‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Starkey said.
‘He was wearing that watch that day?’
‘Wore it every day.’
‘Thanks. Just a few other questions.’
‘What’s the problem? Daunt coons bashed him.’ Impassive face, grey marble eyes.
‘We’re not sure of that.’
‘Yeah? That fuckin little Coulter took the Kettle dive to have a swim? Guilty as shit.’
Starkey walked to the door and spat, wiped his lips, came back, planted himself, questioning head angle.
‘At home that night?’ said Cashin. ‘You and Tay?’
Starkey’s eyes narrowed, full of threat. ‘Answered that question already. What’s your fuckin problem?’
‘Come down to the station,’ said Cashin. ‘The two of you. Bring the toothbrushes, just in case.’
Starkey exercised his jaw, up and down, back and forth.
‘Know a cop called Hopgood?’ he said. ‘I know him. Mate.’
Cashin took out his mobile, held it out. ‘Ring him,’ he said.
‘In my own fuckin time.’
‘Want me to ring him? I’ll ring him for you.’
Starkey put his hands in his pockets. ‘We was at home, ask her. Don’t go out at night much. Just footy stuff.’
‘Still working at The Heights?’
‘Till it’s sold, yeah.’
‘Well-paid job, The Heights.’
‘That right?’
‘About four times what your gardener gets around here. Five, maybe.’
‘Two of us.’
‘Twice as much then.’
‘Twice as much fuckin work as anywhere else.’
‘You drove him around too.’
Starkey put a huge hand to his neck. ‘Didn’t drive him around. Took him to the bank, to the city. He didn’t like to drive anymore.’
‘Know someone called Arthur Pollard?’
‘No.’
‘Know this man?’ He showed him the full-face mugshot of Pollard, watched his eyes.
‘No.’
Cashin considered where to go, took the soft route. ‘Mr Starkey, I’ll tell you we don’t think the Daunt boys attacked Mr Bourgoyne. So if you can tell me anything you saw or heard, any feeling you might have…’
‘You don’t think?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Some things don’t add up.’
‘Charged that Coulter, didn’t ya?’
‘We thought he was involved, it was a holding action.’
‘What’s that mean?’
‘What did you think when you heard about it?’
There was an instant, something in Starkey’s muddy eyes. ‘Well, shock, that’s it, yeah.’
‘That’s all?’
‘What else? Don’t happen around here that kind of thing, does it?’
‘Did you like him?’
‘He was all right. Yeah. Not likely to be mates, were we, him and me?’
‘Who could want to harm him?’
‘Apart from thievin scum?’
‘Yes.’
‘No idea.’
‘Had any visitors recently, Mr Bourgoyne? Apart from the stepdaughter?’
‘Nah. Not that I saw.’
‘What about burglaries at The Heights before this happened?’
‘Not in my time. Had some horses pinched once. They cut the wire, pinched three horses from the bottom paddock. You’d have the records, wouldn’t ya?’
‘If it was reported.’
‘Why wouldn’t it be reported?’
‘Crake. How’d you get on with him?’
Starkey shrugged. ‘Okay. Had his ways he wanted things done. I did em that way.’
‘He helped Bourgoyne with the kiln, didn’t he?’
‘Can’t remember that well.’
‘You worked at the Companions camp.’
Starkey scratched his head again, an uncertain look, averted his eyes. ‘Long time ago,’ he said.
‘So you knew Crake from the camp?’
‘Yeah. He was the boss.’
‘What was your job?’
‘Maintenance. Bit of footy coaching. Showed the kids the ropes.’
‘There on the night of the fire?’
The big hands were expressive now. ‘Nah. At the pub in Port.’
‘Tell me about driving him to the city. Where’d you go?’
‘The flat in Relly Street. He took taxis from there.’
‘Stay over?’
‘Hotel in St Kilda. Gedding’s Hotel.’
Cashin went over to the engines. ‘This one a generator?’ he said.
‘Made in ′56. Better than anything you can buy today.’
‘How much ground you got here?’
‘Thirty acres.’
‘Farm it?’
‘Nah. Put the house in the middle of the block. Didn’t wanna hear neighbours. Now the one bastard’s complaining about the engines.’
‘Well,’ said Cashin, ‘tell him you’ll connect him up if the power fails. I could use a generator. Sell them?’
‘Don’t sell, not a business,’ said Starkey. ‘Only restore ones my granddad and my dad finished off. They punched their initials under the number.’
‘How do you find them?’
‘Advertise, Queensland, WA, Northern Territory. I got auctioneers keep a lookout at clearing sales, that kind of thing. Found one in Fiji, rusted to buggery. Cost a bit to bring it home.’
‘And you’ve found four?’
‘Thirteen. Got another shed for em.’
‘Where do you stop?’
‘Stop?’
‘Collecting them.’
‘Don’t have to stop.’
There was no point in asking why. It was a pretty useless question most of the time. The answer was either obvious or too complicated to understand. Cashin looked for the engine number. ‘Ever drive Bourgoyne to a house in North Melbourne?’
‘North… no. Only took him to Relly Street.’
The fortress had a crack, a hairline fracture. He didn’t look at Starkey. ‘A hall in North Melbourne, you drove him there.’
‘A hall? Just Relly Street.’
‘The Companions hall. You know it, don’t bullshit me, Mr Starkey.’
‘No, don’t know it.’
Cashin went to another engine. They were simple machines, he could probably learn to fix one. Easier than making a decent soup. ‘Your dad, he’d have been pretty pissed off when they sold the factory.’
Silence. Starkey coughed, off balance. ‘Never said a word. Mum told me that.’
‘What’d he do afterwards?’
‘Nothin. Died before the payout. Some serious brain thing.’
‘That’s sad.’ Cashin didn’t look at him. ‘I’ll tell you what’s a serious brain thing, Mr Starkey. Bullshitting me. That’s a seriously bad brain thing. Tell me about the hall.’
‘Don’t know no hall.’
‘I’ll need to talk to Tay,’ said Cashin. ‘By himself.’
‘Why?’
‘He might have seen something. Heard something.’
Starkey stared at Cashin. ‘He wouldn’t know nothin, mate. Always with me.’
Cashin shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Listen,’ said Starkey, a different voice. ‘Boy’s not the brightest. She dropped him on the lid when he was tiny. Short-circuited the little bugger. No use at school.’
‘Get him in here.’
Starkey scratched his scalp, slowly, urgently. ‘Do me a favour, mate,’ he said. ‘Let him alone. Gets nightmares. Screams.’
The felt moment of power. Cashin could see Starkey’s fear. ‘That’s really tough. Get him.’
‘Mate, please.’
‘Just get him.’
‘I’m gonna ring Hopgood.’
‘Listen, Starkey,’ said Cashin. ‘Hopgood can’t protect you. This is a city matter. And now, because you’re so fucking obstructive, I’m not going to talk to Tay here, not going to talk to him at the station. I’m taking him to Melbourne. Pack his toothbrush and his jarmies and a couple of biscuits. What kind of bickies does he like?’
He saw hate in Starkey’s eyes, and he saw pure shining fear, fear and panic.
‘Can’t do that, mate. I ask you, please, I ask you…’
‘North Melbourne. The house in Collett Street. You drove him there?’
‘No, I didn’t, you gotta…’
‘Wasting my time. Got a trip ahead of me. Tell me the truth or get Tay. Now.’
Starkey looked around the shed as if the answer might be written on a wall, he could read it out. ‘Okay. Took him there.’