I unslung the mobile from Fair-hair’s belt and after that it was cops, cops and more cops. They came from all over the place. They put my gun in a plastic bag but they didn’t have one big enough for the shovel. Ramsay was a mess, barely coherent and unable to confirm my story. They took him away to Mittagong Hospital in an ambulance. I told them he had information about some serious crimes and had come close to being murdered himself and they said they’d keep an eye on him. It didn’t help that I admitted he was the brother of the woman I was involved with — gave it a domestic feel.
Simon Talbot was the name of Stivens’ accomplice and with dirt and grass stains down his sweater and pants he didn’t quite measure up as a Saab driver. He was scared but, give him his due, he kept his mouth shut apart from stating his name and saying he wouldn’t answer questions without a lawyer present. A car took him away and he didn’t look at me once.
A senior sergeant talked to me while the scene-of-crime people got to work around the body. He wasn’t friendly.
‘You had a gun, he had a shovel.’
‘He was going to bash the bloke’s brains in, or decapitate him, or both. What was I supposed to do — throw rocks?’
‘You shot him twice.’
‘He was a big man and he had some momentum up. It took two bullets to stop him and even then…’
‘What?’
‘He wasn’t quite dead when I got to him.’
‘Try to revive him?’
I shook my head.
‘Why not?’
I haven’t shot very many people apart from in Malaya — a handful, less, and it’s not like in the movies. It affects you and it was starting to get to me now. The headache kicked back in strongly and I had to massage my temples. I knew I was sweating and not making anything like a good impression. Also I was angry.
‘I felt his pulse,’ I said. ‘It was just there. Then he vomited a bucket of blood and that was it. What would you have done, Sarge?’
He left me alone and I sat on the ground and wished I’d never heard of Martin Price or Ramsay Hewitt. That led to complicated thoughts of Tess. Ramsay looked as if he could be heading for some sort of breakdown. Would Tess blame me and did I care? It was a low point — one of those moments when I wished I was someone else doing something else. Waste of brain power.
Eventually they bagged the body and took it away. I’d given the sergeant the names of Stankowski and Hammond at Hurstville and he’d contacted them. He came over to me, snapping his mobile shut.
‘Hurstville wants you, Hardy.’
‘I’m fucked,’ I said. ‘I’m not up to driving there.’
‘Not an option. One of our blokes’ll drive you. Nice city trip for him.’
‘Why not make it a her?’
‘You’re an arsehole. I’ve checked on you. You were in the service and you’ve been in this game for fuckin’ years. You could’ve fired over his head, but I reckon you wanted to kill him.’
I stood up and every bone from ankle to neck creaked. ‘I shouted,’ I said. ‘Pity I didn’t have a video camera and I could’ve filmed it so you might just possibly understand.’
‘Terrific. See you in court.’
‘What about my car?’
‘That beat-up Falcon? What about it?’
I discovered that I had the keys in my pocket although I didn’t remember taking them from the ignition. I tossed them to him and he fumbled the catch.
“This is a double murder and an attempted murder and a blackmail and drugs case, Sarge,’ I said. ‘And those Hurstville people are going to kiss my arse. If I was you, I’d make sure the Glebe cops have that beat-up Falcon safe and sound in their yard by tomorrow.’
I swung away and walked towards where a uniformed officer was standing juggling a set of car keys and looking anxious to be off. Before I reached him I turned and looked back at a place I never wanted to see again.
On the drive to Hurstville, with what turned out to be a taciturn constable, I thought about what the sergeant had said. Did I want to kill Stivens? I didn’t think so — we were one-all in our personal encounters and I had no particular animosity towards him. I might’ve if I’d known that it was him who took the pot shot at me, but I didn’t know that and never would. Was it the fact that Ramsay was Tess’s brother that made me fire directly at him twice? How can you tell? In a situation like that you do what seems to need doing at the moment and all later analysis is a waste of time.
At Hurstville they put me in the same interview room I’d been in before but I insisted on a cup of coffee and some pain-killers and that both Hammond and Stankowski sit down and make a video recording of the interview. I laid it all out for them: the allegations of blackmail and drug pushing by Prue Bonham and the Lord George organisation; the likelihood that they’d got their blackmail and drugs hooks into Samantha Price, but her association with Jason Jorgensen and my investigation sponsored by her husband had made them both seem like weak links. Expendable.
Stankowski looked sceptical. ‘What about you, then?’
‘They had a go at me. If you search my place you’ll see a broken kitchen window and probably find a rifle bullet somewhere about.’ I turned my head and showed them the cuts on my ear. ‘Flying glass.’
‘And Hewitt?’ Hammond asked.
‘Another weak link. He blabbed about the blackmailing to one of the women he’d been with and when I turned up knowing about it he panicked and went to Prue Bonham. Probably didn’t know how closely she was involved but he found out. She got the Lord George heavies around to solve the problem.’
Hammond coughed and looked at Stankowski. ‘It all hangs together OK as you tell it, Mr Hardy. But there’s no real proof of anything, is there? Just say you’re right and this Stivens killed Jorgensen and Mrs Price — who’ve we got to prosecute or get information from after you’ve shot him?’
I shrugged. ‘Ramsay Hewitt’ll tell you about the blackmail and the drugs.’
Hammond smoothed the cuffs of her white silk blouse. An olive green jacket was on a hanger on the back of the door. ‘Maybe so, but I’ve been on to the hospital and he’s in a pretty bad way emotionally.’
‘Not surprising. He was facing something like a Japanese execution. What about, what’s his name — Talbot?’
‘Tighter than a fish’s arsehole. Excuse me, Beth.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Hammond said. ‘You see the problem, Mr Hardy. Without something more solid to go on it’d be hard for us to take action against Mrs Bonham or the Lord George Agency.’
I saw it clearly enough, but I saw other things besides. ‘Look,’ I said. They must already be wondering why Stivens and Talbot haven’t got back or called in. If you don’t move against them now they’ll either run for cover or destroy everything that could possibly be seen as evidence.’
‘With what you’ve given us we couldn’t even get a search warrant. And as for arresting anyone — we’d be facing a lawsuit tomorrow.’
I was getting desperate as I felt it all slipping away.
‘There’s a guy called Lewis,’ I said. ‘Some kind of lawyer perhaps. He was there in the spa when Stivens tried to put the frighteners on me.’
‘So?’ Stankowski said.
‘He’s not the tough type. If you apply the right pressure he could give you what you need.’
‘Applying pressure seems to be your forte,’ Hammond said.
“What does that mean?’
Stankowski stood and moved to what was obviously his favourite intimidating position against the wall. ‘Right now, Hardy, we’ve got a whole lot of allegations and connections of this with that and explanations coming from you and no-one else. What we have hard and fast is that you shot a man to death in the Belangalo State Forest a few hours ago.’
It seemed like a lot longer ago than that. I raised my hands in surrender. ‘Look, you’d better let me call my lawyer.’
Hammond fiddled with a pen and swore when she skittered it and it put a mark on the sleeve of her blouse. ‘That’d be the lawyer who lied to us about your phone being tapped to keep you running free?’
I was too tired and wrung out to argue. ‘You wanted me here again, you got me. If you want to keep me you’re going to have to jump through some hoops. Get me a phone and turn the video off. That’s it.’
Hammond pressed a button on the console. ‘Interview terminated at 5.49 p.m.’
‘Just out of interest and off the record, Hardy,’ Stankowski said. ‘Who d’you reckon killed the golfer?’
‘At a guess, Stivens.’
‘Dead end. And Mrs Price?’
I had ideas about that but I couldn’t see any point in airing them to this pair. I shrugged. ‘Phone?’
Hammond shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think we want to keep you here any longer, Mr Hardy. I’ll make moves to have your PEA licence suspended pending further investigations.’
‘More lawyers.’
‘Inevitably.’
‘Don’t you want to solve those two murders?’
‘Oh, yes. And if Talbot and Hewitt back you up at every point and Talbot’s willing to testify, we just might solve them the way you think they should be solved and we’ll be grateful.’
A civilian working in the police station gave me a lift home. He wanted to chat about everything to do with his computer-based job and to find out why I’d been there with the detectives who were his gods but it was my turn to be silent. It was a disappointed good Samaritan who dropped me in Glebe Point Road. I had a quick one in the Toxteth and bought a bottle of whisky for medicinal purposes. I walked the block and a bit to my street and felt the better for it. My parking space was occupied again, this time by Danni’s Honda. She got out when she saw me walking towards the house.
‘Hello, Mr Hardy.’
‘Hello, Danni. What’re you doing here?’
‘Dad sent me. You look terrible, you’d better get inside and lie down.’
‘I’ll be OK. Why did your father send you?’
She was still dressed in her jeans, tank top and denim jacket and she shivered in the cool night air. ‘Can we go in? It’s cold.’
We went into the house where it wasn’t much warmer. She followed me into the kitchen, stared at the broken window and watched me opening the whisky.
‘You looked whacked,’ she said. ‘Should you be drinking?’
I took my favourite position on the stool, back to the wall. ‘I’m drinking because I’m whacked. Want some?’
She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t have any bourbon and Coke?’
I poured a stiff one, knocked half of it back and looked at her. ‘There’s some white wine in the fridge and I’ve got a cask of red.’
‘Yuk. I’ll drink water.’ She took a glass from the draining board and filled it at the sink. ‘Can I smoke?’
‘Yeah. Stand over by the window and blow the smoke out. Don’t blow it at me or I might weaken. You and Marty’re on better terms all of a sudden are you?’
She lit her cigarette and puffed where I’d said to puff. ‘Sort of. The police at Hurstville rang him about you and they told him what had happened out in the bush. He rang me and asked me to come over and see you. You know who killed Samantha and Jason, do you?’
I finished the drink and poured a second, smaller one. ‘Drip a bit of water in that would you, Danni. I’m too tired to get up. Yes, I think I do, but I’ve got no proof. It’s all tied up with that escort agency Samantha used and Jason worked for.’
‘Sleazes.’ She finished her cigarette and ran the tap on the butt. ‘Dad wants whoever killed Samantha to pay for it and I feel the same way about Jason.’
‘I agree. I just can’t work out a way to do it just now. I’m too…’
‘Whacked. OK. Will you ring Dad tomorrow? He wants to talk to you.’
‘I will. It’s good that you’re getting along. What about Junie?’
She jiggled her car keys and grinned. ‘I think he might’ve learned his lesson. She won’t last. Don’t move, I can get out. See you, Mr Hardy.’
‘Cliff.’
‘Do you know you’ve got a big lump on the side of your head, Cliff?’
‘Company for the old ones on top and at the back, Danni,’ I said.