Salt and Blood (14 page)

‘Out!'

A big, heavily built man in a suit, with thin, greying hair, clean-shaven, climbed slowly from the car, reaching inside his jacket as he did so.

I brought the gun up. ‘Don't.'

He continued the movement and produced a police warrant card, holding it up for me to see the way they do. ‘I'd put that thing away if I was you, Hardy. I'm Kevin Sherrin.'

I recognised him then. He was Glen's ex-husband and a Superintendent the last I'd heard of him. I lowered the gun and backed off a step.

‘Why were you following me?'

He flipped the folder closed and put it away. ‘First things first. Where's Glen?'

‘What's it to you?'

‘Watch yourself. I can think of three or four charges to pull you in on. I've got some papers Glen has to sign. To do with joint property. Nothing heavy. I've been fucking ringing and emailing her and I've been to the house. No sign of her. Someone told me she was working with you, so I …'

‘You picked me up in Glebe, right? Why didn't you just come in? Why the tail?'

‘That's what I was going to do. But you were in and out too quick. Also you looked like you had something important on your plate.'

It didn't take long to decide to talk to him. Glen hadn't told me much about their split but she hadn't bad-mouthed him. She'd taken it hard and it had led to her drinking problem, but she'd never blamed Sherrin. And the way things stood, a
policeman could be useful.

‘We can't talk here in the middle of the road. I'm staying at a flat close by. Follow me there and we can discuss it.'

‘D'you know where she is?'

I turned away and said over my shoulder, ‘No, but I'm as keen to find her as you are. Keener.'

I drove to the flat with the Commodore close behind. No sign of the Pajero. Sherrin parked in the street and followed me up the stairs. The splintered door didn't escape his notice.

‘What's this?'

I didn't answer. I was weary and needed a piss and a drink. We went inside. I switched on the light and the first thing Sherrin took in was the bloodstain.

‘Jesus, Hardy. What the fuck's been happening? Has Glen been here?'

In the light I could see that he was florid and overweight with puffy features. He still had the tough cop manner, but not the presence to go with it.

‘Yes. Give me a minute and I'll tell you about it. First I have to have a piss. D'you want a drink?'

‘No.'

‘Good. Because one's all I've got. Hang on.'

I emptied my bladder, washed my hands and face and came back into the living room. Sherrin was examining the bloodstain.

‘Whose is this? Not Glen's?'

‘A junkie who broke in here.'

A nod. ‘The door.'

‘No. The junkie reckoned the bloke who did
that looked like a cop.'

‘What game are you playing, Hardy?'

I went to the kitchen and put the rest of the whisky in a glass and added water. I went back, invited him to sit down and started talking.

I finished my explanation and the drink simultaneously. Sherrin had listened without interrupting.

‘Sure you've got nothing else to drink?'

‘Not a drop. Coffee.'

He loosened his tie. ‘Maybe later. I don't think I've ever heard of a bigger cock-up.'

‘I'm inclined to agree.'

‘You're inclined to agree. Fuck you. What're you going to do about it?'

‘I'm going to try to find them.'

‘What about this arsehole who's out to knock Harkness?'

‘I'm in the bloody dark about him. I can't seem to find a motive or a suspect. I had an interest in an ex-cop named Doug Schirer for a while, but he's half blind. That reminds me, though.' I flipped through my notebook until I found the name Billy Parkinson, a crim Rod had named as being on Schirer's books. Worth a try. I gave the name to Sherrin who shook his head.

‘Billy's dead. Lung cancer got him last year.'

‘Scratch him then. Like I told you, if it's the man who broke in here he's been described as looking like a cop by someone who knows what cops look like.'

‘Fuck of a lot of good that is.'

Suddenly he looked very tired and distressed
and I wished I had a drink to give him. It occurred to me that he wasn't just looking for Glen to sign papers. I put that to him and he took a long time to answer.

‘I want her back,' he said.

‘Are you sure?'

‘My life's turning to shit without her.'

In my experience lives turn to shit because of the people living with them and there's not much other people can do about it. But I made sympathetic noises. He got up and paced around the room. While he paced I made some coffee and brought it in. He'd calmed down a bit.

‘I want to help. I can put a word out up Newcastle way for one thing.'

‘All right. I'm going up there tomorrow.'

‘I'm tied up on this fucking Internal Affairs course or I'd go myself. But I can see that people up there know about you. Plus I can get a car to come by here from time to time to keep an eye on you.'

‘No, don't do that. I'm hoping this bloke will take a run at me. There's no way he can have any better idea of where they are than we do. I don't want him scared off.'

He drained his coffee without appearing to taste it and looked at me. ‘How do you figure that?'

‘Look, if he's a policeman he can find out who this Glen who left the note is.'

He was so tired he could hardly think. ‘How?'

‘Cops keep an eye on us. We know that. You knew Glen and I had worked together before and
could be again. So could he. If he knows that, he knows about Newcastle. Glen's father was on the job there the same as her. That's easy to find out. If he knows Harkness he could know about his liking for Redhead beach, so …'

‘Who told you that by the way?'

‘I'm not saying.'

‘Hardy, I could make a lot of trouble for you.'

‘You could, but you won't. We're on the same side.'

‘So I'm relying on you to find her and to deal with this joker if he's tagging along.' He tapped the side of his head, indicating where I was carrying the marks of my encounter with Craig. ‘I'm not sure that's such a good bet.'

‘I don't like it much myself. Got a better idea?'

‘I'll work on it.' He took a card from his wallet and dropped it on the table. ‘Give me your mobile number in case I need to get in touch. Here's mine.'

I gave him a card. He pocketed it and went towards the door. ‘One last thing. Was she drinking when you last saw her?'

‘No.'

He nodded and walked out. I listened to his footsteps retreating and when I heard the engine of the Commodore start up and the car move away I went down and retrieved the Smith & Wesson.

I thought about driving to Newcastle and starting to search for Glen and Rod at first light the next day but I decided against it. The way I felt I'd be
lucky to make it to Gosford. I was just about to pack it in when I heard a quiet knock at the door. I grabbed the pistol and held it behind my back as I opened the broken door with my left hand.

Craig stood there. He had a bandage around his head like a footballer sent off to the blood bin and his grin was uncertain. I was so surprised to see him that I let my hand come forward and he saw the gun.

‘Jesus, man. I …'

‘It's all right, just being cautious. What do you want?'

‘I … ah, got something might interest you, like.'

‘Like what?'

‘Information.'

‘Go on.'

‘I seen that guy again. That cop.'

I stepped aside and beckoned him in. ‘I wonder if I believe you.'

‘It's fair dinkum and I got the licence number. I figured it'd be worth something to you.'

‘How much were you thinking?'

‘Twenty bucks?'

I took a twenty from my wallet and gave it to him. He recited the licence and I scribbled it down. ‘When did you see him and what did he do?'

‘He didn't do nothing, just drove past slow like. Woulda been five o'clock about. Near that. I haven't got a watch.'

‘Red Camry?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Did you see the bloke who was here just now?'

He hesitated, not knowing whether to lie or not. ‘Yeah. I was looking out for you.'

‘He's a cop.'

He edged towards the door. ‘This bloke's younger and fitter. But that's a few too many cops around for my liking.'

‘I can imagine. You any good with your hands, Craig?'

‘Not bad. Why?'

‘I'm going away tomorrow. Might be a few days. Reckon you could fix that lock?'

‘Replace it, like? Sure.'

We drove to the nearest open convenience store and I bought a new lock and screwdriver—$120 all up.

Back at the flat I gave him another twenty. ‘Okay, here's what you do. Put the new lock on and find a half brick or something and put the keys under it in the carport. Soon as I'm gone.'

‘Great. Yeah, okay.'

I gave him my card. ‘If you see that bloke again call me on my mobile. And Craig—don't make a copy of the key.'

He put the card in the pocket of his shirt, the one that had a button, and buttoned it up. Then he shook his head and took off. If Glen and Rod came back before I did they wouldn't be able to get in. Well, stuff them.

18

I wasted time in the morning trying to get in touch with my contact at the DMT. I ring him and give him a number or numbers. He rings me back on a pay phone and gives me a name or names and an address or addresses. I pay money into his TAB account. Recently he's gone part-time at the job, probably because he can afford to on the strength of the kickbacks from people like me. He wasn't available so I'd have to wait on that.

At least on the drive north I'd know to look out for a red Camry. A light-coloured 4WD would be harder, but if I spotted one with a smeared numberplate I'd sit up and take notice. As it was, no show.

Glen had had a house overlooking one arm of Dudley beach when I'd met her. We'd spent some time together there over the next couple of years. Good house. Biggish old fibro place on a large block. One of a set of similar places just a short walk from the water. I knew she'd sold it some time back when she married Sherrin, but I thought she might have cruised past for old time's sake and if someone spotted her I'd have a confirmation
that she was in the area. I drove through Whitebridge where I used to walk to get the morning paper and some light exercise. It hadn't changed much. The earthquake damage hadn't reached out this far and developers hadn't intruded.

The street where Glen's house was situated was a different story. A couple of the sturdy, no-nonsense places had gone to be replaced by brick monstrosities with pillars. Glen's place had survived, but from the look of the area it was only a matter of time. I stopped, got out of the car and stretched. The day was hot, a shorts, sandals and T-shirt day, and I was in long trousers, shoes and a business shirt. I could smell the sea and felt a strong gust of nostalgia sweep over me, remembering the good times we'd had up here. Maybe Glen and Rod were having similar good times. I hoped so, but somehow I doubted it.

I looked the houses over, wondering which was the best bet. No contest. Two houses along from Glen's was another survivor with a low fence and the sort of garden that needs care and attention. A woman wearing a man's shirt with the long sleeves buttoned, loose pants and a wide-brimmed hat was giving it just that. She was weeding a flower bed and a watering can stood nearby; a green plastic hose snaked away to a tap at the side of the house. I remembered her from the time I'd spent here but the name had gone. I searched my memory for it as I adjusted my sunglasses and walked towards her. As sometimes happens, the name jumped out at me as I reached the front gate.

‘Mrs Reid.'

I was twenty metres away and she didn't hear me. I got ready to shout but a small white dog came bounding up and barked shrilly. Mrs Reid straightened up slowly as befitted her years and peered at me.

‘Quiet, Buster. Yes?'

‘Could I have a word with you?'

As I recalled she was a widow with a lot of children and grandchildren who were frequent visitors. They parked their cars in the driveway and on the nature strip, two and three abreast, but there were none around now. She patted the dog and it trotted quietly beside her as she came up to the gate.

I took off the shades. ‘You might remember me, Mrs Reid. I used to spend some time up here with Glen Withers.' I pointed to the house.

She was seventy plus but straight backed and clear eyed. Her skin was lined and wrinkled, more from smiling than frowning. She wore gardening gloves and carried a trowel. ‘You're not the one she married though.'

‘No, that was someone else. I was wondering if you'd seen her lately.'

Her faded blue eyes went shrewd. ‘Why?'

‘It's a long story but I'm looking for her. She's been unwell and having some trouble and …'

‘I knew it. I remember you now. You got my grandson Eddy's car started one time. Clint.'

‘Cliff. I'd forgotten that. You've seen her, haven't you?'

She nodded. ‘I always liked Glen and it was nice having a policewoman so close. Yes, I saw
her the other day and I knew things weren't right.'

‘Why's that?'

‘I was sorry to see it. They drove up in one of those big cars and they got out. I was inside but I could see them. She pointed the house out to this man she was with. Younger than her, but a bit old for surfing. There was a big surfboard on the car.'

‘But what was wrong?'

‘I'd say they were both drunk.'

That was the easy bit. After that it got harder, as I knew it would. I hung around Redhead beach but there was no sign of Glen's car. I asked at the beach kiosk with no result. I checked all the motels within striking distance of the beach and learned nothing. I stayed in the cheapest motel I could find in the area and it wasn't all that cheap. After three days of this I was running low on money with not a lot in my savings account and just about full credit cards. Still no luck with the DMT.