The Dunbar Case(17)

I thought you reacted when I mentioned a family Bible.'



Did I?'



Yes.'



Coulda been something like that. I didn't take much notice. Me and Rob used to dig the books out of the hiding places just to watch Grandpa do his block.'



You sound like a prize pair.'



We were just kids.'



Where was this?'



Out near Dudley. Want to take a look?'



Twizell was driving a Nissan Patrol 4WD, the sort of vehicle you'd need, say, for going off-road and getting near enough to go climbing down into caves. I followed him south for about fifteen kilometres until he parked in a dead-end street of well-established houses several hundred metres back up a hill from the coast. He joined me and pointed to a break in the ti-tree scrub at the end of the street.



On foot from here,' he said. Down a pretty rough track. They don't let people build down near the dunes any more but there were shacks and cottages there earlier on.'



I was wearing jeans and sneakers with a reasonable tread; Twizell's footwear was something similar and we coped with the steep descent. The track was fairly overgrown but rocks had been embedded in it at strategic places and the trees growing close to it gave me something to steady myself with on the sharpest inclines.



He was right about his fitness. He handled the slope and the impediments better than me. Lizards scampered in the undergrowth and birds chirped in the trees. Traffic noise died away to be replaced by the sound of waves on the beach. The ground became more sandy and we reached a level stretch about twenty metres back from the dunes. The scrub was thick and laced with lantana.



I sucked in a deep breath and looked up as a helicopter buzzed overhead.



Looking for dope,' Twizell said. Spoilsports. Through here. Should've brought a machete.'



He pushed through the ti-tree and waist-high flowering bushes that had almost completely obliterated a track.



Used to be a way into here from the other direction and you could get a truck down but a landslide wiped it out. There's the house.'



A mudbrick, timber and galvanised iron structure with a collapsed roof and gaps in the sides looked as if it was being held up by the vines that had invaded it. The native vegetation had crept up all around it but there were patches that showed where a bricked path had been and the broken-down wooden fence carried the faint suggestion of a vegetable garden. A mudbrick chimney, wrapped around by wisteria, looked the most solid part of the building.



Bloody great place for kids,' Twizell said. Lots of people used to come here; uncles and aunties and cousins and some we called uncle and aunty but weren't really, you know.'



I nodded. The way it used to be. Now kids called their parents' friends by their first names. Much better.



Hiding places,' I said.



Go easy. This is memory lane for me, mate.'



When you were Johnnie.'



He laughed. Yeah, they called me Johnnie B Bad. There used to be a shed and a fibro sleep-out, that was a couple of places, and there were floorboards that came up and some gaps where the gal iron had been tacked on. I'll need some kind of tool to clear a way through all this shit.'



We fossicked around and found a broken garden fork and a length of rusty pipe that had been part of a gate. Twizell pointed the way and we slashed through the grass and bushes to a derelict shed mostly eaten away by white ants. Twizell shook his head.



That's fucked.'



We worked through to the house but the floorboards had been taken up and the joists and bearers were spongy from the termites. Twizell's neat squash gear was a mess now with smears of dirt, rips from brambles and discolourations from the smashed bushes. My jeans and shirt were in the same condition and our sneakers were muddy from the soggy patches where water had collected.



Last hope's the sleep-out,' Twizell said. Over here.'



We skirted an impenetrable lantana patch and hacked our way through snarly bushes until we felt under our feet some concrete slabs covered with moss. A fibro building stood in the middle of a sandy space with sprouting razor grass.



Us kids used to sleep out here and get up to mischief.'



I can imagine.'



Nothin' much-just smokes and beer and dope-sheilas later on.'



Perhaps because the area was drier, with no trees close by, the sleep-out hadn't been as devastated by white ants. At first glance it looked almost as if it could be made liveable, but on closer inspection the window frames had rotted, the guttering sagged and sections of the iron roof were missing. The remnants of a tarpaulin fluttered.



Fuck, I remember now. They had a storm and lost some roof. Never got around to fixing it.'



Twizell suddenly seemed depressed by the sight and I wondered what memories he was processing. He threw away the garden fork, went around to the back of the building and crouched by a fibro hutch.



Dog kennel's still here. She stuck her books inside a sort of cavity. I remember once when we pulled some out she really whacked into us. Grandpa didn't get to see those ones. If she had anything serious to hide this'd be where, I reckon.'



So why did we piss around with the other places?'



He grinned and wiped a hand across his grimy face where a few scratches had bled. Why should I make things easy for a bastard like you?'



I tossed away the bit of pipe. Get on with it.'



Take it easy.'



I was getting sick of him. Ever hear of Ross River fever, Jack?'



Sure. Why?'



There was a champion golfer got it around here. Blew up over 120 kilos on steroids and cortisone trying to get rid of it.'



That touched his vanity. He was proud of his physique. And what happened?'



He got better but it buggered him for a long time.'



But in the end he was irrepressible. Good for him. Getting back to the old girl, she reckoned the dog'd keep Grandpa from poking around and she was right. Claudius, she called him; bitzer with some bull terrier in him. Mean fucker, he was.'



Twizell.'



Okay, okay.' He flexed the muscles in his arm. You scared of spiders, Hardy?'



Yes.'



Me too. Here goes.' He thrust his arm into the kennel and scrabbled around. He grunted and withdrew his arm. He had a mass of mouldy, cobwebbed paper in his grasp.



Let's see now.' He peeled back a few layers and let out a screeching laugh that sent birds flying out of the trees. He held out a pulpy handful to me.



Knitting books. The old bugger hated to see her knitting as much as he hated to see her reading and she could do both at the same bloody time.'

 
 

  16





Hard to say who looked the bigger mess by the time we'd struggled back up the track to the cars. Twizell was bleeding from scratches to his face and legs; my shirt was a wet rag and my hands were muddy from where I'd had to clutch at the ground to stop myself from falling when the helicopter made a low pass overhead.



I need a drink,' Twizell said. You?'



I nodded. We drove to the Dudley pub-old style with a wide veranda supported by spindly poles. Twizell dropped into a chair outside the bar. Schooner of Old, thanks.'



I had the same and we didn't bother with salutations. We both lowered the levels quickly.



Do your parole conditions say anything about drinking?'



He grinned. You ever know anyone bother about that one, either side of the desk?'



No.'



Right. But I'd better get back and clean myself up. I have to report to the cops.'



I'll come with you.'



Why? Are we pals now?'



No. You said you could help me find Kristie.'



He finished his drink and obviously wanted another but he looked at his watch. I did say that, didn't I?'



You did.'



This is important to you, eh?'



It's why I'm here.'



The shrewd look I'd seen from him before came back into his blood-streaked face. Is it really? You've seen her a few times, right?'



I still had half a glass left and I sipped it to buy time and think. How much of what I knew about his pre-gaol behaviour should I reveal?



Twice, I think.'



What did she tell you about me?'



Not much. You're not her favourite person.'



She'll get over that. How about Joseph and Hector?'



I shrugged. Nothing. Just told me to deliver the message.'



Why would a bloke like you dance to their bloody tune?'



Threats.'



Figures. Family man, are you?'



Sort of.'



You know I'm at the Mayfield Apartments. You'll find it in the book. I forget the number. We should stay in touch. I reckon you could be useful to me.'



I shook my head. I see it the other way around. You help me find Kristie and then we see if that does you any good.'



I need protection.'



Who from?'



Hector fucking Tanner.'



You said he was in South America.'



He got up. I hear a whisper that he's not. I've got your card. We'll stay in touch, Hardy.'



He practically ran to his car. I let him go.







I rang Marisha.



You're back, good.'



Is that glad you're back or you want something?'



Both. Where are you?'



I told her and she told me the easiest way to get to her place from there. It wasn't far. I wondered about turning up in my dishevelled state but I needn't have worried. She had my sweaty shirt off almost as soon as I walked in and the dirty pants and muddy sneakers soon after. We made a mess of her neatly made bed, which brought it into line with the rest of the room. The bedroom doubled as a study and Marisha was a very untidy worker. The desk was awash with papers and file cards and sheets of printout and photocopies. The paper flowed onto the bookshelves and the floor.



She saw me looking at the chaos and laughed. I know where absolutely everything is.'