Peter Temple: Black Tide

We waited.

Down below, I saw Cam leaning against the fence, a study in indifference, smoking a cigarette, reading the race book.

There’ll be other times, love. Probably not.

The speakers crackled. The caller had been silent for a moment, now he said, ‘Protest dismissed. Result stands. Vision Splendid is the winner of the fourth.’

The McCurdies went mad again. There won’t have to be other times, love.

‘Jesus,’ said Lyall, ‘I don’t know if I could stand this kind of tension regularly. How much have I won?’

I said, ‘Four grand and your money back.’

‘Wow. I’ll give you half.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I had a bit on myself.’

On our way out, Cam came up behind me. ‘Some pictures to show you,’ he said. ‘Usual spot.’

I left Lyall at the Stud and found Harry’s BMW, got into the back. Cam passed three large colour prints over his shoulder.

The first was of a house, a huge new timber house. It was in a lake. You could see the gouges made by the house as it slid down the hillside, coming to rest tilted sideways, half underwater.

The second picture showed a collapsed jetty and in the water in front of it, the prow of a sunken motor cruiser. Beside the cruiser, the tops of three vehicles could be seen, two four-wheel-drives and a Mercedes Benz, its bonnet star proudly visible.

The third photograph was taken inside the remains of a huge conservatory housing a swimming pool. The structure appeared to have been attacked with blowtorches. In the pool, some floating, some on the bottom, you could see television sets, video cassette recorders, stereo consoles and amplifiers, two big microwaves, computer monitors and towers and many other unidentifiable objects.

Brendan O’Grady had obviously enjoyed the work, done a thorough job. I handed the photographs back.

‘Jeff Dingell and his boys went back to Queensland,’ Cam said. ‘Hired two cars from Budget and drove off. I call that impulsive.’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry said, ‘it’s the weather. Handle it or you can’t. Not everyone’s suited to this bracin climate we’ve got here.’

Cam was getting out his laptop to work out the winnings.

‘Nice day’s racin, Jack,’ said Harry. ‘Nice day’s honest racin. Hard but fair. That’s all we ask, isn’t it?’

I said, ‘I’m all for honest. And fair.’

Cam looked around. ‘Table for six tonight. That right?’

‘If there’s four of you, that’s right,’ I said, opening the door.

‘Put on that Willie Nelson,’ said Harry. ‘Any one.’

Outside Des’s house in Northcote, I said to Lyall, ‘Won’t be a minute.’

Des came to the front door in overalls. ‘Jack, my boy,’ he said. ‘Doin a bit of work out the back.’

‘Flying visit,’ I said. ‘Got all the money back. Sixty-five thousand. No worries about the house now.’

He tugged at a huge earlobe, shook his head, smiling.

‘Well, I bloody never,’ he said. ‘I bloody never. Knew you could do it, though. In the bones, I knew it. Gary?’

‘Still missing,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘What’s the bill then? What’s the fee?’

I furrowed my brow, did the sums in my head. ‘Comes to a hundred bucks, Des.’

‘Tell you what, Jack,’ he said, patting my arm. ‘Done such a good job, I’m makin that a hundred and fifty.’

‘Thanks. I’ll come around, take you to the bank to make the deposit.’

He followed me to the car and I introduced Lyall. They shook hands. ‘You kin rely on this fella,’ Des said to her. ‘More I look at him, more he puts me in mind of Bill too.’

‘Who’s Bill?’ Lyall asked as we drove away.

‘Just someone with whom I am often compared,’ I said. ‘Unfavourably, for the most part.’

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, put a hand on my thigh. ‘Can’t be the part I’m most familiar with.’