by Peter Watt
Sarah left the library and went directly to the dining room to recover the bottle of port. She hoped that whatever had made its presence known in the library remained there.
*
The law firm of Levi & Duffy was well known to the criminal fraternity of Sydney, thanks to Major Sean Duffy, who was reputed to be one of the best criminal lawyers in the state.
Sean was sitting at his desk, perusing the daily papers for news of the war in the Pacific. He was especially interested in the campaign that had commenced at Aitape in northern New Guinea as he knew David was commanding a company there. Sean had virtually raised David and considered him a son.
Sean’s assistant, Allison Lowe, walked in and placed a cup of tea in front of him, attentive as always to his wellbeing. Allison was a widow and had lost her husband at the battle for Milne Bay. She had resumed her maiden name, and had found a new love: Major David Macintosh.
He flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for. The first article was headlined RAPID AIF ADVANCE: BITTER FIGHT ON TARAKAN. Sean knew that David’s cousin and best friend, Donald Macintosh, was leading a platoon in that fight to dislodge the Japanese. Sean was very fond of Donald, whose mother he had loved – and lost to cancer. He had two boys on the frontlines and as a former decorated soldier of the Great War he knew the horror they would be confronting. He hardly had time to search for news of the Wewak situation when Allison returned to his office with a stricken expression and a document in her hand.
Sean looked at her from behind his desk. ‘Allison, my dear, what is wrong?’
‘I was sorting the files, and this was delivered this morning,’ Alison said, thrusting a sheaf of papers at Sean, who took it and quickly scanned the contents. He could see the papers came from the Macintosh solicitors.
‘Bloody hell!’ Sean exploded, then realised that he had sworn in Allison’s presence. ‘Please excuse my language.’
‘Could they really do that to Mr Duffy?’ Allison asked.
For a moment Sean frowned, digesting the two main points raised in the documents. ‘They appear to have grounds for declaring the sale of Glen View to Tom invalid,’ he said. ‘That little vixen Sarah Macintosh has never given up on regaining the property for the Macintosh name. She has had her solicitors question Tom’s source of wealth, as they do not feel a person of Aboriginal ancestry is capable of earning the money he has. The other point is about a clause her lawyers found requiring that three persons – not two – must agree to the sale. They say the clause was put in company documents by Sir George before his demise and, conveniently, they’ve only just discovered it.’
‘Can Sarah do that?’ Allison asked.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Sean sighed. ‘Or at least take it to court, and drag it out for years. In the end, Tom might win, but it could cost him a fortune in legal fees and, in the meantime, the courts could declare he must vacate the property until the matter is resolved. It would break Tom’s heart. He has other properties, but Glen View is his real home.’
‘That bitch!’ Allison swore.
Sean smiled at her outburst. Alison’s descriptive language was not like her normal ladylike ways. But the woman who had once been her best friend was now her worst enemy.
‘I hope she rots in hell,’ Allison added.
‘Hell is in the next world,’ Sean said. ‘Our fight with her is in this one. I will compose a response to their letter. The last contact I had with Tom was a letter asking me to organise schooling for young Patrick, who will be arriving next week. I may need your help in that matter.’
‘It will be wonderful seeing Patrick again,’ Allison said, her expression brightened by the news. ‘I will be pleased to help in any way I can, Major.’
Sean said she could return to her work and that he would call her when he had time to compose the letter to the Macintosh solicitors. The only thing that concerned him was the reference to Tom’s mysterious wealth after he returned from the Great War. Tom had left the shores of Australia poor, and when he settled in north Queensland had suddenly amassed a great fortune. Sean had tactfully never asked how. Tom had wisely invested in property and cattle – even real estate in the southern states.
Was Tom Duffy, war hero and influential land owner, also a criminal?
*
Tom Duffy had learned of the Macintosh challenge to his legal ownership of Glen View. He had also received a letter from his old friend Sean Duffy informing him that Sarah Macintosh had employed investigators to look into the source of his wealth.
Tom sat at the kitchen table, reading the correspondence by the light of a kerosene lantern, while moths fluttered in the dim light.
Abigail sat opposite, sipping a cup of tea. ‘You look concerned, my love,’ she said.
Tom placed Sean’s letter on the wooden table, and looked up at his wife.
‘It appears that Sarah Macintosh is out to get me any way she can,’ Tom sighed. ‘Sean has given me a warning that her hired guns are looking into the source of my wealth.’
‘You are a self-made man,’ Abigail said. ‘I doubt that you would have any cause for concern about anything in your past.’
‘That is where you are wrong,’ Tom said quietly. ‘I had a little help establishing myself.’
Abigail placed her cup on the table. ‘Did you do something illegal?’
‘It’s hard to know how to answer that question,’ Tom replied. ‘It happened in the last war when I was in France. During one of the battles I stumbled on a fortune in diamonds in a little village. They were meant for the Germans. There was a bit of a fight, and the diamonds ended up in my keep and not the Huns’. So I counted them as spoils of war, and kept them. I was later able to convert them into hard cash through a close friend, Jack Kelly, and then into property holdings. Maybe at the time I should have handed over my find, but I doubt the diamonds would have ever been turned in to the proper authorities. It was war, and moral scruples were in short supply. Jack agreed with my decision and so did others I held dear.’
‘My goodness!’ Abigail exclaimed. ‘I would never have thought that was the reason for your wealth.’
‘Well, do you now think I’m a criminal?’ Tom asked.
Abigail broke into a smile, shaking her head and grasping Tom’s hand across the table. ‘I could never think that, my dear,’ she said. ‘You are a very special man who I love more than anything else on this earth.’
Tom squeezed her hands and knew that he was blessed. He only wished he had two hands to hold both of Abigail’s.
Sean’s warning worried Tom. How good was Sarah Macintosh at digging deep into a man’s past? He suspected that she was very good at destroying people.
*
Captain James Duffy stepped out of the Los Angeles cab and slung his sea bag over his shoulder. He looked up at the plush hotel. It was his last stop on his war bonds drive before returning to active service in the Pacific war. He knew he was only forty-eight hours from a transport flight to a new squadron, and being in LA brought back sad memories of the loss of the woman he had fallen in love with. Julianna was in New Orleans, and the bustling city under a summer sun felt empty without her.
With a sigh, James stepped into the foyer and confirmed his reservation at the desk.
‘There is a message for you, Captain Duffy,’ the reception clerk said, handing James a sheet of paper.
It was from Guy Praine. It appeared that Guy was also in LA and wanted to meet him for dinner at a restaurant they liked and had often gone to when James was posted to Hollywood a couple of years earlier, to assist with raising morale amongst the many workers in the war industry. Ciro’s nightclub on Sunset Boulevard had rapidly become one of the favourite haunts of the big names in entertainment, and frequented by the likes of Lauren Bacall, Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant, to mention just a few. James liked the nightclub because it was not as gaudy as some ot
hers on the Sunset Strip. Guy had used his influence to reserve a table for them and suggested they meet there at 7pm.
That evening, James arrived wearing his uniform as he had not packed any civilian clothing. His arrival in the club turned the heads of several beautiful young ladies. He cut a fine figure and the wings on his chest added to the glamour. Guy was sitting at a table with a woman James guessed to be in her sixties. James walked over and Guy stood to grasp his hand.
‘I have an old friend with us tonight,’ Guy said. ‘I presume you already know the name Miss Louella Parsons.’
James broke into a broad smile, and Louella cast him an admiring glance. ‘Who has not heard of the most famous lady in Hollywood?’ he said, taking her proffered hand. ‘And I must say, one of the prettiest.’
Louella broke into a laugh at James’s unsubtle attempt at flattery. ‘Young man, you obviously have Irish blood, with your blarney. I also have Irish blood, as well as German and Jewish. I think Docky would like you.’
James remembered that Docky was Louella’s husband, a surgeon currently serving with the Army Medical Corp, who had also served in the Great War as an army medico. He was glad he had some common ground with the husband of the most feared columnist in Hollywood, one whose words could make or break a career in the entertainment industry. People loved gossip about the stars, and Louella gave them what they wanted. She had a keen eye, good hearing and an ability to turn words into weapons.
‘I was not aware that you knew anyone of real importance, Guy,’ James said with a grin as he sat down at the table.
Almost immediately, a waiter placed three martinis in front of them. ‘Compliments of Mr Haver,’ the waiter said, quickly withdrawing.
The manager also clearly knew it was important to curry favour with this woman who was larger than life.
The club was crowded and couples danced to the big band orchestra, belting out a song made popular by Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra, ‘Bésame Mucho’.
Louella glanced around the club for any well-known Hollywood personalities. ‘I feel my column will be short on scandal.’ She sipped her martini, and James saw her eyes light up with delight. ‘I spoke too soon.’
James followed her gaze to a couple being ushered to a table not far from the dance floor. His heart felt as if it had stopped beating. Guy also noticed the entrance of the handsome young couple, and blinked in surprise. ‘It seems Julianna is not in New Orleans,’ he said, looking across at James.
‘It is obvious that you two gentlemen know Miss Julianna Dupont and her fiancé, the noted director, Mr Simon Ledger,’ Louella said.
‘We do,’ Guy replied, but did not elaborate.
James continued to stare at Julianna. She looked ravishing in a long, black, body-hugging dress. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. She was smiling at the director James had wanted to punch in the face on their first meeting. Every memory he had of the time they had shared welled up, and James realised that he was clenching his fists in his lap.
‘I think we should find another club,’ Guy said, noticing James’s reaction. ‘It appears this one is getting a bit crowded.’
‘No,’ James answered, knocking back his martini ‘Everything is Jim Dandy.’
‘Are you sure?’ Guy asked quietly, leaning forward to his friend across the white linen table cloth.
‘It’s my last night stateside before I go back to the war,’ James said, calling over a waiter for another drink. ‘I intend to enjoy it.’
‘Do I sense some tension, gentlemen?’ Louella asked mischievously, as James downed another martini.
‘Not at all,’ Guy said smoothly. ‘If you want to know, Louella, the lady with Ledger was once a close friend of Captain Duffy.’
‘How interesting,’ Louella said, leaning forward. ‘There is a rumour that Simon Ledger is going to direct a film Miss Dupont has written about an actress, Fenella Macintosh, who was murdered here some years ago. It was a case the police never solved, and she has adapted the screenplay from her book.’
‘If you will excuse me,’ James said, suddenly rising from the table, ‘I should go over and offer my congratulations to Miss Dupont.’
Guy was afraid this would happen but powerless to stop James. He watched as James weaved his way towards Julianna, and groaned. ‘Louella, regarding what may occur in the next few minutes, I would ask as a great favour that you do not report it in your column.’
‘What do you mean?’ Louella asked, intrigued by the request.
‘James was more than just a friend of Miss Dupont,’ Guy said. ‘He was in love with her, but she dumped him while he was flying in the Pacific. James has never got over the breakup.’
‘Oh, my!’ Louella exclaimed.
Ledger and Julianna both saw James approach at the same time. Ledger’s expression was clouded with anger and Julianna’s with surprise.
‘Hello, Julianna,’ James said, standing over the table. ‘I just wanted to congratulate you on your success in having your book turned into film. I always figured you had the talent.’
‘This is a private moment, Captain,’ Ledger growled. ‘We do not wish to be pestered by drunken soldiers.’
‘I’m not a soldier,’ James said. ‘I’m a marine, and there is a big difference.’
Julianna was still speechless and was perceptive enough to see the dangerous coldness in the eyes of the man she once loved. ‘James, thank you for your kind words,’ she said, attempting to defuse the situation. ‘Simon and I would prefer to be left alone.’
‘I didn’t come over to start anything,’ James replied. ‘I just came over to congratulate you on the story of Fenella Macintosh making it to the screen. I remember how we talked about her at your office one night.’
Ledger pulled away his napkin, rising to his feet to confront James. ‘Listen, buddy, I don’t care who you think you are, but this is a private affair, and you were not invited, so push off.’
‘Simon, Captain Duffy is leaving,’ Julianna pleaded, reaching to grip the arm of her fiancé.
‘That’s right . . . buddy,’ James said. He had turned to return to the company of Guy and Louella when Ledger sneered behind his back, ‘Not so tough when they are out of the cockpit of their planes.’
Despite the two martinis he had consumed James was able to turn and swing a good right haymaker that caught Ledger in the jaw, causing him to crumble senseless to the floor amongst a scatter of table and chairs. A woman shrieked, and in the ruckus that followed James found himself pinned to the floor of the nightclub by two men. Julianna stood above him with a shocked expression, her hands to her face.
Ledger was helped to his feet by staff, while James remained held to the floor.
‘I will see you locked up for this!’ Ledger yelled at James.
Julianna was clutching at Ledger’s arm, ‘No, Simon, you will do no such thing.’
‘Better make it quick,’ James said from the floor. ‘I’m off to the Pacific in the next twenty-four hours.’
Ledger wiped away a trickle of blood from his nose with a handkerchief. ‘The man assaulted me! Look! I’m bleeding.’
‘You provoked James,’ Julianna said.
‘Whose side are you on?’ Ledger snapped. ‘The man is a no better than a common criminal.’
‘James is a hero who is returning to the war, Simon,’ Julianna said calmly. ‘How do you think a judge would feel about someone like you, living a life of luxury, pressing charges against a man like James, risking his life out in the Pacific so you can be safe at home?’
‘I suspect when I report this incident in my column, Mr Ledger,’ Louella Parsons said from behind Julianna, ‘many of my readers, like Ford, Capra and Wyler, might be asking why you are not out on the frontlines. I doubt that you will fare well with Hollywood’s producers. I agree with Miss Dupont, you should forget the incident.’
&nb
sp; Ledger glared at Louella, dabbing his bleeding nose. He knew the power of this woman, and feared her. ‘Let the captain go,’ he said reluctantly to the two men holding James down on the floor. ‘I only ask that he leave now, and not bother my fiancée and myself.’
James rose to his feet, patted his uniform down and turned to Julianna. ‘I’m sorry for what happened – but not for what I did. I hope you have a good life.’
Before Julianna could respond, James had walked away.
The next afternoon he was on a cargo plane flying to Hawaii. Opposite James sat a very young soldier reading a Captain America comic book. James knew that the character had been created directly as a response to the war effort. The cartoon character, wearing the red, white and blue, holding a shield, was intended to raise morale.
James leaned forward to the young soldier. ‘What happens to Captain America when the war is over?’ he asked.
The young soldier blinked in surprise at the question. ‘I dunno, sir,’ he replied.
James leaned back in his canvas seat. ‘Maybe the same thing that will happen to us all when the war is over. We will be without much of a future,’ he said quietly, as the twin-engine transport plane flew west towards the war.
FOUR
It had been a long journey on the railway from Queensland to Sydney, but young Patrick had thought it a thoroughly exciting experience. He had befriended Australian and American soldiers returning from the battlefronts of the Pacific. The Americans had given him gifts of chocolate and chewing gum, which he had hoarded away in his small suitcase now bulging at the seams.
The train eventually arrived at Central Station in the early hours of the morning. When Patrick stepped out of his carriage he saw the familiar figures of his uncle Sean Duffy leaning on his walking stick and Miss Allison waiting for him in the fog of steam and coal smoke. Allison rushed forward through the crowd of uniformed soldiers and hugged him tight, while Sean hobbled after her as fast as he could. Any trepidation about coming south quickly dissipated in the warmth of Uncle Sean’s welcome on this chilly morning in Sydney.
