Peter Corris: Deal Me Out

‘Not necessarily.’

‘The car could stay missing?’

‘Maybe.’

‘That’d certainly help.’ He finished his drink and pushed back his chair. Glad finished her drink, and Erica butted her cigarette. Geoff looked at me, and I stood up. Mai surveyed the bar carefully to see if anyone was interested in us. No-one was. He stood up and squared his shoulders, looking like Henry Majors again.

‘Where’s your car?’

‘In the car park.’

‘Good.’

He marched out; Glad tried to hang onto his arm but he shook her off. Geoff brought up the rear. Erica didn’t try to hang onto my arm. Mai looked nervously out at the al fresco drinkers, and hurried down the steps to the car park. We followed him to a white Holden which he unlocked. He handed the keys to Geoff.

‘Where are we going?’ I said.

‘Woolloomooloo.’

As Glad was in an arm-holding mood I gave her mine; Erica got the idea and took hold of her on the other side.

‘We’ll take Glad along with us,’ I said. ‘What’s the address?’

He gave me the street and number and I told Geoff to wait until I picked him up, to take it easy and give plenty of clear signals. Then the three of us trooped off to the Falcon where Glad waited for me to open the door like a gentleman. Erica and Glad sat in the back and lit fresh cigarettes. I started the motor which coughed a bit; I coughed a bit too, wound down my window and followed the Holden out of the car park.

‘I’m shooting through,’ Mai said.

We were sitting in the front room of his little studio apartment. Glad had the flat upstairs, and she’d pecked Mai on the cheek before going up. I gathered their arrangement was a convenient one for both of them, company when needed and low on demands.

Mai had made coffee in his tiny kitchen and brought it through nervously. He was older than I’d first thought, close to fifty, and, away from the pub noise and good cheer, he seemed oddly diminished, shrunken. This was despite his expensive clothes-hand-stitched shirt, European shoes-and cared-for hands. Watching him, I realised that acting a part had become an ingrained habit with him. The trouble was he switched roles a bit too often. Judgement: Mai had been a con man for a very long time, probably too long.

Any artist who worked in this ‘studio’ would’ve had to paint miniatures. The daybed, a couple of bean bags and a low coffee table just about covered the floor space; Geoff must have slept in the bath. He bludged two cigarettes from Erica and took the portable TV off to the kitchen. I heard the sound of a fridge door, a beer can popped and the electronic babble began at low volume. Geoff hadn’t contributed much to the evening, but no-one was paying him to talk.

‘Before you shoot through,’ I said, ‘talk. My guess is you’re a good talker.’

Erica sneered at the soft soap and puffed impatiently on her cigarette. Mai moved a pottery ashtray towards her and she flicked ash at it and missed.

‘Can’t tell you much,’ Mai said.

‘Tell us where Bill is,’ Erica snapped. ‘That’ll be enough.’

‘I don’t know.’

“Won’t do, mate,’ I said. ‘You must have had to deliver the cars somewhere. There must have been meetings, arrangements. That’s what we want to hear about.’

‘Bugger-all. S’cuse me, Miss.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Instructions came by phone-where to go to pick up this and that. It’s more than my life’s worth to tell you where.’

‘Gaol if you don’t.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. It’d take time and there’s some good legal men around. I’d have a chance that way. They might give me a break or the bloody car might turn up. If I talk I’m dead.’

‘You have been thinking. Let’s try to keep it general. What about dropping off the car?’

‘Car park. Leave the keys, papers, all the phoney stuff. Walk away. The fee came in the mail.’

‘How much?’

‘Grand a unit.’

‘How many’ve you done?’

‘That’d be telling. Look, I can’t help you. If I could put you on to Mountain I would. Then they could break his legs instead of mine.’

‘Someone threatened you?’ Erica flashed the question at him. ‘Who?’

‘Blower again. He put the wind up me-very nasty-sounding joker. Look, I’ll play square with you; I’ll tell you the only thing I know, just like I told him.’

‘I’m confused,’ Erica said. ‘You told who?’

‘The bloke on the phone.’

‘Told him what?’ I said.

‘Mountain mentioned Blackheath.’

‘Blackheath-in the mountains?’ Erica grabbed at the scrap of information like the last cigarette in a pack.

‘That’s it. I have to explain. I hardly knew him. A few drinks and a chat. Well…’ He rubbed his thin, white hand across the lower part of his face. Then he used it to pick up his coffee cup. From the look of the hand that was about as much hard work as it was accustomed to. “He was looking to make some money, so he told me. I’d done a few of these jobs, went all right, and they told me I could do a bit of recruiting, extra money, if I was careful. Careful! I must have been over-confident. Anyway, over a drink, he mentioned that he liked to drive up to Blackheath sometimes. That’s all. I don’t know why I remember it, even.’

‘Any ideas on why he didn’t deliver the car?’

‘No. He came through all right the first time.’

‘He did it before?’

‘Sure. Good job. That’s probably why they gave him the Audi. Shit, doesn’t he know what those things are worth?’

Just talking about it seemed to be increasing the strain on Mai. For one thing, he hadn’t apologised to Erica for saying ‘shit’. She was hopeless at being inscrutable. Her eyes and the rapid movement of her smoking hand told me that Blackheath meant something to her, and that she was already calculating about me. I decided to show keenness by keeping up the pressure on Mai.

‘You told the man who called you about Blackheath?’

He nodded. ‘You bet I did. I was happy to have something to give him. What do I owe Mountain?’

I looked at him and didn’t say anything.

‘It’s all right for you,’ he said quickly. ‘I saw your bloody gun. I’m not a tough guy. I was bloody glad to have something to say to him apart from “Please don’t kill me.’” He finished off his coffee. ‘I’ve had Geoff around ever since.’

‘How long’s that?’

‘A week. What’s your name by the way?’

‘You don’t need to know.’ I stood up and rubbed the edge of my hand where hitting Geoff’s biceps had hurt it. Erica stood up too.

‘Where are you going?’ There was a note of something like panic in Mai’s voice.

‘What’s it to you? Come on.’ I jerked my head at the door and Erica moved slowly. I started to like her more at that moment; she seemed to want to give some comfort to the little man.

‘Don’t you want to know what Mountain told me about himself…’

‘You already told us,’ I said. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry, Mai. You’ve got Geoff.’

Mai groaned but I had a feeling he could groan on cue. I opened the door and let Erica go past me.

‘Say goodbye to Geoff from me and tell him to work on his balance. It’s all in the balance.’ I shut the door and we went down the stairs. I held Erica back for as long as it took for a quick glance along the street. Woolloomooloo is never still, never silent, but there was nothing suspicious going on within sight. Erica tottered ahead of me on her high heels and I took her arm to steer her around a pile of rubbish spilling out from a blocked culvert.

‘Careful,’ she said. ‘That’s where he grabbed me.’

‘Sorry.’ Her arm was thin but had some nice yielding flesh on it. It was a fine arm to hold. I opened the car and let go the arm reluctantly. I put the key in the ignition and sat back.