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The Dunbar Case(7)

By:Peter Corris


 
 

  6





I put the first of Wakefield's questions to Twizell. It wasn't a response to his request, but I didn't want to lose control of the agenda.



Grandpa Bob and Grandma? Jesus, they were ancient, or that's how it felt when I was a kid. They were pretty old. He had some tatts. He'd been a sailor. There was a story that he owned some ships once but not by the time we came along. He was just a retired sailor. Not a bad old bloke. He used to give us money. Grandma? She was quiet; pretty well educated, I think. She read a lot of books. I remember that they were both pissed off at my dad. He was a loser.'



I put the next question.



They had an old dump of a cottage out of Newcastle near the beach. They reckoned it was historic. Grandma had a vegie garden and Grandpa Bob went fishing all the time. I suppose they had a pension, but they seemed to live on vegetables and fish. We used to stay there when Dad was off somewhere and Mum couldn't handle us, and we got fucking sick of fish, I can tell you.'



Do you remember the address?'



His eyes went shrewd. I might, why?'



Could be important. What do you know about a family Bible?'



I was watching closely and, although he tried not to react, he could not quite control his eyes. The lazy, out-of-focus stare he'd been affecting dropped away for a split second when he blinked.



Hey, what're you talking about? I don't know anything about a Bible.'



Yes, you do,' I said. And my client has authorised me to say that a six-figure amount could be due to you if... things work out.'



That's very vague.'



Do you have anything more solid to think about just now, Johnnie?'



He leaned forward and all the cocky aggression I'd seen in the after-trial newspaper photograph was back in his face and body language. You bet I do, arsehole-getting out of this place.'



I shook my head. Year away, if you're good.'



I've been good, bloody good, and they've brought my parole hearing forward. It's on next week.'



Well, good luck.'



No, these bastards play games with you. There'll be a hearing and you get your hopes up but they'll knock me back for sure. You never get out on a first hearing, the blokes in here tell me. That's unless ...'



He paused strategically.



Unless what?'



Unless someone with clout puts in a good word. Hey, I bet your guy's rich or a museum dude or a professor or something, and you've got old Courtenay onside. They could swing it.'



He was a lot smarter than anyone had thought.







I left the prison with only Twizell's proposal to take back to Wakefield. He wouldn't be pleased. The odd thing was that it didn't feel like failure. Twizell wasn't likeable but neither was Wakefield and I'd be interested to watch the interplay between their devious minds if it went that way. It all might end right there for me, but, again, it might spin out for a time and earn me some money.



While I'd been inside the car park had filled up a bit with a variety of vehicles including vans and utes apparently making deliveries to the prison. I reached my car, felt for my keys and was suddenly aware of three men emerging from the station wagon parked next to the Falcon. They arranged themselves to block me into the space between the vehicles. One, a compact type in early middle age, wore a suit, the others jeans, T-shirts, jackets. One of them was very big, another was rangier.



A word with you,' the suit said.



Two I could possibly have handled, even in the confined space, but not three. I leaned against my car with my hand not too far from the radio aerial, a possible weapon.



Okay,' I said.



The suit shook his head. Not here. Come with us.'



I don't think so.'



I reached for the aerial but the lean, wiry one was too quick for me. He chopped down savagely on my arm, numbing it. The one behind me moved up and pulled my other arm halfway up my back. There was no space to kick or head-butt.



You've done this before,' I said.



You bet we have,' the suit said. And we've done worse. Be smart.'



Being smart meant getting into the back seat of the station wagon between the one who bent my arm and the suit while the other guy drove. I sat, working my arm to restore the circulation, and cursing myself for not being more careful.



Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?'



There's no pleasure involved, Hardy, not for you or us. My name's Joseph Tanner. Who my friends are doesn't matter.'



It matters to me. Someone hits me and someone else bends my arm, I like to know who they are before I get even. I'm funny that way.'



There was an amused snort from the arm bender. I leaned forward; he reached to pull me back and I slammed my elbow as hard as I could into his ribs. He gave a gasp, coughed and fought for breath.



I had to make an exception in his case.'



Tanner took a small pistol from his pocket and pressed it against my knee. Settle down. You all right, Clem?'



Let me ...'



No. Maybe later. We'll see how it goes.'



The driver said, What's going on?'



Nothing,' Tanner said.



What's wrong with Clem?'



Clem was gasping as he breathed.



I think he's got a broken rib,' I said. Maybe two if I did it right. I'm not sure.'



Fuck you,' Clem gasped.



It's okay,' I said, I've had a few. They hurt for a while but they get better.'



Shut up, Hardy,' Tanner snapped.



I did. Part of my chatter was nerves and it was important to get that under control. We were back close to the town now, moving through suburbs and then into an area of shops and light industry. The van turned and went up a lane. It stopped at the back of what looked like a small warehouse. The lane dead-ended a little further on and there were no obvious signs of activity.



Out,' Tanner said. Any trouble from you, Hardy, and you'll be sorry.'



I nodded in keeping with my stoical decision and took in everything I could see. The thing to do in these situations is to know the ground, spot weapons and, if possible, play some of the people who have you off against each other.



Again, I was in a confined space with three men who had no love for me. One disabled, but one with a gun. No time for heroics. The driver opened a door at the back of the building and Tanner shepherded me in with Clem, wheezing, bringing up the rear.



Boxes stacked high around the walls, windows too dirty to allow in much light, fluorescent tubes glowing. The place had a concrete floor with red paint worn mostly away by feet and time. The man sitting in one of a set of three deckchairs could only have been Tanner's brother-similar hard lines to his body and face, similar suit. A couple of years older, perhaps, and more controlled.



Joseph grunted something unpleasant I didn't catch and slumped into one of the chairs. The older, more composed brother gestured for me to sit. He waved away Clem and the driver.



Hector Tanner,' brother two said. You've met my brother Joseph.'



I've had that pleasure.'



He's a smartarse, Hec. I don't reckon you could believe a word he says.'



Hector looked across to where Clem was crouched, holding his side. What's wrong with Clem?'



Hardy cracked one of his ribs.'



I told you to be courteous.'



He's a smartarse who thinks he's a tough guy.'



Not really,' I said. It's just that Clem was underexperienced at this sort of work.'



Hector smiled. I'm not.'



I shrugged. We'll see.'



Have you any idea why we've brought you here?'



I shook my head. You're not doing so well, Hec. I'm not playing that game. You talk to me to start with, not the other way around. If you've got something to say to me, say it.'



You've been to see Johnnie Twizell.'



Have I?'



What about?'



I shook my head.



Joseph shifted in his chair. We can make him answer.'



Doesn't matter,' Hector said, then turned to me: I expect you'll be seeing him again.'



I expect I will.'



I want you to deliver a message to him.'



Come on,' I said. You know so much you've obviously got connections inside the gaol. You can get a message to him any time you like.'



Hector unbuttoned his jacket and relaxed. Good technique to ease the tension. He was right, he knew what he was doing. Joseph was still tightly strung. No,' he said, he wouldn't believe a message coming from us through our normal channels.'



I can understand that. I suppose Jobe Tanner's your father. He threatened to kill Twizell.'



Well, that's part of it,' Hector said. Dad was upset because of what Johnnie did to Kristie, but we don't feel that way.'



Kristie's a slag,' Joseph said. She deserved what she got.'



Nice,' I said.



Hector shot his brother an angry look. I wouldn't put it quite like that but you're right. It's not nice. We're not nice people, can't afford to be.'



I won't argue with that.'



Joseph growled and tried to swipe me with a backhander. The numbness in my arm had eased off. I caught his wrist, twisted and he had to fall off his chair to prevent his wrist being broken.



Stop it!' Hector snarled.



The driver had come forward and looked ready to join in but he stopped when Hector spoke.



Back off, Rog. Let him go, Hardy. There's no need for this. Let's keep it civilised.'



I laughed and released Joseph's wrist. I got to my feet and turned towards Rog. I owe you one, mate. Want to have a go?'



No one's having a go,' Hector said. Calm down, all of you. Let's have a drink.'



He had a briefcase by his chair. He opened it and took out a bottle of vodka. Not my favourite but a drink just then seemed like a very good idea.



Find some glasses, Rog, and, Clem, you'd better go and see a doctor. Get your ribs strapped up.'