Blood Sunset

7



WHEN I GOT HOME THE PHONE was ringing. I fumbled with the keys, trying to balance my briefcase in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. Inside, I tripped over Prince and damn near fell over as I snapped up the handset.
‘Yes.’
‘What kind of way is that to answer the phone?’
I smiled. It was Ella.
‘Ah, sorry, just got in and had to rush for it.’
‘Right. Are you decent?’
‘Indeed I am,’ I said. ‘Every week I make a donation of ten dollars to the tips jar at the Stokehouse. They have university students working there. My tips help pay for their study. I’d call that decent.’
‘I’d call it bribery. You’re just paying for quick service on busy nights. No long waits at the bar.’
‘Oh, ye of little faith. You’ll ruin my image, you pessimist.’
‘Realist, more like it. And I won’t ruin your image at all. You do a good enough job of that yourself. I bet at least one item of your clothing has a food or drink stain on it.’
I looked down at my clothes and felt embarrassed. Sweat had soaked through my polo shirt and for a second I thought about stripping off just to prove her wrong.
‘Am I right?’ she prodded.
‘Possibly.’
She laughed. ‘Well, fair enough. Before we crap on any longer, I’m standing out the front. We agreed to meet at seven o’clock. It’s now seven. Should I come up or stay out here looking like a desperate woman?’
‘I like the sound of desperate.’
‘Not funny, Rubens. It’s bloody hot out here.’
‘Well, get up here then!’
Ideally I would’ve preferred time to prepare for her arrival, but the massage and the search of Boyd’s apartment had drained my afternoon. I stored the beer and groceries in the fridge, turned on the cooler and opened the blinds. In the bathroom, I wiped the toilet seat, washed my hands and sprayed on cologne.
Opening the front door, I saw Ella had dyed her hair a deep maroon since the last time we’d met, taking at least five years off her. I wanted to tell her she looked beautiful but decided against it.
‘I like the hair,’ I said instead. ‘Come in.’
She stepped over the threshold, leaning in to kiss my cheek. ‘Like the top,’ she said cheekily, noticing my soiled shirt. ‘Get that from the Salvo’s on Grey Street?’
‘Oh, lay off.’
She laughed, circled around the bench and put her handbag down on one of the stools. ‘So, what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?’
I opened the fridge, snapped out two bottles from the sixpack and slid one over. One of the things I loved about Ella was her appreciation of beer. While she only drank it in the summer, there’d been a number of times when she’d matched me round for round.
We clinked bottles. ‘So where’s the little one?’ she said, looking around for Prince.
‘Outside killing birds, hunting native wildlife, searching for a mate.’
‘Stop it. You shouldn’t let him out. It’s dangerous.’
‘He’s a cat, El. He has needs.’
‘Sounds like a typical male,’ she said, dangling her arms and speaking like a caveman. ‘Man like animal. Must search for food, mate women and sleep often.’
We both laughed.
‘Look, here he is,’ I said, pointing at the door.
Prince breezed through the cat flap and rubbed against her leg. She picked him up and cooed at him while I opened a bottle of pinot to let it breathe while we finished our beers.
‘Still on for tomorrow night?’ she asked, nodding towards my nephew’s eighteenth-birthday invitation on the fridge.
‘Sure, but only if you want to. I know it’s going to be strange with all my family there. I mean, I spoke to Andy today, and it’s fine if you don’t want to go, but I kinda feel like I should. Haven’t seen my folks since Christmas and I think I –’
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, they’re good kids. How are they, by the way?’
I didn’t want to tell her about Chloe and the drugs, or my brother’s request that I speak to her about it. I still wasn’t sure how to approach it.
‘Fine, I guess. Johnno’s started year twelve and Chloe’s back to uni next month. Everyone’s growing up.’
She shook her head and I wondered whether she’d read the lie or was simply picturing the kids becoming adults.
‘Time flies,’ I said. ‘Soon there’ll be weddings and babies.’
‘Oh, hold up, will you. Let them have fun for a while.’
I made a high-pitched wail like a baby crying and Ella shuddered. The thought of having children had never particularly appealed to her. Maybe if she had a steady partner. A committed husband.
‘So what’s on the menu?’ she asked, putting Prince down and sliding onto the sofa. ‘What’s the sultan of South Melbourne got on the cards tonight?’
‘Well, it’s Albert Park, actually.’
‘Whatever. You sound like a Snoburb.’
‘A what?’
‘You know, one of those wankers who gets all snobby about what suburb they live in.’ She put on a high voice and added, ‘It’s not South Melbourne, darling, it’s Albert Park.’
I took a swig on my beer and tried to think of a comeback but couldn’t.
‘Anyway, I was going to do a rogan josh but it kind of loses grunt without the meat. So tonight I’ll do a warm tuna and chilli salad. You still eat fish, don’t you?’
‘Yep.’
On a platter I arranged piles of mushrooms, ham and sundried tomatoes around a chunk of camembert, which I then carried to the lounge and set down on the coffee table. Ella helped herself to the platter, then stood in front of the stereo cabinet examining my CD collection.
‘You got the new INXS album,’ she said, selecting it from the rack. ‘Good one.’
‘Not exactly new,’ I corrected. ‘It’s a tribute album. Lots of duets and reworking of the originals. Put it on if you like.’
‘Sure will, but I’m just not sure I like the idea of someone trying to copy the almighty Michael Hutchence.’
I nodded. There wasn’t a true INXS fan who wasn’t insanely protective of the band’s classic anthems. Michael Hutchence had a voice and a presence that could never be replaced.
‘It’s respectful,’ I said. ‘And they don’t try to copy him. Trust me, I wouldn’t even have it in my collection if they did.’
The track she selected was about as good as it got. ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ was probably the best recognised and most moving song released by INXS. Some people said it was simply a story of love at first sight and the passion that followed, but I disagreed. For me there was a real sadness in there, a knowing that the love wouldn’t last. Sure, there was nothing in the lyrics specifically saying that; it was more in the way it was delivered. The version Ella selected featured a duet between Tom Jones and Natalie Imbruglia who, perhaps deliberately, sang with more optimism than the original. It was a beautiful recreation, but they could never touch Michael Hutchence’s haunting vocals.
I tied on an old apron and Ella smirked at me from across the lounge.
‘What?’
‘Isn’t that the one I bought you?’ she asked. ‘Like, five years ago?’
‘Indeed it is,’ I said, looking down at how faded and torn it was.
‘Looks like you need a new one.’
‘I tried to give it to the Salvo’s but they wouldn’t take it. Apparently they have enough troubles of their own. You know you’re in strife when even the charities don’t want your belongings.’
I went back to the fridge, took out the ingredients for the salad and began chopping it all into piles.
‘You know something,’ Ella said, ‘you’d be quite a catch if you weren’t so focused on work.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She rolled onto her stomach, facing me on the sofa. ‘Well, you’re intelligent, funny, and you like to cook. That’s rare for a man.’
‘Too focused on work?’
‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I just mean you shouldn’t be so worried about being an ace detective any more. You’ve done your time for the police. Maybe you should think about yourself and do something else.’
‘I need to work, El. I have bills and a mortgage.’
‘I don’t mean quit the police; I just mean do something easier. You know, plenty of cops go back to work but don’t go back on the street.’
I put the knife down and considered her comments. It seemed everyone these days was telling me the same thing. Move on, McCauley, time to step aside and let another soldier take your place. Even Cassie had been hinting at it and, even though I would never admit it to anyone, I knew it wasn’t such a bad idea. I could spend more time with Ella, and visit Mum and Dad more often. That would keep Anthony happy. And I might even get to go to the cricket again with Edgar. I filled a salad bowl with the beans and chilli, and tossed them with the tuna as I thought about how a new life could take shape.
The CD player was on shuffle mode and the band’s new front man, J.D. Fortune, was working his way through a rendition of ‘Suicide Blonde’ when Ella suddenly screamed and dropped her beer bottle on the floor.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she shrieked. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘What?’ I said, watching Prince dart away from the sofa.
She pointed at the television. ‘That!’
Looking over, I realised I’d left the camera plugged into the AV port. Dallas Boyd’s ghost-white body filled the screen, the needle hanging from his arm. I’d turned the television off but not the camera.
‘You weren’t meant to see that.’
‘Weren’t meant to see it?’ She tossed the remote control on the coffee table. ‘I just bumped the bloody thing and it’s right there on the screen! What the hell is it anyway?’
Instead of answering, I unplugged the camera and stepped into the bathroom, ran the cold water and rinsed my face. I was embarrassed and knew it only validated her point. I wasn’t on the ball.
‘Get with it,’ I said to myself in the mirror. ‘Lift your game.’
When I opened the door Ella was there, a glass of wine in each hand. She handed me one. A peace offering.
‘Maybe we both need a drink?’ she said.
I took the glass but didn’t move from the doorway.
‘Tell me about him,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘The boy in the picture.’
Genuine concern filled her face and my sense was that she didn’t want to judge me. She wanted to understand me. Right then I realised this was necessary for our future, and I made a choice. I would tell her.

By the time I’d told her about the case, it was almost dark outside. We’d drunk two-thirds of the wine and eaten all of the cheese and biscuits, but hadn’t touched the tuna salad. Sitting beside her on the sofa, I stared at my reflection in the window, glad she had listened.
After a long moment she walked to the balcony. ‘I need a smoke.’
I opened the door for her and followed her out. The city was alive with the sound of traffic, techno music pumping from a party nearby. The north wind had settled, leaving the smoky air still and warm, like a bonfire left to cool. I leant against the balustrade and lit Ella’s cigarette first, then my own. She blew out a cloud of smoke and stared at the city skyscrapers.
‘Sad about the fires,’ she said. ‘Apparently some of them have been deliberately lit. I don’t know how those people live with themselves.’
I didn’t know the answer either, but I did know she was trying to talk about anything other than what was really on her mind.
She was halfway through the cigarette before she spoke again. ‘You know, that’s the first time you’ve ever told me about one of your cases.’
I nodded.
‘I know it’s not easy, but I appreciate it. It helps me understand what you do, Rubens.’ She took my hand, her skin warm and comforting. ‘I want you to know you can tell me anything.’
‘I know,’ I said, looking into her eyes.
‘No, I don’t think you do. When you were in the hospital and they . . .’ She cupped a hand over her mouth and I thought she was going to cry but she held it together. ‘When they didn’t know what was going to happen with you, whether you were going to live or not, I realised why you were in so much trouble. It wasn’t just because those men were out to get you. It was because I blamed you for everything that happened to us, and I refused to understand what was happening in your life because I didn’t want to know.’
She was referring to a case I’d worked more than a year before, when I’d been set up for the murder of an underworld figure and subsequently shot during the arrest of the killer. It was at a time when our marriage was at the point of no return. There were nights away from home, sometimes weeks at a time. We’d picked fights with each other over money, over stupid things. Meanwhile, there were corruption allegations, the disbanding of entire police squads. Some of my colleagues were involved in underworld killings and drug trafficking. Some were murdered, others went to prison. Some even committed suicide. Prior to all that, I’d spent two whole years on trial after a bikie gang member accused me of accepting bribes. Sure, I was eventually acquitted but I lost my wife in the process. The counselling sessions helped, but not enough. In the end it wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t mine. At least, that’s what I told myself.
‘I never want to go there again,’ she said.
‘I’m not going back to hospital, Ella. I don’t work cases like that any more.’
‘I don’t mean that. I mean I never want to be confused again.’ She frowned, struggling with her thoughts. ‘What I’m saying, I guess, is that I want to understand you, Rubens. Because if I can’t understand you, then I can’t . . .’ Again her voice trailed off and she looked away.
‘What?’ I prodded. ‘If you can’t understand me, then what?’
‘Then I can’t get to know you again.’
Squashing her cigarette in the ashtray, she set her glass on the outside table then buried her face against my chest. I held her, not wanting to move.
‘I want you to find him,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘Whoever killed that boy.’
I pressed my nose into her hair and inhaled. Her smell was intoxicating and something uncurled in me. I looked out across the palm trees towards St Kilda. A glow of light rose from behind the ferris wheel at Luna Park, as though it too was on fire. I squeezed her tighter, knowing this was more than just a physical embrace. Without even knowing, she’d reminded me of why I’d fallen in love with her all those years ago. Ella had been the only person to ever truly believe in me and I suddenly realised, for the first time perhaps, that she may never have really stopped. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her forehead, wondering how I’d ever got it so wrong.
‘Will you stay?’ I asked.
She eased out of my arms and, just like that, I knew I’d asked too soon. The moment was over.
‘Not tonight.’