‘I know.’ I had my own memories of the fanatical little Chinese fighters. In Malaya we hadn’t had endless waves of them like in Korea, but ten at a time were quite enough.
‘There was this American captain trying to get clear in a jeep. He shot a couple of civilians, including a woman and a kid, who got in his way. He ran over two wounded men. Barnes jumped onto the jeep and put his Webley up the captain’s nose. He made him stop to pick people up, Koreans mostly. We sort of escorted the jeep to where the medics were working and Barnes made a report on the captain.’
‘You saw all this?’
‘Not exactly. I’d copped one in the head. Nothing much, bit of metal I reckon. But it blinded me temporarily and buggered me up a bit. Barnes was hauling me along like a side of meat. I heard some of the shots and shouting. Barnes told me about it all later.’
‘What sort of a report did he make? Who to?’
‘I’m not sure. It was all a bloody mess. The mortars were dropping around us and the Yanks were firing everything they had in all directions at once. But I heard the captain just before we moved on. He said, “I’ll kill you, you bastard, if it’s the last thing I do.” It was as if everything stopped moving and all the noise stopped and I could hear every word. That’s how I remember it although it wasn’t like that, of course. I can still hear the captain’s voice. I mean he was a mad dog to start with, and what Barnes did really hit him. He meant it.’
‘It’s nearly forty years ago,’ I said.
‘It’s yesterday in my head. I know it’s crazy, but when I heard this talk of Barnes being murdered, it’s the first thing I thought of.’
I said I’d be in touch to collect the results of Anna Carboni’s work and to talk some more. We shook hands. He declined my offer of a lift home, saying he’d walk off the beer. As I watched him stride away, swinging his Gladstone bag, I realised that I knew nothing about his personal life. Did he have a wife, kids? He’d impressed me as an intelligent, truthful man, but what if I was wrong? What if he harboured a corrosive grudge against his WASP ex-C.O. and had waited thirty-plus years for an opportunity to settle the score?
I knew it was the beer on an empty stomach talking, and I took a walk to clear my head and give myself a chance of getting below. 05. The planes kept taking off and touching down; it was just as well I was talking to myself because the human voice wouldn’t have stood a chance above the racket. Now you’ve got three suspects — someone in the art game, a business rival and a US Army captain. Good going. Throw in Mulholland and the widow and you’re really in business. And what about suicide? That reminded me I should talk to Todd’s doctor. My business mainly consists of paying visits on people, some welcome, some not. And ten grand buys a lot of visits.
10
On the drive from Botany to Redfern, I tried to sift the facts and impressions I’d acquired so far, but two things kept distracting me-the prospect of seeing O’Fear in Long Bay and my urgent need for a piss. It was no way to go calling on a lady.
On the drive through Mascot, Rosebery and Alexandria, there’s nothing to inspire higher feelings. The residents of Alexandria are still waiting for their long-promised park on the old brickworks and rubbish dump site. It was strange-there was a state election campaign running and I hadn’t heard a word about speeding up work on the park. I amused myself by trying to work out what that meant. I decided that it was a forecast of the election result-the government thought it was going to lose so there was no point in talking about the park and the opposition didn’t have to talk about it because it thought it was going to win.
I had the piss and bought some white wine in a pub in Pitt Street. This part of Redfern was very quiet, almost sedate. There were designer denim shops and Thai restaurants. I paid more for the wine than I expected to, a sure sign that an area is on the rise. I drove around the park and adjacent streets, partly to familiarise myself with an area that seemed to have changed dramatically since the last time I’d been in it, and partly to see if K blank M 2s and 3s was around. I didn’t see it.
Near the park and for a few streets around, a lot of the houses had been renovated. Big three-storeyed terraces and little single-fronted cottages had all had the treatment. Iron lace was back; the fibro and louvres had been knocked out of the balconies and vines grew out of tubs and tangled round where washing had once hung. Tons of cement had been prised up from front and back gardens and greenery was sprouting over the fences. Even the park had had a facelift; the big old trees looked healthy and there were wild thickets of new growth that contrasted well with the orderly layout of the paths, fountain and war memorial.
The last of the useful light went as I parked in Chalmers Street a few doors from number 505. It was one of the two-storeyed jobs, all sandblasted brick, wrought iron and clean tiles. It occurred to me that this was what the next owner would probably do to my house. I shrugged into my jacket, took a grip on the wine and pushed open the gate.
My knock brought quick footsteps on the stairs and Felicia Todd opened the door. She was wearing white pants and a blue silk shirt knotted at the waist. She looked fresh and almost happy. I was suddenly aware of a strong wish to keep her that way.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘You look like you’ve had a hard day.’
I rubbed my hand across my bristly chin. ‘That bad?’
‘I didn’t say bad.’
‘I’ve just come from Mascot where the workers really work. I can tell you that you’re pretty popular out there just now.’
She smiled and patted the bottle under my arm. ‘What’s that? Some plonk?’
‘Yes. I thought… ‘
‘Look, Cliff, herb omelette’s about my limit. If you want to wine and dine, we’d better go out.’
‘I don’t care. A sandwich’ll do me.’
‘No, I’d like to get out.’ She stuck her head through the door and mimed a furtive look up and down the street. ‘Is it safe?’
‘It’s getting cool. You’ll need a jacket.’
She went quickly up the stairs. My nasty suspicious mind wondered whether she had contrived a way to keep me out. Distrust is an occupational hazard; Cyn said I must have distrusted my mother. Felicia came back wearing a grey denim jacket with the fashionable half-worn-out look. She felt in her pocket for the key and slammed the door hard. We stood on the pavement and faced west.
‘Italian? Chinese? Thai? What?’ she said.
‘No Greek?’
‘We can do Greek. D’you like Greek?’
‘Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact.’
‘So do I. Greek it is.’
We walked to a restaurant in Elizabeth Street. She told me she had filled in the day pretty much as she had expected, with walking and taking photographs. She was animated, apparently glad of my company. But then she’d had a boring day.
I was so hungry I wouldn’t have cared what nationality the food was, but the flat bread, skewered lamb and salad were good. Felicia knocked off a glass of wine quickly and then nursed a second for the rest of the meal. I gave her an outline of what I had done during the day. She looked concerned when I told her about the disturbance at Mascot.
‘Was Bob hurt?’ she said.
‘No. They got more hurt than us.’
‘You sound like Barnes. Tell me about the place. I’ve only been out there once or twice, and very briefly.’
‘It’s worth a visit,’ I said. ‘I’ll take you next time.’ I told her about Anna Carboni and the work she was doing for me.
‘It’s funny,’ she said, when I finished talking to do some more chewing.
‘What is?’
‘You met the most hateful person Barnes knew, that’s Willowsmith, and the nicest-Bob Mulholland. You must be getting some interesting impressions.’
‘Willowsmith struck me as dangerous.’