Saving Billie

Lou drank her coffee in a couple of gulps and I topped her up. 'Okay,' she said. 'You mentioned money on the phone, Cliff. What's on your mind?'

'If we can get Billie away there's going to have to be money to take care of her-doctors, detox, rehab-all that.'

'How much?'

Sharon almost snapped to attention. 'I know what's on your mind, Ms Kramer. You're thinking I'm in this to do myself some good.'

Lou shrugged. 'You said it, not me.'

'Shit,' Sharon said. She went out to the kitchen and I heard the cork coming out of the bottle.

'Flaky, like her sister,' Lou murmured.

'Take it easy. She's your only avenue to Billie.'

Sharon came back in and stood behind her chair. 'I don't know about this, Cliff.'

'I was hasty,' Lou said. 'I'm sure I can organise some money. Would twenty thousand do it?'

I tried not to react too obviously. I had no idea how much Lou's advance had been, but the fact that she was still working at the paper suggested it wasn't a lot. How would she lay her hands on twenty grand? The only answer I could think of was Mr X, and that gave me something else to worry about.

Lou had turned on the charm as she spoke, something some people can do at will. She smiled, repeated her apology to Sharon and sucked her in, at least for the moment.

Sharon said, 'That amount would probably do, but I still don't know how to get Billie away. I mean, if there was some way I could tell her about the help we can offer and that she could see Sam, she'd probably cooperate. But how?'

They both looked at me. Luckily, I thought I had an answer but I wasn't going to tell them, particularly Lou, just yet. 'There could be a way. I'll have to work on it.'

Lou tried to grill Sharon about Billie's state of mind- her memory, her grasp on reality-but Sharon wasn't forthcoming. Eventually Lou gave up. 'Keep me informed, Cliff. A bit better than you have so far, if I may say so. And I'll see what I can do about the money.' She gave Sharon a nod and I showed her to the door.

'Don't get distracted,' she said as she walked out. I stood at the gate and watched her until she was safely in her car and driving away. All part of the service.

Sharon was quietly swearing. 'I wish I hadn't had those cigarettes. I gave them up years ago and that burst has brought the craving back. Haven't got any, have you?'

'No. I could go out.'

She shook her head. 'No, just have to see it through. I didn't care for your client.'

I started to clean up the mugs and glasses. 'I noticed.'

'She's not the kind of woman other women trust.'

'I'm with the other women.'

'You don't trust her?'

'No. For one thing, probably minor, her retainer cheque didn't clear. And she's holding things back.'

'What things?'

'I don't know. People who hire private detectives think they have a problem. Usually they have a couple of problems, sometimes ones they don't know about.'

She thought that over as she drank the last of her wine. 'You ought to write a book on it.'

'No way.'

She yawned. 'I'm tired even after that kip. Probably the wine. Hey, the curry was good.'

She helped me clean up and stack the dishwasher, not that there was much to stack. Lou's bottle went into the milk crate that forms the halfway house to the recycling bin. I jiggled the cask. 'We hammered the red a bit.'

'Yeah. Well…'

It was one of those moments that could've led to something intimate, but we both realised it wasn't the time. I jumped in with practical points.

'Before you go up, is there a neighbour anywhere near your place up there in the sticks?'

'Yes. Why?'

'It'd be a good idea to give them a ring in the morning and ask them to keep an eye on the place. You can come up with some story about a nuisance. One of your students or something. Would the neighbour cooperate?'

'She'd love it. D'you think…?'

I was thinking a number of things. Whether Lou, despite my warning, had told Mr X, and whether he had a significant finger in the pie. What Big John Manuma's motives were. But I reached out and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

'No. Just being super cautious. Goodnight, Sharon.'

It was a comfort to have someone sleeping in the house, even if the person wasn't a lover or even a friend. Back when I had a mortgage to service, I'd tried having tenants to help with the costs. It hadn't worked too well, partly because the first one I had, Hilde Stoner, had been so good the others didn't measure up. Hilde had married a cop named Frank Parker and the two of them were my best friends. I hadn't seen them for a while and promised myself a night out with them when this case was done.

But as I lay in bed I thought that could be a long way off. There were loose ends everywhere and my feeling that Lou Kramer hadn't been anywhere near straight with me had strengthened. I needed that information about her BMW-driving friend. I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of how I used to come awake with the smell of Hilde's coffee wafting up the stairs. Hilde was one of those people who made good coffee, using the same equipment and grounds I did to produce my bitter brews.

11

Sunday, bloody Sunday. I couldn't get in touch with my

RTA contact to check on Lou Kramer's mysterious dinner companion and I couldn't act on my idea about springing Billie from the God squad. I went for a long walk around Glebe. Sharon slept late and the door was still closed when I got back with the crappy papers and good croissants. I was sitting in the back yard turning over the pages when she came down. She wore old tracksuit pants and a faded T-shirt.

'Pretty daggy,' she said, fingering the hem of the T-shirt. 'Could she spare 'em?'

'Didn't want you to outshine her. Coffee's hot, croissants are by the microwave.

'Very Glebe.'

She came out with a mug and a croissant on a plate. The sun was well up and it was getting warm in the small space. I bricked it years ago, not well, and weeds spring up in the cracks. Helen Broadway, a girlfriend from the last century, had installed a low maintenance garden and it was holding on pretty well in the face of the water restrictions and my neglect. You can just see glimpses of Blackwattle Bay through the apartment blocks and smell the water when the wind's right. This morning it was, and my patch wasn't a bad place to be.

Sharon turned over a few pages uninterestedly. 'You haven't pressed me about Sam.'

I shrugged. 'No need just yet. I take it you can get in touch with him when and if we have to.' 'Right.'

'He's with good people?'

She filled her mouth with pastry and nodded.

'Kooris?'

Another nod. 'I think that's right about us having a bit of Koori in us. Billie and I aren't blondes, not by a long way, and we darken up good in the summer. There was a photo of Mum's mother hidden away in the house and I found it and asked mum. Grandma Jackson was dark. She had the look. Mum was ashamed of it and Dad was a real racist so it wasn't talked about.'

'So Sam's got it on both sides?'

'Yes. We had a brother, Joe, and he was pretty dark. He got arrested for a minor offence and he hanged himself in the lockup.'

'That says something.'

'I'd like Sam to get a proper education and do something useful in Aboriginal affairs… if he was interested.'

It was about the longest and most personal statement she'd made when sober, and it seemed to do her some good. She ate another croissant and used her mobile to check on her daughter and the neighbour. She said yes and no a few times and laughed twice.

'That's fine,' she said as she closed the phone. 'But I have to get back by tomorrow night. I can get a train to Campbelltown and Sarah can pick me up.'

'Should be all right. Check again with the neighbour tomorrow. Lou's authorised me to give you a hundred dollars.'