Chapter 7

I felt good after the drinks and the talk with George, not drunk, but on my way. It had gotten dark outside, and I walked the four or so blocks back to my hotel room, where I made myself at home on the bed, poured some wine into a plastic teacup, and booted up my laptop to see what I could learn about ice in the Shoalhaven. I came across a number of articles about what the local minister dubbed ‘the ice scourge’. Over the past five years, the New South Wales police had cracked down on expansive drug networks, and seemed hellbent at taking methamphetamine off the street, with at least forty people arrested across south west Sydney, Berry, and Nowra, thanks to Strike Force Croci.

The problem became so widespread across Victoria and rural New South Wales that the minister, Susan Pritchard, hung her hopes on the Coalition’s National Ice Taskforce, and held a community forum at the civic centre in Ulladulla to discuss the impact of ice in the area, and affected families reacted overwhelmingly. A website showed before and after photos of convicted ice users in the United States. A woman in her late thirties appeared striking in her ‘before’ photo with long, shiny hair, a healthy pallor, unblemished skin, and clear beautiful eyes. Her after photo was shocking—wiry, dull hair hung limp around a pockmarked and blistered face. The most obvious change was her teeth, now brown and decayed thanks to something called ‘meth mouth’, the sure sign of a chronic ice user. I looked it up on Google, and while there are a number of theories as to the cause of ‘meth mouth’, one of them said methamphetamine causes blood vessels to narrow and decrease saliva flow. Either way, it looked horrible.

The room suddenly felt empty, and I wanted something more substantial in my stomach than potato chips. I grabbed my phone and idly checked Zoosk, an online dating app a few steps up from Tinder, which I used to stay in touch with two women. One, an event manager named Cassie, lived in Dubbo, and the other, a part-time security guard named Annette, based in Huskisson. I’d picked up more of a vibe from Annette since we’d gotten in touch with each other eight weeks previously. Since then, we’d flirted off and on. Annette’s photos were always taken in too low or too bright light, but from what I could see, they showed a finely sculpted face framed with long auburn hair, a strong jaw, and full lips. She knew how to highlight her facial attributes with expertly applied make-up.

With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I sent her a kiss, told her I was in the neighbourhood, and waited.

In the meantime, I followed up on one of the names George gave me, Li Nguyen. I searched local, district, and court of appeal matters, and managed to find a transcript of an armed robbery charge against a Li Van Nguyen from Nowra. They’d sentenced him to Silverwater Correctional Facility for a term of five years, so I drew a line through that particular line of enquiry and ruled him out as a suspect.

‘about time you came to my neck of the woods what u up to?’

I replied. ‘Having a drink with my three friends. Me, myself, and I.’

‘they all sound like very handsome men’

I laughed and wrote, ‘Do you think we can finally meet up? Are the stars aligned?’

‘sounds nice where?’

‘How about the Tavern in Sussex in an hour? Shall we call it a date?’

‘ok or i could rip your clothes off and rape you (smiley emoji)

I couldn’t believe my luck, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the impending date, my first since the divorce from Dee, that made me feel so lightheaded. I put on a clean dress shirt, a pair of dark chinos, and a couple licks of aftershave under the jaw line. then I locked up and walked four blocks east to the Sussex Inlet Tavern.

Inside, the place was mostly empty, with a middle-aged couple mingling around the bar. Apart from the electronic bells and whistles from the poker machines, the place was quiet. I made my way to a table off-centre and towards the back, so I could keep my eye on the entrance. That way, I could read Annette’s body language before she spotted me.

She appeared on time and scanned the room with a look of nervous anticipation. She wore a blue dress, a linen jacket, and medium-heeled shoes.

She pushed some hair behind an ear and half strode, half sauntered over. The sway in her hips made her dress move in a very eye-catching fashion.

We said our hellos and briefly hugged. Her perfume hit me and I almost lost balance.

‘What’ll you have?’ I said. ‘It’s on me. Something strong? Bourbon? Scotch?’

I placed my order at the bar, the barmaid got on with the job, and I returned with the drinks.

I smiled and downed my neat scotch in one hit, also. ‘It’s really nice to meet you in the flesh.’

She smiled, close-mouthed, shy. ‘You too.’ She looked at the top of my head. ‘You’re taller than I thought.’

‘Your pictures don’t do you justice. Your skin’s gorgeous in real life. You should show it off more.’

Her pale complexion didn’t hide the slight blush, like a drop of red paint across milk.

‘I was thinking of grabbing a bottle of wine to share,’ I said. ‘Maybe a Cab Sav or a nice Merlot. You up for it?’

Annette watched another barmaid as she poured two beers, and I took the opportunity to study her face. She’d applied extra make up to mask the laugh lines around her eyes, although she didn’t have to. I appreciated seeing her at all angles rather than straight on. Her mouth seemed poised for cynicism or a witty remark, and I felt overcome by a sudden desire to kiss it.

Soon our bottle appeared with two stemmed glasses. I filled both to the brim and handed one of them to Annette.

The wine went down easy, almost too easy. I took a breath and said, ‘I have to be up front about something.’

‘Nothing dramatic,’ I said. ‘I just want to be on even terms, put everything out in the open. I need to be up front with you about my daughter. Her name’s Alice and she’s eleven years old, and she’s a big dag like her father, and she is without doubt one of the reasons why I do what I do.’

Annette blinked a few times and took another sip of her drink. ‘Okay, thanks for being honest.’

She laughed and it was loud. She was all feminine sexuality, too much for this place, and I loved it.

‘No!’ she said. ‘Of course not! It’s not that. It’s just....’ She took another sip. ‘It’s just, look at you. I’m having trouble picturing you changing nappies and singing lullabies.’

‘I have a healthy repertoire of lullabies guaranteed to knock out any annoying brat.’

I said, ‘I don’t mention Alice online because of the type of work I’m in. I rub shoulders with all sorts of crazies, and I don’t want to put her in the firing line.’

She put a hand on my arm and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Thank you for telling me. And the mum?’

Annette looked down at the bar for a moment. She drained her wine, and I dutifully topped up her glass. She pushed her hair back behind her ears and cleared her throat.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘seeing as though we’re coming clean, I have to tell you something.’

I nodded and took a good pull on my wine. ‘It’s okay. I’m not threatened by that.’

‘At least your face didn’t change. Mention kids to most guys and they run for the hills.’

I waved it off. ‘I think we’re thinking the same thing. If this becomes something a bit more than a drink, we have to think about six lives and not just two.’

I chose the sirloin with pepper gravy and chips, and Annette ordered feta pasta with salad. The food came and, as we ate, Annette told me about her boys, Mike, Ollie, and Nathan. They were chalk and cheese to each other, and while she confessed to loving them to a fault, they drove her up the wall. She wanted to run away to a hotel for a month, just so she could hear her own thoughts again, and wanted to know if that made her a bad mother.

I sipped some wine. ‘When I was fifteen, I joined the Australian Communist Party.’

‘I thought it’d be interesting. I was only there a month when my mum found out. She told me to go back and tell them I’d made a mistake. That was the end of my potentially illustrious political career.’

‘I’m not. And I didn’t partake in the two cultural pastimes, burning rubber and getting stoned.’

She scoffed. ‘I grew up in Liverpool. Getting stoned is considered a full-time job.’

The other couple had left, and the lonely chirruping of a poker machine emanated from the other room.

Annette turned and stared at a woman in her seventies playing a one-cent machine.

I sensed she felt the same sense of melancholy for her as I did. ‘I suppose we couldn’t expect too much on a Monday night at this time of the year.’

She took a long drink of wine, turned her head, and raised an eyebrow. ‘You spy on cheating husbands?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. What about you? You say you’re in security detail?’

‘I’m casual at the moment, hoping to find something full time. The hours suit me. My sister looks after the boys when I’m on night shift, and I’m there to pick them up from school in the afternoon.’

‘I bulked up when I fell into a security detail when I was young. I try to hit the gym three times a week. I’m not a gym junkie, by any means. I follow a strict whiskey and cheese diet.’

I nodded and showed her the empty bottle, and when she pouted, I decided to take a punt. ‘How about we make it just the two of us? Legitimately?’

She gave me a crooked smile and finished her glass. ‘There is nothing legitimate about that question, Mister Matthew Kowalski.’

We settled the bill, which I insisted on paying, and made our way out. We barely spoke on the footpath back to the hotel.

We grasped at each other’s fingertips and bumped into each other like nervous teenagers. I’d barely so much as hugged a woman in the two years prior to Dee and I separating. We approached the driveway to the hotel car park when a heavyset man in a black balaclava quickly approached us from across the road.

The bat hit my left shoulder and I heard the dull thwack of metal on skin. I stepped back as he swung the bat in a wide arc, and tensed. My foot hit the edge of the concrete driveway. I sought some ground and pushed forward.

As he returned the bat to full arc, I grabbed it with both hands. He pulled me towards him, and I smelled marijuana and onion on his breath. As we wrestled for control, I tightened my grip, despite the throbbing pain in my shoulder.

He kicked out twice and got my shin. I released my grip, and he pushed me hard, then turned and ran.

I turned and ran full pelt in the direction our assailant had gone, but I couldn’t see him. A dark reserve appeared empty on the opposite side of the road, and only a few streetlights lit the road heading west. I saw plenty of black areas where he could have sought refuge amongst some bushes. I gripped my arm and took a moment to run the events through my mind. Was it a planned hit, with the sole intention to rough me up and scare me away? I didn’t think I’d been in town long enough to ruffle any feathers, but maybe I had. Maybe I’d spoken to the wrong people. Maybe my presence had provoked a response, or maybe I was on the right path.

At Annette’s urging, we walked up to my hotel room. Once inside, shelooked at me. ‘Got anything strong? I think I need it.’

I indicated my open suitcase against the built-in wardrobe. ‘Should be a bottle of merlot in there.’

‘Shirt off, run a shower, and soak that shoulder good and proper. I’ll open the plonk.’

I did as she asked and soaked my reddened shoulder under a steady stream of hot water. I felt defeated. Both my shoulder and my pride copped a beating for letting a masked stranger get the jump on me like that. I downed two tablets of ibuprofen and emerged from the loo.

‘I’ve taken some painkillers, and it should ease off soon. Nothing serious.’

I made a move towards her and kissed her, and she responded. Then we kissed hard, all weak at the knees and out of breath.

She put her hands on my chest, pushed me back onto the bed, and lay on top of me.

She rolled her hips into me and moaned. Her sweet, strong scent made me dizzy as she reached down, loosened my belt, and pulled at my pants.

I lifted my hips and helped. When I undid my fly, my cock sprung out, and she slithered down my body and gripped it with her hand.

She teased the knob with her tongue and her hot breath made me gasp. She stayed there for a long time—stroking, kissing, and taking me in almost all the way.

I wavered between ecstasy and realising how stupid I must have looked with my pants around my ankles. I brushed her hair from her face, and when she looked up with my cock in her mouth, I almost exploded.

She smiled, climbed on me, and kissed me hard again. She scissored me with her legs and ran her tongue over my chin and into my mouth.

She moaned, lifted her hips in the air, and rolled her knickers off. She straddled me and her wetness rubbed against the length of my cock. Our breathing became heavy, and then she quickly jumped off and retrieved a condom from her bag.

I smiled as she ripped open the packet and rolled it on. I helped, then she straddled me again, and I was inside her.

She rubbed her pubic bone hard against mine and her hair hung in my face and tickled my cheeks. I watched her heavy breasts as they swung in rhythm, and then looked at her face when she tried to hold back an orgasm.

I stopped thrusting, and she stayed motionless for what seemed like minutes with me deep inside her.

She trembled and fell onto me and screamed into my neck. After a moment, she slowly slid off me, our skin tacky with sweat.

I heard the toilet flush, and felt myself slipping into unconsciousness. I’d been up for a long time, and the hours were catching up to me.

When she returned, I tried with everything I had to stay awake. I caught a glimpse of her outline in the darkness—straight shoulders, toned upper arms, curvaceous hips. When she lay next to me, I brushed some hair away from her face as she leaned over and kissed me. The wine tinged her breath in a pleasant way.

‘Just a nagging pain I have to get checked out.’ I had to put my hand between my legs in a vain attempt to stem the pain.

Annette’s arm wrapped around me and, as she spooned up close against my back, the pain subsided and I started breathing normally again. She nonchalantly slid her hand down and cupped my dick and balls, and the realisation made me hard.

‘I don’t know who that guy was. I’m sorry. Are you sure you’re not hurt?’

I rolled on top of her, started kissing her, and she responded. We explored each other’s mouths, and I climbed between her legs, then stopped.

I laughed. ‘Give me another hour, at least.’ I rolled back off and looked at the ceiling.

She placed an arm across my chest and played with my chest hair. ‘I have to say something that’ll kill the romance.’

‘I have to take the boys to school tomorrow, and I hate hotel beds. Sorry, but I have to go. Please don’t hate me.’

She climbed out of bed and had a shower. When she came back, she slipped into her dress. ‘Are you going to hunt down our masked attacker, Mister Detective? I hope so.’

‘Please do. I’d like to give him a kick in the balls for pushing me around.’

‘I’ve got the police picking me up tomorrow. A Constable Hunter is driving here personally.’

Annette sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on her shoes. ‘Oh really? I might have to come around and check out this Constable Hunter. Always love a man in uniform.’

She gave me a smirk over her shoulder. ‘Really? Well then I really will have to keep a close on you.’ She slicked her wet hair back with her hands and kissed me. Her hair smelled like apples.

She went to protest but I raised a hand. ‘I’m not going to let you go out there by yourself with that idiot roaming the streets.’

I escorted her downstairs and out the front. The cab appeared from nowhere and we hugged. It felt good to hold someone close again.

I woke up with a jolt, and the clock by the bedside said 8:40AM. I dressed, carefully pulling a tee shirt over my aching shoulder, rinsed my mouth with toothpaste, and made my way downstairs. I left the reception area just as Constable Hunter pulled up in a squad car.

We drove a kilometre out of the village in silence, until I decided to break the stalemate. ‘So where are you from, Constable? Country or city?’

She hesitated for a moment, then gave in to the situation. ‘Coonabarabran, but Dad transferred to Marrickville when I was eight.’

‘Yes. I was stationed at Redfern for seven years, then my other half got work with Shoalhaven Council, so I put in for a transfer.’

She hesitated. ‘As long as you don’t touch his car, you won’t have any problems.’

‘His wife, Vicki, is a really lovely lady,’ she continued. ‘I met her last month at a charity fundraiser. She’s a great cook. Her lamingtons are amazing. She’s assistant manager at Henley’s Optometry. If you need glasses, she’ll do you a good deal.’

I took the opportunity to surreptitiously inspect Constable Hunter’s features. She had thin lips. I’d heard something somewhere about not trusting a woman with thin lips. Maybe it was a Bob Dylan song? Five or six wrinkles lined her top lip like vertical bars. They seemed to highlight the sternness of her mouth. She’d constrained her hair into a bun, and some wiry dry strands escaped at the back. She kept her hands at ten to two on the wheel.

We left town and entered scrubland, rural properties and orchards. After a few minutes, she slowed the car, and a gateway to a development site appeared on the right-hand side. Two sections on either side of the front entrance retained a line of banksias and wattle trees, nestled against dozens of majestic she-oaks. I made a mental note of the strip of houses on the left-hand side as Constable Hunter pulled into the dirt driveway. She negotiated various potholes until we reached an abandoned construction site, and parked the car behind some diggers and an excavator.

We got out, and she led me to where the foreman had found Rob’s body last Tuesday morning. ‘It’s possible an argument broke out, the murderer picked up what was close to hand, and hit the victim in the head at least three times.’

‘It could have been premeditated,’ I said. ‘It looks like, maybe, he was told to meet here with the killer, but maybe the killer just wanted to talk. Maybe things escalated and got out of hand?’

‘Is there anything further you need?’ she said. ‘Did you want to look around some more?’

I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary so consented to being driven back to the hotel.

About half a kilometre before we hit the village, Sergeant Green’s voice came over the CB asking for Constable Hunter to acknowledge.

She responded, and Sergeant Green went on to say there was a ‘one nineteen’, a white Toyota Hilux found abandoned on the Princes Highway two clicks north from Sussex, registration traced to George Demich, and there were strong indicators George had been met with foul play.

‘I need to come with you,’ I said. ‘I had a drink with George last night. I could probably help with some intel.’

‘It’s against regulations. I can’t have you interfering with a potential crime scene.’

She looked at me squarely. ‘You can’t ride with me, but there’s no reason why you can’t follow me out.’

She pulled into the driveway at the hotel, and I quickly got out, kicked the ute over, and pulled out of the driveway. I caught up to the squad car and didn’t let her out of my sight.