by Peter Corris
The Reward
( Cliff Hardy - 21 )
Peter Corris
The Reward
Peter Corris
1
Do you remember Ramona Beckett, Hardy?
I remember her, I said.
Perhaps you also remember that her family offered a reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of whoever was responsible for her death. This was about two years after she disappeared, and thats fifteen fucking years ago.
I shrugged. If you say so.
Am I right in thinking that you had something to do with her?
The man whod asked the question was Barry White, an ex-cop, ex-private detective, ex-nightclub bouncer, ex just about anything in that line you could think of. He was middle class, university educated and had made Detective Sergeant pretty quickly, but hed resigned from the force just ahead of a corruption charge. Like me, hed lost his PEA licence for breaches of the regulations. Id regained mine fairly easily and quickly on the basis of a previously good record and the recommendations of police officers and others whose integrity was unquestioned at a time when a lot of questioning was going on.
White hadnt been so lucky. The only cops he knew were as corrupt as he was and were leaving the force under clouds or to go behind bars. He was a big, strong man, or had been, and hed looked pretty formidable outside a nightclub for a while. But the booze softened and slowed him and people who like to start trouble in those places these days have learned martial arts tricks that can make an old thumper like Barry look silly. Me too, for that matter. So hed slipped down a few more notches. When he turned up at my office that Monday morning I thought he might be scrounging for work. He wasnt.
I knew her, yes.
Ramona was a rich, spoiled young woman who wanted to be the first female Premier of New South Wales. She did a sociology degree at Sydney and, after blooding herself in university politics and local government, she decided that blackmail was the way to go. She set about seducing politicians and influential people with the aim of getting leverage on them to put her where she wanted to be in politics. One of her victims had had the guts to come to me professionally and Id helped him.
Well get to that. The unusual thing about this reward, White said, is that the money was well invested and has accrued interest. The amount on offer now stands at over one million dollars.
I didnt know that.
Its a long time ago. People forget. But no-one was ever charged with Becketts murder and the reward is still available, although her fathers dead now. You might remember that her mother was much younger. Mrs Beckett is still very much alive and at last report was still keen to see justice done.
I didnt much like the smell of this. Its nearly seventeen years ago, Barry, I said. Sure, I was around when it all happened, where were you?
He grinned and as it changed expression the high-coloured face showed the marks of booze and fists and late nights. He wouldnt have been much over forty and he looked sixty. He took out a packet of Drum tobacco and probed in it for the papers. You mind?
I said I didnt but I did, a bit. I used to roll them myself and I still missed the taste of the tobacco, especially the first three or four smokes on a clean palate, but I didnt miss the cough and the short wind. Still, the smell was good and there was no law against me enjoying that. He rolled the smoke expertly and lit it with a match which he put in his jacket pocket. He wore a business shirt, not too clean, a tie likewise, a double-breasted blazer with one gold button missing, grey trousers and black shoes that had just had a shine. He sported a fresh haircut and shave and I could smell the lotions. I hadnt seen him for a while but what Id heard of him was that his marriage was washed up and that he was living in a room in Chippendale. Clearly, hed spruced himself up to see me. I was suspicious rather than flattered.
He blew smoke towards the window where a little more grime wouldnt hurt. I had the office painted and the windows cleaned a year ago when I was given a two-year lease. It looked all right for a while but somehow lately itd slipped back.
I was there, too, White said. I was a probationary D at the Loo.
Whats this about, Barry?
Fuck, what dyou think? Its about the money, of course. Ive got a line on who knocked Beckett.
Oh, yeah? And who was that?
He laughed through an exhalation of smoke and the cough caught him like a hard right to the ribs. He doubled over and his face turned purple as he fought the spasm.
Jesus, Barry, I said. Youre holding a full hand for a heart attack.
I know, he gasped, fighting for breath. When he finally sucked some air in he said, Im just about fucked if I dont get this money. Ive got high blood pressure, a touch of emphysema and a crook liver. They reckon I can pull out of it if I stop drinking and smoking, lose weight and eat lettuce. If I can get the money Ill do it. Ill go to one of those health farms in the fucking Blue Mountains and drink mineral water and be a good boy. Itll be worth it. Kicking shit the way I am now, Id just as soon be out at Rookwood.
I nodded. I could understand that. Its easy to eat healthily if you can afford asparagus and chicken fillets. A good bottle of wine wont do the damage of a slab of beer. Trouble was, that line of thought made me feel like a drink and it was only four oclock in the afternoontwo hours before my self-imposed starting time. He went into a coughing fit again and while I waited for him to recover I tried to remember what dealings Id had with him before. There wasnt much, a bit of a brush when he was extorting from a madam named Ruby Thompson who was a friend and I asked him to lay off. He got even by verballing a client of mine who was probably guilty anyway but deserved a second chance.
He got his breath back and looked at the cigarette hed put in the ashtray. He reached over and snuffed it out. Maybe he could rehabilitate himself after all.
OK, OK, Id forgotten your sense of humour. Try not to make me laugh, Hardy. I could drop dead on you.
I was thinking he could drop dead for all I cared, but I knew that wasnt quite true. I had ambivalent feelings about Ramona Beckett, but my feelings about a million dollars were pretty straightforward.
The way I heard it, you screwed her, literally and otherwise.
No comment.
Come on, Hardy. Im lining up a hundred thousand fucking dollars for you. I need to know how close you got to her.
While I didnt have Whites health problems, things werent getting easier. I was pushing fifty and the private detective business, like everything else, was rapidly being taken over by computers. Process-serving was being done by E-mail and fax, money was moved electronically rather than in briefcases, and there were big agencies specialising in finding lost kids, de-bugging offices and protecting men in suits. I didnt have any life insurance and the superannuation the government was obliging me to pay myself wouldnt keep me in red wine and secondhand books if I stopped earning. I had to be interested in a hundred thousand bucks. There were a lot of questions in my head but it was best to play along, for now.
You knew what her line was, did you?
Not really. Tell me.
I told him. This bloke she was blackmailing came to me for help and we set her up. Sort of biter bit thing. I pretended to be a bigwig, a lawyer who controlled the preselection for a safe Liberal seat. She arranged her usual dealthe drinks, the fuck in her Potts Point flat, the video camera. Only she was a solo operator by necessity and couldnt keep her finger on everything. I had help. I had someone swipe the video and substitute another one. I taped her when she came to me with the pitch. Then I turned the tables on hertold her Id send the video to her dad and give the tape to the cops and the papers. She backed off after that, but she might have done it again, just being more careful. I dont know. She went missing… oh, about a year after
that, maybe less.
White nodded. I get it.
Id tried to tell it matter-of-factly, but it hadnt been like that at all. Ramona Beckett was hell on wheels, tall, dark, thin with sexual energy in every gesture. She ate like a wharfie and was a junior gymnastics champion who ran fifteen kilometres every day. She had a fast metabolism but her touch was strangely cold. She got by on five or six hours sleep, she read a lot of books and liked to wear black leather, the way she had the night I turned the tables on her. She was a living, breathing contradictiona feminist, a reactionary, a corrupter and an idealist. She genuinely believed that she could improve life in the state for everyone, if only she could acquire the power to do it. She ended up hating me, of course, but I couldnt say I had the same feeling for her. I got a tissue from a pocket pack in the desk drawer and blew my nose. Clear the sinuses and you can clear a lot more besides. Any number of people could have had reason to kill her, I said.
Including the guy you worked for?
I shrugged. Who knows? Maybe. Maybe he didnt tell me the whole story. But hes definitely not a candidate to bring in the reward on because hes dead.
Out came the tobacco again and the brown-stained fingers rolled the cigarette just as deftly as before. He looked at it, burred over the ends, smoothed out the wrinkles, tapped it on his thumbnail and didnt light it. Better not, he said. You might make me laugh again.
Ill try not to. Why dont you try not beating about the bush? You said you had a line.
White leaned forward across the desk. His teeth were bad and his breath was worse. He was sweating too and there was a stale odour coming from his clothes. The word is, it was a kidnapping. There was a ransom note that got suppressed.
2
That got my attention. Until very recently there were any number of cops and lawyers and magistrates and politicians in Sydney who acted as if none of the laws applied to them; seventeen years ago it was even worse. Thats interesting, Barry, I said. Tell me more.
He eased back in his chair. Are you in?
Come on, Id have to know a lot more than that. And in for what? You said a hundred grand.
Thats right. Ten per cent. Thats generous. Id have to split the reward with at least three other people.
Who?
He shook his head. I need a commitment.
And I get a five hundred dollar retainer and two hundred a day plus expenses.
Do I look like Ive got that sort of money? Youd have to work on a contingency basis.
Its a natural reaction to place some confidence in a person with a decent vocabulary and a reasonable command of grammar, but in Barry Whites case the impulse had to be fought against. As I say, he was well educated and no-one ever called him dumb, but he was corrupt and devious, or had been, and Ive never known adversity to straighten anyone out. I dont think so, Barry. No.
He gave that grin again which must have been appealing when he was in better condition. He squirmed bulkily in the chair and took a thin wallet from his hip pocket. It was worth a try, Hardy. He took seven one hundred dollar notes from the wallet and laid them on the desk. This buys me one day, right? The retainers returnable if you back out.
His eyes were faintly bloodshot and it clearly hurt him to part with the money. That he was doing it meant something, but what? Thats right, if I take you on. Youre not a good bet, Barry. You verballed blokes and planted drugs on women and took kickbacks till you forgot what job you were supposed to be doing.
All thats true, he said. I was a fucking idiot. I thought I was too smart to get caught. Do you know what I did with all that money? I drank and ate and fucked it away. Thats how dumb I was. Ive got nothing, Hardy. No wife, no kids, no house, no reputation, no pride. All Ive got is this one chance. Have you ever been down to one chance?
Not quite.
But close?
I thought about how it had been when Cyn left me, coldly removing every single item shed owned and breaking a lot of those wed owned jointly. I thought about the alcoholic slide Id gone into when Glen Withers married her policeman and the nice, structured life Id had had fallen apart like a house of cards. And it was my fault. Pretty close.
His eyes darted around the room, taking in the dirty windows, the dust on the fax machine and the top of the filing cabinet, the peanut shells in the waste-paper basket. Youre not exactly setting the world on fire yourself, are you?
If wed been in a boxing ring, youd have to have called the round about even. I was tired of sparring. I knew I wanted a crack at the hundred grand, I just didnt want to do it completely on his terms. Why dyou need me, Barry? You were a cop and a PEA. You know the ropes. Youve got some information, some contacts, some leads. You know how to talk to people. Whyre you here?
If he knew he had me, he didnt show it. He finally brought the rollie up to his mouth and lit it, again putting the match in his pocket. It made me wonder if hed been inside where they do little things like saving matches to play cards with. He drew on the smoke judiciously. I havent got the resources, he said. I havent got a car or a mobile or an answering machine. I havent got any decent clothes and most of all I havent got the contacts. This is going to mean talking to cops and lawyers and journos. You can do it, I cant. Theres a few things we can do together, but not much. Thats why I need someone. Im not going to piss in your pocket, Hardy, but I know you dont rip people off. Thats why I need you. What dyou say?
The lawyers are all doing it, so why not the PEAs? I negotiated a contract with Barry White on a contingency basis. I was to get 10 per cent of whatever reward money he recovered, my cut to come off the top. How he divided up the remainder was his business. I had the option to work on other matters simultaneously and to pull out of the arrangement at any time after the first week. This meant I was giving him six days credit. Give a little, take a little. He signed with a flourish.
Shit, I need a drink, he said.
Ill shout you one in a minute. First things first. Where does the information about the ransom note come from?
White had finished his cigarette without choking and he made another one. Does the name Leo Grogan mean anything to you?
I dont think so.
He was a Homicide Squad D. Good cop, but the grog got to him and he was invalided out. I was having a few drinks with him a week or so ago, just shooting the shit, you know. The Beckett case came up. Leo was pissed, of course. He was on the team that looked into it. He reckoned certain people took certain sums of money to suppress a ransom note.
Thats vague, I said. What people? And who paid up?
Thats where I played it smart. Leo hasnt got any time for me. If I showed an interest hed clam up for sure. I sounded him out about the reward. He thought it lapsed when the old man died.
So?
I told you there were things we could do together. This is one of them. We have to go to Grogan, get him oiled just right and tell him how things stand. We cut him in for a third if everything works out.
What if he wont play?
I happen to know hes drawing a disability pension hes not entitled to and that hes got assets he hasnt declared. If he gets stroppy
So there it was. Cyn always said that the people I associated with made me violent, insensitive and untrustworthy by osmosis. I resisted the idea but here was a good chance to test it. Barry White had his copy of the contract in his pocket and mine was in my filing cabinet. I could always pull out of this if it got too sticky, couldnt I? I went to the nearest pub with White and bought him three schooners of old with his money while I drank a couple of middies of light. The beer didnt seem to affect him until someone spilled a drink that splashed his newly pressed trousers.
You black cunt, White said. He lurched towards the man, a stocky Maori in singlet, jeans and work boots.
What did you say? The Maori put the drinks he was carrying down and set himself.
White threw a punch that missed and tipped him off balance. The Maori had been ready to punch but Whites stumble forced him to hold back. That gave me time t
o move in, grab the Maoris cocked right and jam it up behind his back. I pushed him a couple of steps so that he was up against a wall and couldnt get any leverage to swing back with his left. He was strong but when youre in that position strong doesnt help, any movement hurts like hell.
Hes drunk, mate, I said in the Maoris ear. And hes a sick man. Look at him. You hit him and youre likely to kill him. Hes an ex-copper, as well. You dont need that kind of trouble.
OK, brother, OK, the Maori said. Dyou want ago?
Ive seen all the blood and broken glass I need to see for the rest of my life. Just let it be. I released him and stepped away quickly, deciding to kick at his right knee if he was still belligerent. He glared at me and maybe the broken nose and scars convinced him.
Youre lucky youve got a sharp mate, pisspot, he said to White as he wrapped his big hands around the drinks. He walked away to the other end of the bar.
White was dabbing at his damp pants with a dirty handkerchief. Good team, Hardy.
Fuck you, I said. I ought to tear that bloody contract up.
You wont.
He was right. The small confrontation with the Maori made me realise how much I was relying on old tricks like armlocks and new ones like staying sober. If I wasnt quite over the hill I was certainly nearing the top, and a six-figure score would help me to face the summit with much greater equanimity. White didnt know where Leo Grogan lived, but he knew where hed be at 10 a.m. the following dayin the bar of the Cleveland Hotel in Chippendale. White himself lived in a room in a boarding house in Rose Street and I agreed to give him a lift home. We walked to where I park the Falcon in Upper Forbes Street and White sneered as I undid the club lock.
Youre in the fucking Dark Ages, Hardy. I used to have a Commodore with one of the first automatic locking systems. He held up an imaginary remote control. Press a button. Beep, beep, and youre sweet.
I put the lock on the floor at his feet, started the motor and didnt say anything. He reached down, a bit unsteadily, picked up the device and examined it.