Smithy's Cupboard by Ray Clift Read Free Book Online

re-named Ted, adapted to his comfortable home. His new owner changed all the tyres the next day and later on dumped the old ones at a junk yard The crossbow was taken out to sea in a hired boat and cast deep down in the murky waters of Port Phillip Bay. The plan was foolproof. The sniper prayed during the week. ‘Thank you, God.’
    The police investigation failed to uncover any tyre tracks or DNA. The large crop of drug plants nearby led to the conclusion that it was a drug war or a bikie gang feud. Enquiries were fruitless and the file remained open. However, gang members asked where the victim’s dog was. Had he run away?
    After the funeral, the members of the gang spoke about their dead member.
    The sergeant at arms spoke. ‘He used to kick the dog a lot. If the animal’s still alive, he’d be happy with who ever has him.’
    And the group nodded. He was not the most popular member of the gang.
    â€˜Jeez, shot with a crossbow,’ one member added. ‘Must have pissed off the killer surely.’
    â€˜Cops say there’s no DNA on the bolt, no footmarks, not even tyre tracks. Must have given someone the shits. The Angels reckon there was no reason to kill him.’
    â€˜A careful killing, maybe a warrior… Chuck me another can, Johnno.’
    And Johnno did.

9
    2000
    Barbara Mitchell was prone in her hospital bed in Melbourne in the cancer ward. The cancer had invaded her bones and was spreading. She had prayed to God when the prognosis was declared. Apart from her two daughters, who sat either side, there was no one else and she understood why. It was her punishment, and atonement was foremost in her mind. It was no use going over and over it all; she knew it was down to her own competitive nature, which would never let anyone or anything stand in her way.
    She grew to understand why John the brow-beaten one had finally turned on her, fleeing to the arms of a Thai woman, though her daughters wiped him off and would not communicate with him.
    In her scratchy voice, which could only be relieved by sips of mild tea mixed with honey and lemon, brewed just like her mother did, she said, ‘Did you give the letter to Smithy?’
    â€˜Left it in his mailbox, Mum.’
    â€˜I really would like to see him. I owe it to him.’
    Smithy read the letter and put it aside. He needed to think about it. How could he accept an apology after what she had done?
    He once again spoke to the priest, who suggested he visit the stricken woman. He rang the hospital later and enquired how she was.
    â€˜You’d better get in soon’ was the answer.
    He stood at the door of the ward room and saw her lying therewith tubes and noisy machines and the two daughters on either side.
    Julie the letter-sender looked round and saw him. She waited for a response.
    He took a step inside and spoke quietly. ‘I can’t, I can’t,’ and walked away.
    â€˜Who was that, Julie?’ Barbara croaked.
    â€˜No one, Mum. No one.’
    Smithy walked out into the sunshine and stood, his fingers itching, his head tingling, and he heard a whisper. ‘Go back, Dave. Go back. I’ve forgiven her.’ He thought it was Joan speaking and he looked around to see any other signs. He ran back to the ward and went into the room and saw the girls crying and the machine flat-lining. Barbara’s eyes were closed
    He yelled out, ‘I forgive you, Barbara.’
    Her eyes opened and a crooked smile creased her face. ‘Bless you, Smithy. Bless you.’
    She closed her eyes and the nurses walked in and turned off the dreaded noise.
    â€˜Thank you, Dave.’
    And he nodded to the girls.

10
    Smithy spoke to a medium, which was not a course he would normally have taken due to an unshakeable belief that the future can not be seen. A Vietnam vet spoke to him about the medium and he decided to try it out. Her appearance, clothes and jewellery shouted out her New Age beliefs. He thought