Blood Sunset

37



PHYSICALLY THE DOG ALREADY looked much healthier than when I’d last seen him. It had only been a few days but a good bath and decent food had done wonders. I stood outside the cage, staring at the bull mastiff, the only witness to Sparks’ murder. Right now he was asleep, curled up on a blanket like a prisoner in his tiny cell. I watched for a long moment, wondering if this was the right thing to do.
The woman in reception had volunteered to show me the range of dogs on offer, but I’d declined, preferring to be alone. I tapped the cage and Hooch opened his eyes, then tilted his head, as if trying to recognise a familiar face.
‘Hooch,’ I said. ‘Remember me?’
He trotted over to the cage door and I squatted eye to eye with him, speaking in a cheerful voice. ‘Who’s a good boy? Want some tucker?’
I pulled out a packet of Smacko strips and slipped one through the wire mesh. He sniffed at it suspiciously, then took it from my grasp. After a few more strips, I put my fingers through the wire and he licked at them.
I called out to the woman on reception and told her I wanted to take him home.
‘He’ll be hard work,’ she said, sliding a key in the lock. ‘You’ll need to train him, walk him every day.’
‘I know.’
‘Hope you’ve got a big backyard.’
I pictured Hooch in my tiny apartment, curled up on the rug, fighting Prince for space. It was better than a cell. The door opened and he bounded out, leapt up at me, paws pressed against my chest, tongue lashing my cheek.

The drive back from the dog shelter took me through the bayside suburbs along the Nepean Highway. It was late afternoon and a cool change was on the way. Grey clouds plumed in the west and I could almost smell the rain. It was about time. The relentless heat had left the city scorched and drained. More than a million hectares of bushland had burnt in some of the worst fires on record. Even in the city, everywhere I looked front lawns were dry, nature strips a patchwork of dead grass and dust. Trees appeared limp and thirsty, and some had died completely. In the rear-view mirror, I watched Hooch in the back seat, head out the window, lips flapping in the breeze. Already slobber lacquered the window but I didn’t care. A new life was on the horizon and I felt a level of freedom that I hadn’t felt in years.
When Cold Chisel’s ‘Khe Sanh’ came on the radio I cranked the volume, not caring what the young girls in the Alfa convertible next to me thought. No matter how many times I heard Barnesy’s earthy vocals in the opening verse I never tired of it, never found it clichéd. To me it was a timeless piece of musical storytelling, as powerful now as it had been to the Vietnam vets thirty years beforehand. If only kids like Johnno had any idea. Driving through Mordialloc, about twenty-five kilometres from home, I thought about Dad and my brother and how the song symbolised an era and a generation.
When the last plane had finally left Sydney, I killed the radio, inserted my earpiece and dialled the number.
‘Hello, Dad,’ I said when he answered.
‘Anthony, is that you?’
‘No, it’s me. Rubens.’
‘Oh,’ he said, sounding disappointed. He had every right to be.
‘I just wanted to call, in case you see anything on the news. I’ve been working a case down here and, um, it’s Ella, she’s been in hospital.’
‘Hospital? Is she okay?’
‘Yeah, she’s all right. She was discharged yesterday. She’s at home resting.’
Outside the Sandringham Hotel traffic slowed to a crawl as a parade of high school students stepped off a bus and scattered across the road. I waited for a break in the pack before I continued.
‘I know I haven’t been around much lately, Dad. I’d like to visit soon, spend a bit more time together.’
‘Okay.’
‘Maybe on the weekend. I could tell you all about it then, if you like?’
‘Sure.’
We were silent then and I knew what he was thinking.
‘I’ll have more time now. I want to help out a bit with Mum. We’ll get her out of there, one day.’
‘That’d be nice, you helping more.’
‘I mean it.’
‘Hope so.’
Silence again.
‘What about Ella? How’re things with you two? I didn’t speak to her that much at the birthday.’
‘I know. Things are getting better, I think. I’m meeting her for dinner tonight.’
‘Ah, that’s the way,’ he said, a sense of excitement in his tone.
I felt an internal warmth. ‘Dad?’
‘Yes, son.’
‘There’s something else I want to ask you about. Remember Jacko, my old mate from Benalla?’
There was a long silence. I pictured my father with his eyes closed, trying to push away the images and the memories.
‘The camping trip,’ he finally said.
‘Yeah. You remember it?’ I asked, knowing the answer.
‘Of course. Why?’
‘Because I need you to explain some things to me. Things I don’t understand.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, best we do it over a beer or two, huh?’
Again he was silent and I was about to tell him to forget it when he said, ‘Sure, I’d like that.’
I ended the call then, pleased with myself. Dad and I would be fine, and so would Anthony. We were a team, a family. And we would prevail. Of this I was sure.

A few minutes after two I arrived in Brighton and parked opposite a service station. Hooch was feeling the heat, panting, drooling. We crossed the street and found a bucket of water. The pumps were full and I watched my niece work the till through the window. Chloe’s part-time place of employment was an old-fashioned service station and still provided driveway assistance. Wouldn’t take the sting out of fuel prices though.
Hooch emptied half the bucket in no time, lapping the water loudly, then belched. We walked to a garden bed and stood by Chloe’s car, waiting for her to finish work. Hooch sniffed at a bush then cocked his leg and I wondered whether dogs learnt to do this or if it was a natural instinct. There would be a lot of learning, I decided. Getting to know my new friend. Training him, walking, bonding.
Chloe wandered out, then stopped when she saw me standing by her car.
‘Uncle Ruby, what are you doing here?’ Her eyes dropped to my neck. ‘What happened to you? Dad said you got hurt.’
‘It’s nothing. Just a cut, a few stitches.’
‘Ouch. What about Ella?’
‘She’s okay now. They kept her overnight but she’s home.’
I wondered how much Anthony had told the kids, or what they’d read in the papers. I tugged Hooch’s lead and he stepped out from behind the car.
‘Got a new buddy,’ I said. ‘Thought I’d introduce you. S’pose you’ll be cousins, in a way.’
Chloe’s eyes widened and a smile stretched her face as Hooch jumped around and lapped at her as she greeted him. Chloe was a looker, even in the uniform. Sporty, full of energy. No wonder the boys loved her.
‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said as I brought him back with the lead. ‘What breed?’
‘Bull mastiff. Pure, I think.’
She opened the car, threw a plastic bag of clothes on the back seat.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Hooch. Like the movie.’
‘What movie?’
‘Never mind. Before your time maybe.’
She patted him again, then looked at me, realising I wasn’t just there to show her the dog.
‘So, you were just in the area?’
‘Yeah, I parked over there.’ I nodded to my car across the street. ‘Want to take a walk? Down the beach.’
Her head tilted, curious, lines creasing her brow. ‘A walk?’
‘Sure. Just down the beach. I want to tell you something,’ I said, uncomfortable, feeling like a deviant.
‘Okay. A walk on the beach. Sure.’
We walked past rows of ten-foot fences and huge box hedges hiding million-dollar-plus homes, crossed Beach Road and cut through the foreshore towards the water. Wind gusted and sand spiralled around. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but neither was what I had to say.
‘Your dad’s worried,’ I said. ‘Says you’re going out a lot. Nightclubs and parties.’
‘Yeah, so? I’m twenty years old. Is that what this is about? Dad can’t talk to me himself so he sends his cop brother?’
‘He just doesn’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.’
‘Like what, having fun? God forbid I actually enjoy myself.’
Hooch was tugging at the lead towards a flock of seagulls. I wasn’t sure what the rules were but decided to let him off. He bounded playfully at the birds, ran towards the water, stopped at the edge, then ran away when it moved up the sand.
Chloe stared out at the bay, wind whipping her hair around. ‘What’s this really about, Uncle Ruby?’ she said. ‘I don’t see you in . . . well, hardly ever, and all of a sudden you show up at work wanting to talk.’
I removed a parcel from my pocket, handed it to her. ‘I brought you something.’
She unwrapped the brown paper bag to reveal a white canister with fluorescent labelling on it.
‘Is this what I think it is?’ she said, reading the label with a deep frown.
‘It’s not a pregnancy test.’
‘Very funny. I can see that.’
‘It’s a reagent test kit. They’re not totally reliable, but they’re a good guide. At the very least, it sends a message that you care about what you –’
‘Wait a second,’ she said, stuffing the canister back in the bag. ‘Let me get this right. This is a pill tester.’
‘That’s right. Tells you what the dominant ingredient is.’
Hooch bounded back, barked at us. It was more of a yelp than anything. He barked again and I remembered Sparks throwing the stick for him in the park. I found a stick, threw it along the sand, and we started walking again.
‘This is bullshit,’ Chloe said. ‘My dad thinks I’m using drugs, just because I go to nightclubs. God, everyone goes to nightclubs. I mean, hello, that’s what you do when you’re twenty. What does he want me to do on the weekend, stay at home and read the Age like a sixty-year-old?’ She handed the parcel back and kept walking. ‘I can’t believe he sent you. He’s such a wanker.’
I jogged to catch up. ‘It’s not him, Chloe. Your dad doesn’t think you’re using drugs.’
She stopped and shook her head. ‘Then what is it?’
‘I do.’
‘You –?’ She frowned at me. ‘Uncle Ruby, what the –’
‘Your dad doesn’t know I’m here,’ I said, giving the parcel back. ‘Please take it, Chloe. Keep it and use it.’
She went to reply but I stopped her. ‘Look, you can’t bullshit me. I know how it is. I know what the dance clubs are like for a pretty girl like you. They’re probably safer and more enjoyable than your average drinking swill. You don’t have guys groping you, sleazing onto your friends. No fights. Everyone’s there to party and hear the music. Isn’t that what you say? It’s all about the tunes?’
‘Sounds like you’ve been a few times,’ she said.
‘More than a few, Chloe. St Kilda’s my patch. Most people have no idea how big this thing is unless they’re in it. I’ve been doing this job almost twenty years now, and I’ve brought down some of the biggest gangsters in the country. It hasn’t always been easy,’ I said, tapping my left shoulder. ‘I nearly died for it, and you know what, it’s taken me this long to realise it doesn’t matter what we do, we’ll never stop it. We’ll probably never even be able to slow it. It’s too big.’
She waited, unsure how far to commit.
‘Am I right?’
‘Wouldn’t be a problem if they were legal,’ she said.
‘Maybe not, but until then they are illegal and no one can guarantee what’s in them. Think you’re taking ecstasy and all of a sudden you end up seeing monsters. Could be anything in pills these days. Ketamine. LSD. Worse.’ I nodded to the test kit in her hands. ‘There’s a dark side to it, Chloe. People overdose. Have strokes. Heart attacks. Some even die.’
She looked away then and I knew there was no point in lecturing her any further.
‘So anyway, I figure if you’re going to do it, you might as well have some idea about what you’re taking.’
She unwrapped the parcel again and studied the canister label with a smirk.
‘This is such a trip. I thought you’d bloody arrest me.’
‘Could’ve told you horror stories, shown you pictures. Tried to scare you.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Wouldn’t have worked. Never does.’
‘So instead you’re giving me this?’ she said.
‘I’m not giving you anything. You bought that yourself, from a bong shop. Understand?’
‘Ah, right. A bong shop.’
I whistled for Hooch, clipped him to the lead and we headed up the beach, back towards the car.
‘Find a hiding spot for that, Chloe. A good one. Not your drawer.’
‘Okay.’
‘You don’t want your parents finding it. Or your drugs. They’ll freak. Send you to Tasmania.’
‘What’s in Tasmania?’
‘Nothing.’
She laughed.
‘And don’t score in clubs. Only buy from people you know.’
‘I know.’
‘And don’t ever sell them.’
She scoffed. ‘Oh, so now I’m a dealer? What next, the first female Don?’
‘I’m just telling you. We send our undercover guys into the clubs every weekend. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.’
She laughed again, louder this time, and pointed at Hooch’s backside. ‘Yeah right, you cops stand out like dogs’ balls.’
Now I laughed. She was right. It wasn’t something you could fake.
‘You’re a good kid, Chloe. Smart. Don’t f*ck that up.’
‘I won’t. Study’s important to me. I’m halfway to an Honours in Commerce. After that I’ll count beans for a living. For now, weekends are my playtime. That’s it.’
We crossed Beach Road and walked slowly by the millionaires’ village. I felt a connection with her, a bridge. I knew she’d be fine.
‘Guess what,’ I said, removing an envelope from my pocket. ‘I got two tickets to Wolfmother.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, I was going to take Ella, but we can’t make it and I thought you might want to go. They’re playing at the Espy next week. You should take your dad,’ I said, handing her the envelope.
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling awkwardly, ‘but Dad doesn’t like Wolfmother. He likes, I don’t know, stuff like . . . God, I don’t even know what he likes.’
‘Exactly.’
After Chloe had stuffed the envelope away there was a moment of silence. She probably wanted to take her boyfriend but that wasn’t the deal.
‘Look, I don’t have a daughter,’ I said. ‘If I did, I’d want one just like you.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I would. And you know what? I’d want her to take me out from time to time. It wouldn’t matter where we went. I’d just want to spend some time with her. I know your dad feels the same way about you.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so. So take him out and have a good time.’
When we reached the service station I gave her my mobile number and she keyed it into her phone.
‘If ever anything goes wrong for you when you’re out with your friends, call me,’ I said. ‘Anything at all, okay?’
‘Thank you.’
I tugged Hooch’s lead and said, ‘I’ll be walking him a bit from now on. Might need a buddy. Interested?’
‘Sure. What about Ella? Hear you’re getting back together?’
‘Yeah, we’ll see.’
She got in the car, started the engine and wound down the window. ‘Thanks again.’
‘We never had this conversation, Chloe.’
‘What conversation?’
She smiled cheekily, winked at me and drove out of the forecourt.