‘I’m Elsie. They calls me Lizard Elsie because of my bloody blue tongue. I learned the habit early and I don’t seem to be able to fucking break meself of it. That’s better.’
Miss Parkes had taken a deep draught of brandy and was leaning back against the wall. She had not eaten for two days and the spirit rushed straight to her head and disconnected her wits.
‘Now,’ said Lizard Elsie, repossessing herself of her bottle, ‘tell me how you got to be a fucking murderer.’
‘A man,’ said Miss Parkes. ‘He was my husband.’
‘Ain’t it always the fucking way,’ Elsie spat. ‘Did yer kill him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ asked Elsie, settling down for a long chat.
‘I . . . he mistreated me and made me barren and beat me and then told me to be a whore.’
‘He was bloody lucky if all yer did to ’im was kill ’im,’ observed Elsie. ‘When was this?’
‘Ten years ago.’
‘Ten years ago? They just bloody found out, then?’
‘No, they think I killed another person. A circus performer who lived in the same house as me. His name was Mr Christopher. He was stabbed to death.’
‘And did you?’ asked Elsie, interested.
‘I don’t think so. But I got out of prison, see, and they thought that if I’d killed once I’d kill again.’
‘Fucking cops,’ said Elsie. ‘Have another dram.’
Miss Parkes pushed back her cropped hair, which was filthy. She was still wearing the same suit in which she had rescued Constable Harris from the roof. She noticed that she was grimy, and that her fingernails were black and broken. Elsie scanned her with her parrot regard.
‘Hey!’ yelled Elsie. ‘Duty copper!’
‘Yes, madam?’ asked the duty officer with heavy sarcasm. ‘What does madam require? Caviar? Champagne?’
‘Madam requires that you give me and this poor bloody woman a bath and some clean fucking clothes. Then we’ll see about some lunch,’ said Elsie flatly.
‘But she doesn’t want a bath,’ said the policeman. ‘And she won’t eat, either.’
‘You leave it to old Elsie,’ she said with deep cunning. ‘Just get us a wash and a comb and some lunch and we’ll be right as bloody rain. And fucking put some speed on,’ she shrieked at his retreating back. ‘I ain’t had a bath and a feed for a bloody week.’
‘I can tell,’ muttered the duty officer and went off to arrange the closure of the men’s ablutions for the ladies’ bath.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Euripides (translation, Gilbert Murray)
The Brunnies were not hard to find. Jack Black Blake held court as usual in the front bar of the Brunswick Arms in Brunswick Street. When the gigantic figure of Sergeant Grossmith appeared at his side, he did not react.
‘Pint,’ said Grossmith to the barmaid. ‘G’day, Doris! What a fine figure of a woman you are.’
Doris giggled. She, like Mary of the Provincial, was evidently unaware that bosoms were not fashionable. Hers were of a light biscuit colour and were trussed so high that they nestled under her chin. Grossmith found her charming. He liked a woman to be a real woman, not an imitation boy.
‘Hear you had a little trouble,’ remarked Grossmith to the air. The man beside him grunted.
‘Trouble? No.’
‘Someone shot Reffo,’ suggested Grossmith. ‘The ’Roy Boys, or so I hear.’
‘What of it?’
‘Listen, Jack, you got a chance to put the ’Roy Boys where they belong—behind bars. They shot your mate and they’re trying to stand over you for your territory. Now, are you a lot of sissies or are you the Brunswick Boys?’
Men gathered behind Grossmith. He could hear them breathing. Doris moved prudently to another part of the bar. Grossmith identified the men in the bar mirror: the Judge, an ex-wharfie, sacked for always sitting on a case, hulking and dumb; Little Georgie, who carried a knife and had liquid black eyes; Billy the Dog, who grinned, showing rotten teeth; the Snake, hefting a bottle thoughtfully; was a tall man with a thin moustache and the cold flat eyes that gave him his name. Reffo had been his mate. They all exuded menace.
‘It’s no use crowding me,’ remarked Grossmith artlessly. ‘I ain’t your enemy.’
‘You ain’t exactly our friend,’ said the Snake through a closed mouth.
Grossmith grinned. ‘You bet. I ain’t never going to be your mate, Snake. But at the moment we could be allies. What have the ’Roys got themselves into? It’s too big for them.’
‘Then it’d be too big for us,’ said Jack Black. ‘All right. We can make a deal.’
‘Oh, can we?’ asked Grossmith. ‘What deal is that?’
‘You leave us alone and we’ll tell you.’
‘No,’ said Grossmith after a moment’s thought. ‘I can’t do that, Jack. You know I can’t do that. My chief is set against gangs and I can’t go over his head.’
Jack Black laughed suddenly and called for another beer.
‘But,’ said Grossmith, ‘you want to get rid of the ’Roy Boys and this is the way to do it. Because if you think that you can start a gang war in Melbourne like they have in Chicago, Jack, you got another think coming. You use the police for your revenge, and that’s good, I’ll put in a good word for you if I can. But you go out and buy a machine-gun and I’ll hang you if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’m not having it and that’s flat. And that’s all I’ve got to say, so I’ll be going if you don’t want to talk.’
‘Fetch Iris,’ ordered Jack, and Snake left the bar.
Grossmith ordered another beer and said slowly, ‘One of my constables was shot last night.’
‘Yair?’
‘In Brunswick Street.’
‘Oh?’ Jack yawned.
‘Lizard Elsie was with him.’
A faint interest dawned in Jack’s eyes. ‘Mad as a coot,’ he said. ‘That Elsie.’
‘Yair. She almost bit Wholesale Louis’s ear off.’
Jack Black roared with laughter. So did his men.
‘She still playing that trick? She’s a mean bitch when she gets going! So where is she?’
‘Lizard Elsie?’
‘Yair. Lizard Elsie.’
‘In the clink,’ said Grossmith.
‘Best place for her,’ decided Jack Black. ‘She might dry out. She’s been all right, the old Else. Done me a good turn, once. Picked me up outa the gutter and brung me home when I had a difference of opinion with . . . some people. And I don’t reckon she had nothing to do with Reffo. She never joined any mob. She’s always been on her
