I stopped at a servo in Heathcote, topped up the tank and went into the restaurant. I ordered coffee and toast and had a quick wash and shave. The coffee was surprisingly good and the toast was unsurprisingly limp and soggy but I lingered over it anyway, trying to work out my next moves. I flicked through a local paper lying around and found an article on the closure of the coast road. The state government had allotted forty million dollars to fix it and the project would take two and a half years to complete. Locals were protesting that there were more accidents on the freeway in fog than on the coast road from falling rocks. I wondered about the crack. I decided it was a good omen.
It was the best time of the day to come down the Bulli Pass. The sun was above the horizon, but not by much, and a mist was lifting off the water and the land. The townships to north and south were spread out before me with the sand and the sea as an immense backdrop punctuated here and there by Norfolk Island pines.
I pegged Sue Holland as an early riser and I was right. When I’d steered the little car down the rutted track and pulled up in front of her cottage there was smoke rising from her chimney and Fred the old dog was moving freely as if he’d been up and about for a while. He barked, but he had my scent memory-logged, and he didn’t give me any trouble. Sue Holland came around from the back with a steaming cup in her hand. She had on a long, loose sweater over red flannel pyjamas, fluffy slippers.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she said. ‘What d’you want?’
There, under the escarpment, the temperature was low. I rubbed my hands together. ‘Beautiful morning, isn’t it? How can you bear to leave?’
Her aggression dropped away and a shadow of sadness passed across her face. She raised the cup to her mouth and took a long sip. ‘Just what I need,’ she said. ‘Someone to bore it up me.’
‘I don’t want to give you a bad time, Sue. And I’m grateful for what you told Elizabeth to pass on to me. Very useful. But I need a bit more. Can we go inside? It’s a bit parky.’
‘What? Oh, cold. I haven’t heard that expression in a while.’
‘I’ve got a few, like taters. No idea where they come from. My grandma used to say she was “starved with the cold”.’
‘The old Hardy blather and bullshit. Okay, come in. I can give you a cup of coffee, but I don’t know what more I can tell you.’
I gave Fred a pat and followed her back to the rear of the cottage and into the kitchen. It was warm and smelled of coffee and tobacco. Sue drained her cup and refilled it from the pot on the combustion stove. She filled a mug for me and put it on the table. Then she picked up the makings in a clear plastic pouch and rolled a cigarette. She lit it with a disposable lighter, puffed smoke and slumped down into a chair.
‘I started again. Seven years off, and I’m back into it. Chop chop. At least it’s cheap.’
I shrugged. ‘Might be healthier, too. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how much the offer is?’
‘No. High six figures, very high.’
‘Nice. Especially as they say prices around here might drop depending on the effect of the road closure. Care to name the buyer?’
‘How dumb do I look, Cliffo?’
The coffee was about five times as good as the last one. ‘Not very.’
‘I did a bit of an internet search. It’s a maze. But I’ll tell you what. The deposit cheque cleared and they’re not interested in a building inspection or a pest report or any of that shit.’
‘Dream run.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Why did you go up there and tell Elizabeth about the sale?’
She took a deep drag, sucked the smoke in and let it out slowly. The technique was coming back to her fast. ‘Shit. I had some crazy idea I might…You said you didn’t know whether she had anyone or not. Just a chance. Then I saw how happy she was…Did Liz tell you anything about me?’
‘No. Yes, she said you’d know the sound of a motorbike if you heard it.’
‘You bet. I was a dropout bikie chick. Chains, tatts, speed, dope, the works. Then I met her and everything changed. I got educated and employed and then I lost her.
I got a little nest egg, like I told you, and bought this place. And now I’ve got a big one and I don’t give a fuck where it comes from.’
I finished the coffee while she was talking and put the cup quietly down on the table as a gesture of acceptance. ‘Fair enough. Just one more question. The settlement is when?’
She took a drag on the cigarette and flicked the ash on the floor. ‘In record time, baby,’ she said.
I rejoined the coast road at Coledale and stayed on it until Fairy Meadow where I picked up the freeway to Nowra, bypassing the city. I took the turnoff and was passing the Warrawong motel shortly after nine o’clock. Time to kill. I drove down towards the Port Kembla steelworks and got as close as I could to the port itself. The harbour was basically artificial, formed by two long breakwaters. A couple of container ships were berthed at the jetties and there were some fishing boats and leisure craft. Seagulls squatted on the boat masts and the rusty machinery on the docks. As I watched, a couple of pelicans flew over from the direction of the lake and settled on the water. Peaceful scene.
I drove back the way I’d come and spotted Purcell’s old Land Cruiser in the hotel car park. The pub had just opened and there were a few early drinkers’ cars parked but none close to the Land Cruiser. I drove in and parked about twenty metres away. I could see Purcell behind the wheel and I decided to let him make the first move. If he wanted to meet in the bar, well and good. If he wanted a fresh air conference that was okay by me as well. I sat for five minutes and he didn’t move. I got out of the little car and stretched. An alert type like Purcell would certainly see me and make his move.
Nothing happened. A couple of cars pulled in and parked, still a fair distance away. The sun was high now and I stripped off my jacket and slung it inside the car. I walked towards the Land Cruiser and felt a tingle in my spine as I got closer. I was well within his field of vision now and he still hadn’t moved. I reached the vehicle on the driver’s side. The window was down. Purcell was strapped into place by his seatbelt and his head was thrown back. The hair at his temple was matted with blood. His eyes were open but he wasn’t seeing anything and never would again.
21
I didn’t stay close to the Land Cruiser for one second more than I needed to. And I didn’t back away. Nothing looks more suspicious than backing. I walked around the front of the car as if I was interested in its age and condition and then veered away towards the pub. The low calibre execution of Purcell was a professional job, carried out within the last hour and possibly within minutes of my arrival in the car park. Presumably Purcell had got there early and the killer had followed him and decided it would be as good a time and place as any. If I’d shown up maybe he would have put the matter off, or maybe he would have decided to make it two for the price of one.
I’ve seen a lot of death but it never fails to register in some part of the brain as a shock. The way you do, I’d built up a picture of how my meeting with Purcell might go. He’d been alive in my imagination and in a way he still was, but now he wasn’t alive in reality and it took a bit of adjusting to. I went into the bar and ordered a scotch and a middy. No eyebrows raised. There are some serious drinkers in the Illawarra. I downed the scotch and took the beer out the side door to a verandah that gave me a view of the car park.
The early crowd was evidently in place because no more cars came in. The dirty old 4WD still stood, semi-isolated.