Frederick's Coat (23 page)

H
e had her scent and smell on him, which he was clinging to or he’d surely drown, suffocate on the grief.

The strength in her fingers holding his face in her hands, the sight of her eyes losing the battle against tears, though she wasn’t weeping, just telling him in her firmest voice, ‘Remember, I’ve been where you are. The falling will end. The darkness does lift.’ Catching her sob before it got out.

He had her other words, later, spoken at the funeral — how many weeks had passed? — but their power had diminished. Probably they were meant only for that day, that most awful of days. ‘It is grief that dies,’ she’d said, ‘not life.’

This was in a church, somewhere in the city. He’d never before set foot inside one, and even the kind words of the minister, talking about God’s plan, didn’t suggest he’d ever be back in a church.

His boy had been ripped from him, his gentle boy who was a threat to no one. Yet still they killed him,
tortured
him first. The thought that kept inducing Johno to throw up, though only bile was left.

What was that song about Vincent van Gogh, the colours and textures his eyes alone saw? Rename it Danny Ryan. Name it again: Danny’s Drawings. And the minister called it part of God’s plan?

But Melanie had earnt the right to speak her words. This woman who had known a double grief stood in front of a modest gathering.

Mavis Wilkinson, who had hardly got settled in Darwin before being summoned back by Wilson, as distressed as if she were Danny’s
mother. The boy not having been at her farewell made her anguish worse. Calamity clones itself.

A packed church of Johno’s staff and Danny’s many art admirers, Tahu Kanohi and his father, Dixon.

Poor Wilson, in his usual tweed jacket, ever diffident, froze before the gathering, only got out the words ‘a fine young artist’, uttered twice, before Mel delivered him back to his seat alongside Johno.

Then Dixon Kanohi stepped up to the lectern. An involuntary collective gasp at his facial tattoos and, initially, fierce expression. He used a Maori proverb about a pet bird that escaped back to the wild. It was only natural that its owner should grieve the loss. ‘But does the freed bird also lament?’

He spoke, too, of revenge. ‘We call it utu. How it can taste like nectar. Or vile from the poisoned calabash. But man will drink equally of both in his anguish.’

Then he stepped down and took Johno in a long hug.

Anita was there, too, ‘sitting out of sight where I belong’ she told a surprised Johno at the gathering afterwards held at Danny’s Drawings.

She told him, ‘I hope you don’t mind me telling you that revenge, bitterness and hate will only add to your pain. Did you ever meet a nice angry person?’ Touching his face, their first physical contact since he was too young to remember, she said, ‘Well. We did meet again, even in such tragic circumstances. Be strong.’

Evelyn arrived from Perth with a grown-up Leah, as beautiful as her late brother had been handsome; the looks from their mother, who was still attractive, if carrying a few extra kilos in middle age. Even in his living nightmare Johno had somehow managed to call Evelyn’s Sydney lawyer who gave him her telephone number. ‘No,’ he was soon saying to Evelyn’s angry questioning. ‘He didn’t lead a life that got him involved with drugs. It just happened.’

In a moment between just them — a moment of his contriving — she said, ‘I can see you’re a changed man. I guess, like you said, it happened. You know why I stayed away.’ An assumption not a question.

‘He wrote and told me to not visit. He was nine. I thought you’d put him up to it, he was so adamant. But over the years I could tell by his letters that he had only had one parent in his life, as well as that friend called Frederick. Who is he? Should I meet him?’

‘Frederick took his own life. Probably why we’re all here now. Too complicated to talk about. He loved his friend almost as much as me, maybe the same. We loved each other,’ Johno said. ‘We understood each other, till I lost him in the last year or so.’

He could have told Evelyn of the dreams he’d had, almost nightly, when Danny was always in trouble — swimming, scuba diving, even in his apartment — and Johno unable to get to him. Dreamed of seeing his son disappear into pitch-black deep water.

Even in his grief he could see that he and Evelyn were forever tied through their children, remote though they had become. Same his mother showing up: blood is blood. He might have been able to communicate with Leah had they been on their own, and he could have asked her to step aside so they could have a private conversation. Maybe that she looked too much like her younger brother, or she gave off the flat vibes of a perfect stranger. Neither mother nor daughter was interested when he offered a cheque for quite a large sum. ‘Money I’ve been putting aside and to my shame held back in case you came laying claims to Danny.’ Might as well be honest.

Evelyn said, ‘Thanks, but no. There was a time I’d have jumped at it. You know when. But I’ve lived with a good provider for the past twelve years. And it would feel like blood money now.’

He drove them to the airport, and their talk was awkward, with that shadow hanging over it. He told Leah he hoped they would see each other again, but could manage no promises or arrangements to visit, and she hardly jumped with joy.

‘I’m Sergeant Brad O’Connor,’ said one of the two policemen. The other didn’t introduce himself, just stared at Johno as if he’d been ordered to stand to rigid attention. ‘Are you John Ryan?’

Johno nodded, felt his old cop prejudices coming back.

‘I’m afraid I have very bad news for you, sir.’

So this is how they tell loved ones — of car crashes, fatal accidents, suicides, murders.

‘I’m very sorry, sir, but we need you to come with us to identify the body. I’m afraid your son has suffered some severe injuries. So you must be prepared, Mr Ryan. It will be a most distressing sight.’

Forgiveness for all cops does happen on the spot. The men who bring you the worst message of your life become kind of brothers on whose strength you’re going to depend for the next many hours. Maybe that’s why they send two.

The mind protects itself from sights it cannot bear. He could only nod that it was his son.

The howling isn’t a sound, it’s a beast let loose. Not violence released, but deepest anger. And the guilt, known only to a parent, that comes at you in waves of nausea, the shame like hammer blows assailing you for failing to protect your child.

It’s like the film reel of life has rushed backwards. Another part of his brain saying, ‘No! It can’t be possible, he can’t be dead, not Danny and not in that way. It doesn’t fit.’

He tries to stay standing, but his legs want to do otherwise. He feels the awful nausea race through him like an electric shock wave, as if the cops had pulled out a Taser gun and fired fifty thousand volts into his body and kept firing.

He must get up. But the pain is unbearable. Still, he must get to his feet now or he never will. Some part of him will stay down and emerge as someone else. If goodness has been slain, then evil will take its place.

Then a fog rolls in and he’s alone in the murk, stumbling, blind, lost and broken in his grief. Then it becomes a dream and everyone he ever knew passes by and nods gravely in sympathy and he acknowledges their consideration with his own, less-discernible nod. They’ll either know or they won’t.

Not as if he cares.

S
hane remembered something Dixon Kanohi had told him and Johno a million years ago. For some reason it leapt out of his memory bank as he made Tito a drink: Appleton Estate rum, supposedly one of the best, and Coke. The family didn’t mind big-noting at home, which was why he had Alaskan king crab legs and claws set out on a big white plate, because it was Tito’s favourite dish and Shane could afford it. So could Tito.

In two weeks they were getting their annual dividend, paid out not in cash but in the title to a new property purchase, a house in the Family suburb of Carlton, the better to send someone round if the rent wasn’t paid, and a good investment, according to expert advice. It just needed the signature of the happy recipient, then rental income would start going into their bank accounts each week. They’d likely talk about that tonight, but he’d better get his shaking hands under control.

‘What’s the occasion, Shanero? Let me guess … Not your birthday. I know that date.’

‘You do?’ Shane surprised on the very day he didn’t want any surprises.

‘My job to know things about people in our organisation.’

Tito rubbed his chin, smoothly shaven today when often he wore that five-day stuff like image-conscious French guys on television.

‘You met a woman? Huh? Huh?’ Tito laughing, looking at the crab.

‘I wish.’ Shane swallowed.
Relax
. ‘Have another guess.’

Tito was looking at the crab again, obviously hungry. ‘Hold it one second — stay on the woman subject. You keep saying, “I wish. I wish.”
You wish and yet you don’t never do nothing about it?’ He sounded like an American gangster.

The young shit didn’t know it, but his barely concealed contempt gave Shane a little anger to help push away his anxiety.

He said, ‘That bother you?’

‘Yeah,’ said Tito. ‘It does.’

‘Make you worry I’m queer? That Shane McNeil takes it up the arse?’

‘Be a liar if I said I hadn’t had that thought. Same as you would if you never see me with a woman.’ Got the vain smile out, the one that said ‘as if’. ‘But I know you’re not.’

‘Oh yeah? How would you know?’

Tito tapped his nose. ‘’Cause I’d smell it. I don’t mean the shit, nothing like that. I’d sense it.’

‘Well, that’s good then.’

‘No,’ Tito said. ‘It’s not good. I was gonna say why don’t you walk it ’stead of talking it? Getting a woman, I mean. Like, come on, it’s not, you know, normal.’

‘So it does bother you?’

‘Kind of. But I still love you.’ Tito stepped over and planted a kiss on Shane’s cheek, laughed.

‘Yeah, you too,’ said Shane. ‘What’s your guess?’

‘We still on that? I give up.’

‘Me, too,’ said Shane. ‘You do want some crab?’

‘Sure I want. Forget what these Aussies say about their mud crabs. I like them. But those,’ Tito pointed, ‘I
love
. They going right now?’

‘Help yourself. Got ’em specially for you.’ There was the memory again — Dixon Kanohi telling him and Johno that his Maori ancestors would put on a big feast for someone, then kill him while he was in the middle of eating. Then they’d cook and eat the victim.

‘Man.’ Shane watched as Tito put a chunk of claw in his mouth. ‘Ain’t no food made by God or man better’n this. So what’s the occasion?’

‘Just life.’ Shane felt calmer now.

‘That’s your problem, see? You get lonely. Makes you philosophical. When we aren’t that.’ Laughed. ‘If you had chicks — just one hot piece — why would you wanna see me?’ Tito laughed louder and chewed noisily.

Shane heard his mother say, ‘Eat with your mouth closed.’ Himself, the cheeky little blighter, saying back, ‘So how will I say thanks, Mum?’ Thinking he was so clever. Till she said, ‘Thank me afterwards. Now eat without smacking your chops.’

‘If I had a beautiful wife and kids running around I’d still want to see my mates.’

‘Yeah. Me, too. Man, this is good. How do they get it down here from Alaska still fresh like this?’

‘Beats me. You ever see that programme
Deadliest Catch
, on the blokes who fish for those crabs up there?’

‘You’re asking me?’ Tito with a mouthful of meat. ‘If that
programme
’s on, I’m not moving. Not nowhere for no reason.’

‘Not even to kill a man?’ said Shane.

‘What?’ Tito as he hurried down the mouthful. ‘What’s that got to do with — oh, I get it. From deadliest, yeah?’

‘No,’ Shane said. ‘From real-life deadly. Course I’m asking you. You’re the Family hit-man.’

‘I don’t put it like that. Nor even think it. I just do my job.’ Tito’s eyes got a hint of their famous chill.

‘Yeah. You sure do. Like on Eduardo.’

‘I told you that in confidence, as a close friend.’

‘And I thanked you for the privilege,’ Shane said. ‘Nor would I tell a soul. No one, Tito.’

‘Good.’

Shane let him put another piece of meat in his mouth.

‘I didn’t know the young guy that got whacked was anything to do with us.’

Tito kept chewing but his eyes got colder. ‘You’re telling the story.’

‘No, you’re telling it, Teets baby. I want to know.’

‘When you got no right to ask. I don’t ask your business. Why would you put that one on me? Because the media’s all talking about it? So what? That why we’re eating crab — so you can soften me up to ask me about this?’

‘Tito, Tito.’ Shane put his arms out. He was wearing shorts, a navy blue T-shirt, rubber thongs and that was it: a typical Aussie on a warm Sydney spring day. Nowhere to conceal a weapon, he was wanting to let Tito know. ‘I got a right to ask. Tell you why. It’s about the heaviest possible thing can be done, torturing then murdering a man.’

‘
If
it had anything to do with me. And why would it?’

‘I haven’t finished. Please, let me have my say. If this brings police heat down on us, then it’s me has to explain to your—’

‘I know who you report to,’ Tito cut in. ‘Same man as me. My old man. Don’t be telling me what I know. All right, I’m listening.’ Just.

‘Do I say this kid betrayed us like Eduardo? What?’ Shane said, trying to stay on top.

‘Said I’m listening.’ And not eating either.

‘How am I going to tell Gerardo? We never had no dealings with a Danny Ryan, even if the papers and the TV say he was a drug addict. We have walls between the customers and us, remember?’

‘Do I remember? And how does it link up with me, this Ryan dude?’

‘I dunno. You tell me how it does,’ said Shane. ‘Want another drink?’

‘Yeah. Thanks. Less Coke this time. It’s gut-rot. Dunno why I got into the habit of ruining good rum with that sugar-loaded crap. Tell you what: I’ll try Canadian dry with it. Good enough for you.’ Watched Shane for a bit.

‘How’d you connect this up with me, then?’

Shane stopped mixing drinks. ‘’Cause I read the fucking papers. You know that. Every single publication I saw had that young man as its headline.’

‘Oh yeah? And came up with: cocaine addict in debt to a finance company is one plus one equals Tito Costa? Really? Makes you better than any cop I ever heard about or any prison inmate who reads books.’

‘The finance company was named,’ said Shane. ‘It’s one of ours. Just hidden behind the usual walls put up around everything or anyone the Family values. Like us, huh, Teets?’

‘Glad you called me that. You know why? Because your tone was beginning to worry me. Was. Like to keep it like that.’

‘Hey? Sorry,’ said Shane. ‘I was just telling you how I figured it. So, what, he owed money we were lending him to buy our stuff?’ They hardly ever called it anything else but stuff.

‘I’m listening again.’

‘I have no more questions, your honour.’ Shane faked the smile, but from deep down, enough to persuade Tito it was for real. He handed Tito his drink and touched glasses.

‘You shouldn’t piss me around like this, Shanero. I might flick the switch.’

‘Like you did with this Ryan guy?’

‘I had a job to do. That’s all.’

‘Oh? Doesn’t sound like an Eduardo job to me. What was the instruction?’

‘To get our money back. The interest was, how they say,
compounding
. Like interest piling on top of interest, knowing our rates. And it’s not a hundred per cent owned by us. This guy has a fifty per cent share. My instruction came from him.’

‘Over the heads of our own in Melbourne?’

‘It’s still money owed to us.’ Tito put his glass down on the marble kitchen bench. ‘I’m good at collecting money, like I’m good when the going gets rough. You don’t approve of what was done?’

‘I don’t not approve,’ said Shane. ‘Make up my mind when I hear what happened, and why. But how’s he supposed to pay up what he owes us if he’s dead?’

‘So I have to explain myself to you — just say I done it?’ Tito tense now.

‘No. Course not. I’m not your boss, just, like you said, a little bit more senior. But who’s measuring, eh? I’m not. I might even like what
I hear, same I did about Eduardo. You like the dry better?’

‘Yeah. I do. That’s it for fucking Coke,’ Tito said, but the casual attitude didn’t reach his eyes. Then he shrugged. ‘Something about the kid pissed me off.’

‘Oh?’

‘Weird, but it’s harder to do the business to a good-looking guy than it is to someone just average. The ugly ones, no problem. Bang. You’re dead. This one was as handsome as me.’

‘I saw the photos in the papers. On the TV news. He was a looker, all right. Like shooting yourself? You get jealous?’

‘Me jealous? Never.’ Became the vain Italian boy told by his mother he was beautiful. ‘I felt sorry for him. Truth, I thought I couldn’t go through with it. I mean he was just a kid of twenty.’

‘Not quite twenty, the papers said.’

‘Nineteen and innocent as a — hell, I dunno. A lamb?’

Yeah, a lamb might fit given what was done to him. A lamb at the meatworks. ‘You’re asking the wrong man about innocence. But I get the picture.’

‘I don’t think you do,’ said Tito. ‘Because you can’t. You weren’t there. This Danny guy was weird, said strange things. Showed me a painting he’d done that his pal Corey had taken as a security on what he owed. This kid was explaining it — to me? I’m not there for a fucking art lesson. You know what? He asks us, “Am I in a painting? Or is this just a dream?” How weird is that? Made my skin crawl.’

Shane could feel his anger tap opening a little more. He said, ‘You know what we talked about last time, putting up a wall between you and trouble? Bad as it gets trouble, Teets.’

‘Only if someone finds out we don’t want finding out.’

‘This is between
me
,’ Shane emphasised, ‘and
you
. Word of honour.’

‘You keep saying the right thing before I switch.’ Tito let the public man come back, smiling. ‘I want to switch when I think I’m in danger. Or when I’m doing the business. But mostly I’ve made the switch before I get to the person.’

‘But not with this guy?’

‘Never knew anyone talked so much. He didn’t beg. Guess because he didn’t know.’

‘You went there to hurt him if he didn’t come up with the dough?’

‘My job — our job. Mickey and Pete were the ones upped the ante.’

‘So if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t have gone so far?’

‘No. But sometimes stuff happens.’

‘You mean shit happens?’

‘To this bloke, yeah. As it turned out. See, as his apartment was maxed-out on being borrowed against, he said he had dough, least access to it, from his father owns a big restaurant bar in Balmain. Got a waterfall in a beer garden.’

‘The papers mentioned that, too. Danny’s Drawings — great name if you think the kid’s an artist.’ Shane was growing cold. ‘Was an artist.’

‘Was. I thought he was fucking me around. One moment talking about his painting, next about colours he sees and did I see them the same, and I said as it happens, yeah. I do notice colours. Like I told you, Shane.’

‘Yeah. You did. Pastel hues, right?’

‘Good memory. So this kid is fucking me around and fucking me off. But he’s so innocent I don’t want to hurt him. The strange things he said. Except I have to do my job, right? Why I pulled out the torture card, to make myself do the business.’ Tito had an almost perplexed expression.

‘And when he started screaming, I had to shut him up quick.’ Shane hoped his wincing didn’t give him away. ‘Or, you know, soon every neighbour would be on the phone to the cops as it started in his apartment. We took him for a ride.’

‘He talk any?’

‘No. He went all quiet. Which pissed me off more. You got to understand I didn’t want to hurt this guy. If he was one of the big Tongans who had someone for breakfast every day, sure. I’d’ve stretched out the suffering something terrible. But the Ryan kid?’ Tito was appealing to
Shane for his understanding. ‘You know me. I’m no animal.’

‘It’s the truth. You’re not,’ said Shane. ‘Least not till this went down. I mean Jesus Christ, Tito. What the fuck were you thinking?’

‘Nothing, that’s what I was thinking. I was wanting
nothing
to do with this situation blowing up in my face, getting worse by the moment on account of him saying weird things.’

‘Like what?’

‘You training up to be a cop or something?’

‘I just asked.’

‘I never had someone ask if this was a dream,’ Tito said shaking his head. ‘A fucking nightmare it surely is, but who’d
ask
if it was? When he asked if we were all in a painting, Mickey got angry and poured on the, um, torture stuff. Thought he was making fun of us.’

‘He’s an artist — was an artist. So he wasn’t afraid? He thinks it’s either a dream or he’s featuring in a painting?’

‘Of course he’s afraid. I got two of the heavy boys in the car with me wanting to pounce on him, so I have to start first. Set the example.’

‘This is Mickey and Pete?’

‘You know this.’ Tito’s puzzlement becoming suspicion. ‘You’re the one has to sign off on their weekly wage. If someone’s hiving off he’s not getting paid. Twice you done that to Mickey. Once to Pete to let him know who’s boss. I admired you for doing that. But you and I know if they could get away with it, they’d rip your throat out and mine too.
They’re
the animals.’ Tito stopped there, clearly wanting Shane’s agreement.