Page 71 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘You have no idea how useful I can be; I own my own business, remember? That makes me awesome at everything. I can make posters and put them up at the vet clinic. I can do an animal talk on the day: when does a hoof need trimming, that sort of thing. All the horsey people there will love an opportunity to tell me why their method is better. I can do a spreadsheet for the entries, ask my vet supply contacts if they want to sponsor a prize. Besides, I’m looking forward to some of those drives you promised me.’
She said it so matter-of-factly. Like that’s really all it was: a trade. Her help with logistics or promo or whatever, and his help with company and bravado on a few sorties out of town.
Saying no, the deal was over, would be the prudent thing to do. ‘Okay,’ he said.
She grinned. ‘Let’s both keep an eye out for some market days or festivals we could visit within a couple hours’ drive and I can ask Josh to cover for me if I’m on call. I can make sandwiches.’
He risked a look at the destroyed kitchen. ‘Better leave the sandwiches to me.’
CHAPTER
24
Lights were blazing and a photocopier machine was shooting out pages of text when Tom turned up at the solicitor’s office to check on the last of the Krauss records. The pub’s office had room for all records, old and new, and the more files he opened, the more expired leases and unattended to requests for maintenance and repair he found.
He was hoping Benjamin’s personal issues were over and he’d be at work so he and Tom could have a frank discussion about what might have been left to slide and might need an urgent review. Like property insurance bills being paid, for instance. Like rental payment balances lurking in Dorley’s trust fund that ought to have been paid out.
Or not. An old bloke in hi-vis workwear and muddy boots walked out of the inner office as Tom arrived. ‘Don’t waste your time, mate,’ he said. ‘There’s a lawyer down in Cooma who won’t take your money but then do—’ he craned his head back towards Dorley’s office and raised his voice to shout, ‘—diddly-effing-squat.’
Tom walked past the outer desk piled with so much junk, the school kid, if he’d been there, would have been buried alive, then stood in the doorway.
‘Having a bad one, mate?’ he said.
Benjamin Dorley did not look well. His hair was a mess—grey and wiry and oily looking. The cardigan he wore over a button-down shirt had something that looked like egg yolk dripped down its buttons and he was muttering under his breath.
‘Hello? Benjamin?’
The solicitor barely made eye contact with him. ‘Look, I don’t know what I’ve promised you, and I probably haven’t prepared it, but maybe I have and it’s printing now. Maybe you could come back next week?’
‘Tom Krauss. Bruno’s son. We met a couple of months back.’ About a dozen times, did the guy not remember? ‘The kid you had here on work experience was organising our archived files to be pulled out of storage.’
‘Good old Bruno,’ said Benjamin in a vague way that sounded like he’d used too many vowels and not enough consonants. ‘Control P, that’s the shortcut for printing.’
‘Um … yes it is. Did the boxes turn up yet?’ Tom was on the clock this morning. He had an interview with a potential pub manager. There was a stack of boxes in the room, packed on a removalist’s trolley. Hopefully they were all neatly labelled in the kid’s handwriting:For Tom Krauss To Collect. Have an Awesome Day With Your Boxes.
‘Control P. That’s what she said. If in doubt: control P.’ Dorley made no move to get up.
‘Benjamin? Are these boxes mine?’
‘She said, she said, she said.’
Was Tom imagining it, or was one side of the solicitor’s mouth drooping? He stepped forward. ‘Can you lift your arms, mate?’
‘Whaaaat?’
‘Your arms,’ he said loudly. ‘Lift them now.’
Still nothing. Shit. He grabbed the phone on the desk and hit 000. ‘Hello? Yes, I’m at the corner of Ballarat Street and Hope Street, Hanrahan. A legal office, Benjamin Dorley on the nameplate. There’s a man here with a suspected stroke.’
He answered the questions. ‘Yes. No. Late sixties, I’d say. The paramedics will need to come up one flight of stairs. Okay.’
He set down the phone. ‘Benjamin? I’ve called an ambulance because I think you might need to see a doctor. Is there anyone I can call for you? Mrs Dorley? Anyone?’
‘If in doubt, control—’
‘Uh-huh. How about your keys? I can lock up the office for you.’
There was nothing of sense coming out of the solicitor, but he looked comfortable enough in his chair. Please god he didn’t try to stand and stumble, because no way Tom could catch him. They’d both need to be stretchered out.
