Weiss whimpered. ‘Jesus, Lloyd, I can’t face food.’
‘You can look the other way. Got a bottle on you, Ken?’
Ken nodded and Tobin looked pleased. ‘We’ll put a drop in the coffee. Might even give you a belt, Sammy. If you’re good.’
We went into the place which was almost empty. It needed sweeping and disinfecting after a hard day’s cooking and selling. Tobin ordered two hamburgers with French fries, Coca Cola and coffee. Weiss wanted water; Ken and I settled for coffee. We took a table in the corner and Tobin spread his food out in front of him. Apparently he liked to look at it for a while before he ate it. Ken spiked the coffee from a flask of Bundaberg rum.
‘Here’s to you, Sammy.’ Tobin lifted his cup and took a gulp. He opened the polystyrene box and examined the hamburger. ‘Looks okay. Now, what have you got to say.’
Weiss sipped water and scratched his head. His fingernails were black and he still smelled bad. ‘I saw her leave with a weirdo. I told Hardy that.’
Tobin spoke through a mouthful. ‘Height?’
‘Average.’
‘Shit,’ Ken said.
I drank some of the coffee. It wasn’t good to start with and the rum didn’t help it much. I was dead tired; I knew I shouldn’t be drinking. ‘Think back, Sammy,’ I said. ‘They’re coming out into the lane. Who’s taller, him or her?’
‘Him.’
‘By how much?’
‘Couple of inches.’
Tobin raised an eyebrow as he swallowed. It was an uncomfortable thing to watch.
‘She’s a tall woman,’ I said. ‘Five eight or so. Makes him a fair height.’
‘And thin,’ Weiss said. ‘Real thin.’
Tobin nodded. ‘You’re doing fine, mate. I’m proud of you. Go on.’
Weiss closed his eyes. ‘Thin but like he was fit, with muscles, you know?’
‘Unlike many,’ I said. ‘What about his hair and complexion?’
‘Sort of stringy hair, dark and a bit long. Sallow, I’d call him.’
‘What’s that mean?’ said Ken.
‘Never mind.’ Tobin started on his second hamburger. ‘Now, would you say he was a good type, British say, like me and Hardy? Or a wog or a Jew boy like you?’
‘What about Scotch?’ Ken poured more rum into his coffee.
‘Don’t confuse him,’ Tobin said, ‘and the Scotch aren’t sallow. Sammy?’
‘Could’ve been mixture. English maybe with…I don’t know, Lebanese or something.’
‘I’d like a mixture,’ Tobin said softly. ‘I’d love Lebanese. What was he driving?’
‘A car.’
Tobin’s cheeks bulged as he chewed. ‘I hope you’re not trying to be funny. What sort of car? What number?’
‘I don’t know about cars and I didn’t get the number. I can’t even remember what colour it was.’
‘Anything else?’ I said. ‘Clothes?’
‘Dark.’
Tobin held out his coffee cup for more rum. ‘Not much to go on. What’ve you got, Hardy?’
‘We’ve got him on tape. Trying to get an identification of the accent. We get the feeling he’s local. Talks about watching January’s office. Sounds as if he belongs to the area.’ I got out my wallet and extracted the note. ‘We’ve got two others like these.’
‘Have you now. Funny-looking paper. How come I didn’t see the others?’
‘You saw photocopies. That’s all your boys asked for.’
Tobin banged the table with his fist. The boy and girl serving the food looked up in alarm. Tobin smiled at them and waved his hand. ‘No trouble, we’re the police.’
‘But you paid,’ the girl said.
Tobin smiled at them and turned back to look at the note. ‘I have to do everything. We should’ve had the originals.’ He picked the paper up and sniffed it. ‘Funny smell. ‘Course, anything’s possible in Hardy’s wallet. Is that it? That the lot?’
I shrugged. ‘Trudi Bell thinks she might know the voice. Might have heard it. She’s trying to place it.’
Ken was scribbling notes. ‘Where is she?’ he said.
‘My place.’
Tobin leered. ‘You lucky dog.’ He popped the last of his chips into his mouth and chewed noisily. ‘Well, I’d call it promising. Quite promising. We’ll take Sammy into town and get him to talk to one of the faggot artists. See what comes of that.’
‘I’m too sick, Lloyd.’
‘You’ll be sicker if you give me any trouble. I’ll get one of our flash lab men to analyse this paper, Hardy.’
I nodded. I was almost dead on my feet. I could feel control of the whole thing slipping away from me but I was too tired to do anything about it. Tobin looked fresh and keen. He stood up and hauled Weiss to his feet by the collar.
‘I’d say a meeting is called for. I want to see January and the rest of you in the morning. Let’s make it 10 o’clock in my office. Right?’
I had enough pride left in me for a couple of small challenges. ‘Make it 11. We might have something on the voice by then. And don’t let him near a telephone.’
‘Don’t worry, Hardy. Sammy’s going home to my place. His sister can make him a nice cup of tea and put him to bed. You don’t look like you’re going to be much use to Trudi tonight. Give her my best.’
26
Gunther took hold of the leg I put through my front door; he growled; he didn’t try to get to the bone but he didn’t let go. Trudi came down the stairs shrugging herself into my towelling dressing gown.
‘Gunther, off!’
‘ “Off”? I’d never have thought of “off”. I might have said “down”. What would’ve happened? Would he have killed me?’
Gunther backed away, sat on his haunches and watched me. He was a big, sleek, black dog, very big, black and sleek. Trudi patted his head and laughed. ‘No, if he was happy with his grip he’d just hang on.’
‘What if he wasn’t happy?’
‘Could’ve got messy. You look like death. What’s been happening? Want some coffee or tea?’
I walked around Gunther and Trudi hugged me. Gunther growled but didn’t move. ‘You haven’t found any tea here, have you?’
‘I brought some.’
‘Tea self-destructs here. No, thanks, love. I want a big glass of wine and a couple of headache pills.’
We went out to the kitchen. She made herself some tea and I took my medicine. I told her about my evening’s work and she told me she’d located someone who’d get a report on the tape back to her first thing in the morning.
The cold white wine cut through the mists in my brain and the pills were smoothing things out. ‘Any calls?’
She shook her head. ‘Still nothing from Helen?’
‘Nope. What’s new with Peter?’
‘Oh, God, you haven’t seen the television, have you? They’ve been all over him. He’s a hero. And he looks amazing-he’s worried sick about Karen but it comes across as great statesman-like concern. He’s more popular tonight than Paul Hogan.’
I grunted and finished the wine. ‘Won’t do him any bloody good if this goes wrong. Can you get in touch with him? I mean now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you mind? Tell him he has to be in Tobin’s office at 11.’
‘Yuck. D’we really have to deal with that slob?’
‘No choice. You haven’t put a face to that voice, I suppose?’
‘I’ve been close but it keeps slipping away. I’ll ring Peter.’
I was only dimly conscious of her using the phone. I had some more wine and I suppose I dozed. She shook me awake. ‘Get up to bed. I’m in the spare room.’
I blinked. ‘Can’t afford to sleep in. Have to set an alarm.’
‘No need. Gunther wails like a banshee at seven thirty.’
‘Great. Has he met the cat?’
‘They agreed to differ. I’ll see you in the morning, Cliff.’
The door to the room Cyn used to do her drawing in and which Hilde had occupied and where clients and friends had slept at odd times over the years was closed when I got up the stairs. Gunther was curled up on the carpet outside but it wasn’t Gunther that kept me from going in and it wasn’t fatigue. It was something else. I crawled into bed half dressed; I heard aeroplane engines; telephones rang; I smelled dirty socks and marijuana smoke; a 150 watt bulb was burning in the ceiling but none of it could stop me falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.