The Reward ch-21

by Peter Corris

  You take my bloody breath away. Yes, I saw them. But Ill be buggered if Ill tell you anything about it. Why should I?

  Youll have to, sooner or later. Who was it, Cliff? Who suppressed the note? Was it Mrs Beckett, Sean, Estelle, Cavendish? Do you know?

  No comment.

  Thats childish, after all Ive done for you.

  She was steering me back in that direction again and I let myself be steered. I couldnt help it. Like what?

  Didnt you wonder why the bashing you got was so… gentle?

  I wouldnt call it gentle. What dyou mean?

  I wanted to test your resolve, Cliff. They went a bit too far, but I made it up to you, didnt I? Tell me you havent thought about it since. Tell me you havent thought about having your cock in my mouth. Tell me youre not thinking about it right now?

  Im thinking youre a crazy, manipulative, lying bitch

  With a lovely tight cunt.

  I was sober now, or close to it, and able to think. I tried to turn this weird contact to my advantage but couldnt see how. I said nothing.

  Stony silence. OK. Do whatever you like. You wont get far. Ill call again this time tomorrow and maybe youll be more reasonable.

  Claudia, dont

  She hung up and I slammed the phone down again. It rang straight off and I let it ring for a long time. When I picked up Penny Draper sounded very peeved.

  I thought you mustve left the phone off the hook. You were very rude, before, Cliff.

  Im sorry, I said. I really cant talk to Max just now. I have to get some sleep and straighten things out in my head. Ill ring at nine tomorrow. OK?

  I hung on while she communicated this to Max. I expected her to speak again but it was Max himself on the line.

  Cliff, I understand youve got some problems. OK. Just wanted to tell you that Cavendish has gone to Melbourne for a day. They work late in that game and his secretary told me. Hes our best way into this thing as I see it. Not much we can do till he gets back. Well talk tomorrow. Come in here about ten. Goodnight.

  He hung up and I stood there with my hand cramping around the phone.

  I had to bend down to shake Penny Drapers hand and I have no doubt she would have been able to flip me over the back of the wheelchair if shed wanted to. She was a solidly built, dark-haired woman in her thirties. Her face was pleasant and just missed being plain. She wore eye make-up and lipstick and knew how to apply them for best effect. She wore a white blouse, dark trousers and flat-heeled shoes. At a guess, she did weight trainingher shoulders were developed and her grip was strong. Short nails, no rings.

  Im glad to meet you, Cliff, she said. Max thinks a lot of you.

  Hello, Penny. Sorry I was so shitty last night. Id been put off-balance.

  Fatal in any game, she said. Dont worry about it. Max isnt in yet, surprisingly, or maybe not. Can I get you a cup of coffee?

  We were deep in the bowels of the Darlinghurst police complex in a small office that had two smaller rooms attached to it. The service, evidently, did not give great weight to its consultant investigative unit. The outfit had two computers and lots of paper. In the important divisions these days, its the other way around. I suppressed the normal impulse to refuse when a cripple offers to do anything for you.

  Thanks, Penny. Some coffeed be good. White, no sugar.

  She wheeled swiftly across to a table where the urn and fixings were set out and did the business briskly. I looked around the room, noting the orderliness and efficiency. Schedules and lists were pinned to noticeboards; a big whiteboard was covered in diagrams and notes; a scale model of a building was showing on one of the computer screens while options like dimensions, colour, entrance, exit, flashed enticingly. The coffee was good. I leaned against a desk while Penny answered a phone.

  When shed finished I said, You suggested that maybe its not surprising that Max isnt here. What did you mean by that?

  She picked up a pencil and tapped on the desk with it for a minute. Then she put it back. Have you ever been disabled, Cliff? Put out of action for a while?

  I nodded. I had an eye injury. I was effectively blind for a bit.

  Right. Did you notice an increased sensitivity to sound and smell and all that, the way the books say?

  I did, yes. It went away when I could see again.

  Did you have a partner at the time?

  Helen Broadway, I thought. Yes, by god I did. I nodded.

  Touch became important, right? And smell and taste?

  Thats right. I had no idea where this was heading, but it made me feel vaguely uncomfortable. I sipped the coffee and wished Max would come.

  Well, its like that with me since… this happened. I can read peoples body language, pick up things from the way they move, the tone of voice, the balance of positive and negative in what they do. Dyou understand?

  Whats this about, Penny.

  If you asked Max why hes late hed say he was giving us a few minutes to get to know each other. But thats only partly true. What hes really doing is using you as a way of finding out what I think of him. Is that too devious for you?

  A bit. Yes.

  Im in love with him. I have been since the first day. Hes smart and funny and not vain. Hes stubborn about his deafness and the most understanding person Ive met about my condition. Im crazy about him. I want him very badly.

  Penny, I…

  I can have sex, you know. Everythings all right down there. Masturbate. Its fine. Itd take a little ingenuity but I reckon Max is an ingenious enough man. Youre embarrassed. I understand. But just hear me out. Pretty soon, Max will ask you what you think of me and then hell sidle round to asking what I think of him. He will, believe me.

  OK. I believe you. What dyou want me to do?

  Tell him.

  Its my turn to read minds. Hell say hes nearly twice your age.

  So hes got twenty years and Ive got forty. Say we had twenty together. Id settle for that.

  Max strode into the room and dropped his briefcase with a thud. Hello, you two. Howre you getting along?

  20

  Coffee all round. Penny went to work at the computer. Max and I huddled in a corner. I told him about the phone call from Claudia Vardon.

  Shes the key to the whole thing, Max.

  Hold on, hold on. We could be getting our wires crossed here. The whole thing, for me, is the suppression of evidence, the corruption of police officers, the cover-up of a major crime. Plus

  The murder of Ramona Beckett.

  Exactly. Weve got a handle on the first parts of it, with or without your mystery lady.

  Not much of a one as things stand. A tape of some women talking dirty.

  Dont mumble. Youre giving yourself away. What was that you said?

  All weve got is a tape of some women talking in a brothel.

  Wrong. I taped Sligo. I meant to tell you that. You heard what he said. It was virtually a deathbed testimony. Thats pretty powerful stuff. Youre getting sidetracked by this woman. Women can do that better than men.

  I couldnt help trying to steer him in the direction Penny had pointed. Is that right, Max? Youd know, would you?

  He didnt bite. Save the irony. Cavendish is the target.

  Against every logical instinct I wanted to play it the way Claudia outlined. She, this Claudia Vardon woman, knows more about all this than we know.

  Jesus, youre obsessed. OK, so what do you want to do?

  Hows this? You and Penny find out everything you can about Sean Beckett. When we tackle him were going to need some ammunition unless he just goes to pieces. Thats a days work. Claudia rings tonight. If nothing comes of that we go up against the lot of them with whatever weve got.

  What will you be doing?

  Ill do the same on Cavendish. Ive got a few mates in the legal game. Ill look in on Leo Grogan if thats possible.

  It feels like marking time.

  Make some copies of the tapes. Check on the bank accounts. Check on whether anythings turned up on the Barry White hit. Si
nce we dont think theres anyone here keeping an eye on us, you can do that. Come on, Max, youre a copper. You know the drill. Background, mate, background.

  Max looked over to where Penny was working and from the expression on his face I got the feeling that shed read him exactly right. His lean face softened and there was something wistful in the tilt of his head. Or was I imagining it? She sat very straight in the wheelchair. Her thick dark hair was brushed back, revealing small, delicate ears and a shapely neck. Maybe Max was a neck man.

  He nodded. All right.

  I cupped my ear. Speak up!

  Max laughed. You bastard.

  Penny looked across and smiled. I gave her a thumbs up and left them to it.

  Leo Grogan had been transferred to a private hospital in Marrickville. Against the odds, and to the surprise of the medicos, hed survived the crisis and was on the way to at least a partial recovery. There was some doubt as to whether hed gain the full use of his left side but, as Leo drank with his right arm, I doubted that this would worry him too much. I got this information from an obliging nurse at the hospital where I represented myself as a relative.

  Poor Mr Grogan hasnt had any visitors, the nurse said. Hell be glad to see you.

  Im sure he will. I meant it. I had a half bottle of Johnny Walker red in my pocket. I dont like hospitals. People die in them and have bits removed, so I went as quickly as I could through to the ward which Leo shared with two other men. He was sitting up watching television. His head was bandaged and there were a couple of tubes running into his left upper arm.

  Uncle Leo, my favourite uncle, I said. Howre you getting along?

  What the fuckre you doing here, Hardy?

  Is that any way to greet your one and only visitor? I pulled the curtain half around, shielding us off from the other two patients, both of whom had their televisions going. Leo looked alarmed until I produced the bottle. He nodded vigorously and pointed to the tray carrying a water carafe and two glasses. I switched off the TV, poured two solid shots, added water and put the whisky in the top drawer of his bedside table under a pair of pyjamas.

  Leo put half of his drink down in a gulp. Youre a lifesaver. Now what the fuck do you want?

  Same old Leo. Oh, not much. Just keeping you up to date on the investigation that might still pay off big for us.

  Its us now is it? Thats all bullshit, Hardy.

  Maybe. Did you know Barry White was dead?

  Leo finished his drink and reached for the drawer. I held it shut. He rolled his eyes. I mightve known. Yeah, I heard about Barry. I guess Rinso finally got him, eh?

  Rinso?

  Give us another drink and Ill tell you about it. Truth is I was never too happy about spending time with Barry like Id been doing lately in case Rinso turned up.

  I was all at sea and another violation of hospital rules seemed the only way to enlightenment. I made Grogan another drink and sipped my own while he told me about the long-running feud between Freddy Rinso Persil and Barry White. Apparently White had got Persils daughter hooked on heroin, had supplied her and used her and sold her the junk that had killed her. Persil was in gaol at the time, but hed sworn to kill White. According to Grogan, he was released three days before White was shot. I tried to think back to Whites panicked phone call. Id assumed then that what was alarming him had to do with the Beckett case, but that was just an assumption.

  Whats the matter, Hardy, Grogan mocked. Some sweet theory gone out the fucking window?

  Maybe. What about you, Leo. Who gave you the heave-ho?

  He laughed. Nobody. I was pissed and I fell down the fucking steps. Lucky Ive got this good hospital insurance. Part of my package. They reckon I might be partly paralysed but thats bullshit. Between you and me, Im faking it a bit sos theyll keep on their toes.

  His second drink was gone and he was looking at the drawer again. I was having mixed feelings. If all this was true, then Claudia was off the hook as an actual and would-be killer. But could Grogan be trusted? Then something hed said came back to me.

  Leo, you said youd been spending time with Barry White lately. I only heard about two meetingssounds like there was a few more.

  Youre a prize prick, Hardy, but youre not dumb. Yeah, there was another meeting. Give me another drink and Ill tell you about it. Make it quick, theyll be coming around to feed us some fucking slop soon.

  I gave Leo a weaker drink and showed him what was left in the bottle before putting it back in the drawer. He nodded and took a more judicious sip.

  This woman came to see me. What she didnt know about the fucking Beckett case wasnt worth knowing. She knew Id been on the team and she asked me if I knew anything, anything at all, that was off about the investigation. Well, I hadnt thought about it for years, but I remembered that scene between Johnno and Peg, just like I told it to you.

  For the second time, I said.

  Leo swigged his drink. He was feeling pleased with himself now. For the fucking third time. We get together again and this time shes got Barry White along. I go through it again. Then she sets up the meeting with you and Barry and I have to act it out the way Barry told you it happened.

  I never knew coppers were such good actors.

  Are you kidding? You have to be, the fucking bullshit you have to say in court and write down and tell the brass, not to mention the crims, gets you that way. Anyway, thats it. I asked for a monkey and I got it. She and Barry set you up to do whatever you fucking did. And you still havent told me what that was.

  You say she knew everything about the case. What do you mean?

  I mean every fucking thing. All about the girl who went missing, the family, the lot. It seemed to me she wasnt even surprised when I told her about the note and that. It was as if she already knew about it.

  So, do you think she was a secretary to the old man, or the mother, or worked for the lawyer, or something like that?

  Be buggered, Leo said. I reckon she was one of the kidnappers, or knew them, and shed come up with a way to have a go at the reward money.

  Took her a long time.

  Leo shrugged. Playing safe. Maybe something changed in the set-up. Maybe shed finally decided it was time to dob someone in.

  Yeah, maybe.

  Theyre late with the fucking lunch.

  I thought you said it was slop.

  It is, but it breaks up the day. He raised his almost empty glass. Itll go down a bit better with this inside me.

  Watch out they dont smell your breath. I took a deep breath myself and asked the question Id been holding back. What did she look like, Leo, this woman.

  Fucking good-looker, Hardy. Too good for you.

  Be specific

  Leo shrugged and his flabby jowls bounced.

  Tallish, great figure, good tits and arse, everything. She wore big dark glasses and that sort of makes it hard to describe her face.

  Hair?

  Dark. Funny thing was, I kept feeling that Id met her before.

  21

  Marrickville Park is my kind of placea big, open space, roughly mown with a football oval, plenty of trees, not too many flowers and some grass tennis courts tucked away in one corner. The croquet lawn in the opposite corner is a bit of an anomaly, but live and let live. You dont see grass tennis courts much any more. They remind me of the great days of Australian tennisHoad and Rosewall, Laver and Emerson, Newcombe and Roche. They werent such great days in other waysBob Menzies, six oclock closing, Vietnambut I yearn for them sometimes when I hear about crack and child pornography and the hole in the ozone layer.

  I parked in Frazer Street and wandered through the park to the courts, kicking at pine cones. I was having trouble being objective about this twisting, turning mess of a case I had on my hands. Id started out greedy for a hundred thousand dollars, had entertained thoughts of a whole lot more money and now was mostly hoping that Claudia Vardon, or whatever her name was, wasnt too deep in the criminal soup. Who was I to be judgmental? Id recently killed a man, falsified evidence and s
erved a gaol term. As a private investigator I was more or less on probation. My personal needs were greater than my professional standards and I knew it. Had always known it.

  Two good players were on the courtsa baseliner and net-rusher. The baseliner had a double-fisted backhand like Agassi and the serve-volleyer had obviously modelled his game on Edbergs. It had always seemed to me that a serve-volley player should beat a baseliner because that game requires a high passage over the neteasy meat for the volleyer. It hadnt proved true over the years, but here on a suburban court, with a couple of fit A-graders at work, it was. The surface made the difference. The grass took the Edberg-style underspin and flat shots and kept the ball low. The Agassi clone couldnt get topspin on either side and had to hit up. Stefan was there at the net and Andre was dead. I felt like applauding. But it would be like applauding the dinosaurs. Id read that less than 5 per cent of professional tennis is played on grass these days.

  I wasnt convinced that Claudia was one of the kidnappers, or an associate of one. It didnt seem to fit. Against that, Peggy Hawkins was certainly just such a player in the game. Why not someone similar from the opposing side that turned out to be unopposed? It was all confused by my feelings for her which were mixed to say the very least. The strong sexual attraction had to be balanced against the ruthless way shed used and manipulated me. My ribs were still sore and I still had sutures in my torn ear and I felt humiliated about being delivered home like a gift-wrapped package. I had a strong wish to meet up with those three blokes again with the odds better balanced.

  As I watched the balls go over the net and hit the fences with the force good players can generate, I realised that the best way to resolve all my dilemmas was to act like the volleyertake the high ground and the initiative. I had to try to find Claudia Vardon before she phoned me and started calling the shots all over again. It had to be Claudia whod met with Leo Grogan and set the ball rolling. The dark hair was no problem.

  It seemed reasonable to begin in Glebe. She appeared to be able to keep track of my movements there. Shed certainly known when Id got back the other night. Most likely shed just driven past, but if her intention was to keep really close tabs on me there was a chance she was staying somewhere nearby. There are no flash hotels in Glebe, just good, serviceable motels like the Rooftop and the Haven Inn on Glebe Point Road and the University Motor Inn across the way from what it gets its name from. Im quite well known in all three of them, especially the Rooftop where Ive occasionally put witnesses and other parties who needed putting. It has a swimming pool where youd imaginea big plus in summer and, besides, anxious people like to be able to go up on a roof and look down on the world thats giving them a hard time.