“Sure. I could take a break.”
“Thank you, Clancy,” Steph replied. She looked around for a bit, then spotted a wooden table and bench near the monkey bars. Beckoning him towards it, Clancy followed her. When we were all seated, Steph on one side and Clancy and I on the other facing her, Steph began to ask him questions, although given that he appeared a bit on the slow side, she kept them short and basic.
“How long have you been the janitor here, Clancy?” He looked up at the sky and appeared to count in his head. One of his hands lifted a little and I could see the fingers twitching slightly, each one at a time, as if he was numbering them.
“I think about four years now,” he said after a minute.
“Do you like it here?”
“Yes, very much. Mr. Bester says that if I work hard, then it’s a job I can retire on.” He broke a smile at that as if he was actually picturing his retirement.
“Can I ask you how old you are?” Steph asked. Again, his eyes went skyward, as if calculating.
“32. No wait,” more calculating, fingers working and twitching, “no, 33. Yes, 33.” Steph smiled at him as he corrected himself and he seemed to relax, his shoulders visibly sagging a little.
“Clancy, can I ask you about someone? A man you visited up at Crab Apple?” He considered her question for a moment, his expression vacant. Then after thinking about it for a few seconds, something seemed to switch on inside him, as if remembering something from long ago. He also appeared to cringe a little as if recalling something bad.
“Are you going to ask me about Harry?”
“Yes, that’s right. Harry Lightman. Do you remember visiting him up at Crab Apple?” He looked down at his hands, interlacing his fingers.
“Is it OK to talk about Harry?” Steph asked and Clancy appeared to wince, although he began to nod a little. I reached out and touched his arm. He flinched, looked up at me, then forced a smile.
“It’s OK, Clancy. Take your time,” I said to him reassuringly. After a moment his shoulders relaxed again.
“Sure. I visited Harry. Up in jail.”
“Yes, that’s right. Clancy, how do you know Harry?” she asked him. He looked at her for a long time before answering as if trying to remember the lines to a play. His lips would begin to move, mouthing silent words, then stop. After a minute he spoke.
“Harry used to live behind our house. He was a nice man. Used to let me help him fix stuff.”
“Fix stuff? Like what?” I asked.
“Harry would always have stuff that needed fixing. He had this motorbike that he loved. He would work on it often and I would hand him the spanner he needed, or clean parts. He even took me for rides on the motorbike.” He grinned widely, revealing several gaps and a couple of leaners. “That was fun.”
“I bet it was. And you used to visit him a lot, didn’t you?” Steph continued.
“Yup. Harry showed me how to play Poker. That’s a card game. Harry loves playing cards. ‘Kings and Queens used to play’ he would always say.”
“Yes, they did. Did you happen to do anything else for Harry?”
“Anything else?” He thought for a moment. “I brought him books, too. He likes to read. And these.” He pulled out an open packet of Juicy Fruit and held it out to us, showing us the name on the side of the packet. “I love them, too. I always carry a packet. Would you like one?” He took one out and held it out to Steph. She shook her head and when he offered it to me, I accepted. He popped one into his mouth, then smiled as he saw me chew, as if victorious. “Yum, aren’t they?”.
“What sort of books?” I asked, putting the silver foil in my pocket. He began folding his own foil, this way and that, until it resembled a tiny “W”.
“Oh, Harry liked the classics. ‘There’s nothing wrong with reading the classics’ he told me. Moby Dick, Treasure Island.”
“Clancy, did Harry ever ask you to do anything you didn’t want to?” I asked and his expression changed to one of fear in an instant. He slowly shook his head from side to side. “It’s OK to tell, he won’t hurt you anymore.”
“No, Harry never asked me nothin like that. Never.” He spoke slowly, almost too quietly, for fear of anyone overhearing him speak. Steph leant a little forward, lowering her own voice.
“Because if he did,” she said quietly, “it would be pretty important to tell someone. So that they could stop him. Are you sure?” For a moment, I thought he was actually going to say something. His mouth opened a little to let the words come out, but after a few seconds he closed it again, his gaze never leaving the table top. His head began to shake slowly from side to side.
“No, Harry is a nice man. He never asked me nothin like that,” repeating himself.
“OK, Clancy. It’s OK, mate,” I said to him. Steph gave me a little nod and I stood, holding out my hand. “Thank you for your time, buddy.” He reached out and shook it, smiling again.
“And if you ever want to talk, Clancy, you just have to ask, OK?” Steph finished. He flashed her a big grin.
“Thank you. I will.” And with that he trotted back to his bin cart, whistling as he went back to his work.
3.
Steph dropped me off at the hotel, then headed to the police station to update them of what we were doing. We agreed to meet at Mrs. Homestead’s Café at 1, which would give me a couple of hours sleep. I stood on the footpath and watched her drive off, the morning still young. Once her car rounded the corner, I headed into the hotel and bounded up the stairs, 2 at a time. As I reached the second floor,
