hair swishing around her shoulders. I tapped out three tablets and let them sit in the palm of my left hand. I noticed then that I’d grazed the hand at some time in the proceedings. Both hands bloodied. Two-fisted Hardy. All the more reason for the pain-killers.
‘I don’t run to serving trays. This is the bread board.’
She had a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels on the board along with two glasses, a bowl of ice and the mineral water. There was also a plate with a couple of slices of some kind of pie on it. She put the board on the floor and selected a cassette. Soft rock with a touch of soul. Unobjectionable. She sat next to me on the couch.
‘If you could see yourself, Cliff, you’d understand why the food. You look like an old grey wolf, starving to death. When did you last eat?’
‘I had lunch. I forget what.’
She shoved the plate at me. ‘Eat. Then you get to drink’
‘I need the pills.’
She poured out a measure of mineral water and I swallowed the tablets. The spinach pie was good and I managed to get down a few mouthfuls before my throat seized up and I fell back into my picking and crumbling routine. I realised then that I’d been doing this for days. I forced some more of the food down and then pushed the plate away.
‘A drink,’ I said. ‘Please.’
She made a solid one for me and a weaker one for herself. I took a swig and watched her eat a piece of pie with obvious enjoyment. I felt sour and old and damaged in the presence of someone sounder and younger and healthier. Not a good feeling. I felt a little better after some more of the whisky went down.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Somebody stole your files?’
‘Yes, Roberts and… ‘
‘Cornwall. Does that make any sense?’
I shrugged and felt the dull pain in the shoulder. Not as bad, but still there. ‘Not to me. I’ll have to follow up on it though. It might mean something.’
I finished my drink and let her make me another. Then I described my two assailants.
She said, ‘Eat some more pie while I think. Otherwise you’re going to get drunk and you won’t be any good in bed.’
‘I’m not sure that’s going to happen.’ But I was interested.
‘We’ll see.’ She stared at the montage while I ate. The pills were starting to work and nothing was hurting as much. What with the whisky and the music I was feeling relaxed.
‘Not the bald one,’ she said. ‘The other guy maybe, but like I said, I’d have to see him to be sure.’
I’d almost forgotten what she was supposed to be thinking about-whether either of the men who’d broken into my car resembled the man she’d seen with Scott. I hadn’t expected a matchup, I was just going through the motions. I sipped my drink and tried to sort things out in a professional way. How had I been targeted? Presumably by someone watching Scott’s office. The who and the why that went with that would just have to hang in the air.
She peeled off her socks and wriggled her toes. ‘So what are you thinking about now?’
‘Somebody must be keeping an eye on Scott’s office. My going there set off some kind of signal. Did we have your door closed when we were talking?’
She squinted, remembering. ‘I think it was sorta ajar. That’s the way it hangs. Anyhow, the walls in that place are so thin you could hear from the next room, either side.’
‘I’d better ring Gina. Make sure she’s all right. You could be drawn into this, too, Vita, whatever the hell it is.’
She pointed. ‘The phone’s in the bedroom, through there. Don’t worry about Vita, she can take care of herself She reached into her bag and came up with a snub-nosed pistol. ‘Beretta Puma, and I know how to use it.’
The way she handled it suggested she did. ‘You’re full of surprises.’
‘It’s licensed. I told you, I’m the caretaker here. Those poor fucked-up junkies think a pathology lab’s a place to keep drugs. Go use the phone. Check on your client, Mr Detective.’
Her tone was hard to interpret but my concern about Gina overrode that. I took the rest of my second drink with me and went into the bedroom. It was dim and large with a low double bed jammed against the wall making space for an exercise bike, more bookshelves and a desk with a computer. The phone was on the floor beside the bed. I sat down gingerly and was pleased to realise that I could remember Scott’s home number. My left arm was giving me trouble and I had to juggle the phone awkwardly.
A man answered the phone and I asked to speak to Gina.
‘Who’s calling?’ Fair enough question, under the circumstances, but I didn’t see the need for the hostile tone.
‘My name’s Hardy. I was a friend of Scott’s and a colleague. Gina’s asked me to tidy up some business matters. Who am I speaking to? Is Gina all right.’
‘This is Ken Galvani, Scott’s brother. I know who you are. You’re the one who got him that fuckin’ job. You stayed for about two minutes after the funeral. Gina wouldn’t ask you to do anything.’
‘We won’t argue about it. Can I speak to her, please.’
‘She’s not here. She’s gone to my mother’s place for a while.’
He hung up in my ear. Scott had two brothers. I couldn’t have recalled their names, but it didn’t surprise me that one was Ken. Scott had told me that his parents had wanted to give their sons Australian-sounding names to speed their integration. His own name was a little wide of the mark, but Ken was spot-on. It didn’t sound like a good deal for Gina, staying with the in-laws, but it was none of my business and at least it was safe. I replaced the receiver and massaged my fast-stiffening shoulder.
‘Let me do that for you.’
Vita was in the room, again silently. She motioned for me to unbutton my shirt and when I had trouble using the left arm she helped. After that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take off my pants and shoes. I lay on the bed in my jockettes while she examined me, squatting beside me in her silky shorts and loose T- shirt.
‘Bit of flab, not too much for a guy your age. That’s one hell of a bruise, though. Gonna be sore awhile. Better let it be.’ She traced a few scars on other parts of my body with a fingernail. ‘You’ve knocked yourself about some, haven’t you?’
‘A little.’
‘I’ll bet there’s still a bit of life left in you, though.’ Her hand snaked inside my underpants and what she said seemed to be true. I reached up under the shirt and touched her breasts. The novelty of the shape and size and texture of them was arousing me and her hand was doing its work expertly. She pulled down my jockettes and snapped her fingers. A condom appeared in her hand and I laughed.
‘Jesus. How did you do that?’ I tried to lift myself off the bed to take off her shirt but the shoulder sent waves of pain through me and I groaned and fell back.
‘Take it easy,’ she said. ‘I’ll make the arrangements.’
She rolled the condom onto me and kissed the tip. ‘Lubricated, ribbed and with a tickler.’ Two quick up- and-down movements and she was naked. She was thin but not bony, with good muscle tone. She put my hands on her breasts and told me to squeeze hard. I did and her nipples stiffened. She stroked me with one hand and herself with the other. Then she straddled me and controlled everything, guiding me in, adjusting the angle, settling down. She was light and tight. I was highly aroused but the condom reduced the sensation and I was able to move with her and not come too quickly.
‘Good?’ she said. ‘Good?’
We fell into a rhythm that caused me almost as much pain as pleasure. Everything that had hurt before was hurting again, but I didn’t care. She guided my hands around behind her and instructed them to stroke her buttocks and cleft as she moved. I was in full rut, out of control, I probed with my fingers and thrust up at her, roaring with pain and pleasure as I came.
I flopped back, with sweat breaking out all over me. She leaned down and kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth and then rearing back.
‘“There’s enough left for me. Just enough left for me.’
