The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull (6 page)

Close-up of smooth, good-looking bastard with anal-retentive
hair and discreet tie. He could be one of those
models you see in catalogues, flanked by a couple of
clean-cut clones sporting seriously unpleasant leisure
garments. There is a
Crimestoppers
logo perched over
his immaculate left shoulder:

‘Can anyone remember seeing two young people
near the mall between five-thirty and six on the evening
of the seventeenth of May? A young male, aged about
fifteen with camouflage gear, bandy legs, bright red hair
with a beanie stuck on the top like a black cherry. His
accomplice had huge boobs and orange glasses the size of
up-and-over garage doors.'

No, the gathering dark was just fine with me.

Kiffo was moving like a man possessed. I had a struggle to keep up with him.

‘How did you find out where she lived, Kiffo?' I panted.

‘Easy,' he replied. ‘Borrowed my mate's motorbike. Followed her home from school.'

‘What are we going to do when we get there? I mean, for all we know, she could spend her evenings doing crosswords or pulling the wings off butterflies or sharpening her teeth. I can't imagine she has a loving circle of friends. And what if she has family?' I really couldn't imagine the Pitbull having family, mind you. She wasn't born, she was quarried. Nonetheless, I thought it was unlikely that she'd be out of an evening dancing at the local club or taking embroidery classes. I could see us sitting outside her house most of the night with nothing to show for it.

‘It's sorted,' said Kiffo. ‘She's got a dog.'

‘A dog?' I repeated. This was getting worse. ‘How does that help us?'

‘She takes it for a walk. Every night, the same time. Seven to eight-thirty. You can set your watch by it. Plenty of time for me to be in there, out again and both of us to be home before she gets halfway through exercising the mutt. Trust me.'

I shivered, even though the evening was uncomfortably warm. This was Kiffo's thing, his expertise. In the classroom, I was the boss. I knew my way around a poem. He knew his way around other people's houses. I thought about the different worlds we inhabited and wondered how I had managed to get myself involved in his.

We eventually stopped outside a small, low-set house in a nondescript area of the city. Kiffo and I stood across the road under a large casuarina where we were reasonably safe from prying neighbours. He hunkered down and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his camouflage jacket. He offered me one. I shook my head. I was developing enough bad habits for one evening. Aiding and abetting a break-in, an accomplice to a serious crime, a gangster's moll. Kiffo lit up and looked across the road with narrowed eyes. I wasn't sure if this was because of the smoke or because he thought it was tough. I crouched down beside him and practised narrowing my eyes. He pointed at the house with his cigarette.

‘Ten minutes. Then she'll be gone. All you gotta do is watch out for anyone who might be suspicious and let me know. I'll only be in there ten minutes. Piece of cake.'

‘Yeah,' I said, ‘and just how am I supposed to let you know if someone does get suspicious? Set off fireworks, use a loud-hailer, assemble a marching band?'

Kiffo narrowed his eyes further. God, I wished I could do that. I made a resolution to practise. He kept silent for a while, and with one of those horrible sinking feelings, I realised that this was something he hadn't given much thought to. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

‘You'll think of something,' he replied finally, showing more faith in me than I could summon. ‘Anyway, quiet. Here she is.'

I wasn't encouraged by the fact that she was eight minutes early according to Kiffo's calculations. Maybe he wasn't too fussy when it came to setting his watch. Maybe he couldn't tell the time. Not that it mattered. I watched as the Pitbull opened the front door of her house and came out, trying to restrain the biggest dog I had ever seen in my life. I mean this thing was
huge
. And it looked as bad-tempered as hell. So would I if I had to share living space with the Pitbull, mind. Even so, this was clearly a dog with limited things on its mind. Like ripping people to shreds, for example. It strained at the lead as if anxious to find someone in need of shredding, its bulging muscles gleaming in the porch light. By now, the evening had settled and the dark was profound. There was nothing behind us except a sports oval and I knew that from the Pitbull's point of view we would have been lost in the gloom beneath the tree. I was worried about the dog, though. Maybe it would smell us. Hell, the way I was sweating, Miss Payne could have smelled me. I nudged slightly closer to Kiffo as the Pitbull struggled with the gate. The dog was so keen to get out for a walk that it nearly pulled her arm through the chain links. I smiled as Miss Payne swore, but the smile froze on my lips when she smacked the dog around the head with one huge fist. The poor old pooch damn near collapsed. You could see the stars circling around its head. Now this dog looked like it could savage and eat an entire army battalion and still have room for dessert, but it was clear who was the boss in the household. The dog whined and cowered as the Pitbull raised her voice.

‘Down, Slasher, down. Blast you.'

Slasher! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I felt hugely sorry for the hound then. Even though it was as big as a Holden ute, it stood no chance against the Pitbull. I knew how it felt. Kiffo and I crouched together and watched as the two brutes thundered down the road. The last I saw of the dog was when it bulldozed around a corner, under a streetlight, almost leaving gouges in the pavement. Kiffo had been cupping his cigarette in his hand, shielding the glow. Now he took a final drag and threw the butt onto the road. He stood up and pulled the balaclava over his head. Normally I would have considered this a blessing. Kiffo's face was not exactly a thing of beauty and a joy forever. But now there was something extremely menacing about him. I felt scared. Of him, of the dark, of what we were about to do. I wanted to turn and run, but it was too late. Kiffo pulled me closer to him and whispered urgently.

‘Keep an eye out. I'll be ten minutes, tops.'

And he was gone. He slipped into the dark, across the road and was through the Pitbull's gate before I could say anything. I caught a quick glimpse of his small figure as it moved around the side of the house. I realised that I had been holding my breath and I let it go in a long, slow exhalation.

To be honest I was panicking. It might sound like an easy job, just standing under a tree looking around, but I felt the eyes of the world upon me. What would I do if a police car pulled up? What excuse would I have for standing under a casuarina tree in a quiet residential area? I know it's not a crime, but it's a strange thing to do, isn't it? I tried to get further into the shadow, but I was also conscious that I needed a clear view of the road both ways. I was starting to wish I had put on a different pair of glasses. Were these ones luminous? I couldn't remember but they certainly felt like they were glowing. I could imagine curious neighbours ringing the police and saying, ‘Please come at once. The casuarina tree across the road is wearing glasses and it's starting to spook me.'

I needed to empty my bladder as well. Could I risk it here? Knowing my luck, I'd be caught with my knickers around my ankles and that
would
be a hard one to explain away. I swivelled my eyes from one side of the street to the other. The least movement made my head snap around. I was starting to get dizzy and I felt sick. How long was he going to be in there? I glanced at my watch and saw that he had been gone for exactly a minute! The whole concept of time was messing my head up. And then I froze. I couldn't believe it. Around the corner, like a shaggy tank, appeared Slasher, followed in quick succession by the vast bulk of the Pitbull. My tongue spot-welded itself to the roof of my mouth and my legs turned to cottage cheese.

What the hell was I going to do now? For one wild moment, I thought that maybe she had gone the wrong way and was simply re-tracing her steps to pass the house and go in the opposite direction. Yeah, right! The streetlights etched her face in sharp relief and I shuddered. She was coming back. God knows why, but it looked like walkies was finished for today. What was it Kiffo had said? An hour and a half. You could set your watch by it. What an idiot!

The Pitbull was bearing down on me and I couldn't think of anything to do. I tried whispering ‘Kiffo' really quietly until I caught myself. We were in enough trouble with just one idiot around. Why hadn't we brought mobile phones? The fact that I didn't have one and neither did Kiffo was possibly one reason, but I was still faced with the problem of contacting him. And quickly. I had visions of the Pitbull opening her front door and finding Kiffo peeing on her pet galah or something. Think, Harrison. Think.

There was only one thing for it. As the Pitbull approached the front gate, as she was reaching into her pocket and extracting her house keys, I rushed across the road.

‘Miss Payne!' I yelled at the top of my voice. ‘Fancy seeing you here!'

Slasher and the Pitbull both turned to face me, and I have to admit that I quailed. One of them growled but I'm not sure which. I tried a bright happy smile, like I was meeting my best friend, but it felt as if my face was moulded from durable resin. Miss Payne's lip curled as she looked me up and down. Her expression was the same, I imagined, as if she had stood in something Slasher might have done on the pavement.

‘Miss Harrison,' she said. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. Goodbye.'

She turned to go.

‘Wait!' I yelled. ‘Please don't go. I . . . I wanted to talk to you.'

The Pitbull looked at me.

‘Oh, yes,' she said. ‘And what do you think we might have to talk about at this time on a Friday evening?'

I searched my brain.

‘The homework. The English homework. I wanted to ask for your help. I remembered what you said about my attitude, Miss Payne, and I just wanted to show you that I was making an effort with it. My attitude, I mean. And the homework, of course.'

‘I haven't set any homework, Miss Harrison.'

Crap!

‘Exactly, Miss Payne. I wanted some homework and I knew you hadn't set any, not that I'm criticising or anything, I mean you must have your reasons for not setting homework, all that experience with teaching, I can tell you know exactly what you are doing, and so no homework is probably part of the big plan, something that is good for us, I mean, so I don't want you to think that by asking for homework I'm being insubordinate or anything 'cause that is certainly not my intention Miss Payne, good heavens, no.' I roared with laughter, shrieking at the top of my voice. Get the hell out of there, Kiffo! ‘It's just that I love English, Miss Payne, and you make it so interesting that I felt it would be good, for me, I mean, to do some extra, it being Friday night and all and there being nothing I like better on a Friday than doing English homework, so I thought I'd ask you for some, homework, that is, and that's the help I referred to earlier.'

Miss Payne leaned forward so her face was within an inch of mine. Her breath smelled like a sumo wrestler's jockstrap.

‘Miss Harrison, unless you go away now, I will call the police. Do I make myself plain?'

I was tempted to reply that something had indeed made her plain, and that I, personally, was inclined to blame her parents. Fortunately, I resisted the temptation.

‘Well, to be honest, Miss,' I said, ‘I'm not altogether clear on that point. When you say “the police” do you mean the regular . . . well,
police
, I suppose? Or do you mean something like the CIB?'

I thought she was going to explode. A strangulated noise came from the back of her throat and her face filled with blood. In other circumstances, it would have been fascinating. I knew I couldn't keep this up for much longer or she'd kill me, so in a flash of inspiration I dropped to my knees in front of her bloody great slavering hound. The way to a pet owner's heart and all that.

‘What a beautiful dog!' I said, peering into its bloodshot eyes. Its breath, I noticed, was almost as foul as its owner's. ‘I just love dogs, don't you, Miss Payne, so sweet and . . .'

God knows how I would have carried on, but it was all academic since the dog, obviously mistaking me for some kind of huge doggy chew, made a lunge for my neck, its yellow fangs snapping shut with a sickening
clack
millimetres from my skin. I tumbled backwards and for a moment my life, such as it had been, flashed before my eyes. Take my word for it, it was no better the second time around. Slasher was straining at the leash, his eyes pinpricks of hatred. Only Miss Payne's grip on the leash kept the beast from ripping into me. I glanced up and I swear that she was thinking about letting it go. I looked into her eyes and I know she was giving it serious thought. If it did get loose, I was done for. One of us would have to die and there was no way I could kill that thing. Unless I got stuck in its throat, of course.

And then the moment passed. Miss Payne pulled back on the leash and raised her hand. Slasher instantly cowered. That made two of us. I leaped to my feet and tried the smile again. Even worse this time. Surely Kiffo would have had time to get out of there by now. I couldn't be sure.

‘Anyway, Miss Payne, here I am prattling on about myself. That's enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of me?'

‘Miss Harrison, I don't know what game you are playing, but I have had enough.' Her voice was calm, but saturated in venom. ‘You leap out in front of me and talk gibberish. If this is your idea of a joke, then I am afraid I don't get it. I have already had cause to talk to you about your attitude and now you accost me outside my home, presumably for some stupid practical joke that shows I was right to question your behaviour in the first place. I don't know how you found out where I live, but stalking is a crime and unless you leave now, you will be in more trouble than even your fertile mind could imagine. Now I am going in to my home. My
home
, Miss Harrison. I don't expect to see you here again.'