My gun was in the car, and my wits were loose with surprise.
‘Nothing to say?’ His Queensland drawl was more suggestive of Boggo Road Gaol than Great Keppel Island.
‘I’ll listen, I think.’
‘That’d be smart for openers.’
Liam Catchpole and Dottie Williams came out of the front room into the hallway. Liam was still so slimy-looking you hoped he wouldn’t touch the walls. Dottie had got fatter; her thighs under her mini skirt were meaty, and her double chin creased as she bent her head to light a cigarette. She dropped the match on the sea grass matting.
‘You’ll start a fire, Dottie’, I said.
Hayes hit me again, same place, same way. ‘Manners’, he said. ‘Let’s go and sit down.’
I had my ears cocked for the familiar sounds of my house; Hilde’s radio, the shower she usually left dripping; the window in my room that rattles. Everything sounded reassuringly normal; there was no blood on the sea grass, no whiff of cordite in the air. I hoped Frank and Hilde were away somewhere, eating Italian.
We went to the back of the house, and Catchpole and Williams sat down at the table. They were quiet, as if they were depressed. Hayes backed me up against the sink and stood close, threateningly. He was a little taller than me and much broader. He was well groomed; shaved close and recently barbered; his business shirt looked expensive and had kept its creases that late in the day; his tie was carefully knotted, exactly centred. The down-turned mouth made him look as if he’d never been happy.
Catchpole picked up a knife and fiddled with it, excavating the grooves in the pine table. ‘You killed Tiny’, he said.
‘He fell. Accident.’
‘You took him away’, Catchpole said; he dug the knife in an inch and twisted. ‘You picked him up at the Crimea, you and some other cunt. You took him away in that fuckin’ bomb you drive.’
I didn’t say anything, on the principle that fear will find words to express itself. I was full of it. Catchpole levered up a long splinter from the table top, and worked at it.
‘To save time’, Hayes said. ‘I’m going to assume that you know who I am. That gutless wonder of a Tiny would’ve told you that.’
I nodded.
‘Good. Now, you’ve been working for Guthrie, and getting right in my way.’
Silence looks like fear, too, I thought. You can’t win. I shrugged. “Had to protect the boy. Trying to.’
‘You haven’t done much of a job. Know where he is now?’
I shook my head.
‘Neither do I. All I know is he’s no fucking good to me anymore. I’m under pressure all of a sudden. I don’t like that. I like to apply the pressure myself.’
‘We all do.’
‘Don’t be smart. We don’t think you’re smart. Liam and Dottie here want me to put you away for killing Tiny. They’re not smart, either.’
‘No quarrel with me there.’
‘You’re doing it again. Must’ve got you into a lot of trouble, that.’
Catchpole had worked the sliver of wood out and was digging in another spot. Williams smoked and patted her soft chin.
‘I am smart’, Hayes said. ‘I have to be. I’ve got a contract to kill Peter Collinson, and I want to collect on it. I don’t care about Spotswood, I don’t care about the Guthrie kid.’
I turned around, ran the water and washed my hands in the sink. Hayes looked surprised, but he let me do it. I flicked at the paper towel holder and pulled off enough to dry my hands. There were beads of sweat above the wrinkles on Hayes’ forehead, where his hairline would once have been. It was the only sign that he was in any way affected by the exterior world.
‘Why were you working on the Guthrie kids? What was the idea?’
‘Collinson kept his eye on his kids, right up to when the shit hit the fan. He worried about them. I’m one of the few people who knew that. Nobody else knew he even had any kids. I reckoned that by screwing up the kids I could get him to show himself, or give me a lead. I’m good at it-I wouldn’t need much, believe me.’
‘Didn’t work’, I said.
‘It would’ve. I had the time and, the people I needed. Had those Guthrie kids watched round the clock. Now the game’s all changed. You’re sniffing around, and the word is your mate Parker could be getting close to Collinson his way. I thought I could cancel him out, but it looks like he’s tougher than that. I want to know what he knows and what you know, Hardy. I don’t want to miss my chance at Collinson. There’s too much money at stake.’
‘You have my sympathy.’
‘Do you ever say anything that isn’t smart-arsed?’
‘I mean it.’ My mind had been roaring around the problem, looking for a way to handle it, and now I thought I’d found it. Selling anything to Hayes, though, would be a hard sell.
‘Look, Collinson’s nothing to me. I found out that he’s still married to the kids’ mother. No divorce. Paul Guthrie’s a jealous man. Collinson dead would suit him just fine.’
‘What’s he yapping about?’ Williams snapped.
‘Shut up, Dottie’, Hayes said. ‘Go on, Hardy. What about Parker?’
‘All Parker wants is his job back. He’s not interested in being a hero. Just let me nut this out… If Collinson’s dead, the people who put the screws on Parker because he might just have got Collinson alive and talking, well, they can relax and go to bed. They’d be the ones who hired you.’
Hayes nodded. ‘I suppose so. I don’t give a fuck. I’ve got guarantees and safeguards, that’s all I care about.’
‘If Parker can pick up a few crumbs from this, he’d be sweet. He’s an honest cop, but he’s not a crusader.’
‘Honest cop’, Catchpole sneered, and did some more knife work. The scotch bottle was still on the table. I took two steps across the room, picked it up and slammed it down on Catchpole’s fingers. He yelped, and the knife skittered away.
‘Shit in your own nest, Catchpole.’
He jumped up and faced me, but there was no fight in him, really. His eyes darted around, and I realised what he was doing-looking for Tiny. Hayes moved across and took the bottle from my hand. Catchpole subsided, and Dottie Williams lit her sixth or seventh cigarette. Hayes got a glass from the sink and poured himself a measure of scotch and tossed it down. The phone rang; Williams, who was sitting nearest to it, jumped. The phone kept ringing.
I looked at it; we all looked at it. Hayes nodded at me to answer it and gestured at Catchpole to get out of the way. Hayes stuck his ear down close to hear-whatever move he made, the automatic was never vulnerable to attack, and he let nothing get between it and me.
‘Mr Hardy?’
‘Yes. Who’s this?’
‘It’s Jess Polansky, Mr Hardy. Ray Guthrie’s girlfriend?’
‘Yes, Jess. What’s up?’
‘It’s Ray. He’s just gone. I’m scared. He’s crazy… wild…’
‘You’re all right? Not hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, calm down. Tell me what happened.’
Hayes snapped his fingers at Williams; she poured him another drink and passed it across. I could have done with one myself.
‘He came up to Newport. He just dragged me out of the office, pulling me and shouting. He said Chris was dead. He called his father
… everything… every word. Said he was going to kill him.’ She paused. ‘He wrecked the Guthrie’s boat.’
‘What boat?’
‘They’ve got a sort of houseboat up here, almost that. He went down into the living quarters and ripped everything up. He was shouting and swearing.’
‘What? Shouting what?’
‘I don’t know. He kept saying there must be something. He was looking for something.’
‘Did he find it?’
‘He found something in with his mother’s things. Some papers. He just left the mess, and me. He just left.’ Sobbing, deep and convulsive, came over the wire.
‘Jess! Jess! Listen! Do you know where he was going? Did he say?’
‘No. No. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where Mr Guthrie is
…’
I clamped my hand over the receiver and looked at Hayes. ‘I think I know where he’s going. I think I know where Collinson is. I know what the kid found. Can we do a deal?’