by Peter Corris
In one hundred and fifty metres turn…
The programmatic female voice soon became irritating, but the directions to an area I knew little about were helpful.
'How's she doing?' I asked.
'She's groggy. Would you believe she hasn't got any glucose with her? Not so much as a bloody jelly bean. How's that for stupid?'
I didn't say anything. My mother had been the same. Denial, but in her case she was sometimes too drunk to remember to carry something with her. She was also capable of injecting too much insulin when under the weather.
I pulled in to a service station along Pitt Road and got a bottle of Coke. May Ling forced Gretchen, against her protests, to sip from it.
'She's coming good,' May Ling said. 'Know about this stuff, do you?'
'One of my many talents.'
May Ling snorted. 'I've been through this so many times, and worse. I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink. There'll be plenty at her place. They were both alcoholics.'
'Unlike someone who needs a drink at one thirty.'
'Fuck you.'
In one hundred and fifty metres, turn…
View Street lived up to its name. It afforded a panoramic visual sweep of Middle Harbour from Sugarloaf Bay to Beauty Point, and number 17 was the jewel in the street's crown, if you like that sort of thing. It was built on three levels, all glass and steel and white brick and with a brick driveway flanked by palm trees.
'Hollywood Gothic, isn't it?' said May Ling. She handed me a remote control device that opened the gates. I drove up a steep series of ramps to a garage door twenty metres across.
'Hit it again.'
The door slid open; there were three spaces, one filled with a sporty red Mercedes, one with a trailer carrying a medium-size catamaran and one empty.
'Here we are,' May Ling said, 'where Sun Ling found her pot of gold-a rich man with two quadruple bypasses.'
We got Gretchen into the house, into a living room filled with modernistic furniture. The floor to ceiling windows looked out to the water through slightly tinted glass. May Ling eased her sister into an armchair and left the room. She came back with a small plastic case. She opened it and proceeded to check Gretchen's blood glucose level.
'Coming up,' she said. 'A few brain cells gone maybe but she won't miss them.'
Gretchen glared at her. 'Get me a fucking drink.'
May Ling pointed to the bar. 'Do the honours, Cliff. She'll have gin and just wave the tonic bottle over it. I'll have white wine and you can suit yourself.'
Bombay Sapphire gin, what else? Wolf Blass chardonnay and I took a single malt with a name I couldn't pronounce.
We sat around a glass-topped coffee table on the slightly uncomfortable chairs while the air-conditioning kept the room temperature at perfect and the white carpet showed no signs of dirty footmarks. The big house-a spiral staircase rose from one corner of the room to a mezzanine with two staircases going on up from there-had an eerie feeling of emptiness.
Gretchen knocked back her drink in a couple of swallows and held out her glass. I looked at May Ling.
'Go ahead. It usually takes three or four to put her on her ear.'
I prepared the drink but didn't make it as strong; I wanted her to talk sense. Gretchen took it without thanking me. She looked annoyed at the signs of spillage on her clothes but shrugged. She kicked off her stilettos and tucked her legs up under her. Still limber despite the hypo and the gin.
'Well, this is cosy, sis. The thug's a gun driver and can mix a good drink. How is he in the sack?'
'I wouldn't know,' May Ling said. 'Where we were was that you as good as told us that you were fucking Richard Malouf and that him faking his death, which could be what happened, leaves you feeling angry. What was going on?'
'Why do you care?' Gretchen said.
'I'll tell you why,' I said. 'Two people are dead-your husband, the man who was ID'd as Malouf-and some very heavy people are looking for him. They've terrorised one woman, scared the shit out of May Ling and Miles Standish and put me in hospital. Malouf stole a lot of money from me and other people. I'd like to get it back, but there's other people who're a lot keener.'
Gretchen giggled. The gin was getting to her and I wished I hadn't made the first one so strong, but maybe it was the low sugar having an effect. 'I like the bit about May and Miles being scared shitless.'
May Ling sipped her wine. 'You won't like it so much when I tell Freddy Wong that you were fucking the guy he's looking for so hard.'
Gretchen's face lost colour and I thought she was going to go into another faint. She drained her glass and dropped it onto the floor before wrapping her arms around herself and shaking uncontrollably. May Ling jumped up and went to her.
'Sunny, Sunny, what is it?'
Gretchen half rose from her chair and collapsed into her sister's arms. They clung to each other with Gretchen sobbing softly and May Ling making soothing noises. I felt shut out, invisible. Eventually Gretchen became quiet, passive, and May Ling stayed crouched by her chair. Gretchen drew in a long, painful breath.
'Could you get me a cigarette, May?'
May Ling got the packet from Gretchen's bag, lit a cigarette and handed it to her. Gretchen puffed and then handed it back. May Ling snuffed it out in a big ceramic ashtray on the coffee table.
Gretchen was wearing a blue silk dress with long, loose sleeves buttoned at the wrist. It was still damp with the sweat induced by the hypo. With some difficulty, she undid the button on the left and pushed the sleeve up. Livid injection marks stood out against her smooth, ivory skin.
'Freddy got me hooked,' she said. 'Really hooked. No one else can supply me-no one ever!'
18
May Ling got Gretchen steadied down and onto coffee rather than gin. She worked her way through a good many cigarettes as she told us that Freddy Wong had introduced her to heroin after she'd learned of Malouf's death. She'd been intensely involved with him for some time and she took the news hard. The death of her husband was a second, but minor, shock. When May Ling asked her how she'd become so involved with Freddy, Gretchen had recovered enough to read some signs.
'Freddy's got to you, too, hasn't he? I can tell from the way you reacted to his name. So, you first.'
'Debt. He lent me money,' May Ling said. 'You?'
'Gambling.'
Gretchen said she knew Freddy was dangerous and had always avoided him, but when she took up with Malouf and was drawn into high stakes gambling, she'd caught the bug and got deep in debt to Freddy.
'I've got an addictive personality,' Gretchen said. 'And other problems.'
May Ling bit back a response although her sympathy for her sister was ebbing fast. They were both smoking now, and a fug was building up in the room, something you don't experience much these days. Gretchen lit another cigarette from the butt of her previous one and looked at me.
'Freddy warned me to get in touch with him if anyone made any sort of enquiry about Richard. When you rang, that's what I did. I've wondered ever since whether Freddy killed Stefan and if I'm responsible.'
So Freddy Wong had the same thing going as Houli-an early warning system for when Malouf's name came up. And when the need arose one alerted the other. I was pretty sure Talat had killed Nordlung and presumably after he'd been told everything about the sighting of Malouf.
'That's all your husband told you, was it?' I said. 'That he'd seen Malouf somewhere on the harbour.'
Gretchen nodded. 'It could've been around the harbour somewhere. Stefan liked to drink in various places.'
'What places?' May Ling asked.
Gretchen almost laughed. 'Don't ask me. I hate boats and everything to do with them.'
'So you never went on Malouf's boat?'
That brought another slight smile. 'I didn't say that. His boat was beautifully fitted out…'
May Ling said, 'Somewhere to fuck.'
'You should try it.'
I said, 'When you say fitted out, what d'you m
ean? Apart from the bed?'
'Oh, it had everything-computers, satellite dishes, GPS, television. He had a bunch of mobile phones and he used Skype. He talked fluently to people all over the world.'
'What d'you mean?' I said.
'Well, I heard him speaking Chinese and what sounded like Arabic and Indonesian. I know a bit of Indonesian from going to Bali.'
'What kind of a boat was it? Was it ocean-going?'
Gretchen shrugged. 'I don't know. It was white.'
'Great help,' May Ling said. 'So he had a floating office. Why?'
My thought was different. 'Where did you meet up with him and get on the boat?'
'Different places, different marinas, all around the harbour.'
'At the Spit?'
She gave a lopsided grin, almost a grimace. 'Yes, only when Stefan was away. May, I'm going to need…'
'Jesus,' May Ling said, 'you have to get off that stuff, Sunny.'
Gretchen hugged herself and shivered, the classic junkie-in-need pose. 'I don't think I…'
'I know a good detox place,' I said.
May Ling nodded. There was a long silence as Gretchen looked at me and back at May Ling, whose face was set implacably. It was obviously a scene she'd played in before.
'Oh yes,' Gretchen whispered. 'But I just need a small hit now.'
'No way,' May Ling said.
We got Gretchen to a clinic in Marrickville I'd had dealings with in the past. My doctor, Ian Sangster, signed the admission form and May Ling acted as guarantor for the fees, next of kin and contact. Gretchen was passive, resigned.
'She's in for a rough time,' I said as we left the clinic. 'Coming off one dependency's bad enough, but three or four…'
'Five,' May Ling said. 'She's a sex addict as well. So where did that get us, Cliff?'
'When did I become Cliff?'
'Today. You handled all that very well. My confidence in you has grown.'
'That's nice and I guess you've shown your softer side with your sister, but I'm not sure we're playing on the same team. You want to find Malouf so as to get Houli and Freddy off your back. You don't care what they were up to with Malouf or who killed Stefan Nordlung and the mystery man. Right?'
We were walking along Marrickville Road towards where
I'd parked the Peugeot in a side street. May Ling stopped, slumped into a chair outside a cafe.
'I'm tired and hungry.'
I was, too. We ordered coffee and sandwiches and we drank and ate steadily without speaking. She finished first, wiped her hands and sniffed at her fingers.
'I haven't smoked for years. Bugger Sunny. I've hauled her out of trouble since she was thirteen and had her first abortion, but she is my sister and I do care about her.'
I nodded. 'Parents?'
'Both dead from overwork. They built up a restaurant and import business from nothing. When they died Freddy managed to take it over-I never found out how. That's why I studied law, to see if I could get it back, but I got sidetracked and Freddy grew too big and nasty to go up against.'
'I can believe that,' I said. 'But you stayed in touch with him, borrowed money.'
'Yes. But getting Sunny hooked, that's just too much. I'll do whatever I can to screw him. So I do want to know why people got killed and why Freddy and Houli are so worked up about Malouf. It's almost as if they're afraid of anyone catching up with him before they do, don't you think? As if they're scared. What was he doing? He obviously wasn't just a smartarse screen jockey who ripped off people like you, too lazy to look after their own investments.'
I laughed. She was clear-headed and unrelenting. That was the moment I decided to trust May Ling sufficiently to share some information with her and Standish and try jointly to get below the surface into what was really going on.
When I got home I phoned Sabatini at his paper and was told he'd gone on leave. I called the Bondi Junction travel agency and spoke to Troy. He told me Rosemary had gone on leave.
'Anyone else asking for her?'
'How do you mean?'
'You remember the man of Middle Eastern appearance who came in a few days ago? Snappy dresser?'
'Yes.'
'Has he asked about her?'
He hung up. My guess the answer was yes, and that Houli or Talat had frightened him. I phoned Standish and told him Houli was likely to be applying pressure and so was Freddy Wong.
'Why?'
'We've taken two women they were dealing with out of circulation. Safely.'
'Who's we?'
'Me and the police, me and May Ling. Is she there?'
'No. I don't understand any of this, Hardy. It sounds as if you've just made things worse.'
'Before they get better, let's hope. Have you still got that place at Darling Harbour?'
'Yes, I took it for a month.'
'I suggest you get hold of May Ling and meet me there tonight. We need to have a sort of conference to try to figure out what's going on and what to do. There's more information, but it's hard to interpret. Three heads needed.'
'God, you're a bastard. First you tell me to get back to work and now you want me back in hiding. And what's all this about you and May Ling?'
'Tonight,' I said. 'About eight.'
I phoned Chang and asked if he'd had any luck tracking down Malouf's boat.
'There's no such vessel registered in New South Wales,' he said. 'We're widening the search but I'm not optimistic. I think your informant, to put it politely, was full of shit. I tried to contact her but what d'you know? She and the journo have skipped out and I haven't heard a word about it from you. Not happy, Hardy.'
I couldn't blame him and tossed up whether to add Gretchen Nordlung's confirmation that the boat existed, sketchy though the evidence was. What was the point? May Ling wasn't going to allow him to interview her sister in the clinic and he wasn't likely to take much notice of junkie evidence anyway. I needed more solid information on what Malouf was doing before I could make use of the police again. Chang hung up on me-two in a row.
I chanced my luck and rang Perry Hassan. I asked him if Malouf had dealt with overseas clients and institutions while in his employ. Perry let out an exasperated sigh. 'Not on my behalf,' he said, 'but from what the auditors have turned up he did.'
'Why did you let him?'
'You can't control them. Smart operators like him can play any game they please.'
'Did he handle the business of Lebanese and Chinese clients in Sydney?'
'Of course.'
'D'you know who he dealt with offshore?'
'No, and I don't want to know. Give it a rest, Cliff. I'm struggling to keep my head above water here. Give it a rest.'
At least he didn't hang up.
The apartment had been cleaned and tidied since the last time I was there and Standish himself was looking in better shape. Not quite his old self, but getting there. May Ling had changed her casual outfit for a blouse and a long, dark skirt that set off her slim figure. There was a smell of Asian takeaway in the air and they were drinking coffee laced with French cognac. Standish offered me the same and I accepted.
'May Ling says you were pretty useful today, Hardy,' Standish said. 'Thank you, but I'm still in the dark about your plans now.'
'I don't have any plans. I just want to lay things out to see if we can make any sense of it. Maybe make some guesses?'
May Ling raised an eyebrow. 'Guesses?'
'Some of the best moves have been made on the basis of guesses.'
'And some of the worst,' she said.
'True.'
Standish was impatient. 'This is going nowhere. We know that Houli and Wong are in cahoots. We know that Malouf had dealings with both. ..'
'And with other members of both communities,' May Ling said. 'Finance matters, I suppose; trying to make use of them in their bloody criminal activities-drugs, girls…'
Standish nodded and ran with it. 'Getting them into financial difficulties with loans or investments that went sour and then putti
ng pressure on them. But to do what?'
I said, 'To do something that was worth killing two people for and makes it essential to find Malouf.'
We drank our coffee and thought. May Ling shrugged and got up to brew another pot. I wandered over to the window and looked down onto Darling Harbour where boats, moving and stationary, showed lights. There was a famous replica there, I seemed to recall. Captain Cook's Endeavour or the Bounty? Couldn't remember.
'Is the replica of the Endeavour or the Bounty down there?' I asked when May Ling had poured the coffee and we'd added cognac.
'Who the hell cares?' Standish said.
May Ling looked at me. 'Why did you ask that?'
'I was thinking about the Bounty and the mutiny. It looks as if Malouf mutinied, broke away from Houli and Wong, and set off on his own like Fletcher Christian. It's a new thought-maybe Malouf faked his death to fool Houli and Wong but they had their suspicions.'
'So they're responsible for only one death and not two,' Standish said. 'How does that help us?'
Not much, I thought, but it clarified something at least. May Ling was staring at me as if she could read my mind. It was an uncomfortable feeling but I made use of it.
'May Ling, you know him and what he's capable of. What would it take for you to go hard up against him?'
She shook her head. 'Something big. Something very big.'
'Satellite dishes, Skype, multiple mobiles,' I said. 'Something international.'
Standish groaned. 'Like I said, he could be anywhere.'
I shook my head. 'I don't think so. I think he's in the wind.'
May Ling looked tired all of a sudden. She leaned back in her chair.
'What does that mean?'
'It's an American expression I picked up from novels. It means hiding, but around.'
'Novels,' Standish said.
19
Life is full of surprises and I got one the next morning in the form of a phone call from Felicity Standish.
'Mr Hardy,' she said, 'I think we have unfinished business.'
