A BLIND EYE

by John Henderson

  ‘Goodness,’ exclaimed Sue. ‘She doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?’

  ‘No,’said Ron, shaking his head. ‘That’s one woman I wouldn’t like to meet in a dark alley, she’s a real amazon. Hey boss,’ said Ron to the barman, ‘who’s the lady?’

  The barman turned and smiled. ‘That lady is Louisa Porter. She’s married to a politician and definitely not someone to mess with. Men don’t initiate talk with her; she does the selecting and initiating, if you’re lucky. You feeling lucky?’

  ‘No, not that lucky,’ replied Ron emphatically. ‘How come Mr. Fisher knows her?’

  The barman touched the side of his nose with his index finger. ‘All very hush hush, at least it’s supposed to be, but between you, me and your lady, and probably everyone else in the place now I come to think of it, she and Fisher were an item not so long ago. They used to meet here, have a few drinks and then go off to his flat at Potts Point for a night of sexual shenanigans. He’d come in next night and brag about the sessions they had, in detail. No wonder she’d like to have his balls for book-ends now. Lovely if you can get it, as long as you don’t boast about it,’ said the barman with a knowing smile.

  ‘Good heavens,’ exclaimed Sue. ‘I’ve heard of women like that but I never knew they really existed, and I‘m no prude when it comes to that sort of thing.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not,’ Ron responded. Sue blushed.

  ‘Excuse me, barman, another scotch and Coke, double,’ Sue demanded.

  ****

  After the altercation with Louisa Porter, Fisher, red faced, made his way to the bar where he ordered a schooner of beer, clearly glad to be rid of the amazon. He appeared to be surveying the club, paying little attention to the goings on at the tables where the gamblers were settling in to some serious gambling. Sue guessed he was searching for a possible liaison or, more bluntly, a predator on the prowl looking for a woman for the night, any woman, she thought before realizing that she just might be that woman. ‘Ron, I feel ill. And, by Christ, if you don’t get some decent shots of Fisher and Lee, I’ll make Madam Louisa Lash look like a…, well, I don’t know what,’ she said, as she downed her second double scotch in one gulp.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, you just look after yourself. If things look like they’re getting out of hand, Noel is parked opposite the Club so you just hop it and get over to him. Look, I’d better make myself scarce. Fisher isn’t a patient man and he’ll want two things in pretty short order; his money and a woman. I’ll try and get photos of him chatting you up as well as the pay-off. Just be careful, and good luck.’

  It didn’t take Fisher long to spot Sue sitting alone at the end of the bar. She had discreetly kept him in view and was not surprised, after his furtive glances in her direction, that he should decide to change his position at the bar. Ron’s bar stool was still warm when Fisher, together with his ego and self importance, nonchalantly sidled up next to Sue and sat down. Holy hell, she thought. What a thoroughly odious cane toad.

  CHAPTER 22

  It was well after midnight before Noel’s Holden pulled up outside the bungalow in West Bank Lane. Both Noel and Sue had initially planned on driving straight home to Mona Vale, taking Ron along with them so they could all meet at Collaroy the following morning to discuss the night’s outcome. As it was, neither Simon nor Georgie had any intention of retiring for the night without a full expose of events.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Simon after they were all comfortably seated in the lounge room.

  ‘I think we got what we were after, but we won’t know for certain until we get the photos developed and printed. I’ve a friend teed up to do the work for me first thing in the morning and he’ll do it while I wait,’ said Ron, looking a little worse for wear. ‘To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure if Mr. Lee was going to pay Fisher, and I was starting to get a bit anxious. I finally saw them together in a small alcove off the main gambling room and suspected it wasn’t for a romantic tryst. That’s when Mr. Lee gave Fisher his cash; well I hope it was cash ’cause that’s when I photographed them.’

  ‘Come on, Ron. I shouldn’t think he would be giving Fisher a recipe for muffins,’ remarked Georgie, eager to get to the exciting bits.

  Ron yawned and stretched. ‘No, I suppose not. I must say I did feel pretty uncomfortable taking photos of Fisher trying to chat up Sue. Honestly, some women must be either nuts or frustrated out of the knickers not to see Fisher as anything but a sleaze out for anything he can get.’

  ‘Yes, come on Sue, don’t leave me in suspense. What happened? Did anything happen? Could anything have happened?’ It was Georgie, all a twitter with expectation of a sordid story who was seeking the scandalous revelations.

  ‘As soon as Ron left me to the vultures, I think it took Fisher fully ten seconds to park himself on Ron’s stool. He started off with the usual pick-up rhetoric, and even introduced himself as Nigel Fisher, which was odd. Usually when a man plays up on his wife they’ll use some exotic name designed to impress, something like Spencer Mann, or Errol Flynn. It’s never Brown, Jones or Fisher.

  ‘You speaking from experience?’ asked Noel, his voice tinged with a touch of jealousy.

  ‘Oh, shut up Noel,’ came Sue’s aggravated response. ‘Although he introduced himself as Nigel Fisher, I think it must have been the only thing he got right. He had the temerity to tell me he was a yacht broker, of all things, and he produced a business card which I have in my bag, somewhere.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet he’s got a pocket full them, and all different,’ Noel broke in, sardonically.

  Sue continued with her story. ‘Apparently his so called yacht broking business is at Rushcutters Bay and he claims to drive a Porsche. He also said he owned a flat at Potts Point. Anyway, he eventually asked if I wanted a drink so I asked for the most expensive one I could find seeing he was paying. It was while he was buying the drinks I took the opportunity to turn on the tape recorder. It had a one hour tape, so I think I got all the interesting bits. We could listen to it now, but most of it is small chit chat stuff, so I’ll leave the playing to another time. All in all, unless a girl was completely naïve or just plain dumb, our Mr. Fisher wouldn’t have a hope in hell of successfully chatting up a prostitute on a rainy night, even with a handful of tenners.’

  ‘Oh, for Christ sake, Sue. Did he put the hard word on you, or not?’ asked Georgie, getting annoyed at the lack of substance in the telling.

  ‘Okay, okay, I was coming to that. We chatted for about half an hour before he made his first move, you know, first base stuff, hand on the knee, shoulder rubbing. All the little things a girl likes when it’s the right bloke and a real pain in the bum when it’s not, and Fisher’s definitely not, so Noel, forget it. When I asked Fisher if he was married, he said he’d been married for a few years but the marriage was on the rocks with the wife seeking a divorce. He said she had a regular boyfriend and they had, for all intense and purposes, gone their separate way. Unfortunately I didn’t know how Ron was going with taking the photos, so I had to play along with Fisher. He finally put the hard word on me and suggested we go back to his flat at Potts Point, which apparently does exist.’

  ‘So, he actually asked you to go to bed with him?’ asked Georgie, wide eyed in anticipation.

  ‘Well, not in those words exactly, but I’m sure he must have felt he was on a sure thing as I had to keep him interested,’ responded Sue. ‘Fortunately before I had time to answer, I saw Ron who gave a nod towards the Ladies. I excused myself from the predicament I had got myself into and started walking towards the loo. That’s when Ron came up behind me and whispered he had what he was after and that we should get the hell out of the place. I didn’t need him to tell me twice so I bolted and made a beeline for Noel’s car. A couple of minutes later, Ron arrived. End of story. And no, Georgie, I’m not going to tell you the answer I would’ve given Fisher if Ron hadn’t given me the nod. You already know the answer to that.’

  Simon frowned. ‘The aim of the exer
cise was to gather sufficient incriminating evidence on Fisher that once he becomes aware of its existence, he will do anything to save both the embarrassment of exposure to his lovely, devoted wife, and his career. We’ll see how the photos turn out and also listen to the tape. We’ll need an anonymous note to go to Fisher with a copy of the evidence advising that if he doesn’t go to Paxton and bare his soul, his wife and the press will receive copies of the evidence. The question is, do we have that evidence?’

  Ron nodded. ‘I’m sure we have sufficient, but one never knows if enough is enough, especially when it comes to blackmail. Let’s face it, Fisher might not give two hoots about Agnes and couldn’t care less what we do with seedy photos and recordings of him on the make. The one question I would be asking if I was Fisher is, why go to Paxton with a confession at all? And what does Paxton want Fisher to confess to; playing up on his wife or the fact he’s on the take from the Taipan Club. And let’s face it, Fisher isn’t the only cop screwing around on their cheese and kisses. There’s something screwy here and I don’t know what it is, if you’ll excuse the pun.’

  ‘Maybe Paxton is the only one who knows. He seems a pretty smart bloke, so I’ll back him, even if I can’t see the point of it all,’ said Noel with a big yawn and a stretch.

  Simon rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. ‘Yes, it’s way past my bedtime and we’re not going to come up with anything constructive at this hour. Let’s call it a day. Ron, how about you bunk down here for the night while Noel and Sue make tracks for Mona Vale? And I think it might be an idea if we do nothing over the weekend and just let the dust settle?’

  Simon’s suggestion was met with a chorus of agreement.

  CHAPTER 23

  The knock on the door to Chief Superintendent Paxton’s office ten days after the Taipan Club incident was more of a hammering than a knock. ‘Yes, I hear you, you may enter,’ came the response from Chief Paxton in a quiet, restrained voice. ‘Ah, Superintendent Fisher, you wish to see me?’ he asked, peering over the rim of his reading glasses. ‘How absolutely delightful to see you. I suppose I can take it you have something on your mind, or were you just practicing the art of battering a door down? Take a seat; I’ll be with you in a moment.’ After signing and dating the document in front of him, Chief Paxton put the pen down, removed his spectacles and sat back, elbows resting on the sides of his chair, his hands clasped on his stomach. ‘Now superintendent, tell me, what’s on your mind?’ Superintendent Fisher chose to remain standing.

  ‘I’m being blackmailed,’ snarled Fisher.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. Going to cost you much?’

  ‘That’s not the point. I’ve been set-up. I received a note saying I have to make a confession to you, so you obviously know all about it.’ Fisher was angry, his demeanour now in total contrast to the imperturbable, composed character he was generally at length to portray.

  ‘Haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Look, calm down, take a seat and start at the beginning.’

  ‘I won’t calm down. You had me set-up for a blackmail scam.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything of the sort and I can guarantee no member of the Force set you up, as you so politely put it. Well, no-one under my command anyway. But to blackmail someone, that someone must have done something that he doesn’t want a third party to know. And you haven’t done anything so remiss that some third party would like to know, have you?’

  Fisher threw his hands in the air and collapsed into a chair. ‘Look sir, no-one is squeaky clean. And sure, there are things in my life I would prefer Agnes not to know.’

  Chief Superintendent Paxton pushed his chair back from the table, crossed his legs and folded his arms. ‘And are there things in your life you would prefer the police not to know? Really, what you do behind Agnes’s back is your business, although it does raise some doubt as to your integrity, honesty, discretion, and morality, just to list a few of the attributes one thought a superintendent of police should possess. Yes, we may have to look into that, but I really don’t understand. You say the note passed to you said you had to confess to me, personally. Well, honestly Fisher, as I don’t give a rat’s proverbial about you and your wife’s personal life, maybe there’s something else you might like to confess.’

  Fisher leant forward, one hand on his hip, the other holding his head as he unconsciously examined the floor. ‘God, what a mess,’ he said, despondently. ‘Undoubtedly someone has evidence of a transgression I would prefer them not to have, and if I don’t confess to you, a copy of that evidence will go to Agnes and the press. And those evening newspapers would love to have a scandal spattered across the front pages.’

  ‘Ah, the nature of blackmail, a truly insidious crime. I take it you’re here because you don’t want Agnes or the papers to get their hands on this so-called evidence?’ said Chief Paxton, inwardly enjoying Fisher’s predicament.

  ‘Hell, she’d kill me. You know Agnes. She leads a double life herself, always trying to be a cut above her station. If the evidence was released to the public, it would destroy her. She likes to think she’s part of Sydney society. She can cope with many things, but being ostracized by the society clique would be the worst thing that could happen, even worse than a marriage break up.’

  ‘Superintendent Fisher, it is only by the Grace of God that you are the only officer beating a track to my door to confess your sins. I have no doubt the majority of the Force have secret indiscretions they prefer to keep secret; it’s obvious you just weren’t discreet enough. I’m sure the blackmailer couldn’t give a stuff as to your infidelities, they’re a dime a dozen. I’d even hazard a guess and say it was probably a little bonus that just happened to fall into the blackmailer’s lap. You know, I can’t help thinking there is a little more to the story than you’re telling, and I bet the evidence backs up my theory. Care to comment?’

  ‘I may as well,’ said an unhappy Superintendent Fisher. ‘To use the vernacular, I’m the one that’s screwed, either way. To cut a long story short, I’ve been on the take.’ Fisher put his hand inside his coat pocket and withdrew a large brown envelope which he placed on Paxton’s table. ‘Here, someone took these photos inside the Taipan Club about ten days ago. There’s also an audio tape of my conversation with a girl. And honestly, sir, I’d never seen her before in my life.’

  ‘On the take, eh?’ Chief Paxton’s manner changed dramatically from a somewhat flippant attitude towards the whole event, to one of all seriousness. He replaced his reading glasses on his nose and scanned through the photos, occasionally pausing for closer inspection.

  ‘Yes, from the Taipan Club.’

  ‘You mean Mr. Lee. I take it he’s the one in the photo?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how long has this been going on?’

  ‘Several months, I suppose.’

  ‘Don’t suppose. How long has this been going on?’ Paxton riled, dropping his glasses onto the table.

  ‘Shortly after Detective Chief Inspector Rose arrived. It didn’t take me long to find out he was using money from the funds we have to pay our informants. He used this to bankroll his gambling at the races and at casinos, notably the Taipan Club, although he had been to others. I went to see Mr. Lee and we came to an arrangement.

  ‘Ah yes, the arrangement,’ said Chief Paxton. ‘He pays you, not an insignificant amount I’d wager, and the police turn a blind eye. ‘How much?’

  ‘Let’s just say it was enough to finance Agnes’s life style. Look, Agnes and I have been married for twenty odd years now. We both need a little excitement in our life and she can spend money like there’s no tomorrow. She has her social life and what she does is her business.’

  ‘And you never saw Rose at the Taipan Club,’ asked Chief Paxton as he picked up his reading glasses and pen and started jotting notes on a pad.

  ‘Hell, no. He’d only go on a Wednesday or Saturday night after the races.’

  ‘Does Agnes know you’re out at illegal gambling casinos
chatting up stray women?’

  ‘I really don’t think she could care less what I do.’

  ‘So, what’s on the tape that might upset her if she’s so ambivalent to your goings on?’

  ‘Well, I don’t think she’d be too impressed to hear me asking a young lady to spend the night with me back in my flat at Potts Point.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Chief Paxton, now interested to see just how big a hole Fisher could dig for himself.

  ‘Two things. First, I think she wouldn’t be overly impressed with my chat-up technique, as I probably exaggerate or stretch the truth a bit. But really, most women appear to like a braggart and eager to believe anything you tell them. It must create a bit of excitement in their otherwise bored existence. The second is that Agnes knows nothing of the flat at Potts Point. I started renting it years ago but eventually found that to have a nice private place that nobody knew about was very convenient.’

  ‘And did the lady in the photos agree?’

  ‘Agree to what? Ah, you mean did she agree to go back to my flat. No, and that’s what makes the whole thing stink. The little bitch must have had the audio tape in her hand bag. Just after I had put the hard word on her, she said she was going to the loo, and never came back.’