‘What’s missing?’ I said.
‘Not much. The shotgun and the car keys. Not kids?’
I shook my head. ‘The TV and the VCR rule that out.’
‘So it’s them?’
‘I guess so. Can we make some coffee?’ We rummaged in the kitchen and found two more or less intact cups. I put on the water and spooned in the instant. Erica sat at the table and lit a cigarette. She opened her hand and let a small, gold wristwatch drop onto the pine table. The glass was shattered.
‘It was mine. I left it here. Why’re you looking like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Scowling.’
I poured the water into the cups and added a slug to each from a bottle of Suntory that had been opened and knocked on its side so that only an inch remained. ‘Bloody uninquisitive neighbours,’ I grunted. ‘This must have been noisy.’
Erica reached for her cup. ‘Never heard them when I was here. Walls must be thick or else they’re out a lot.’ She sipped and made a face. ‘That’s not what’s on your mind, Cliff.’
I drank some of the laced coffee thinking that it was a while since I’d done any spirits drinking in the morning. ‘You’re right. I just don’t understand this. I can see the car mob wanting to get hold of the Audi. They make an investment, and it has to pay off. But this leg-breaking and house-trashing looks like something else.’
‘You mean they might have found out about the man at Blackheath?’
‘Doesn’t seem likely. No, he must have done something to threaten them. Must’ve played a card of some sort.’
‘What?’
‘God knows. I’ve got to talk to Mai again.’
She nodded. She seemed to have lost drive and interest suddenly. She’d been disappointed at the pub, at Mai’s flat and Blackheath, and maybe she didn’t have the mule-like stubbornness it takes to keep going. Maybe it was the first violated house she’d seen; that experience takes some people hard.
‘Look, Erica. There’s still a job for you to do here, and I don’t just mean cleaning up. Someone was looking for something and they didn’t find it.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘I can read the signs. The destruction goes right through the place-they were angry to start with, they got angrier and they never got happy. That means they didn’t find it. Your Dad can spare you from the exporting business for a while, can’t he?’
She smiled. ‘Importing. Yes, of course.’
‘Then you can look through here inch by inch. See if you can find anything that might help us.’
‘Like what?’
That was harder, but I kept myself from shrugging and looking hopeless. ‘I don’t know. A diary, letters, maybe some numbers written down somewhere. A phone number-anything unusual that looks contrived or done for a purpose. The only thing that worries me is that they might come back. Is there anyone you can get to come and stay here with you?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I can bring Max.’
‘Who’s Max?’
‘He’s my German Shepherd. He stands so high and he weighs about a hundred pounds.’
‘Get him on the phone,’ I said. ‘He sounds like just the bloke you need.’
Erica said she could walk across the park to get Max. That sounded all right to me; I’d have preferred park walking to hospital visiting myself, but it seemed unlikely that the ducks and joggers would be able to tell me anything useful. I drove to the hospital and parked as near to the place as the able-bodied and non-medically-qualified could get. Then I negotiated the barriers they put between the sick and the well. They wouldn’t let me see Mai, registered as Malcolm Fitzwilliam, who was recovering from a severe concussion as well as his other injuries, but Geoffrey Stafford was visitable.
They wheeled Geoff into the waiting room with the tiny, dust-shrouded windows where I’d spent nearly an hour waiting. Geoff didn’t look pleased to see me; he had one leg in a cast, half an arm was in plaster and held crooked by a metal strut and both his eyes were bruised the colour of eggplant.
‘What do you want, Hardy?’
‘For openers, how do you know my name?’
‘I did a bit of ringing around after you split the other night. With the gun and all I reckoned you’d be a private licence.’ Talking was difficult for him; all facial movement would be for a while to come.
‘What happened?’
‘Three blokes-very quick and good, better than you.’
‘That makes them a hell of a lot better than you, son. Any talking?’
‘Not much, Mai didn’t have anything to tell them except…’ He broke off and looked at me through slits in the bruised flesh. I didn’t feel particularly chipper, but I must have looked in the pink to him. He gave a malicious giggle. ‘Except your name.’
‘He told them that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And they still worked you over?’
He nodded and instantly regretted it. ‘Yeah. This bloody job turned out to be tougher than it looked.’
‘They often do. Did Mai say anything about the girl?’
‘The slappy? No, he’s a gentleman that way. He liked her, he told me.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Didn’t get a chance to say anything. I had a go, but they fixed me up fast. I was nearly out of it, but I could just hear what was going on. What the fuck is it all about? Mai said it was a small-time gambling debt. Needed time to pay, he said. Shit!’
‘Take too long to tell you. Ask Mai.’ I stood up. ‘What did they look like?’
He screwed up his eyes in an effort at recall and the effort hurt him. ‘Three, like I said. Nothing special. Average-sized blokes, one was a bit bigger.’
‘Fair or dark?’
‘Two dark, one redhead.’
‘Australian?’
‘Didn’t talk much, couldn’t tell. One of the dark ones could’ve been a dago.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Smell.’
‘Age?’
‘Not young. Thirtyish.’
I let that pass. ‘Clothes?’
‘Ordinary-jeans and jackets. The redhead had some gold chains around his neck. Ponce.’
‘You should’ve grabbed them and throttled him.’
‘Get stuffed.’
‘Don’t be like that, Geoff. You’ll mend. Sorry I didn’t bring any grapes.’
‘Get stuffed.’
He pressed a button and a white-coated male nurse came in and wheeled him away. I paced up and down in the gloomy little room trying to assess how much worse things had got. In general, the fewer trios of efficient heavies that know your name the better. It sounded like high time for me to get myself a dog like Max or go to Melbourne.
Back home I phoned Terry Reeves and gave him an edited version of what I had. My best card was the news that one of the phoney car renters was in the hospital.
‘Good,’ Terry said. ‘You put him there?’
‘No, but. he won’t be driving cars for a bit.’
‘Where’s the one he took?’
‘Sorry, mate, it’s gone through the system.’
‘It figures. Well, at least I haven’t lost any more since I saw you. Any point in bringing a charge?’
‘Not if you want to crack the system and maybe recover the cars.’
‘That’s the second time you’ve said system-how d’you see it?’
‘Big operation, well-financed, good procedures, and there’s something else in it-something above and beyond the cars, but I don’t know what.’
‘Just stick to the cars, will you, Cliff? Keep your imagination in check.’
‘What about my initiative?’
‘What’s it going to cost?’
‘I’ve got to go to Melbourne.’
He groaned. ‘Maybe I’ll take a holiday when it’s all over. I need one I can tell you. Well, thanks for all the information, Cliff.’
‘You know how it is-little by little.’
‘Yeah, well, soldier on, Cliff, and listen, take care, all right?’
I rang off, and reflected on how much hung on this case-Bill Mountain’s life maybe, Erica Fong’s lungs and Terry Reeves’ long overdue holiday. TAA offerred me two flights-one I could catch easily and one I’d have to rush more. I accepted the challenge, packed a bag in record time and threw in West’s The World is Made of Glass and The Intimate Sex Lives of Famous People. My white jeans and shirt made me feel like a bowls player, so I put on a navy shirt and a leather jacket. I left my one funeral tie behind; I didn’t expect to be visiting the Melbourne Club.