The Bat(58)

‘Everything hurts. Thinking hurts.’

There was a bouquet of flowers on his bedside table.

‘From a secret admirer?’

‘If you like. His name’s Otto. And tomorrow Toowoomba’s coming, and today you’re here. It’s good to feel loved.’

‘I’ve brought something for you, too. You’ll have to smoke it when no one’s watching.’ Harry held up a long, dark cigar.

‘Ah, a Maduro. Of course. From my dear Norwegian rubio.’ Andrew beamed and allowed himself a careful laugh.

‘How long have I known you now, Andrew?’

Andrew stroked the cigar as if it were a pussy cat. ‘Must be about a week now, mate. We’ll soon be like brothers.’

‘And how long does it take to really know someone?’

‘Well, Harry, it doesn’t necessarily take very long to get to know the beaten tracks through the big, dark forest. Some people have fine, straight paths and street lamps and road signs. They seem to tell you everything. But that’s where you should be careful you don’t take anything for granted. Because you don’t find the forest’s animals on illuminated paths, you find them in the bushes and the scrub.’

‘And how long does it take to know them?’

‘Depends on who’s there. And the forest. Some forests are darker than others.’

‘And what’s your forest like?’

Andrew put the cigar in the drawer of his bedside table. ‘Dark. Like a Maduro cigar.’ He looked at Harry. ‘But of course you’ve found that out . . .’

‘I’ve spoken to a friend of yours who’s cast a bit more light over who Andrew Kensington is, yes.’

‘Well, then you know what I’m talking about. About not letting yourself be deceived by the illuminated paths. But you have a couple of dark patches yourself, so I don’t need to explain this to you.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Let’s just say that I recognise a man who’s given things up. Drinking, for example.’

‘I suppose everyone does,’ Harry mumbled.

‘Everything you do leaves traces, doesn’t it. The life you’ve lived is written all over you, for those who can read.’

‘And you can read?’

Andrew placed his large fist on Harry’s shoulder. He had perked up remarkably quickly, Harry thought.

‘I like you, Harry. You’re my pal. I think you know what things are about, so don’t look in the wrong place. I’m just one of the many millions of lonely souls trying to live on the face of this earth. I’m trying to acquit myself without making too many mistakes. Now and then I may even be on top of things enough to try and do some good. That’s all. I’m not important here, Harry. Finding out about me won’t lead you anywhere. Shit, I’m not even particularly interested in finding out too much about myself.’

‘Why not?’

‘When your forest is so dark you don’t know it yourself, it’s wise not to go on trips of discovery. You can soon find yourself treading on thin air.’

Harry nodded and sat looking at the flowers in the vase. ‘Do you believe in chance?’ he asked.

‘Well,’ Andrew said, ‘life consists of a connected series of quite improbable chance occurrences. When you buy a lottery ticket and get number 822531, for example, the odds of you getting that number are one in a million.’

Harry nodded again. ‘What bothers me,’ he said, ‘is that I’ve had that lottery number too many times in a row.’

‘Really?’ Andrew sat up in bed with a groan. ‘Tell Uncle Andrew.’

‘On my arrival in Sydney the first thing that happens is I hear you weren’t actually going to be assigned to this case at all, but you insisted on being given the Inger Holter murder and, furthermore, asked specifically to work with me, the foreigner. Back then I should have asked myself a few questions. The next thing you do is introduce me to one of your friends under the pretext of watching a semi-entertaining circus number to kill some time. Out of four million inhabitants in Sydney I meet this one guy on the first evening. One guy! One in four million. The same guy pops up again, by the way, we even make a very intimate wager of a hundred dollars, but the point is he pops up in the bar where Inger Holter worked and it transpires he knew her! One in four million again! And while we’re trying to home in on a probable murderer, Evans White to be precise, you suddenly unearth a contact who has seen White, one of eighteen million people on this continent, a contact who happens to be in Nimbin of all places on the very night of the murder!’

Andrew seemed to have fallen into a deep reverie. Harry went on.