“Well, I’m pleased to meet you girlie. I never knew your dad but I heard of him. Who’s your friend?”
I got up and leaned forward, sticking my hand out. “Cliff Hardy, Mr Gurney. Glad to know you.”
We shook. His hand was as hard as iron and a joint of his little finger was missing.
“Hardy, eh? What’s your game Cliff?”
I told him and rolled a cigarette while I spoke. I offered him the makings and he took them.
“Thanks. How can I help you?”
“Penny here tells me that you know all there is to know about the Aboriginal people in this district.”
“S’right. Lived here all me life, never been to Sydney even. I was put through up by Burnt Bridge in 1919.”
“Initiated? Can’t be many around like you.”
“I’m the last one.” He got his cigarette going and pierced me through again with those eyes. “What do you want me to tell you?”
“All you can about Albie Simmonds.”
“Albie in trouble?”
I nodded.
“What sort of trouble?”
“Bad. Kidnapping. Gun trouble.”
“Why should I help you. You huntin’ him?”
“Not exactly. I want the girl he took. If I know certain things maybe I can stop more people from being killed. Two men’re dead already.”
“Albie kill ‘em?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. That’s one of the things I’ve got to find out.”
He leaned back and blew smoke at the roof. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him; his belly was flat and the skin around his throat and jaw stretched smooth and tight. He had authority. If he’d said no and told me to leave I’d have gone. He was that sort of man.
I felt as if he was putting me through some kind of test only I didn’t know the rules and the proper way to conduct myself. I sat there and tried to look honest and strong. He looked at me so long I thought he was going into a trance. Then he came out of it and nodded sharply.
“All right.” He took a draw on the cigarette. “I can tell you a bit about Albie. Mind you, he’s had a few names in his time. Not too many people know him as Albie Simmonds.”
“Percy White?”
“That’s one. Terrible man for the grog Albie, that’s no secret.”
“That reminds me, I’ve got some beer in the car, would you like some?”
“Too right.”
“I’ll get it,” Penny said. She left the room. Gurney watched her appreciatively. So did I. I wondered if he lived alone. There was no sign of a woman’s touch in the room we were in.
“Where d’you want me to start?”
“Just tell me about Albie, from the beginning.”
“Yeah, well, Albie wasn’t a bad lad. Too much grog around the family always, but that wasn’t his fault. He got into bad company and a fair bit of trouble with the coppers. Small stuff though.”
“Is he a full blood Aborigine?”
“Pretty nearly. Like me. Why do you ask?”
“His boy, Ricky, wasn’t very dark, I just wondered… what about the mother?” He looked at me again, as if he was testing the quality, the very grain of me. “Nellie? Half and half,” he said slowly.
“I see. Go on Mr Gurney.”
“Albie moved around a bit… up here… Sydney. Couldn’t settle. Nellie just had the one kid, Ricky, and she died young. The boy went to people in Sydney.”
“Did Albie see much of his son?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“That’s something you’d have to ask him.”
“Fair enough. Did Albie work for Trixie Baker?”
“Sort of- aah good girl!” Penny came back into the room with a tray. Two open beer bottles were on it and three glasses. She poured a glass for the old man and half a glass for herself. I filled a glass and we all said cheers and drank. The beer was warmer than it should be but still not bad. Gurney sighed and emptied the glass in three long gulps. He filled it again and watched the head rise and settle.
“Where was I? Albie and Trixie, yeah. You couldn’t say Albie worked for her, he was a mess then, drinking fierce. He was calling himself Carter then – this is a few years ago.”
“Why all the names?”
“Police trouble I s’pose. We all knew who he was but the whites around didn’t. It’s a bit like that up here.”
“Do you know if his son got in touch with him at that time?”
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“Albie ducked him, went bush.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sayin’. Personal to them.”
“I suppose you won’t tell me about Albie’s relationship with Trixie Baker either?”
“That’s right. Sorry. I haven’t been much help. I will say this, you seem to know a thing or two about Albie and the boy.”
“Not enough.”
“You know some. It’s dangerous. I’d keep out of it if I was you.”
“I can’t.” I finished the beer and got up. Penny had hardly touched hers and she didn’t give it a glance now. She shook hands with Gurney and he and I exchanged nods. I’d intruded too far on a matter that excluded whites or should, in his view. It was too delicate to be trusted to me with my clumsy, money-motivated ways. He’d decided that and exercised just as much of his authority as he needed to keep the knowledge from me. He knew that I’d go on, that he couldn’t stop me. He accepted that, but he didn’t want to shake my hand again.
“Thanks for the beer,” he grunted.
I said something polite and we trooped down the passage and out into the raw sunlight.
“Not very helpful,” Penny said as we walked to the car.
“Could have been worse. I got some things out of it by implication.”
“Trixie Baker told me she and Albie Simmonds were lovers. It’s on the tape.”
I nodded. “I thought so.”
We got in the car and I noticed that three of the beer bottles were still on the seat. I pointed to them.
“That was for him.”
“Not good for him.”
“I know what he’d say to that. Has he got a wife by the way?” She grinned. “I heard he has three.”
We drove off and Penny yawned a couple of times and knuckled her eyes. I pulled over under a tree and stopped. “Have a sleep if you want to. I’m going to listen to the tape.” She nodded, took her coat with her out of the car and settled herself on the grass using it as a pillow. I made a cigarette and lifted the top off one of the beer bottles. The liquid frothed out and the stuff left behind was warm but I sipped at it anyway. I pushed the “play” button.
PENNY: “Mrs Baker, can you hear me?”
VOICE: “Yes, I can hear you, who’re you?”
PENNY: “My name is Sharkey, Penny Sharkey. You don’t know me, but I know who hit you – Berrigan.”
BAKER: “How do you know that, I never told…”
PENNY: “I’m working with a man who knows all about it. He wants to fix
Berrigan, will you help?”
BAKER: “I dunno, Berrigan… he might come back…”
PENNY: “Hardy says he won’t. He guarantees it.”
BAKER: “Hardy? Never heard of him. What is he, a cop?”
PENNY: “He’s a private detective…”
BAKER: “Shit, no, nothing doing…”
PENNY: “I trust him.”
BAKER: “Well, good for you… Something about you. Can’t see with all these bloody bandages. What are you, a darkie?”
PENNY: “I’m an Aborigine, yes.”
BAKER: “I like Abos, good people. I had a good man once. (Cackling laugh).
Could be one of your tribe – Albie Simmonds, know him?”
PENNY: “I knew Ricky, his son.”
BAKER: “That right? Well, well.” (Laughter) “Yeah, well that’s another story.
What’s in this for you girlie?”
PENNY: “I want Noni.”
BAKER: “How’s that?”
PENNY: “Noni Tarelton. She’s with Berrigan now. I hope he kills her.
Anyway, she’s up to her neck in this. She’ll go to jail if I have anything to do with it.”
BAKER: “Now you’re talking! That slut Noni. Tarelton you call her? She was
Rouble when she was fucking everything in sight round here. You reckon this Hardy’s good, he’ll get Berrigan?”