By the time I’d mulled these things over, shaved and made sure none of my cuts were bleeding, it was 8.30. I rang Viv Garner, caught him as he was about to leave, and asked him to put in his call at about the time I was due at Hurstville.
‘Might have to be a bit later,’ he said. ‘I’m in a meeting just then.’
‘Later’s okay,’ I said. ‘Later’s better. Further up their noses.’
‘You’re feisty but I haven’t got the time to ask why. Will do, Cliff. Call if you need me.’
He was right. I felt pro-active as they say, whatever that means. I rang my Telstra contact, negotiated a fee to be paid into his TAB account, and got an address for the Larson twins in Hunters Hill. I was through being discreet. This thing had become very personal and I was going to talk to Danni Price and not necessarily in a soft voice. I rang Martin Price and he came on the line speaking slowly, the way you do when your head is throbbing with a hangover and every limb and digit feels heavy.
‘Mr Price, this is Hardy. I’ve got an address for the Larson girls and I’m going over there to see if Danni’s around or they know where she is. I take it she hasn’t come home?’
‘No. No. The police just called. They want me to make a statement about Sammy and everything. Cathy’s advised me to make the statement. She’s going in with me.’
‘Right. Does she know anything about all this? About Danni and the drugs? About Junie?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Is she good?’
‘Very.’
‘Experienced?’
‘Yes.’
If she is, I thought, she won’t let. you say anything much, especially if they ask about me. ‘Be guided by her. I’ll be in touch.’
He sounded almost panicked. ‘What’re you going to say to Danni?’
I gave him back his own medicine. ‘I don’t know,’ I said and rang off.
Hunters Hill was considered a dangerous place in the old days, what with the insane asylum and the convict barracks on Cockatoo Island nearby. Not any more. Just about the whole of the district is classified by the National Trust and I’d have to sell my house to buy a unit there. The address I’d been given was close to Kellys Bush, the bit of native bush that residents and the Builders Labourers managed to save from developers in the 70s. Nice area. I pulled up outside a sandstone squatter’s city mansion that had been divided up into flats. Enough of the land the mansion had originally occupied was left to provide undercover parking space for a dozen cars and room in the open for visitors. I drove in and parked about a metre and a half away from Danni’s sporty Honda.
The squatter would have had servants and dogs for protection, now there was a state-of-the-art security door and intercom system installed inside a tiled entrance with leadlight windows. I buzzed the flat number I’d been given and a female voice answered.
‘Yes? Who is it?’
‘Ms Larson?’
‘Who is it?’
‘My name’s Hardy. I’m a private detective working for Danni Price’s father.’
‘You’re joking. A private detective?’
“That’s right. I want to speak to her, please.’
‘What makes you think she’s here?’
‘Her car’s here.’
The intercom cut out and I swore and buzzed again.
“This is Danni Price. What d’you want?’
‘I want to stop having to press this buzzer. Then I want to come inside and talk to you fast.’
‘Why?’
‘Listen, I know about Jason and your stepmother. I know about your father’s mistress. He’s making a statement to the police right now. He wants to help you.’
‘I don’t need help.’
‘I wish I could say that. I think you do, Danni. You’re probably going to have to talk to the police, but it’d be better if you talked to me first.’
‘No. Go away.’
‘Okay, better get yourself ready to be charged with conspiracy to murder your stepmother.’ I left the entrance and walked back to the cars. The wind hadn’t let up and there was a bit of an edge to it that made the cuts on my head sting. I opened the car, dug an old poplin jacket out of the mess and put it on. The zipper was stuck but the extra layer was welcome.
Danni came out a few minutes later. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday — tank top, jeans and sneakers — and she shrugged into a denim jacket as she walked towards me. She was taller than I’d thought from seeing her mostly from a distance or sitting, and bore a strong resemblance to her father. She stopped a metre away and looked me over.
‘I saw you yesterday. At the pub.’
‘I followed you. Doing my job.’
‘Shit. Show me some ID.’
I did and she examined it closely before handing it back.
‘Can we go inside or sit in my car?’ I said, ‘It’s blowy out here.’
She shrugged and I opened the passenger door of the Falcon. She climbed in and I went around and got in behind the wheel.
‘Okay, Mr Fucking Detective, what’s this shit about me murdering Cunt-face?’
I told her that I had learned from her father that Jason had told him Danni had been supplying drugs to her stepmother and that the police were investigating drug dealing in the Georges River area. Now her stepmother was dead of a drug overdose, there were suspicious circumstances and the police were likely to question her closely.
She listened and unless she was a brilliant actress her growing expression of disbelief was entirely convincing.
‘Fuck me,’ she said. ‘Jason told Dad that and he believed him?’
‘So your father says.’
She shook her head and raked her fingers through her dark hair. “That’s crap. Jason must’ve been nuts to say a thing like that. I’ve never given cunt… Samantha any drugs. I would’ve had to breathe the same air as her to do that and I fucking wouldn’t.’
‘Why would Jason lie?’
‘Lots of reasons. You said you know some things about him and her. You work it out. This is such shit. Why’s Dad got you on the job?’
‘The original idea was to find out who was pushing drugs down your way including to your friend in the coma and use that as a lever to get you a break. Now he’s thinking to get you out of the country.’
She laughed and took a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of the jacket. She put one in her mouth and leaned forward to use the lighter.
‘It doesn’t work.’
‘Shit. Have you got a light?’
‘No. I understand all about kids not liking replacement parents and if your… Samantha took Jason away from you I can see why you’d hate her. But your attitude seems a bit stronger than that. The woman’s dead and you celebrated the fact when your father told you. I saw it.’
She fumbled in the pockets of her jacket and came up with a lint-covered, scratched, disposable lighter. She wiped it on her sleeve and flicked it at least ten times until it worked and she got the cigarette alight. She wound the window down an inch or two and blew the smoke out. Manners. ‘I’ve got reasons, don’t you worry. You don’t know much at all. There’s no one in a coma.’
‘I know your father’s worried.’
‘Let him worry, the prick. Let little fucking A-cup Junie take care of him. They can do it at home now instead of in the office.’
I was getting out of my depth. She seemed to hate everybody, lucky there was no family dog. She smoked and stared through the windscreen at the trees being lashed violently around by the wind as if that was quite all right by her.
‘Look, Danni,’ I said. ‘Put your feelings about Samantha and Junie and your father aside. Two people are dead. Jason was murdered and Samantha might have been. Do you know anything…?’
‘What do you care? You’re just a fucking minder, aren’t you? A glorified bodyguard.’