The Reward ch-21

by Peter Corris

  Ill be careful about fat.

  Youve got a deal. In fact I think Ill take myself off somewhere for a while.

  Good idea.

  Andreas got a girlfriend in Byron Bay. Name of Jackie. Shes a hooker who works out of a duplex opposite the main beach. I think her name might be Jackson, Im not sure. Anyway, thats the name she uses. Things should be quiet there about now. I dont know the address, but Andrea doesnt know that I know.

  Thanks, Peg.

  She pressed the buzzer and the message began: This is Satisfaction, an escort service and…

  18

  I used the mobile to call Bob and Max who were heading back towards Broadbeach.

  Howd it go? Bob said. Hope I didnt call back too soon.

  No, the timing was about right. It worked pretty well. I think weve got what we need. A couple of loose ends. I need a drink, mate. I can see something called the Honolulu Bar dead ahead. Thats where Ill be.

  You all right?

  Yeah, fine. Its lucky I like beating up women.

  I was on my second vodka and tonic (the first was a silent toast to Peggy Hawkins and after that I couldnt see any reason to change drinks), when Max and Bob came into the bar. It wasnt quite as bad as it soundedthere was less bamboo than youd expect, fewer fake leis, and only one poster of Elvis as he appeared in Blue Hawaii.

  They took stools on either side of me. Bob ordered a beer and Max a mineral water with lemon. I downed my drink and ordered another. This is no good, I said. Ill have to swivel my head so Max can see what Im saying.

  Whats wrong with you? Bob said. Youre on the way to getting pissed. I thought you said everything went well?

  We moved to a table overlooking the street and not far from Satisfaction. I was beginning to tell them what had happened when Peggy Hawkins came from behind the trellis and got into a taxi. She was wearing a tight blue dress and a black jacket and I saw the driver miss his grip on the door after she slid inside.

  I lifted my glass. Cheers, Peg.

  Hes flipped, Bob said. Must be the climate.

  I played the tape for them, stopping and starting, repeating certain sections until they had the whole picture. They said nothing until Max drained his second mineral water. I think Ill have a beer. What about you?

  Bob and I ordered and when Max came back with the drinks he said, I feel like Bogart in Casablanca. Play it again, Cliff.

  I knew what he meant. Id made a mental note of the counter on the tape at the spot. I ran through to it and hit the button. First my voice, Who? Then Andrea: I dont know. Some woman. Me again: A woman?

  The only woman in Sydney who knows anything about this is Penny Draper, Max said. And Im absolutely positive shes straight.

  Shes not the only woman. I told them about Claudia Vardon, how shed turned up and that she lived in the Connaught.

  You say you didnt mention names, but, Bob said.

  Yeah, but that time I was in her place, after wed fucked, I went to sleep for a while. I had my notebook on me and I had Andrea Nevilles name in it.

  Shit, Max said. That looks like it, but whats her angle?

  I was feeling too miserable and confused to think about it. Like anyone else, Id been aroused and tempted by what was on display at Satisfaction, but at the back of my mind was the thought and prospect of Claudia. Now all that looked like turning into something very ugly. I forced myself to consider the ins and outs of it. If Claudia was Barry Whites backer, was she also his killer? And had she made the attempt on Leo Grogan? All very unpleasant to contemplate but, as I faced it, the old curiosity began to take hold. And something more.

  I dont know what her angle could be, I said quietly. But Im going to find out.

  Bob saw my expression and tried for the light note. Its lucky you like beating up women, he said.

  This one used me and made a fool of me. I dont like that one bit.

  Max coughed. When youre through being tough, weve got a couple of things to settle up here. We should see Sligo and we should try to get that note.

  My thoughts had gone straight back to Sydney, but I knew he was right. I wonder if he really is sick, or if hes got wind of things?

  I called his office, Bob said. They say hes got the flu. Had it a fair while. That tee times a regular booking but apparently he hasnt played for weeks. Answering machine at his home number. The voice sounds a bit fluey you could say.

  I was in just the right mood for a sick, bent copper. Lets go and see him. Youd better stay clear of this, Bob. You have to live here.

  Bob nodded. Byrons more or less in my bailiwick. I know a few people down there. I could get some pressure applied to Andrea.

  Good, I said. Max and Ill go and see Sligo. Wheres he live?

  Pacific Towers, its a high rise at the south end of the beach. Apartment 901.

  Bob patted his waist. The walk backll do me good.

  The day had heated up and the tourists were out in forcepale legs and dark glasses, fat bellies and big behinds and some beautifully proportioned people of all races and both sexes. Max drove carefully through the light traffic and parked opposite the soaring tower block that would cast a shadow over the beach later in the day. He hadnt spoken since leaving the bar and I wondered about his mood.

  Whats up, Max?

  Do you feel were getting any closer to finding out who killed Ramona Beckett? Thats the object, remember? Especially from your point of viewthats where the money is.

  I was thinking along other lines and admitted it.

  I dont like losing the plot this much, Max said.

  It probably all ties together in some way, I said.

  And if it doesnt?

  It wouldnt be the first time.

  True, Max said. Very true. I have a tendency to want to tie things up. It made me very unpopular in Adelaide with those people who liked things to stay untied.

  We crossed the road, skirted the palm trees in pots and went up the fake marble steps to the squawk boxes.

  Ill handle this, Max said. I can usually hear these things for some reason.

  I told Peggy Hawkins Id try to keep her out of it.

  Max looked at me, shook his head and pressed the button for apartment 901.

  Yes. A thick, husky voice.

  My name is Max Savage, Mr Sligo. Im a senior investigating consultant with the New South Wales Police Force. Id like to have a word with you.

  What about?

  I mouthed the response but Max nodded impatiently. Its about information received from Sean Beckett, Wallace Cavendish, Andrea Craig and others about the Ramona Beckett case.

  The big plate glass doors slid open.

  Colin Sligo was a big man, or he had been. He wore pyjamas, a paisley dressing gown and slippers, not an outfit to increase your presence, but there was clearly something wrong with him. He was stooped, he shuffled and it looked as if the gown had once fitted him better than it now did. He ushered us into a big living room with a dynamite view of the Pacific Ocean. He waved us into seats and sat with his back to it.

  Well?

  I launched into an edited version of what we were about and what wed learned. His grey, flabby face scarcely changed as I spoke. He looked as if nothing I said could touch him and I worried that we were going to get nothing at all.

  Sligo looked at Max. Whatve you got to say?

  Nothing just now, Max said. Im waiting to hear from you.

  Sligo shrugged. Youve got it all pretty well sorted out. Johnno knew I was coming up here and looking for a big score to take with me. I ran interference for him. Nothing much to it. Beckett paid well. Still does.

  Not for much longer, I said.

  Sligo shrugged again. The slight movement seemed almost to exhaust him and he sat still after it for nearly a minute. I need a drink, he said. Scotch, ice and water. Would you mind, Hardy? Im pretty crook.

  I went across to a bar similar to the one at the brothel and made the drink. I looked at Max, who shook his head. I made a drink for myself. I was puzzled. Id e
xpected resistance, threats, bluster. In a way, this acquiescence was harder to deal with.

  Thanks, Sligo said when I handed him the drink. What dyou want from me?

  Max leaned forward in his chair. The Craig woman says you put pressure on Beckett by saying you knew whod done the kidnapping.

  Thats right. Johnnos idea. He was a smart cunt.

  But you didnt know? Max said.

  Sligo shook his head and then obviously wished he hadnt. Just that movement caused him to sweat. He took a handkerchief from the pocket of the dressing gown and wiped his face. I didnt have a fucking clue. Neither did Johnno. Of course, we didnt even bother to look.

  I sipped my drink thinking this was very weird. I looked carefully at Sligo to see if there were any tricks he might pull. He certainly didnt have a weapon and there didnt seem to be any way he could summon assistance.

  Have you been keeping an eye on things in Sydney? I asked. Got anyone down there working for you?

  The only interest Ive got in Sydney is in the horses and the football. Cavendish paid the money into an account regular as clockwork. There was nothing to watch. Tell you one thing, though.

  Whats that? Max said.

  That Neville bitch, the one that used to be on the force, gave the ransom note to me.

  This was almost too much to handle. Why the fuck would she do that? I said.

  Sligos face, flabby in some places, sunken in others, almost made it to a smile. Youve gotta understand how much all these people hated each otherJohnno, Peg, me, Neville. We were all looking for the edge. Neville got the edge on Johnno but she reckoned she was safer giving me an edge on him, too. If Johnno ever sent anyone after her shed tell them who had the note. It was all so fucking devious, no wonder it came unstuck. How did it come unstuck, anyway?

  We dont know yet, I said quickly. Wheres the note?

  The almost smile had faded. Sligo sucked in a deep breath, apparently to give him the strength to get his glass to his mouth. I was part of the bloody game. It amused me that Johnno was sweating for years and paying through the nose for something that didnt exist. I burnt the fucking thing.

  Describe it, Max said.

  Oh, it was fair dinkum, Id say. Not one of your TV bullshit things with cut-out newspaper and that crap. It was professionally typed and what Id call stylish. I cant remember exactly what it said. Something about having abducted the girl and being prepared to let her live for two hundred thousand dollars.

  Max was taking notes. Who was it addressed to?

  Sligo scratched at his grey, flaky skin. The family, I think. Im not sure.

  What were the arrangements?

  Jesus, its a long time ago. None of your pickup nonsense. The money was to be paid into a bank account and the girld be freed in a few days. You could do that back thenmove large sums of money around, before the fucking government had its finger up everybodys arse.

  That much talking appeared to exhaust him and he sank back in his chair and sipped his drink.

  They had photocopiers back then, I said. Are you sure you didnt make a few copies, for insurance?

  Ive told you. I burnt it and I fucking laughed while I did it.

  Youre not laughing now, I said. In fact youre not much of anything. Whats wrong with you, Mr Sligo?

  He drew in a deep breath and I could hear a rattle inside him that seemed to start in his lungs and come out through his throat. Ive got cancer. Found out for sure two days ago, except Ive really known it for weeks. Ive got it everywhere. Probably got it in the dick, and I dont give a shit about you or Cavendish or Beckett or any fucking thing.

  19

  Colin Sligo had never married and had no immediate family. He didnt care what revelations about him came out after he was dead which he said would be a matter of weeks if he didnt speed it up himself. He gave us the numbers of the bank account Cavendish had paid into on behalf of himself, Hawkins and the two women. He kept drinking steadily and was three parts drunk by the time we were ready to go.

  I still dont see whats in this for you, Hardy, he said. Its ancient history.

  I couldnt see any harm in it so I told him about the reward.

  He came as close as he could get to a laugh. Good luck. Good fucking luck.

  We drove back to Broadbeach and brought Bob up to scratch.

  So theres no need for you to go chasing hookers in Byron Bay, Max said.

  Bob nodded. Pity. I suppose you guys are keen to get back to the big smoke?

  Keen wasnt quite the word, but things needed doing. We booked a flight, thanked Bob nd I told him to send a full account.

  You havent got a client.

  Im going to collect the reward, remember? And if I dont Im going to get something out of somebody.

  On the plane Max suddenly said. I never did get to meet my widow.

  Pity, I said. Youd have liked her. I did.

  At Mascot, Max and I agreed to talk later on the question of our next moves. Max went off to collect his thoughts and impressions and to contact Penny Draper. I got a cab to my office and checked the mail, fax and answering machines. There was nothing from Claudia. I phoned her number at the Connaught and got no reply, not even a machine. It was late in the day and, after the warmth of the Gold Coast, the air had a bite. That suited my mood. Carrying my overnight bag, I walked to the Connaught as quickly as I could, fuelled by anger.

  I keyed her number in on the pad and got no answer. I beckoned to the desk attendant who pressed a button to unlock the door. That let me into an area that was still sealed off from the lifts. I could see what Claudia had meant about the security. I asked the attendant if hed seen Ms Vardon recently.

  Ms Vardon?

  Apartment 809.

  He consulted a booklet. That is not the name of the occupier.

  I was in there a day ago. Its her apartment. OK, OK. Who is the occupier?

  Im afraid I cant tell you that, sir.

  I got out my PEA licence and showed it to him. He was very unimpressed. A fifty-dollar note didnt change his attitude and I went out onto the street seething with frustration. I stood on the spot where Id bumped into her and could almost feel the force of her presence. I backed off to the street and stared up at the windows, remembering how shed looked and felt and the hopes Id had. I couldnt trust myself to talk to another human being, not even a cabbie. I slung the bag over my shoulder by its strap and walked home to Glebe.

  No messages, no notes. I unpacked the bag, took a long shower and sat down with a large Scotch and my notebook, the one I assumed Claudia had investigated while I was asleep. I made my usual diagram with the broken and unbroken lines but my mind wasnt on the job. I wondered whether any of what shed told me was true. Most wasnt. I put the pen and notebook down and worked on the Scotch. I realised that Id dropped my guard way down. I hadnt even recorded the registration number of her car.

  Images of her kept flashing into my mind. Ive been told this happens when someone close to you dies. Well, that was fitting. The images were elusive, though, tangled up with vague memories of her laughter and sharp pictures of her face and movements. I scoured through the house in the hope that Claudia might have left something behind. I told myself I was doing this in the hope of finding some way to track her down, but I knew I was just looking for something to hold on to. I found nothing. I had another drink and, having skipped lunch after a busy morning and a bad afternoon, it hit me. I felt myself getting drunk and knew I should eat something but I had no appetite.

  I was on my third drink when the phone rang. Just for a split second I thought it might be Claudia and I tried to marshall my thoughts.

  Cliff, this is Penny Draper.

  Right.

  Are you OK? Max wants to talk to you.

  Im not sure I want to talk to Max.

  A pause. I could imagine her mouthing my words. The thought irritated me and I slammed down the phone. Fuck the disabled, I thought. As soon as it formed, the thought seemed childish and I poised my hand over the phone waiting for
the ring. I snatched it up.

  Penny? Im sorry, I…

  Another woman already? Thats fast work, Cliff.

  It was Claudias voice and I realised why Eve Crown hadnt been able to remember whether a man or a woman had made the call to Andrea. Claudias voice was deep, almost masculine. Half-drunk, I was delighted by it and hated it at the same time.

  Arent you going to say anything, Cliff?

  Why are you doing this?

  You mean ringing you now.

  I pressed the cold glass to my forehead. You know what I mean.

  I suppose I do. I cant tell you just yet. I want you to know I admire you, though.

  To hell with you. You lied to me from the first fucking minute.

  Thats right. I had my reasons.

  Claudia, if thats your bloody name. One mans dead and another might as well be. Were there reasons for that.

  I had nothing to do with that. I swear it.

  I wish I could believe it. But how can I believe anything you say?

  You want to though, dont you? We were good, Cliff. Werent we good?

  Stop it!

  All right. Lets keep it businesslike if thats the way you want it. Whats your next move?

  Youve got a nerve. Why would I tell you anything? I dont even know who you are.

  Thats right, you dont. And thats the way it has to stay for a while. But I can tell you this everything youve done so far in this matter has been orchestrated by me. I sent Barry White to see you. And then I followed up myself. I enjoyed it, too. But you dont want to talk about that. My god, I nearly died when I bumped into you at the Connaught. And then you handed locating Barrys mystery contact right over to me.

  That must have given you a laugh.

  Not really. It was a lucky break, but if youre smart enough you create your own luck. You must know that.

  Despite all the rage inside me, I found myself enjoying talking to her. Whats your interest in all this? Is it the reward?

  No. I cant tell you but I will eventually. Right now, I need to know what happened up in Queensland. Did you see the Hawkins woman and Andrea Neville and Colin Sligo?