Peter Corris - The Marvellous Boy

Kay was sitting up with her knees drawn up protectively in front of her. She was looking at me but there was terror in her eyes and I knew that things wouldn’t be quite the same between us again. I grabbed a handful of tissues and crammed them into Rogers’ mouth, then I pulled off his jacket and wasn’t gentle. Blood was seeping through the sleeve of his elegantly striped shirt. I ripped the sleeve from cuff to shoulder: the bone had broken a little above the elbow joint and a white splinter was showing through the skin which was discoloured, Rogers turned his head to look at the injury, his eyes wide in shock. I removed the tissues from his mouth.

‘Hospital,’ he croaked.

‘Yeah.’ I picked up the gun and put it on the bedside table before pulling on my pants. Kay crawled across the bed towards me and I put my arm around her and stroked her hair. I lowered the sheet; a big purple bruise spread around the nipple of her breast. The whisky bottle wasn’t far away, and I reached for it and took a swig. Kay shook her head when I offered it to her and I ignored the plea in Rogers’ eyes.

‘Get dressed, love,’ I said. ‘We’re going visiting.’

‘I need medical attention,’ Rogers yelped.

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That’s a nasty wound, gangrene’s a distinct possibility. You might bump it too. I’d say you could lose that arm.’

‘Christ,’ he moaned.

I got into my clothes; some of them were tangled with Kay’s and we exchanged smiles as we sorted them out. I was dressed and just taking another slug of the whisky when the early morning call came through. We all jumped and Rogers’ face contorted with the pain of the movement. I answered the call and then bent down close to his ear.

‘Listen you bastard, you’re taking us to Keir Baudin and you’re going to be happy to do it. One wrong move from you and you can forget about your arm. Understand?’

He nodded.

‘We don’t have to break in now Cliff?’ Kay’s voice was shaky but she was pulling herself together fast. I considered persuading her not to come, or trying to, but decided against it. She’d had some of the pain and deserved some pleasure; I also thought it might be useful to have a member of the fourth estate along.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Change of plan. Are you up to it?’

‘Yes.’ She straightened her crumpled clothes and moved around towards me, taking care to keep well clear of Rogers. ‘I’m worried about him though. That arm looks bad.’

It did, and Rogers was showing strain and the effects of shock. He probably didn’t have very long before the injury would crumple him mentally and physically. I remembered his face when he hurt Kay though and I was all out of sympathy.

‘He’s a tough boy,’ I said. ‘He’ll last until we do what we have to do, then I’ll get him to a hospital. Come on, let’s go.’

I put Rogers’ gun, a business-like Harrison amp; Richardson Defender, in my jacket pocket and we went out as a threesome. A white Honda Civic was parked handily in the motel drive. Rogers stumbled and swore as we walked across the dark, quiet parking strip to the Falcon. I opened the back door and he scrambled in cradling his arm and muttering quietly. I asked Kay if she thought she could drive the Falcon.

‘Drive anything,’ she said.

I got in the back next to Rogers, pushing aside the clothes, tools and other junk I keep there. I got out the Defender, broke it and checked it. It was clean and fully loaded.

‘Nice gun,’ I said. Kay climbed into the driver’s seat and tugged at the seat adjustment lever.

‘Shit,’ she said.

‘Sorry love, it hasn’t been moved in ten years, you’ll just have to reach a bit.’ She shuffled her feet and jiggled the gearshift.

‘Not much,’ she said. ‘Give us the keys.’

After a few blocks Kay and the Falcon sorted out and she handled it well through the empty crescents and avenues. The dark blue of Rogers’ stubble showed against his white face as if it had been applied with burnt cork; he winced and swore with the movement of the car and his hair was wet and matted from sweat.

‘I could get an infection from this shit-heap,’ he said.

‘Could be,’ I said. ‘But for now just shut up and do what you’re told if you don’t want to drive that Honda with special fittings for the handicapped.’

Forrest was quiet and still under a bright moon; the road outside the Baudin house shone under the moon and street light like the centre court at White City. I told Kay to drive a little further to where some trees on the nature strip gave us some cover. She stopped and opened her door.

‘I think you’d better stay here.’

‘I’m coming,’ she said sharply. ‘You might need a witness.’ She put her hand on the front of her dress and pressed. ‘I’m involved, remember?’

I couldn’t argue with that. I held the door open for Rogers and we made our way slowly back to the house. Rogers took a step on the path that led up to the front door but I jabbed him with my finger.

‘Around the back,’ I whispered.

‘Why?’ Kay was close but keeping clear of the pocket that held the gun.

‘Who knows, this assassin here might have a mate. Did you see any signs of a dog when you were at the party?

She thought. ‘No.’

‘Me neither, but let’s have a poke around.’

The only car at home was a nice, conservative white Volvo.

That probably meant Keir was on his own; Baudin senior wouldn’t drive himself and I hadn’t seen any cars out on the street that might belong to any extra muscle. We went around the back to where the memory of the party lingered on. One of the barbecues still emitted a dull glow and a few paper plates floated on the surface of the pool like pale lily pads. There’d been a clean-up; bottles and glasses had been collected and there was no food lying about but it looked as if the work had been interrupted.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s go in the front door.’

‘My arm feels stiff,’ Rogers moaned.

‘Good. Behave yourself and you’ll be in hospital before dawn.’

‘I’m cold,’ he said.

We got back to the nice, moonlit path and walked up it to the flagstoned porch in front of the house. I took out the H amp;R and thumbed the catch back and forward a few times.

‘Put that bloody thing away Cliff, please,’ Kay said.

‘It’s just for show.’

I rang the bell twice and we waited until a light came on in the house. There were footsteps inside near the door and Keir’s voice came through blearily.

‘Who is it?’

I tapped Rogers’ good elbow with the gun.

‘Raymond Rogers.’

The door opened before the porch light came on which is always a mistake. I had my foot in the door while Keir was still focusing on Rogers’ face.

‘What…’ he said.

‘It’s no time for the snappy dialogue Baudin,’ I said. ‘Your friend here didn’t go about things in the right way.’ I pushed him back into the house and shepherded Rogers and Kay through the door. Keir was wearing a paisley dressing gown over his pyjamas; without the built-up shoes he was gnome-like. I switched out the porch light which left us with the soft, expensive lighting in the hall. Rogers leaned against the wall and a trickle of blood ran down it towards the carpet. Kay stood with her back against the door. In the sailor-suit dress and with her face pale and eyes dark she looked like a tragic mime. The scene terrified Keir Baudin.

‘Rogers,’ he stammered, ‘why are you…’

I made a backing motion with the gun and he backed. ‘Anyone here?’

‘My father.’

‘Where?’

He shuffled along the carpet and pointed to a door near the end of the hallway. We trooped down and I opened the door quietly. There was a night light on and its beam was falling directly on the old man’s lobster pink skull. He was lying on his back and snoring softly; his cream clothes were folded neatly over a chair and his teeth were in a glass.