‘Is he all right?’
I shrugged. ‘Dunno. His dad’s gone in the helicopter with him.’
Jimmy rubbed his chest, which must have been heavily bruised. ‘Shit, poor Kev.’
I began to walk away when an idea occurred to me and I turned back. ‘How long were you hanging around there?’
‘Hour or so. Bit more. Look, I’m sorry, mate. I-’
‘Forget it. You might be able to help me. Did anyone arrive late at the meeting or look strange?’
Jimmy wasn’t the brightest. ‘How d’you mean?’
‘Rushed, worried, anxious.’
‘Aw, a couple come late.’
‘Who?’
‘Brucie Perkins… and Lenny Rogers come roaring up.’ What I was getting at slowly seeped through to him but he shook his head. ‘No, no way. They’re both good mates of Kev’s dad. Good mates.’
‘All right. I’ve got to go. Maybe you should go to the pub and let Kevin’s friends know. You might want to ring the hospital or something.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I could do that. Thanks, mate, and look, like I said, I-’
‘Don’t forget your chain,’ I said.
I drove back to the Brown farm with cold air whistling through the windshield and an idea buzzing in my head.
I phoned the hospital and was told that Kevin was in a stable condition. In the morning I told old Harry and the others what had happened and how Kevin was. I guessed that Jacko would be back as soon as his son was clearly out of danger.
I drove into town and gave the doctor the details on the shooting, then I located Vic Bruce, the policeman, and did the same. That occupied the early part of the morning. By eleven o’clock I was in the pub talking to Ted Firth.
‘Terrible thing, that,’ he said.
I agreed, bought us both a beer and leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘How do you feel about the community bank idea, Ted?’
‘I’m all for it. Could set the place up again. Yep, I’ve agreed to kick in.’
‘Bit of a risk, isn’t it?’
‘Not doing any good as it is.’
‘I believe Bruce Perkins and Len Rogers are onside?’
‘Yeah. Great mates of Jacko’s.’
I sipped some beer. ‘I was hoping to meet them last night, but.. Tell me a bit about them.’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I dunno. What sort of blokes they are, how their farms’re doing. You know.’
‘Both doing it a bit hard, I suppose, but I know they’ve agreed to come in on the bank thing. Brucie tried to modernise, spent some money on a computer and the internet and that. Dunno what good it did him. Lenny’s a good bloke, battler. Oh, Brucie’s like you and Jacko, ex-army. Good bit younger, of course. Vietnam.’
I nodded and switched the subject to Kevin and then to the world at large. After that it was simply a matter of sitting down with the telephone, a pot of coffee and a notepad. You can find out practically anything you want about anybody nowadays if you know how to go about it. I learned that Bruce James Perkins had been in Vietnam in 1966-67 as a national serviceman. A member of the 5th Battalion, he’d been promoted to corporal, commended for bravery in the field and in training he’d had out-standing results in rifle shooting. An extensive credit check showed that his property was heavily mortgaged, that he had numerous and weighty credit card debts and recurrent and pressing tax liabilities. He was in arrears on his rates and struggling to pay his telephone bills. Earlier in the year he’d bought a state of the art computer and printer on his American Express card which had since been cancelled. He was the licensed owner of two rifles. Plus one, I thought as I jotted this down.
Kevin was declared out of danger and Jacko came back the next day.
‘Jimmy and Rosie are going in today to keep him company and bring him back when he’s fit to travel,’ Jacko said.
‘Rosie?’
‘Rosie Williams, local girl. Good people. Apparently she and Kevin have been keeping company when he wasn’t on the piss with his mates. News to me.’
We were in town. Jacko had got a lift from Cobar and I’d driven in to get him. We went to the pub where I had a beer and Jacko had tonic water and bitters. It seemed as good a time and place as any to tell him.
‘I think I know who’s behind your trouble.’
I laid it out for him. At first he was sceptical, then his face fell into serious, angry lines as the pieces joined together.
‘It’s circumstantial,’ I said.
Jacko drained his glass. ‘I hate to say it, but it looks pretty convincing. Only one way to find out.’
I nodded and took the three bullets from my pocket. ‘You could tell him I’ve had these examined and know what kind of rifle they were fired from. Bluff.’
Jacko took the bullets and we went out to the ute. I’d ordered a new windshield from Cobar-Syd Parry said he could fit it-but it was going to take a few days to arrive.
Before we started I put my hand on Jacko’s shoulder. ‘If it is him, and he admits it, what’ll you do?’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want you doing anything stupid. Maybe we should take Vic Bruce along.’
‘No. I promise I won’t kill him, but that’s all I’ll promise.’
Jacko drove. We were silent, each with our own thoughts. We reached the Perkins farm, which looked even more rundown than Jacko’s. We pulled up outside the house and a woman came to the door.
“lo, Jack.’
‘Iris,’ Jacko said. ‘Where’s Brucie?’
‘Water tank. Pump’s playing up. Will you have a cuppa?’
‘Maybe, in a minute or two.’
I nodded a mute greeting to the woman and followed Jacko around the house and down a path to where a big water tank stood beside a clump of stunted apple trees. A man in overalls was bent over the pump fixture. He straightened up when he saw us coming. Big bloke. He had a heavy pair of pliers in his hand and I let my fingers curl around the butt of the. 38 in my pocket. Then I saw that Jacko had a tyre iron held against his leg and I released my grip on the pistol.
Jacko stopped two metres short of Perkins. He fished in his shirt pocket with his left hand and held up the bullets. ‘My mate here’s had these examined. Know what, he reckons they come from a Martini-Henry and a Savage. Not sure about the other one. How about it, Brucie? Like to bring ‘em out and let us do a match-up?’
Perkins’ weather-beaten face went pale. ‘Shit, Jacko, I never meant to…’
It was enough for Jacko. He stepped forward and the left he threw was as fast and straight as back in his Police Boys Club days. In one motion he tossed away the tyre iron and followed up with a jolting right that took Perkins on the side of the jaw, twisted his head around and dropped him.
Jacko knelt with his knee pressing down on Perkins’ chest. ‘Now tell me why,’ he said. He picked up the pliers Perkins had dropped. ‘That’s if you want to keep any teeth.’
It was all about money, the way it mostly is. Bruce Perkins had agreed to back the community bank to the hilt while at the same time he was in negotiation with one of the big holders to sell his property. The community bank idea moved faster than the negotiation so he was faced with the prospect of having to declare how little equity in his farm he had and how big his obligations were. With that known, the buyer would get his place for a song, so he tried to block the community bank. He told Jacko he’d deliberately hit the roof with the first shot as a sighter and had put the second one between us. He didn’t know there was anyone in the back.
‘D’you believe him?’ I said.
‘He can hit a hopping kangaroo in the head at two hundred yards.’
