Peter Corris - The Big Score

‘You’d be Cliff Hardy.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Zack Fowler, Jerry’s brother.’

We shook hands. ‘I guessed that,’ I said. ‘You’re a lot like him.’

‘In some ways, not all. I’d like you to ride along with me, if you don’t mind. There’re things I want to discuss with you.’

You don’t say much in a funeral car. Something about the fittings, the driver, the pace keep you quiet and leave you with your own thoughts. The car was followed by another carrying the other mourners. The burial was conducted smoothly and efficiently. When it was done Zack Fowler went to the Glebe people and handed them some money. Then he came back to me.

‘I thanked them for coming and asked them to hold a bit of a wake for Jerry at his watering hole.’

‘I’m sure they’ll do that,’ I said. ‘I’d be in it. Shouldn’t you be there?’

‘No. Hold on.’

He spoke to the two drivers and the cars pulled away. It was then that I noticed the quality of his clothes-the suit, the shirt, the shoes. He’d obviously paid for the whole thing and the burial plot. This man had money.

‘We can get a taxi back. I’m hoping you’ve got some time.’

I nodded and we began to walk between the rows of graves and the ornate tombs as the early afternoon wind took on an edge.

‘A wake for Jerry’d be okay,’ Fowler said. ‘I always expected I’d go to his rather than him coming to mine. But I’ve got more serious business. I want to hire you to find out who killed my brother.’

Fowler told me that Jerry had been the black sheep from the start, always in trouble for thieving and fighting. The parents were religious-hence the names Zachariah and Jeremiah-but it didn’t take with Jerry.

‘I was a couple of years younger,’ Fowler said. ‘I thought it was all bullshit, the religion, but I played along to keep the peace. Jerry was causing them so much trouble they needed something to make them feel worthwhile.’

‘How did you get along with him?’

Fowler shrugged. ‘Okay, what I saw of him. He was in and out of reform schools from his early teens and then he graduated to gaol. As I say, I toed the line, did okay at school, Fort Street, got a commerce degree, started a business that did well. Mum and Dad didn’t live to be very old but I helped make them comfortable for the last few years. Mum always said Jerry broke her heart, but there’s nothing to that. They were cowed, frightened people who clung to their religious delusions and then just sort of faded away.’

Peter Corris

CH32 – The Big Score

We walked back towards the gate. I had a pea jacket over a sweater and the cold didn’t penetrate too much. Fowler just had his business shirt and suit coat but he didn’t seem bothered. Reminiscing had removed him physically from the scene.

‘It’s a funny thing,’ he said, ‘how unforgiving Christians can be. They never forgave Jerry, wouldn’t have spoken to him more than half a dozen times since he became an adult.’

‘I’ve seen that,’ I said, ‘churchgoers shunning their unmarried pregnant daughters.’

‘Yeah. Anyway, I stayed in touch with Jerry as best I could, but my business took me overseas a lot and when he was out of gaol he was always in some rooming house or other-hard to track down. I gave him a helping hand when I could but

‘He probably shouted me a drink sometime or other with what you gave him.’

That’s when Fowler apparently started to feel the cold. He hailed a taxi. ‘Let’s go somewhere and have a drink. Jerry told me about you more than once and he spoke about you recently. That’s why I want to talk to you.’

The taxi took us to Fowler’s hotel-the Novotel at Darling Harbour. We installed ourselves in a warm comfortable bar and Fowler bought double scotches, putting them on his room account.

‘Jeremiah Fowler,’ he said as he raised his glass.

We drank the toast. Fowler unbuttoned his suit coat and leaned back in his chair. As a man in late middle-age, he was comfortably padded but not fat. Probably worked out a little when he had the time. He took another pull on his drink and got ready to talk.

‘About six weeks ago, when I was just back from the States, I found out where Jerry was living and went to see him. In Glebe, of course. That’s where the family had been for a couple of generations.’

The scotch was smooth-bound to help talking and listening.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m a comparative newcomer. Jerry filled in the background for me.’

Fowler nodded. ‘He would. It was his only interest apart from a quick easy dollar. Well, I went to see him and found him pretty close to the edge financially, and health-wise. I told him about this caravan park that I’ve got an interest in. Well, I own it really, but I didn’t tell Jerry that, and I said he could have one of the mobile homes to live in rent-free. He seemed interested and the next thing I know he rings me and asks how much to buy the unit. I told him forty-five thousand just to name a figure and he said he thought he could raise it. Next thing I know I get the news that he’s dead.’

‘Did you tell any of this to the police?’

‘No, I knew the detective I talked to wasn’t interested. The only way Jerry could have got hold of that sort of money was through something criminal. He must have stepped on somebody’s toes and got himself killed. I want to know who killed him and I want to see them in gaol. Jerry spoke very well of you, said you’d helped him out a few times. One of the Glebe people pointed you out to me at the service and here we are.’

‘Where are we exactly, Mr Fowler?’

‘I’m trying to enlist you to find out who killed Jerry and I’m happy to pay your going rate. More if necessary.’

‘What makes you think I’d be able to do that?’

Fowler shrugged. ‘I feel that I let him down. I have to do something and this is all I can think of

‘You sent him off nicely. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No. I haven’t told you anything about my business, have I?’

‘I’d have got around to asking you.’

‘I run a freight company that operates here and in Europe and the United States. Not huge, but big enough and profitable. When I got started with a few trucks I ran into trouble with a competitor who wouldn’t play by the rules. Jerry rounded up a few blokes he’d met inside and it got sorted out. But Jerry was up on charges again at the time and I didn’t do enough for him: I was battling, short of time and money. He went away for a long, hard stretch and I prospered. As far as I could tell he didn’t hold it against me, but I felt I’d let him down. That’s why I made the caravan park offer. I didn’t want to look patronising or superior… But Jerry threw me with his claim to have the price. Does any of this make sense, Hardy?’

Of course it did, almost too much sense, and I felt obliged to tell Fowler what had happened between Jerry and me. It didn’t reflect well on Jerry-given the price Zack had named for the mobile home, Jerry obviously was going for the whole bundle and planning to cut me out-or on me for not coming down harder, telling him to leave it alone. Over another couple of drinks I laid it all out.

Fowler listened intently, forgetting his drink. When I finished he shook his head.

‘That’s Jerry all right. Too proud to accept charity from me but ready enough to diddle you out of your share of the reward. He was my brother and I was fond of him, but he couldn’t lie straight in bed.’

‘Perhaps I’ve wronged him. Maybe when I was lukewarm about his proposition he decided to just go it alone.’

‘I’d like to think so, but I doubt it.’ He took a small notebook from his coat pocket. ‘When did he come to you?’