The Elephant Tree (19 page)

There had been further assaults and disappearances around the drug scene, which in itself was no big surprise, but a lot of the victims were now dealers rather than customers. It had begun to raise eyebrows down at the station and Fallon knew he was under pressure to come up with something.

He didn’t know if this was going to tie directly to the last assault at the club, but prayed for something to point towards McBlane. The
victim
this time was a low level thug called Glen Thomas, who was known for being available for any act of cruelty or violence providing the price was right. It was entirely possible the shooting was by someone he’d crossed in the past, retaliating. Open and shut case Bryson was still droning in his ear, but Fallon wasn’t comfortable with writing it off so soon.

The area around the crime scene had been taped off by the police who’d arrived first, and were now trying to disperse a crowd of onlookers.

‘Any of this lot see it happen?’ Fallon asked one of the policemen on crowd control as he ducked under the yellow tape.

‘No, we’ve asked everyone and other than that doorman no-one saw a thing,’ he said and slung his thumb in the direction of a stocky tuxedo clad bouncer talking to a patrolman by the club’s entranceway.

Fallon looked over the blood splashes in the alleyway, made a few notes and walked to the ambulance that was parked up a little further down the block.

Inside the paramedics had mostly patched up the prostate figure of Glen Thomas on the gurney. He was complaining about being in pain, and the paramedic was explaining, probably not for the first time judging by the impatience in his voice, that they could administer no more pain medication to him until he was admitted at the hospital.

‘Evening, Glen,’ Fallon said, stepping up into the ambulance.

‘Detective Fallon, I’m honoured,’ he replied, in a sarcastic grimace.

Fallon indicated to the paramedics to leave and they closed the rear doors of the ambulance after them. Thomas’s surly expression took a turn towards concerned.

‘Right what happened? And spare me the shit cause you know I’ll find out eventually, and if you’ve lied – well I think we both know it’s only a matter of time till our paths cross again, and I’ll be anything but friendly next time.’

‘Just like I told the cop before. I was coming out of the club, this guy at the corner shot me then ran off down the alley.’

‘Just like that. Nothing happened between you, was he in the club earlier? Do you know him? Have you fucked him over in the past?’

‘No he wasn’t inside, I don’t think. I don’t know him but I’ve seen him around, was that little guy with the wrinkled up face and the greasy hair, Twinkle, people call him.’

‘And that’s all you have, you came out, he shot you and ran off?’

‘Yeah, one of the bouncers grabbed at him as well.’

Fallon cast an appraising look at Thomas for a moment before he spoke again. ‘If you’re fucking with me and there’s people higher up involved here then you’d better tell me now.’

Thomas looked away sullenly and said nothing. Fallon reached towards him and pressed the tip of his index finger hard against the freshly bandaged area on Thomas’s leg.

‘Ahh Jesus fucking Christ, get off me you fucking psycho. I don’t know anything else, fuck.’

‘Everything alright in there?’ the paramedic asked from outside, and knocked on the rear door.

Fallon opened it and got back down out of the ambulance. He looked past the waiting paramedic and pretended not to see the concerned look on his face. The officer had finished talking with the doorman so he made his way over.

‘Right and you are?’ Fallon said, looking directly at the burly doorman with the glittering earlobe.

‘Billy Shugg. I just gave my account of what happened to that guy there.’

‘Your account? OK, well I don’t want your
account
of anything, just tell me what happened.’

‘The guy who was shot, well he was leaving the club and the other guy stood over there and shot him. I made a grab for him but he shook me off and ran down the alley. He dropped his wallet though, that’s how you guys know who he is.’

Fallon glanced toward the alley then back at Billy Shugg who looked decidedly pleased with himself. ‘So he came from this way, or this way?’ he asked, pointing first up the street and then down it.

‘I don’t know, that way maybe.’ The bouncer pointed.

‘OK well, he’ll be on camera then so we can verify exactly what you’ve said.’ Fallon nodded towards the solitary surveillance camera, around 100 yards up the road perched like a bird of prey on a third storey ledge.

‘I don’t know, maybe he didn’t come from that way.’

‘If you were quick enough and fearless enough to leap down from here and catch hold of the guy in the act, then you must have been watching him beforehand, thought he looked suspicious maybe; no doubt your boss will be very pleased with your work.’

The doorman shuffled his feet. ‘Yeah, I guess. I just got lucky really though, maybe the guy was already in the alley. I just grabbed at him, he dropped his wallet then ran off.’

‘Yeah that seems to be the way everyone’s telling it. Word for word, even.’ He flipped closed the notebook he’d been writing in and went to see if his partner had had any more luck gathering information.

Bryson was stood chatting with the patrolmen who had now mostly succeeded in convincing the initial crowd to disperse. He wasn’t holding his notepad and pen so Fallon figured whatever questions he’d had, had already been answered.

‘You ready to go?’ Fallon asked, when there was a break in the conversation.

‘Yeah.’

They walked briskly back to the car to get out of the cold night air.

‘You get what you wanted?’ Bryson asked with a smirk.

‘Not sure what you mean by what I wanted, but I got enough to know this isn’t as simple as you’d like it to be.’

‘Shit, so we need to keep poking into this? One scumbag shoots another scumbag, big deal. Someone will stumble over this Twinkle guy at some point and that’ll be it. Just move on.’

Fallon had been partnered with Bryson for the last couple of years. Initially they’d gotten on fine, but any commitment and hunger for the work which Bryson used to have seemed to have taken a big dip during the last six months.

‘I’m gonna look into this Twinkle guy anyway, it’s the only lead we have so far. See if anyone who knows him can shed some light on what he was into.’

* * *

The streets had been understandably deserted and when they pulled onto the highway they found it no different. The snow had completely gone in the city, and even though the day was grey, the rain had given the world a clean fresh look, like an old car that’s just been polished.

Angela unfolded a scribbled map and list of directions she’d been given by her dad and said she should be able to follow the route and get them there. After about an hour Angela told Scott to turn off at the next junction, then follow a long winding road that would lead them up to the mountains. They drove in silence for a while, the quiet beauty of the countryside drifting past them on either side of the car. Boris had settled down to sleep in the back. A suggestion of mist lurked in the distance without ever seeming to draw closer. Angela slept. Faces of curious sheep followed the progress of the car as if hypnotised. Scott remembered his uncle Bob being able to replicate the exact baaing sound of a sheep and even lure them into what appeared to be a conversation; he smiled at the memory of simpler times.

An old abandoned tractor stood rusting on a verge between two fields, an object that had served its purpose and now been discarded and forgotten about. He thought of the tattered brown suitcase; and of the contents within it.

Farmed land grew sparser and uncultivated brush and wilderness now made up most of the landscape. It would have made a nice painting, Scott thought, the kind you’d likely see on the wall in an old pub, but it would look like the colour had been sun bleached over the years leaving only greys and faint pastel shades remaining. Occasional clusters of buildings, farmsteads or possibly small villages became visible once in a while, signposts declaring their unfamiliar names would pass by the car.

Once the road had begun to climb more consistently, Scott gently shook Angela to wake her.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

‘Afternoon. You want to check the route to see if I’ve missed a turning?’

Angela unfurled the paper again and traced down it with the tip of her finger.

‘Have we passed a signpost for Black Acre Woods yet?’

‘Nope.’

‘It shouldn’t be long now then.’

Patches of snow became more common on the higher ground. At first covering the tops of hills around them like white chocolate sauce poured generously over a dessert, and now gathered in small drifts by the sides of the road.

‘So when was the last time you saw this guy?’

‘Not for years now, I used to see him all the time when he and dad were working together.’

‘He’s fine with us turning up now though?’

‘He will be, yeah, I’ve brought a note from dad.’

About twenty minutes later Angela, who’d been studying the route plan more intently, told Scott to slow down shortly after seeing the sign for Black Acre Woods.

‘There’s a turning somewhere close that’s hard to spot – there,’ she said, indicating a barely visible dirt track that angled through a wall of pine trees. For the first ten feet or so the lower branches had been stripped away from the trunks of the trees on each side of the track and some kind of trellis fashioned between them up above. Ivy grew up both trunks and across the trellis forming a living archway. ‘Yeah this is it.’

Scott drove under the arch and took the car slowly up the track, not wanting to risk any serious damage that could easily be sustained from the deep potholes or sharp rocks that emerged from the dirt like corpse fingernails. Half a mile or so along what Angela had described as the driveway, an old wooden cabin came into view and as they drove nearer they saw the main house a little further on, behind a wall of thick eucalyptus bushes.

Scott parked up and they both got out; a squeal of wood from behind them announced that the door to the main house had been opened.

‘Jeff,’ Angela said turning, and smiled at the man peering suspiciously at them through a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses. He had long brown hair that cascaded wildly down either side of his face and a full beard that was peppered with grey. He wore a sweater that was so thick it looked as if it may have been sheared from a sheep, dipped in green dye and then wrapped around him. Scott noticed that he still wore a gold wedding band.

‘Angela?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Yeah you old hippy, come and give me a hug.’

He tottered down the four wooden steps from the house and made his way towards her, smiling.

‘I didn’t know you were coming. Your dad never said the last time I spoke to him.’

‘No it was kind of spur of the moment,’ Angela said as they embraced.’ I’ve brought a letter from him though, and some supplies.’

‘Bring them in then,’ he said releasing her, and nodded in the direction of the house as he began to study the note Putty had written.

‘This is Scott,’ she said, as she let the dog out of the car and began to take out boxes of food.

Jeff fixed Scott with an undetermined look and nodded, then motioned for him to follow them inside.

Scott picked up one of the boxes of groceries and followed Angela, Jeff and Boris into the house.

A faint musty smell like Autumn when initially entering was replaced by the warm charcoal scent of a large smouldering open fire. Bare stone walls and natural exposed wood beam ceilings, coupled with a lack of any discernable modern features or decoration gave the house a timeless quality that might be too sparse for some tastes, but Scott found endearing. A chandelier hung from the ceiling that had been fashioned from deer antlers with covering around the bulbs that looked to have been made from deer skin. The fireplace was lined with horse brasses and an old fashioned revolver hung centrally above it.

‘Did you make that?’ Scott asked, pointing to the chandelier.

‘Yes,’ Jeff said, without looking up at where Scott was pointing.

‘Do you hunt?’

‘No,’ he said; his eyes slid over Scott and stayed there for a moment, ‘the materials came from deer I found who’d been winged by hunters and fled up here to die.

Scott nodded, but said nothing further.

Jeff finished reading the note. Scott again noticed Jeff peering in his direction from between the top of the paper and his thick bushy brows.

Later that night, they sat around the kitchen table and ate a vegetable casserole that Jeff had prepared, whilst working their way through three bottles of wine. Angela did most of the talking and although Jeff seemed interested in her conversations, he offered up little back in the way of dinner table anecdotes. Most of the input he made came in the form of questions, and most of those were directed at Scott. He had an intrusive gaze and quietly confident manner that seemed to strip away the layers of protective deception Scott would usually adopt around strangers. Scott knew Jeff had at least once in his life been involved with drugs during the days he’d worked with Putty, so he was open about his own dealing and even elicited the odd smile from Jeff with some of his tales. Angela seemed happy that the initial introductions had gone well and before they realised it was already past midnight and Jeff showed them down to the guest cabin.

‘It’s not been used since I took the place on,’ he said, turning the handle and giving the door a shove with his shoulder to force it through the swollen wooden frame.

The inside smelled of cold wet wood and stale air. Jeff started a fire in the grate which released tendrils of warmth into the room, making it feel a little more homely.

‘You can leave the windows open tomorrow to get some fresh air back in here, but I’d keep them closed for now, we’ll most likely have frost again tonight.

The first week went better than Scott had expected after his initial impression of Jeff. Their host was hospitable if not overly talkative. He would often vanish for a few hours, and sometimes for most of the day, without offering up any explanation as to where he’d been, but they would discover lists of chores left for them to do in his absence. There was an old red Toyota 4x4 pickup parked out behind the house that would sometimes be gone at the same time Jeff was, but mostly remained in the same spot with Jeff nowhere to be found.