Pearls (18 page)

The billiard room was thick with cigarette smoke and crowded with coloureds and those whites that Flynn never met at any of George's cocktail parties. The men wore either singlets or went bare-chested, beads of sweat shining on their faces.

Flynn looked around the room and saw the man he was looking for. Flynn nodded at him, and made his way to the rickety wooden bar. He bought himself a tumbler of square-face, and waited.

***

Simeon sauntered over, still holding his billiard cue, and bought a beer.

'Mister Flynn,' he said.

'You look like bashed crab,' Flynn said.

Simeon could not stand to look in a mirror anymore. The doctor had shaved the back of his head to stitch up the wallop he had got from the dog who stole his pearl. His face was already a mess from his encounter with the whale, then Siosuki and his friends had messed it up some more, breaking his nose for a second time. He daren't go and see Anna looking like this.

Anyway, first he had have his money.

'Our business was interrupted,' Flynn said. 'Do you still have the merchandise?'

Simeon hesitated only for a moment. 'I still have it.'

'Then I suggest we re-arrange our meeting for tomorrow night. Same time, same place.'

'You'll bring the money?'

'I'll have the money, my boy. You bring the pearl.'

Simeon nodded and went back to the billiard table. He sunk a difficult shot off the cushion and when he looked up again, Flynn was gone.

So far so good. Now he had got his wits back, he had realised that all was not lost yet. Someone had cheated him, so he would pass the favour on. A steamer, the
Gorgon
, was arriving tomorrow morning, and would sail within the day to catch the tide. He would be on it; and he would have Flynn's money with him. When he arrived safe in Singapore he would send a message to Anna and send her money for the fare.

Everything would still work out as he had planned.

'What are you grinning at?'

Simeon looked around. It was Huey Fong. 'Nothing.'

'Then let's get on with the game.'

Simeon bent over the table and completed a successful cannon into the corner pocket. He grinned at Huey. His luck was back. He could feel it in his water.

Chapter 28

'So how are things between you and Kathleen?'

George pulled on his cigar. 'A rather personal question, old boy.'

'It's a personal matter, George. She's my daughter.'

George stubbed out his cigar. Another steaming night and George and Flynn were sitting outside on the veranda of George's bungalow. Kate had complained of a headache and retired to bed.

It had been almost a week since the riots and Flynn had noted that George and Kate had spoken barely a civil word to each other. Dinner had been agony. He had been the only one even making an attempt at conversation.

'I'm concerned about the marriage, George,' Flynn said.

'I can sort out my own domestic affairs, thank you, Patrick.'

'Can you now?'

George poured himself another brandy. 'Drink?' he said.

Flynn wanted to refuse on point of principle - harder to lecture a man when you were drinking his brandy - but he could not help himself. 'A small one.'

George poured three fingers into a glass and handed it to Flynn. 'Your health.'

Flynn raised his glass. 'As I was saying ...'

'I'm finding this conversation rather boring. Mind if we change the subject?'

'I don't give a damn what you think. I want to ...'

'Keep your voice down, old boy. She's only in the next room.'

Flynn leaned forward. 'What happened the night of the riot?'

'That's all in the past now.'

'Is it? What if she decides to leave you?'

'She won't do that.'

'Won't she now?'

George leaned back, put his hands behind his head and yawned. 'Where would she go? How could she live?'

'I would think that's obvious, my boy.'

There was a long silence as the men regarded each other. 'You can't even support yourself,' George said, finally.

'What are you talking about?'

'I've been covering your debts for years, Patrick. You don't think I've paid for your drinking and gambling for nothing? They were loans, Patrick, properly documented, as you know. If I choose to call them in now, how much do you think you'll be left with?' He paused, watching this sink in. 'You don't even know, do you?'

'I'll pay you back.'

'Of course you will. The trouble is, after you've sold your shares in the Niland and Company, it won't leave very much.'

Flynn mopped his face with his handkerchief.

'You've gone quite pale,' George said.

'You motherless bastard.'

'Me? Why am I the villain in this, Flynn? Personally, I've no fondness for two-up and I never drank to excess, either. But I don't condemn those failings in others. I'm even happy to finance your vices, up to a point.'

'You'll get your money.'

George raised an eyebrow. 'You have another iron in the fire?'

'Don't you worry about me or my irons! Soon I'll have you off my back forever.'

George shook his head. 'I'm not your enemy, Patrick. Besides, if she leaves me, she won't go running back to Daddy. She has someone else in mind.'

'What are you talking about?'

'McKenzie.'

Flynn gulped the rest of his brandy.

'Yes, he's been seeing her. Here in this house. One of the servants told me.'

Flynn's face flushed the colour of raw liver. 'In your own house?'

'Calm down.'

'Calm down? Why should I calm down? Why should you? What the hell are you going to do about it, man?'

'What can I do?'

Flynn jumped to his feet and the cane chair clattered on its side. 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Maybe she's better off without you after all! If you were any sort of man you'd call him to account!'

George gave Flynn a chill smile.

'I ought to deal with the bastard myself if you're not man enough!'

'You've tried that before, on two occasions by my count. Where did it get you?'

Flynn picked up his hat and cane.

'Where are you going?' George called after him.

'I've business to attend to!' he shouted and then he was gone.

***

Kate watched him go from between the slats of her bedroom window,. The sound of raised voices had woken her.

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Maybe she's better off without you after all! If you were any sort of man you'd call him to account!'

She felt a shiver of apprehension. Long after George had slipped into bed beside her she lay staring at the darkness. She was still awake when Sergeant Clarke knocked on the door, soon after midnight.

***

It was a boisterous night at the Bosun's Regret. Fiddles sawed out an Irish reel and out on Dampier Terrace the music mingled with snatches of singing and piano from one of the pearler's bungalows. The solitary glow of a masthead light bobbed on the bay.

Simeon waited on the beach in the shadows below the Streeter and Male stores. The squeal of a flying fox in the trees nearby made him start.

Calm down, Simeon. If you are too nervous he will know there is something wrong.

He heard footfall on the sand.

'Espada! Are you there? It's me, Flynn!'

'I'm here, boss.'

He moved out of the shadows. It was a perfect night, the moon was no more than a sliver, it was plenty dark enough for deception. 'You have the money, boss?'

'I've got it, my boy.'

'Let me see it.'

Flynn patted his jacket pocket. 'It's right here. First show me this pearl!'

Simeon reached into his pocket and brought out a white handkerchief. He had wrapped a lemonade stopper inside. It was hard and large and round, convincing enough for his purpose.

He handed it to Flynn.

Flynn unwrapped it carefully. He couldn't see a damned thing. Cursing, he knelt down and spread the handkerchief on the sane. He reached into his pocket and produced a box of matches. He lit one.

'Wait a minute ...'

Simeon felt for the iron crook he had hung on the belt of his trousers. As Flynn looked up he brought it down hard on the other man's head.

Flynn fell sideways on the sand. He hadn't hit him hard enough! To Simeon's horror he tried to get back on his feet, but he was like a punch-drunk boxer and he couldn't co-ordinate his arms and legs. 'Help me!' he roared. 'Murder!'

Panicked, Simeon swung again, as hard as he could. Flynn put up an arm to fend off the blow and Simeon heard a loud crack as the bones in Flynn's forearm shattered. Flynn screamed. Simeon swung again. This time the blow connected with the back of Flynn's head. There was an ugly crunching sound, like someone stepping on a cabbage in heavy boots.

Flynn lay still on the sand.

Simeon threw away the bar and knelt down, turning out Flynn's pockets. He found a thick envelope of money and shoved it into his shorts. He heard someone running down Dampier Terrace. Someone must have heard Flynn's shouts.

He got up and started to run.

***

Cameron was headed back to his ship to turn in for the night when he heard the commotion on the beach. The
Roebuck
had been dragged up onto the shore for lay-up, and Cameron was sleeping on board while he had a camp built further up the beach, next to Ferguson's. When he heard the shouts he clambered down the coir ladder at the dock and ran down the sand in the direction of the Streeter and Male jetty.

He saw someone running off along the strand. 'You there! Wait!' He started after him but tripped on something in the sand and fell headlong.

For a moment the moon appeared from behind the clouds and he saw a body lying spread-eagled on the sand. He tried shaking him, and his right hand came away sticky and wet. Jesus! He looked over his shoulder and saw the other man silhouetted outlined against the pilings below Dampier Terrace. He ran after him.

***

By the time Cameron got back to the beach, a crowd had gathered, some of them carrying kerosene lamps. Half a dozen men from the Bosun's Regret helped carry the body back up to the street.

'Jesus, it's Flynn!' someone said

'Someone's caved his head in!'

One of the men - Cameron recognised him, it was the pearler, Lacey - tore open Flynn's shirt and put his ear to his chest. He shook his head. 'He's dead.'

'Christ Almighty!'

'What a mess.'

One of them looked up at Cameron. 'Where did you come from?'

'I heard someone call out. There was a man running up the beach towards Chinatown. I chased him.'

Lacey looked at Cameron's hands, then at his shirt. 'There's blood all over you.'

Cameron looked down, surprised. Lacey was right. 'I found him lying on the beach. I fell over him.'

There was a long silence. 'Someone better call Sergeant Clarke,' Lacey grunted. Cameron realised everyone was staring at him, and he knew what they were thinking.

Chapter 29

Simeon scurried into an alley behind Bitter Moon Lane and fell against the wall, panting. He waited there until there was no one around and dashed up the stairs to his room.

He locked the door, threw himself down on his bed and sobbed like a child.

After a while he heard shouting form down in the lane. People were streaming out of the boarding houses and shops and running towards Dampier Terrace. He heard someone shout out 'Murder!'

Murder.
Murder?
Holy Mary, Mother of God, no. He hadn't meant to kill him!

They would hang a man for that!

He ripped off his shirt and wiped Flynn off him best he could. Then he went down to the washhouse and cleaned up in one of the troughs. Then he went back to his room. He stared at his shirt lying crumpled on the floor in the corner, Flynn's blood all over it. He would have to burn it somewhere.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, wondered what to do. He took the envelope out of his shirt pocket. He tore it open and spilled the notes onto the bed. He counted them quickly. Five hundred pounds! He had asked for a thousand! The old bastard was trying to cheat him!