and a couple licks of aftershave under the jaw line. then I locked up and walked four blocks east to the Sussex Inlet Tavern.
Inside, the place was mostly empty, with a middle-aged couple mingling around the bar. Apart from the electronic bells and whistles from the poker machines, the place was quiet. I made my way to a table off-centre and towards the back, so I could keep my eye on the entrance. That way, I could read Annette’s body language before she spotted me.
She appeared on time and scanned the room with a look of nervous anticipation. She wore a blue dress, a linen jacket, and medium-heeled shoes.
I waved and managed to catch her eye.
She pushed some hair behind an ear and half strode, half sauntered over. The sway in her hips made her dress move in a very eye-catching fashion.
We said our hellos and briefly hugged. Her perfume hit me and I almost lost balance.
‘What’ll you ha
ve?’ I said. ‘It’s on me. Something strong? Bourbon? Scotch?’
‘We’re going for the hard stuff, are we? I’ll have a shot of ouzo.’
I placed my order at the bar, the barmaid got on with the job, and I returned with the drinks.
Annette downed hers in one go. ‘Needed that.’
I smiled and downed my neat scotch in one hit, also. ‘It’s really nice to meet you in the flesh.’
She smiled, close-mouthed, shy. ‘You too.’ She looked at the top of my head. ‘You’re taller than I thought.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘Not at all. It’s very good, actually.’
‘Your pictures don’t do you justice. Your skin’s gorgeous in real life. You should show it off more.’
Her pale complexion didn’t hide the slight blush, like a drop of red paint across milk.
‘I was thinking of grabbing a bottle of wine to share,’ I said. ‘Maybe a Cab Sav or a nice Merlot. You up for it?’
She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Sure.’
I got the attention of the barmaid and ordered a bottle of the house red.
Annette watched another barmaid as she poured two beers, and I took the opportunity to study her face. She’d applied extra make up to mask the laugh lines around her eyes, although she didn’t have to. I appreciated seeing her at all angles rather than straight on. Her mouth seemed poised for cynicism or a witty remark, and I felt overcome by a sudden desire to kiss it.
Soon our bottle appeared with two stemmed glasses. I filled both to the brim and handed one of them to Annette.
‘To new adventures,’ Annette said.
The wine went down easy, almost too easy. I took a breath and said, ‘I have to be up front about something.’
She visibly flinched, nodded, and took a big pull on her wine.
‘Nothing dramatic,’ I said. ‘I just want to be on even terms, put everything out in the open. I need to be up front with you about my daughter. Her name’s Alice and she’s eleven years old, and she’s a big dag like her father, and she is without doubt one of the reasons why I do what I do.’
Annette blinked a few times and took another sip of her drink. ‘Okay, thanks for being honest.’
‘I hope that isn’t a deal breaker?’
She laughed and it was loud. She was all feminine sexuality, too much for this place, and I loved it.
‘No!’ she said. ‘Of course not! It’s not that. It’s just....’ She took another sip. ‘It’s just, look at you. I’m having trouble picturing you changing nappies and singing lullabies.’
‘I have it on good authority that I can sing a mean lullaby.’
‘Is that right?’
‘I have a healthy repertoire of lullabies guaranteed to knock out any annoying brat.’
She laughed.
I said, ‘I don’t mention Alice online because of the type of work I’m in. I rub shoulders with all sorts of crazies, and I don’t want to put her in the firing line.’
She put a hand on my arm and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Thank you for telling me. And the mum?’
‘We divorced eight years ago. I have Alice every third weekend.’
Annette looked down at the bar for a moment. She drained her wine, and I dutifully topped up her glass. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and cleared her throat.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘seeing as though we’re coming clean, I have to tell you something.’
‘This could be saucy.’
‘I have three boys, seven, nine, and thirteen.’
I nodded and took a good pull on my wine. ‘It’s okay. I’m not threatened by that.’
‘They have the same father, in case you were wondering.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘He ran off with a woman he met online.’
‘Sorry to hear it.’
‘At least your face didn’t change. Mention kids to most guys and they run for the hills.’
For some reason, the joy suddenly went out of the air, and Annette fell silent.
I waved it off. ‘I think we’re thinking the same thing. If this becomes something a bit more than a drink, we have to think about six lives and not just two.’
Annette placed a hand on my arm. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’
We agreed to order dinner from the bar.
I chose the sirloin with pepper gravy and chips, and Annette ordered feta pasta with salad. The food came and, as we ate, Annette told me about her boys, Mike, Ollie, and Nathan. They were chalk and cheese to each other, and while she confessed to loving them to a fault, they drove her up the wall. She wanted to run away to a hotel for a month, just so she could hear her own thoughts again, and wanted to know if that made her a bad mother.
I reassured her it didn’t.
‘Tell me something strange about you.’
I sipped some wine. ‘When I was fifteen, I joined the Australian Communist Party.’
She laughed. ‘What for?’
‘I thought it’d be interesting. I was only there a month when my mum found out. She told me to go back and tell them I’d made a mistake. That was the end of my potentially illustrious political career.’
‘Did you want to go into politics?’
‘Jesus, no. Couldn’t think of anything worse.’ I topped up our glasses.
‘So, do you live in Wollongong?’
‘I do. Born and bred.’
‘You don’t seem like the surfer type.’
‘I’m not. And I didn’t partake in the two cultural pastimes, burning rubber and getting stoned.’
She scoffed. ‘I grew up in Liverpool. Getting stoned is considered a full-time job.’
The other couple had left, and the lonely chirruping of a poker machine emanated from the other room.
Annette turned and stared at a woman in her seventies playing a one-cent machine.
I sensed she felt the same sense of melancholy for her as I did. ‘I suppose we couldn’t expect too much on a Monday night at this time of the year.’
She took a long drink of wine, turned her head, and raised an eyebrow. ‘You spy on cheating husbands?’
‘There’s work in it, but I tend to pick up the cases no one else wants.’
‘So, you’re an urban superhero.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. What about you? You say you’re in security detail?’
‘I’m casual at the moment, hoping to find something full time. The hours suit me. My sister looks after the boys when I’m on night shift, and I’m there to pick them up from school in the afternoon.’
She glanced at my arms. ‘You have to stay in shape doing what you do?’
‘I bulked up when I fell into a security detail when I was young. I try to hit the gym three times a week. I’m not a gym junkie, by any means. I follow a strict whiskey and cheese diet.’
‘Sounds like my kind of diet. I hit the gym three times a week, for work.’
‘I can tell.’
‘You checking me out?’
I nodded and showed her the empty bottle, and when she pouted, I decided to take a punt. ‘How about we make it just the two of us? Legitimately?’
She gave me a crooked smile and finished her glass. ‘There is nothing legitimate about that question, Mister Matthew Kowalski.’
We settled the bill, which I insisted on paying, and made our way out. We barely spoke on the footpath back to the hotel.
I ran scenarios through my head, and I’m sure Annette did the same.
We grasped at each other’s fingertips and bumped into each other like nervous teenagers. I’d barely so much as hugged a woman in the two years prior to Dee and I separating. We approached the driveway to the hotel car park when a heavyset man in a black balaclava quickly approached us from across the road.
He swung a baseball bat at my head.
I pushed Annette out of the way.
The bat hit my left shoulder and I heard the dull thwack of metal on skin. I stepped back as he swung the bat in a wide arc, a
nd tensed. My foot hit the edge of the concrete driveway. I sought some ground and pushed forward.
As he returned the bat to full arc, I grabbed it with both hands. He pulled me towards him, and I smelled marijuana and onion on his breath. As we wrestled for control, I tightened my grip, despite the throbbing pain in my shoulder.
He kicked out twice and got my shin. I released my grip, and he pushed me hard, then turned and ran.
I regained my balance and turned to Annette. ‘Are you okay?’
She looked rattled but nodded.
I turned and ran full pelt in the direction our assailant had gone, but I couldn’t see him. A dark reserve appeared empty on the opposite side of the road, and only a few streetlights lit the road heading west. I saw plenty of black areas where he could have sought refuge amongst some bushes. I gripped my arm and took a moment to run the events through my mind. Was it a planned hit, with the sole intention to rough me up and scare me away? I didn’t think I’d been in town long enough to ruffle any feathers, but maybe I had. Maybe I’d spoken to the wrong people. Maybe my presence had provoked a response, or maybe I was on the right path.
At Annette’s urging, we walked up to my hotel room. Once inside, shelooked at me. ‘Got anything strong? I think I need it.’
I indicated my open suitcase against the built-in wardrobe. ‘Should be a bottle of merlot in there.’
‘Shirt off, run a shower, and soak that shoulder good and proper. I’ll open the plonk.’
I did as she asked and soaked my reddened shoulder under a steady stream of hot water. I felt defeated. Both my shoulder and my pride copped a beating for letting a masked stranger get the jump on me like that. I downed two tablets of ibuprofen and emerged from the loo.
Annette turned to me. ‘How is it?’
‘I’ve taken some painkillers, and it should ease off soon. Nothing serious.’
She sat on the bed, slid her shoes off, and looked around. ‘Cozy.’
‘I suppose, if you like nineteen eighty-five.’
I made a move towards her and kissed her, and she responded. Then we kissed hard, all weak at the knees and out of breath.
