by Peter Corris
I could feel dried blood in my hair and on my neck and I went into the bathroom to inspect the damage. The face I saw in the mirror was pale except where blood had dried in a smear all down the. left side. My left ear had felt odd the whole time and now I could see why. A gauze pad had been taped to it. I lifted the edges of the tape and tried to move the pad but it was glued on with blood which started to ooze out. Better left alone. I washed the blood from my face and used a soapy cloth to scrub it gently from my hair, being very gentle with the tender area above the ear. The effort made me dizzy and I sat down on the edge of the bath. I ran the water, stripped off my sweaty clothes and eased myself in. I had bruises up the ribs and a swelling on one elbow.
As the warm water soothed me I reflected on the experience. Ive had a few bashings in my time but this was the strangest. What kind of a strongarm man says Easy when hes hardly started and does running repairs after the damage? And drives you home? Considering the baseball bat and the blow Id landed with the pipe, Id clearly got off very lightly. The badly bruised ribs made getting out of the bath difficult. I resolved one thingI was going to carry the. 38 from now on. Fuck the tribunal.
After a bad night I creaked my way around to Ian Sangsters surgery and got him before he opened shop. Ian is an old friend and one of those doctors who smokes and drinks, eats old-fashioned Aussie tucker, stays up late and doesnt exercise. Hes showing the wear and tear now, but his view is that anything is better than Alzheimers and that his lifestyle is the sure preventative. When I arrived he was butting out probably his fifth cigarette and sipping his fourth cup of strong coffee.
Jesus Christ, he said. Its the St Johns Ambulance practice dummy.
Hah, hah. Take a look at me will you, Ian? And tell me Im going to live.
He lit another cigarette. Were none of us going to live, Cliff. I thought Id taught you that. What happened?
I shrugged and immediately wished I hadnt. Most things hurt. Baseball bat, boot, things like that.
He smelt bad but his touch was soft and soothing. He helped me off with my shirt and from somewhere produced a spirit-soaked cloth and sponged away the dressing on the ear. That needs a stitch or two, he said, but baseball bat and boot… Id say he wasnt trying.
They, Ian, they!
Oh, of course. Six was it, seven?
I winced as he swabbed the wound and started stitching. Threes usually enough. Was this time. I might have busted an ankle with a bit of lead pipe.
Hold still! Does doing that make you feel any better?
My oath it does.
They that live by the sword… Thats a bad knock above the ear, but luckily youve got a skull like a rock. It should go into a museum. Ill see to it if you like.
Fuck you. I can see and hear all right. Dyou reckon I had a concussion?
He disposed of his surgical gear and picked up the cigarette. After a deep drag he examined my eyes. In your case, hard to tell. Your brains banged against the cranial vault so often they mightve fused. Mild, Id say, at worst. Take a deep breath.
I sucked in wind and gasped at the sudden shaft of pain. Mmm, cracked probably, he said. Be a good idea to bind them up since I dont suppose youre planning to spend the next week taking it easy?
I have to work for a living. I cant just send in Medicare forms and lie back perving on nurses.
He ran about twenty metres of bandage around my trunk and taped it into place. There you go, Cliff. A few pain-killers which Ill prescribe and youre ready to commit more violence on your fellow citizens. Tell you one thing, though.
Whats that?
Youll have a bit of trouble fucking in the missionary position.
When I got home there was a message from Max Savages offsider to ring a.s.a.p.
Penny Draper.
Ms Draper, this is Cliff Hardy.
Oh, yes, Mr Hardy. Ill put Max on.
Cliff, Max. No point in all that polite stuff, Id just have to give the phone to Penny. Ive found Andrea Neville. I think we should go and have a chat with her.
This is Penny. Respond, please.
Yes. Where? When?
Youre a natural, youve picked up the style real quick, Max said. Shes running an art gallery in Paddington, would you believe. Trumper Place, number six. Southern Cross Gallery. See you there in half an hour.
Ive lived in Sydney all my life and Im still coming across places, quite close in to the city, that Ive never been to. I climbed tentatively into the car, established that Id be able to drive with a bit of discomfort, and consulted the Gregorys.
Trumper Place was tucked in between the flats of Edgecliff and the terraces of Paddington. Trumper Park was an eye-opener: the tiny oval was like something out of the last century with an immaculate white picket fence all around and grassy surrounds for the spreading of rugs and the eating of cucumber sandwiches. It didnt look as though itd be hard to hit a six from the pitch in the centre but distances from the perimeter can be deceptive. One incongruous note was that the ground was set up for the playing of Australian football. Two or three joggers circled the oval. I felt as if I was looking simultaneously at the past, the present and the future.
There were two galleries, one a big, elaborate affair in a newish building and the one we were interested in, very much its poor cousina terrace house, painted in grey and white, but not recently. Automatically, I scouted around to see if there was a back entrance. There wasnt, all traffic went through the front. I stood outside and watched Maxs taxi draw up.
What happened? Max said when he was still a couple of metres away.
I was sure he couldnt see the stitches in my ear and there were no other visible signs of the bashing. I stared at him. What dyou mean?
Youve had an accident. Youre holding yourself stiffly, protecting ribs Id say. He got closer and saw the ear. That looks nasty.
Ill tell you all about it later. How do we play this? Have you got any kind of police authority?
You must be joking. No, were both in pretty much the same boat. This place is run by Andrea Craig, nee Neville, and Eve Crown. Lesbians by all accounts.
I looked at the drooping bamboo plants in two big pots sitting on cracked concrete slabs in the front of the house. The two-storeyed terrace was narrow and built in the skimpy fashion that takes a lot of the charm away from the style minimum wrought iron, plain paving, uncovered porch. Doesnt look too prosperous, I said.
Max snorted. Its a front.
For what?
Max wandered up the street towards the oval and I followed. That Pennys a remarkable young woman, he said. Shes been putting fizzgig stuff on a data base for a couple of years. You wouldnt believe what shes come up with.
The computers putting me out of business, Max. I dont want to hear about its wondrous mysteries. Just fill me in on the fucking art gallery.
Right. Max pulled out a notebook and began flipping over the pages. No significant exhibitions or sales in the last eight years. What does that suggest to you?
Lousy art, lousy promotion or cash flow from somewhere else.
Exactly. In this case, from what we can gather, they peddle a high-class line of pornography. You can get your portrait painted in any style you like, wearing whatever clothes you like or none at all and keeping company with whoever you fancy likewise.
Sounds harmless enough.
I understand some of the portraits are real life studies and that some of the subjects clients choose are very young and some of the posing sessions are… realistic
Oh, shit. Why hasnt anything been done about it?
Max shrugged. No complaints laid, all very discreet. But I dont think we have to be too gentle with the ladies. He took a newspaper clipping from his pocket and studied it. Were here to see an exhibition of the photography of Robyn McKenzie. I understand shes very good. Are you interested in photography?
No.
Neither am I.
We went back to the terrace and Max pressed the buzzer. Is it ringing? he asked.
I got closer to
the door. No. Nothing.
Strange. Places supposed to be open now.
He gave the door a tentative push and it swung in. We walked immediately into a big airy space. The wall that usually forms the passage in a terrace had been taken out and the front room was open right back to the stairs. It was filled with light from the front and side windows; the board floor was polished and framed photographs hung around the walls. Through the archway was a second room in the same condition. We walked through to a couple of small rooms at the back which were evidently offices. The photographs were black-and-white studies of buildings, none of them familiar to me.
Max stood at the foot of the stairs and raised his voice. Hello! Anybody about!
I heard noises upstairs, feet shuffling, a nose being blown, a clink of glass and the snap of a cigarette lighter. A figure appeared on the upstairs landing where there wasnt much light. A plume of smoke drifted down to us.
What the hell do you want?
Max turned to me and I mouthed the words to him, adding A woman.
We want to see Andrea Craig, Max said.
A harsh, cigarette-tortured laugh sounded and she came slowly down the stairs. She was tall and thin with long, thick hair sprinkled with grey. She wore a silk dressing gown only loosely fastened so that most of her breasts were showing. Her pale face was lined and haggard, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping.
You and me both, she said. Shes gone. Shes fucking left me.
14
Weve been together for eight years. Then she gets one phone call and shes off. No explanation, nothing. She said shed send for me but I know all about that. She mustve been seeing someone else for ages and it finally all came good. Lying bitch.
Eve Crown needed to talk and Max and I were as good as anyone else, maybe better than most. I told her I was a private detective and that Max was with the police. A glint came into her eyes and she took us upstairs to the flat she and Andrea Craig had shared and she showed us the clothes and other items strewn around in a super-hasty packing. Some of the clothes were torn and a couple of pictures had the glass in them broken. One was a photograph of a blonde woman with a narrow face, small mouth and enormous eyes. Then we sat around a table in the kitchen that had been remodelled in the fifties and hadnt changed sincelaminex and lino, cupboards with plastic ventilation insets.
We fought a bit, but shes stronger than me and she knows about those things. She was a policewoman once.
Max was having a lot of trouble following what she said. She smoked continuously, lighting one from the butt of the last. She mumbled, dropped her head and the hair fell across her face when she looked up. She didnt need much prompting but it was up to me to keep her talking. She didnt even ask what our business was; she was setting an agenda of her own.
I suppose youre onto us about the pictures and all that? she said.
Among other things, I said. But were mostly concerned to talk to her about something back in her police days.
This time she butted the cigarette she was smoking and paused to wipe ash from the front of her dressing gown, modestly closed now, before lighting another one. Youll go looking for her?
Yes.
Good. Ill give you enough to put her in gaol.
Max was looking pained at being shut out of the conversation, as well as impatient, and I said, Look, Miss Crown. Could you please tell us when this phone call came and exactly what she said and did.
She flicked ash at the saucer serving as an ashtray and scored half a hit. Her fingernails were bitten down on her non-smoking hand. Last night, late, she said. About eleven I suppose. She was in bed and I was doing the books for the quarter. I do all the work around here. I answered the phone. It was for Andrea and I switched it through. Then all hell broke loose.
She dragged on the cigarette while she spoke and Max was stymied. Speaking clearly, I said, A male voice or female, local call or STD?
Shit, I dont know. Some of us dykes go in for deep voices, you know? Like the gays have that lilt? I couldnt say.
Accent?
I cant remember. It didnt register. I dont think I heard any beeps. No, dont think so. Local call.
Max leaned across the table and took the cigarette from her fingers. He placed it on the saucer and cupped his right hand under her chin. Im deaf, Miss Crown, but I can lip-read. However, you mumble. Plus you cover your mouth with your fucking cigarette and your face with your hair. Im going to ask you a couple of questions and youre going to forget about smoking, speak clearly and answer them truthfully. Otherwise, everything we know about this place will be loaded onto you. Understand?
Both gesture and statement were very forceful and threatening and Eve Crown was in a vulnerable condition. Tears sprung into her eyes and she nodded. She reached for the cigarette, remembered, and let it lie smouldering. The smoke drifted up into her face and there was misery and despair in every line and wrinkle. She tried to suck in a deep breath but it caught and became a gasping wheeze. Her voice was a cracked ruin. Yes, she whispered.
Do you know where Andrea got her money from?
She told people she inherited it, but she told me it was pay-off money for something that had happened when she was a cop. This… this was when we were in love and didnt have secrets from each other.
OK, Max said. Over the eight years you lived together, did she ever go anywhere regularly, get letters or phone calls from anywhere frequently? Some important place?
This was as long as Eve Crown could bear to go without filling her lungs with tobacco smoke. She picked up the cigarette, took a deep drag and butted it. She lifted her head and expelled the smoke in a long plume over Maxs head. What did that dickhead American President say? Read my lips? Well, read my fucking lips. She got letters and phone calls from the Gold Coast and she went up there a bit. And you can bet your two rotten, stinking dicks and your four rotten, stinking balls thats where shes gone now!
I wonder, Max said as we left the gallery, if the quit smoking people used a slogan like It takes years off your life and puts years on your face, women would give it up? Shed be good-looking if she hadnt ruined herself by smoking.
Max clearly had women on his mind. I hadnt noticed the potential in Eve Crown, but then I had actual beauty to deal with in Claudia. Itd sound better round the other way, I said. But, no, I reckon people smoke because they want to or have to. Something has to change fundamentally to get them off it.
Suppose youre right. I never took it up. You?
Stopped years ago.
What changed fundamentally?
I forget. Pretty obvious isnt it, Max? Someone tipped Andrea off that we were coming.
Right. Lets talk about that. He headed towards the oval and we found seats that looked out over the greenery. Nice spot this, quiet. It gets tiring coping with all the mishmash of noise. I take it you havent discussed the case with anyone, so the problem has to be at my end. Someone in the works is keeping an eye on me.
I nodded. Id told Claudia about the case in some detail but I certainly hadnt mentioned Andrea Neville, aka Craig. Keeping an eye on us, I said. I got worked over after leaving the Beckett house yesterday.
I told Max about the oddly restrained beating and its aftermath. He raised his eyebrows. I never heard of anything like that before.
Its weird. Suppose someones trying to stop us finding out who killed Ramona. He bumps Barry White but he just warns me and Andrea Craig. It doesnt make sense.
Max plucked up a stalk of grass and started splitting it with his thumbnail. Thank Christ I havent made any noises about Peggy Hawkins or Colin Sligo. It looks as if Ill have to go to other sources to make inquiries about them.
Wed better get up there, I said. Ive got some contacts. Thatll just about run out Barrys retainer. This is going to cost me money.
Any luck at the Connaught?
For a moment I didnt get his meaning, then I did. All the luck in the world, I thought, but it wasnt the time for explanations so I shook my head. Then another thought hit
me. Leo Grogan, I said. I wonder if Leos all right.
I found Grogans number in my notebook. We went back to the car and I rang it and asked for him. The woman who answered the phone told me that Mr Grogan was in hospital. Hed had a very bad fall down some steep steps. His skull was fractured and he had internal injuries. She didnt sound as if she was too keen on Leo, and there was something very like satisfaction in her voice when she added, Hes not expected to live.
I relayed this to Max. Im worried about Penny, he said. Ring her, will you?
I rang, got her on the line and handed the phone to Max. Penny, I want you to drop anything you might be working on for me and seal it up tight. Dont do another thing. OK?
This time I was the relayer. She says its not OK, that you shouldnt patronise her and she asks whats up.
Max took the phone. Take some of that leave youre due. Go to your sisters place and stay there until you hear from me.
I regained the phone and listened. She says get stuffed, I said. She says shell work on what she pleases and she knows how to keep it secure. She says shes got a gun and she knows how to use it.
Shit, Max said.
He says shit, I said to Penny.
I heard him, Penny said. Tell him to take care of himself and not to worry about me. Goodbye.
She hung up on us, Max. She says you should take care of yourself and not worry about her. Turning to face him every time I had to speak was giving me a crick in the neck. I probably looked pained.
