Free Saving Billie by Peter Corris Page B

stuff.’
    â€˜Stuff?’
    She raised her glass and took a pull on the cigarette she’d puffed on throughout the phone call. ‘Fags and booze, speed—you name it. She got desperate and called me and I went there. Shit!’
    She ground out the cigarette. ‘They’re praying over her when she’s asleep and reading the Bible at her and singing their hymns and it’s driving her crazy. I tried to get her to come away with me and I reckon she was almost ready to even though she’s in a mind-fucked fog, and then that big bastard arrived.’
    â€˜Manuma.’
    â€˜Right. He’s got them all under the thumb. Shit, I don’t know what to do. She’s my sister and I love her, but . . . I know she’s trouble. Fair killed our mum.’
    â€˜What about the boy?’
    She almost dropped her lighter on its way to the cigarette in her mouth. ‘You know about him?’
    I showed her the photograph.
    She got the cigarette lit, inexpertly. ‘How did you get this?’
    I told her. It seemed to make her take my presence and interest in her sister more seriously. She flattened out a corner of the photo that had got bent. ‘She’d love to have this back, I’m sure.’
    â€˜Why would she leave it behind?’
    â€˜She overdosed accidentally on some bad shit. Yolande packed her up and moved her to his place. She’s been there ever since, under . . . what d’you call it? House arrest. Getting the Jesus treatment. What she needs is proper stuff—detoxification, counselling and that.’
    â€˜Is this Yolande the boy’s father? What’s his name by the way?’
    â€˜Samuel. Sam. No, not Yolande. That’s only been going on for a couple of years. Sam came along, oh, fifteen years ago.’
    â€˜Before Eddie?’
    She blew smoke. ‘You do know a bit, don’t you?’
    â€˜I knew Eddie. He was in the same game, but he played by different rules.’
    â€˜Eddie,’ she said. ‘What a loser. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Billie knows who Sam’s father was. She had a thing for black blokes at the time.’
    â€˜Black as in?’
    She shrugged. ‘Kooris, mostly. We both went that way for a while. We’re said to have a touch of it ourselves, would you believe?’
    â€˜Plenty do, they say. A lot more than know it or admit it. But you’ve dodged the question. Where’s Sam now?’
    All of a sudden, the initial wariness she’d displayed was back. ‘Look, you’ve bought me a couple of drinks and showed you’re caught up in something involving Billie. But I don’t know anything about this Clement you mentioned. Why d’you want to know about Sam?’
    I took off the sunglasses and let her see my eye. ‘My client, Lou Kramer, the woman you just spoke to, claims that Clement had Eddie Flannery killed because he knew something about Clement’s business and tried to make a quid out of it. Clement found out I was working for Lou and I copped this for my trouble. Lou thinks Billie might know what Eddie knew and, if she does, she’s in danger. The kid makes her vulnerable if Clement gets wind of him. Does any of this make sense?’
    â€˜I need another drink.’
    â€˜You’ll be too high to drive.’
    â€˜I can walk. I live here. Get me a drink while I think this over a bit.’
    I kept my eye on her while I got the drink, wondering whether she might do a runner. But she sat, apparently doing what she said—thinking. I glanced out of the window at my car and thought Lou Kramer must be frantically trying to call me on the mobile. Given the way she’d been playing things I didn’t mind the ball being in my court for a bit. I put the drink down on a coaster near the ashtray.
    â€˜Not having one?’
    â€˜I’ll be driving.’
    â€˜You’re going to have to tell me a bit more about this woman you’re