Razorhurst (22 page)

Kelpie didn’t know what to think.

Was Glory going to kill Dymphna?

Since Lettie and Dazzle had left the room, Glory hadn’t smiled once, and Dymphna’s leg was shaking under the table.

Kelpie fought the urge to slip her hand into Seamus’s coat pocket and touch the knife. It was dead sharp. If Glory tried to kill Dymphna, Kelpie would stick it in her.

Glory asked if Dymphna had anything to do with Jimmy Palmer being killed. Palmer yelled at her.

Dymphna was staring at Glory, her mouth a little open. “I did not,” she said, rising from her seat.

Gloriana Nelson’s left eyebrow went up.

Dymphna sank back. “Sorry, Glory.”

Palmer was still shouting. His face was getting darker.

Dymphna took a sip of her tea. Kelpie did the same, copying how Dymphna held the cup. She’d not had tea before. Didn’t taste that good, but it was hot and sweet. Kelpie had been feeling cold since Glory first looked at her.

“I know you didn’t do him,” Glory said. “Stands to reason. You’re not tall enough to slash the throat of a man that size. But a man can be killed without the person who wanted them dead raising a finger.” Gloriana looked down at her own painted hands. Her nails were as bright red as her hair. There was a ring on every finger.

Kelpie wondered how many people she’d killed with those hands. According to Old Ma, the harbour was half full with people Gloriana Nelson had done in. But then Glory had said she didn’t need her own hands to make people die. However she did it, Kelpie was surprised there weren’t more ghosts here. Surely at least some ghosts would haunt their murderers? Someone like Glory should have a swarm of them following her wherever she went.

But Snowy didn’t. Or Dymphna. Well, just the one. She wondered
if Palmer had been haunted when he was alive. She’d never seen any ghosts following Bluey Denham.

“Perhaps,” Glory suggested, “something you said or did … might have given someone the wrong idea?”

Dymphna shook her head. “He was my man. Everyone knew I wanted him to stay that way.”

Palmer grunted as if to say
Too right
.

“Youse were thick as thieves. No doubting that. Did anyone see you there, Dymph? At Mrs. Stone’s?”

“Someone might have seen me leaving the house.”

“
Might have
or
did
see you?”

“Might have. The police were asking for a well-dressed woman but not for me, not by name. Ferguson asked me about it, but he didn’t try to arrest me. I don’t think they know much.”

“Did he ask you who did Jimmy?”

“He asked if I had. I told him no.”

“Do you know who done him?”

Dymphna shook her head. “Mr. Davidson’s been after me. But I thought you and he—I thought the truce still held? He tried to get me into his motor-car when I was heading home.”

“Did he? Cheeky bugger.”

“One of his girls tried to nab me on the way here.”

“That’s a lie,” Palmer said. “Cait works for Glory, not Davidson. Why’s Dymph protecting that dingo?”

“Now that’s disrespectful,” Glory said. “I’ve a mind to have a word with Mr. Davidson. Going after my best girl. If he killed my man Palmer, it’ll be more than words we’ll be having. Do you think it was him?”

Dymphna looked as if she was trying to decide what to say. Kelpie reckoned she’d be better off not saying anything.

“Him trying to nab you—you, my very best girl—has Davidson ever tried that before?”

“He’s offered me work. You know that.”

“I told him you weren’t for sale. Seemed to accept it.”

“He’s been sending me flowers.”

“Flowers? Cheeky bugger. That’s just greedy, him going after the best girl in town.”

“She knows,” Palmer said.

Knows what?
Kelpie wondered. That Palmer wanted to kill Glory? But how could Palmer know that from what Glory said?

“Who do you think killed your man, Dymphna?”

Dymphna glanced at Kelpie.

“What?” Glory said, looking down at Kelpie so hard Kelpie felt her cheeks growing warm even though she was chilled all the way through. “Does the little doggie know who done Jimmy?”

Kelpie wanted to yell at her that she wasn’t a dog. Instead she looked at Dymphna’s leg shaking under the table and her hands pressing against it trying to keep it still.

“’Course not, Glory. Kelpie doesn’t know anything.”

On that, Kelpie agreed. So much of what they were saying to each other made no sense. She was lost and scared.

“Except where to hide in an emergency?” Glory asked.

“Well, yes, she’s been living on the streets. She knows a lot about that.”

“She’s small, isn’t she? How old are you, little doggie?”

“She doesn’t know, Glory,” Dymphna said, patting Kelpie’s head, which made Kelpie want to bark at them both. She was not a dog or a littlie.

“Is that right, doggie?”

“Yes, Glory,” Kelpie said. Why did everyone care how old she was? It wasn’t like it would change anything. She’d still be scrawny and little whether she was as old as Dymphna or even Glory.

“Not much to look at.”

Kelpie wanted to tell Glory she wasn’t much to look at either. Though it wasn’t true. Glory was like a living Christmas tree.

“I bet she sees things people don’t realise. They’d hardly notice you, would they?”

Dymphna nudged Kelpie.

“No one notices me,” Kelpie said. She felt even colder.
Except Glory right now, and Dymphna, and before her Snowy, and ghosts
.

“Useful skill. You seen anything today that no one else noticed?”

Kelpie didn’t know what to say. She’d seen a lot of things. Starting with Palmer’s dead body, then his ghost, then Snowy following them. She was sure Gloriana Nelson would want to hear about that. Instead she shook her head.

“Are you sure? Did you see Palmer dead, little doggie?”

Kelpie wished she could bite her. Glory’s gaze was still fixed on her. She lowered her head even more.

“Answer her, Kelpie.”

She swallowed the strong desire to say
Dunno
. “His feet were
dangling over the edge of the bed,” she said, not looking up. “He weren’t breathing. There was lots of blood.”

“Did Jimmy look like he’d put up a fight?”

“His hands were cut,” Kelpie said. “His shirt was torn. There was blood everywhere. Even on the walls.”

“On Dymphna?”

Kelpie shook her head.

“What were you doing there, Kelpie?”

“Looking for food.”

“That’s curious. Not known for her housekeeping, Mrs. Stone. Did you find any?”

Kelpie shook her head again. Not even bloody apples.

“See that?” Glory pointed to a tin on the other side of the sink. Birds were painted on the lid. “Bring it here.”

Kelpie looked at Dymphna, who nodded. She took the tin and handed it to Glory, who opened the lid. “Bickies, see? The good kind with jam. Take one.”

Kelpie reached in and took one, trying not to think about what Palmer had said about poison. Dymphna smiled at her. Kelpie took that to mean she should eat. The bickie melted on contact with her tongue, coating her mouth with the taste of butter and sugar. If it was poisoned, Kelpie didn’t care.

“Oh, go on, take another,” Glory said.

Kelpie did and retreated to Dymphna’s side to eat it.

“I wonder,” Glory began. She shook her head. “How
did
you manage to get all the way home from Mrs. Stone’s without being seen?”

“Kelpie knows all sorts of places to hide. We were in and out of hidey-holes, backyards, laneways. She knows where to hide in the Hills better than anyone else.”

“Lucky you ran into her.”

Dymphna nodded. Kelpie felt Glory’s eyes on her. She shivered.

“Where
did
you run into her?”

Dymphna didn’t answer straight away. As if she was considering whether to lie or not. “Over Palmer’s dead body. I was standing there staring at him. In shock, I guess. Then she was there. It woke me up.”

“Well, thank you, doggie girl. Lucky you were looking for food in such an unlikely place, isn’t it?”

Kelpie didn’t say anything, since Glory hadn’t asked her a question.

“Where’d you go? After Mrs. Stone’s? Can’t have been straight back to your place.”

“No. Kelpie showed me where to hide. O’Reilly’s place up the hill. Old bastard’s always passed out and leaves the back windows open. It’s posher up there. Less people to see me.”

Kelpie wondered why Dymphna lied and how she knew that about O’Reilly’s. Kelpie watched Glory store that bit of information away. She seemed to pay attention to everything. She wasn’t at all how Kelpie had imagined. She always looked bigger than life. Gaudier. Louder. Stupider too, Kelpie had thought.

But she wasn’t. Miss Lee said she was common and didn’t have anything but rat cunning, but Miss Lee was wrong. Kelpie suspected Glory was every bit as smart as Miss Lee. Smarter, maybe.

Old Ma had been wrong too. She said Gloriana Nelson was a dirty slattern. But this kitchen was clean and tidy. No tell-tale damp rot smell underneath. No dust on the table or any of the other surfaces. The tiles under her feet gleamed. Much cleaner than Old Ma’s home had been. The outside hadn’t looked like much, but inside all the walls were fresh painted. Kelpie could smell tea and milk and behind it all eucalyptus. She did not smell the oceans of perfume Old Ma had told her about.

“Bless you, Kelpie, looking after my best girl like that. You help yourself to as many bickies as you want.”

“Thank you,” Kelpie said, but she didn’t feel brave enough to venture closer to Glory and her biscuit tin.

“I’ll be honest with you, Dymphna. I don’t like it. Weren’t no reason for Davidson to get rid of Palmer.”

“We don’t know for sure that he did.”

Except that they
did
know that for sure. Kelpie realised that she believed Palmer after all. Snowy had killed him. She wasn’t sure what to make of the realisation. As far as she could tell, everyone in this room was a killer. Except for her and maybe Dymphna. But maybe not.

“We all know he fancies you. Doesn’t shut up about it. But going after my best girl? He knows I can’t let that ride. And me not letting it ride? Well, that’s not good for business. It’s why we got the truce in the first place. Under Ferguson cops aren’t as easy to lean on as I’d like. Goes same for Davidson as it does for me. Bodies lying around? Oceans of blood? Cops can’t ignore that.”

“She seems right cut up about me, doesn’t she, Kelpie?” Palmer gave a short bitter laugh.

“I’ll see what I can find out, Dymphna love. It doesn’t make sense. Sure Davidson’d like to have you working for him. Who wouldn’t? I’m thinking this goes deeper than that. Deeper! Ha!” Glory laughed loudly. Dymphna smiled. Kelpie had no idea what was funny.

“But if Davidson’s circling, best I protect you. Lettie! Lettie! Get your arse back in here!” Glory threw her stone at the door. “Lettie!”

The door opened. “Yes, Glory?”

“Go get Bluey Denham.”

Palmer swore.

Lettie paled, then closed the door behind her.

Kelpie heard Dymphna gulp. “Do you think that’s nec—”

Glory shut off Dymphna’s words with a hard look.

“Could you find my stone, little doggie dear?” she said, giving Kelpie a wolfish smile.

Bluey Denham

Bluey Denham was the ugliest man anyone in the Hills had ever seen. His nose was smeared halfway across his face from all the fights he’d gotten into. His ears were giant cauliflowers. His left eye was bigger than his right, and both eyes had irises barely darker than the whites, almost like a fish’s. There were uneven scars on both his cheeks. He spoke with a rasp so quiet you had to lean forward to hear him. But no one wanted to get that close to Bluey.

His disposition was worse than his looks.

He was probably the most feared man in the Hills. He wasn’t anywhere near as tall or big as Jimmy Palmer or Snowy Fullerton. But it didn’t matter. He had no limits. You riled him, he would kill you. There was no arguing, no paying him off.

Done was done.

Bluey didn’t like anything or anyone. He hated animals and children. But he wasn’t thrilled by adults neither: the women were hideous and too loud, the men stupid and boring. Everyone talked too much. The beer was too warm. The soup too cold. Newspapers were full of lies, and no politician or policeman or pianist or plumber was worth tuppence, and nothing was ever worth the time or the effort.