A good long run was just what I needed. The cooler temperatures turned the 90 minutes spent along the trails beside the river from torture to delight. The heat from an extended summer, unwilling to let go of the reins, finally coughed and spluttered its final death throes and departed Melbourne for another seven months. Then again, this being Melbourne, one last scorcher of a day – just to show all Melburnians who was truly the boss – wasn’t out of the question.
The dire consequences of my situation, espoused by Dayne, seemed more and more of an overreaction as the kilometres ticked over. Yes, it was a crime I’d uncovered, but it wasn’t exactly life and death. I was determined to tell him just that later in the evening when we met. And his plan of “over the top” precautions could be put on hold.
Around the five-kilometre mark, I decided upon the person I felt comfortable sharing our accumulated intelligence. We’d talked briefly after a career presentation he’d delivered to my graduating class at La Trobe University; an old friend of my great-Uncle Bert, and high up in the Victoria Police Force. I realised, if I couldn’t trust him, then who could I trust? With the information in his extremely competent hands, I could relinquish the burden heaped squarely upon my shoulders and get on with my life.
A flock of rosellas passed overhead, diving and rising on the currents. Changing direction at will, they completed their relocation from one cluster of treetops to another. I, too, changed direction and turned north towards home. The direction to take for my next career choice wasn’t as clear cut. Was it out of the question to dive back in with another bank? Was banking my true passion, or did it lie elsewhere? In my heart I knew the answer, but time and life circumstances were not on my side.
Life circumstances.
I found myself singing along to a Paul Kelly tune on my iPod. The song, Deeper Water, follows a boy from childhood to adulthood and, throughout the journey, dealing with the loss of loved ones. Another song in my library mirroring my life. Did I subconsciously seek out these songs?
After Dad died, my mother tried to explain that it would take time for me to understand life; that death confuses the young. I’d still not gotten any closer to an answer and the very same question was soon to be asked again. I knew the fateful call regarding Mum couldn’t be too far away. But for now, I continued to compartmentalise.
I could only handle one catastrophe at a time.
***
I parked the Beast out front of Dayne’s where the telephone pole sagged ever closer to the road. Perhaps weary from the constant changes in hierarchy out here on the streets, for I noticed Lang Rules brazenly erased and with someone by the name of Benito assuming the throne. I must have missed the press release.
Inside Dayne’s, all was quiet. Not finding him strumming away in the front room or searching for non-existent food in the kitchen, I ambled down the hall to his office bedroom.
Dayne turned from the luminescent glow of the computer terminal. I still hadn’t grown accustomed to his short hair. And I swear, in the near darkness and at just the right angle, it was like looking into a mirror.
Have you seen the news?
No. I’ve been out most of the day. What’s up?
Garth O’Neal.
Is he on the news? That’s funny; I bumped into him today. Well, more he confronted me. The crazy bastard thought I was following him.
Well, it’s not too funny now. He’s dead!
What?
I took two steps closer and began reading over his shoulder.
What happened? I just saw him not five hours ago.
Shot. Twice, at close range. At a parking garage on Franklin Street down by the Vic Market.
My mouth hung open as I backed up and abruptly sat on the end of the bed.
Implications and scenarios ran rampant, the only thing I could spit out was:
Obviously, I knew the where.
I shook my head in acknowledgement, still unable to put a coherent sentence together.
He waved his hand in the general direction of his computer.
… Covered my tracks, made a few changes to help us down the line. Nothing for you to worry about.
I’d no idea what he was talking about. But I picked up on the one statement that was self-affirming, “Nothing for you to worry about,” and felt a little better.
Now, did you do as I asked?
I withdrew the envelope from my pocket and handed it over.
Dayne searched through the small packet of information and appeared satisfied; until he noticed the business card.
Holy shit, you know the chief commissioner?
Kind of, he’s an old friend of the family. But I think he’s just a deputy chief or something.
Shit, mate! You don’t get out much, do you? He’s been running the whole show for the past three months. Are you sure he can be trusted?
I’m sure. He’s solid. I’d bet my life on it.
I threw out the term as an afterthought, then suddenly realised my life did depend on this.
Dayne gave up his seat before the keyboard. I sat down and followed his instructions. As I typed, all illusions this nightmare would just “go away” disappeared like the childish dream it was. This was real, and my life was changing forever right before my very eyes. I no longer thought Dayne’s plans as over-the-top, a vision of Garth O’Neal lying dead in a parking garage made it all too real.
I hope you didn’t leave anything at work you’ll miss because you can’t ever go back. And you’re going to have to stay out of sight, at least for a few more days, possibly until Friday.
No, there’s nothing there.
It was true. In fact, as I took a step back and studied the matter more circumspectly, I’m not sure there was any one item in my entire life I’d actually miss.
After our home sold at auction, I kept the bare essentials for my unit; the remainder sold through an estate sale. Realising later how little others valued our possessions was truly depressing. What didn’t sell I donated to charity. Since that day, my life has remained in a holding pattern, circling high above reality awaiting further instructions. A flashing warning light now told me I was low on fuel.
I snapped back to the present.
Friday? Why until Friday?
Because, Craiggo, it’s not safe being visible. They’re trying to cover their tracks. They’ve already tracked down Garth and it’s either you or Eric Mullane who’s next on the list. We can’t take that chance. You’ve got to lie low until I tell you it’s safe.
Dayne ran his hands through his hair and scratched his scalp.
Shit, I need a beer. Want one?
Sure…
Just then my phone lit up. I noticed from the caller I.D. it was Judy.
And thinking she’d heard the news about Garth O’Neal:
G’day, love. Are you calling about the story on the news?
No, umm… Craig. What story? Wait. Never mind.
The news! Garth O’Neal he’s…
Craig. Stop! Listen.
But he’s been…
Craig, listen to me. It’s your mother, she’s had another stroke. You need to get here in a hurry. Craig… they’ve also called Father Kelly.
I’m not sure what, if anything, I said to Judy before dropping the phone. I slumped against the doorframe and stared blankly at a Josh Pyke concert poster tacked to the wall.
***
My next coherent memory was of sitting in a small room holding a cup of steaming coffee.
Dayne was on my left, he must have driven, and Judy to my right. She’d draped one arm over my shoulders; her right hand rested on my knee.
The room stood empty but for the three hard plastic chairs we occupied, a coffee table in the centre and a darkened television hanging from the wall. The walls, painted a sickly cream colour were bare. In the door at eye level; a small pane of glass. It reminded me of a prison cell, the window an enlarged Judas hole to check on the inmates.
We arrived too late. The nurses already packing up and removing my mother’s life-sustaining equipment from the room when I burst through the door. With moves borne from experience, they went about their work silently and methodically without ever meeting my eye. The breathing apparatus stood silent, the hooks on the intravenous drip stand empty.
Mother lay there, finally, at peace.
I kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand one last time, then turned and left the room. Her mortal remains may have lain there but they were a mere shadow of the Mother I would always remember and love.
Paperwork passed from left to right before me, and I signed where instructed. Dayne asked a few questions, to what they pertained I couldn’t recall.
In the back of my mind, I remembered funeral arrangements being agreed upon during admittance. The idea rankled at the time, but now I was relieved for the foresight.
With the paperwork completed, I resumed watch over the mug of coffee in my hands. Steam rose from the cup as if glad to be released from its liquid hold. It rose ever so slowly and floated away at the whim of the air currents within the room.
I watched its escape with envy.