Follow the Money ch-36

by Peter Corris

  I'd heard that before-mostly from people who wanted to do me harm. Did Felicity want to do me harm? I was dealing with a mouthful of water trying to wash down one of my pills stuck in my throat and wasn't my most gracious.

  'How's that?' I grunted.

  'Well, Miles has been in touch. In fact he's been rather nice to me and the children. I'm wondering whether dealing with you has had a good effect on him.'

  My throat wouldn't clear and I barked something, away from the phone.

  'What was that?' she said, alarmed.

  'It's all right, Mrs Standish, I…'

  'I use my maiden name, Pargetter, now.'

  'Ms Pargetter, I've been in touch with your husband. But thank you for the information. Is there anything else?'

  'Yes. I think you're right about Richard Malouf and I believe I can help you find him.'

  That was a lot to accept in one bite and my response must have sounded sceptical.

  'You don't believe me,' she said.

  'I want to, but a lot's happened since we last spoke.'

  'I should hope so. You were at square one back then.'

  'Can you give me some idea…'

  'No. I want to meet with you and lay down some ground rules. I've arranged for the children to be collected by Miles's mother. I've got a free day. Will I come to you or do you want to come here?'

  She was holding the cards but I didn't want to let her run the whole game. I told her that I'd prefer her to come to me and she agreed. I gave her the address.

  'Good old Glebe,' she said. 'I had some good times there in my uni days. I'll be an hour or a bit less.'

  It took her forty minutes. She bustled in, all designer jeans, high-heeled boots, red shirt and bomber jacket.

  'This is amazing,' she said.

  'What is?'

  'We used to rent a house in this street when we were students. A bit further down, towards the water. I didn't know we had a famous private detective for a neighbour.'

  'I keep a low profile, Mrs… Ms Pargetter. Coffee?'

  'Felicity, and yes, please.'

  'It won't be up to your standard.'

  'I don't care about standards, not anymore.'

  I pondered that as I made the coffee. There was something almost hectic about her, as if she was racing ahead and trying to catch up with herself. I brought the coffee into the sitting room, cleared the usual mess of papers and books and we sat opposite each other. She added milk to her coffee, sipped and didn't make a face. Control. I make bitter coffee, can't help it.

  'I no longer think Miles killed Richard Malouf,' she said.

  'Why not?'

  'I've talked to him. He's told me something of what you've been doing on his behalf and… other things. I'm convinced. I was jealous and irrational when I said that.'

  'And you're not jealous now?'

  She smiled. 'That's a sly question. Oh, it's warm in here.'

  The room warms up, even in winter, when the sun shines in through two corner windows. She slipped out of her silk-lined jacket. The action, lifting her breasts and opening her shirt, was unconscious or provocative-hard to tell.

  'You mean May Ling,' she said. 'Who can blame him? She's very attractive and I was a bitch. I can see that now. It won't last.'

  'You think you'll get him back?'

  'Who knows?' She sipped again. 'This coffee's bitter.'

  I grinned. 'Okay, I believe you're not jealous and now I know you're rational. I make lousy coffee. That's enough fencing-how do I find Malouf?'

  'We.'

  'You'd better explain.'

  She pushed the coffee cup aside and drew in a breath. As at our first meeting, her hair was perfectly groomed and her makeup was expert. Her features in repose were unremarkable, but when she smiled or spoke the movement animated them and made her interesting to look at. Standish wouldn't have objected to her money, but it was easy to see why he would have been attracted to her even without it.

  Her voice had a hard, determined edge. 'I'm not jealous about Miles anymore as I said, and it's not exactly jealousy I feel about Richard. I knew about the wife, of course, and I imagined there were other women, but May Ling's sister? Something sticks in my gullet about that-the way he used people.'

  She waved her hand at the bookshelves. 'You read about people like that, but you don't expect to actually meet them. You don't expect to be one of the people who get used.'

  'I'm not sure about that,' I said. 'You're from a privileged background, Felicity. I think you'll find that people from more ordinary circumstances get used all the time.'

  She shook her head emphatically. 'No, they get exploited, sure. They're ill-treated, overlooked and ignored. But not used in the way Richard Malouf used me.'

  She went on to tell me that in the full throes of her love affair with Malouf he'd asked her for a favour. He'd said he was negotiating an important business deal that involved convincing an investor that he knew about and understood the needs of children.

  'It was something to do with persuading someone to sell a property for development on the understanding that there was to be recreation space for children. Richard told this man that he had two children, a boy and a girl. You can guess the rest.'

  I said, 'I've been told about his charm, but…'

  'Charm doesn't come anywhere near it. I allowed him to have a photograph taken of himself with my two. At that point I'd have done just about anything for him, short of harming the children, of course.'

  I nodded.

  'But I feel now as if I did harm them. I lied to them about who "that man" was and I came so close to saying "don't tell Daddy" it wasn't funny. Can you understand?'

  'The level of deception? I think so. I've been told that Malouf may not even be his real name.'

  She shrugged. 'Nothing'd surprise me. Well, when I was told that he'd died I sort of saw it as just part of a tragic love affair. Dramatised it for myself, I suppose.'

  'But now?'

  She laughed. 'The other day I walked past the development and guess what? No recreation area. I want to see Richard Malouf squirm.'

  Malouf had a genius for leaving enemies in his wake. Easy to see, at least on a personal level, why he would've needed to fake his death. I couldn't be sure how many of the affairs he'd conducted with women overlapped, but one thing's for sure-you can't keep that many balls in the air forever. Felicity Pargetter was serious and had to be taken seriously.

  'Where is he then?' I said.

  'Oh no, we have to lay down the ground rules. I have to be there when you tackle him.'

  I wasn't sure that I wanted to tackle him. Malouf was more than twenty years younger than me and soccer, sailing and golf had no doubt kept him fit, but I knew what she meant.

  I drank the rest of my coffee, cold and bitter though it was, and pointed to the bookshelves. 'I've got a few of the same books as you-novels and true crime stuff. It's all very interesting but only some of it relates to what really happens. If you're thinking of barging in on this guy, forget it. He could be very dangerous. He might be very frightened.'

  'I doubt that, but go on.'

  'OK, you know him better than me. I only met him a couple of times. The point is, we'd have to establish for certain where he is and who might be with him. He might or might not be dangerous or frightened, but he's associated with some people who are very dangerous and not at all frightened. I bear the scars.'

  'I see. Miles told me you'd been roughed up.'

  I laughed. 'Is that what he called it? OK, he's paying, he can call it what he likes, but I plan to go very cautiously on the basis of your information. That's if I think it's credible. If he's there I'll think hard about what to do next and who with. And I'll have the say about how far along the road you travel.'

  She threw back her head and laughed. 'You sound like John Howard-"we will say who comes to this county…" '

  I groaned. 'Don't say that. Where d'you think he is?'

  'You've shaken my confidence, but… Watsons Ba
y.'

  20

  She drove. Why not? Her Saab would make the trip quicker and more comfortably than my old Falcon. She was a good driver, more adventurous than May Ling but not foolhardy. Like most people, I'm anxious about being driven by someone else until I'm sure they're competent. She was and I relaxed. We didn't talk much until we reached Edgecliff. She glanced across as we passed Standish's office.

  'Did he tell you about the trouble he's in?' I asked.

  'A bit. Some nasty people putting pressure on him. I was surprised. One thing I'll say for Miles, for all his love of stars, he steered clear of the fashionable criminals.'

  I knew what she meant: the ex-coppers and jailbirds who sponsored ghosted memoirs and invited the glitterati to the launches. The books mostly ended up on the remainder tables and the socialites didn't stick around when the day in the sun was done. I decided it was time to press her for a few details.

  'Why Watsons Bay?'

  'He had a boat.'

  'We know that. His wife told us.'

  She drove on for a while before she spoke again. 'What's she like?'

  'Damaged, but recovering. Watsons Bay?'

  'He used to pick me up in Double Bay and we'd sail up there. I love sailing.'

  Unlike some others; that must'vepleased him, I thought. This sounded promising. 'He had a mooring there?'

  'No. He knew someone who had a mooring and he had the use of it sometimes, like the apartment.'

  'The apartment?'

  She steered smoothly around a truck. 'Look, the yacht was luxurious enough, everything that opened and shut, but the apartment was out of this world.'

  'Hang on. Was the boat his?'

  'Yacht. I don't know. He behaved as if it was.'

  'Didn't it worry you? Someone working in a medium-range accountancy firm with all these toys?'

  We passed the Gap and she didn't give the turn-off a glance. She wasn't the type.

  'Ever been in love, Mr Hardy?'

  'Cliff. Of course.'

  'Did you size the person up completely before you knew you were that way?'

  I thought of Cyn with her conservative North Shore attitudes I hadn't probably seen and Helen Broadway with commitments to other people and other places that overrode her feelings for me.

  'Point taken,' I said.

  The sun broke through as we came down into Watsons Bay and the place took on the sparkle it advertises. They say the Isle of Capri is like that-you look across from cloudy Naples and see it out there under a patch of blue sky. I wouldn't know but I wouldn't mind taking a look.

  I'd been to Watsons Bay for lunch in the pub beer garden or, if I was flush or someone else was paying, at Doyle's restaurant on the jetty. I'd also had a case fairly recently where one of the parties had used a gym in the area. I mentioned this to Felicity.

  'There's a gym in the same street as the apartment block. Belle Vue it's called, would you believe?'

  She turned into a street not far back from the water and drove slowly past a big four-level apartment complex, glowing white in the sunshine. The gym I'd mentioned was directly opposite. The apartments were obviously top of the range-large, with balconies big enough to accommodate a lot of greenery. She made a turn and we went down a narrow street beside the block. The corner apartments featured two balconies and views across the beach and the water all the way back to the city.

  'Look up, top floor, of course,' Felicity said. 'On the corner. Multi-million dollar view.'

  We completed the circuit and stopped below the complex.

  'What's the security like?' I said.

  She shrugged. 'I forget. I'm sorry… I didn't realise how coming back here would affect me. Shit-that bastard! I need a drink.'

  And I needed to think. We went to the pub, sat under an umbrella with a bottle of wine and a seafood basket and watched the boats coming and going and the well-heeled people having a good time in the middle of the week. She dipped a chip in the tartare sauce, ate it and reached over to touch my hand.

  'Why don't we just book a room and forget about all this?'

  She burst into laughter as soon as she spoke. She'd had two glasses.

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'It's a line from a movie. I couldn't resist it.'

  'What movie?'

  'I forget.'

  'How about the security?'

  'I'm sorry, I really don't know. It was only a couple of times and I didn't notice.'

  Something about the apartment block worried me, something half noticed. We finished the food and the wine, had coffee and walked on the beach for a while. Then we drove back and I saw what hadn't registered properly-a For Lease and a For Sale sign discreetly displayed at street level. The agent was local.

  'Can you remember the number of the apartment?' I asked. 'Twenty.'

  The estate agent-thirtyish, well-groomed, pearly white shirt -probably perked up when he saw the Saab stop outside. Could've felt a drop in spirits when he saw me but regained confidence at the sight of Felicity in her stylish clothes and her air of affluence. She said we were interested in the Belle Vue apartments.

  'Bargains there,' he said, 'for leasing and buying. It's the GFC you see. Some of the owners took very hard hits.' 'Selling their boats,' I said.

  'Indeed, and their apartments, though some have other homes, of course, and are leasing their places out here until things improve.'

  'I like the look of the one at the top on the west corner,' Felicity said. 'Is it available?'

  He gestured for us to sit while he went behind his desk and rummaged for a document. 'Here we are. Number 20. Yes, it's for sale.'

  'How much?' I said.

  'It'd be negotiable, dear,' Felicity said. 'Would it be vacant possession or is there a tenant?'

  'It's vacant. Has been for some months. The owner, well, I have to be discreet, but he's very hard pressed. Would you like to see it?'

  'Ball park figure,' I said. He looked at me with dislike. 'Two million.' I got to my feet. 'No way. We can do better.' Felicity got up reluctantly. 'But…' 'No,' I said. 'Thanks for your time.' 'I'm sorry,' Felicity said. We left. The rough diamond and the pearl. We got in the car and she started the engine. 'I'm sorry, Cliff. A wild goose chase.'

  'You know,' I said, 'under certain circumstances I reckon chasing wild geese could be fun.'

  She laughed. 'I can see why Miles thinks so much of you. You can cope with things, can't you?' 'What else is there to do?'

  Neither of us said much on the drive back. I asked her to drop me at a taxi rank. She pulled expertly into a tight spot, leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. Another one.

  'I enjoyed today more than anything I've done for a while.

  You've done me some good. I hope you find him and it all works out for you, Cliff.' 'Thanks. And for Miles?' 'Why not? Goodbye.'

  21

  The Watsons Bay dead end didn't depress me. Felicity had said it did her some good and the same was true for me. I'd enjoyed her company and her resilience struck a positive note with me. Too many of the people I've dealt with professionally have been diminished by their experiences. Felicity was a refreshing change. Money helps.

  I had a quiet night and slept well. I woke up stiff, but forced myself to go to the gym. As often happens, I felt better once I started. I put in a solid workout and after a splash around in the spa I felt good. Good enough to face a solid breakfast at the Bar Napoli and shoot the breeze with the barista and some customers. As usual, it was sport and politics, although they're increasingly coming to look much the same.

  The Balmain Tigers were offering a hundred grand commission to anyone who could find them a major sponsor. 'How about you, Mario?' a customer shouted, holding up the headline at the owner who'd drifted in as he did at whatever time pleased him.

  'Ugly game. Nessunagrazia, nessuna competenza.'

  I looked at Fortunato, known as Lucky, by the coffee machine. He shrugged. 'Means no grace, no skill.'

  Not the place to argue with that. They went on to
discuss the axing of the annual Norton Street Italian Festival by the local council. Not enough sponsors. It was something Lily and I had enjoyed. I missed her and I'll miss it.

  I drove home feeling clear-headed, but without any fresh ideas about locating Richard Malouf. As it turned out I didn't need any. My mobile was ringing when I got through the door. I answered it.

  'Hardy.'

  'Mr Hardy, this is Richard Malouf.'

  My hand tightened around the phone. ' Yes? Go on.'

  'You'd be sceptical, naturally. You don't recognise my voice?'

  'I only spoke to Malouf a couple of times. I don't remember anything about his voice.'

  He went on to describe our meetings in Perry Hassan's office in precise detail, down to what we talked about. It was hard to see how anyone else could have had that information, but I wasn't buying it just yet. I asked a series of questions based on things Rosemary had told me and drew on some of the things Gretchen had said. I threw in a curly one about Felicity Pargetter and he fielded it neatly.

  'OK,' I said. 'Suppose I believe you, what's the purpose of this call?'

  'You've gone to a lot of trouble to find me. I'm impressed by your efforts. I thought you might want confirmation of my existence.'

  'You're talking to yourself. If you're Malouf you're a target for people much more dangerous than-'

  'Oh, I know that only too well. That's why I need your help. I siphoned off quite a bit of your money. It was only an exercise in proving to myself and others that it could be done, but still I can understand that you'd want it back. I can give you the precise figure if you like.'

  I was convinced now. I remembered Malouf's cocky, self-satisfied manner more than his voice.

  'So you're sitting somewhere on your boat tapping the keys with everything at your fingertips, is that right? I want the money back, sure, but there're two people dead and a few others very distressed and it all stems from you. You're the shit that hit the fan, or the fan itself, I'm not sure which.'

  He laughed, still pleased with himself. 'Very graphic. I admit we've got a tangle here, but in my experience tangles can be… untangled. I think there's a way to do that.'