Under the shower I noticed that the mould was doing well in the bathroom and that the fibro strips holding the roof up were sagging. ‘That’d be white ants,’ the agent would say. ‘Big money to fix that, Mr Hardy.’
Big money I didn’t have, yet. And with back taxes and a Bankcard account that walked the ‘credit available’ line like a tightrope, there wouldn’t be a hell of a lot left of the ten thousand, if I could earn it. I dried off, put on my towelling dressing gown that is shading down from white to grey and tapped the flagon in the fridge. I sat with the wine and my notebook intending to review what I had on the Todd matter, but other thoughts crowded the case out.
Money and love are the great subjects for reverie; love and money. I remembered the big cheque Peter January had given me after I’d saved his neck and protected his political arse. I had had thoughts of buying land in Kempsey, near Helen Broadway’s husband’s property. After that idea went bust, I was going to open an office in Southport and live in Byron Bay with Helen and Verity, her daughter. That went bust too. The money ebbed away in airfares and payments to lawyers and champagne and nights in the Hilton.
The love seeped out through the cracks opened up by late-night phone calls, midday telegrams and subterfuges-my sly drinking sessions with Frank Parker and Harry Tickener; Helen’s secret notes to Michael, her husband, and extravagant gifts to Verity. In the end, we had nothing to say to each other that wasn’t tainted by the experience we’d been through-the lies and deceptions and broken promises. In the end we didn’t even say goodbye. She left and I tidied up in her wake. I did a good job on the surface things-the Tamarama flat, the Honda Civic, the books left behind-but I had the feeling I’d be tidying up after her for the rest of my life.
If I wanted it to be that way. I didn’t. I swigged some wine and jerked my mind back onto the tracks left by Barnes Todd. I tried to think of him as a soldier, slogging through hostile country, surrounded by enemies, with a limited supply of ammunition but with an objective in mind. I needed to know the objective to gauge the true nature of the threat…
The words ‘break-in’ were scribbled on my pad. ‘Christ,’ I said aloud. “Whoever tailed me must have picked me up in Coogee.’
I scrabbled through the notebook for Felicia Todd’s number. It was after midnight, but that hour means nothing to a true watcher. I dialled the number and the phone rang only twice before she picked it up.
‘This is Hardy,’ I said. ‘I want you to have a look out into the street. See if there’s a car parked within watching distance.’ I gave her the description of the car and the approximation of its licence plate.
She was back on the line quickly, but not too quickly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘The street’s clear. That is, I can identify the cars I can see. The flats’ve got garages. We’re… I’m an exception. You sound pretty tense, Cliff. What’s wrong?’
‘I was followed. Probably picked up at your place. A dark sedan-a Datsun or a Toyota. You’re sure there’s no sign of it?’
‘No sign. Look, Cliff, the dog next door howls like a banshee if anyone comes within reach of these houses. And the police’ve been doing a special patrol since I reported the break-in. Barnes and the local sergeant were on good terms. They went swimming together in the mornings.’
I grunted. ‘Is there anywhere else you can go?’
‘Yes. There’s our studio.’
‘Do you go there much?’
‘Only once since Barnes died. Why?’
I wanted to know the address, whether it was where she had put Barnes’ paintings, whether it had a phone and a bed, but I didn’t ask. I had given her my card. Now I told her to call me from a public phone in the morning.
‘You think I’m being bugged?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Around ten?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will.’ There was a pause so long that I thought she might have hung up. Then she said, ‘I enjoyed it tonight. That sounds terrible, given what we had to talk about. But I did.’
‘So did I. Take another look for the car.’
She was away briefly. ‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Talk to you in the morning, Fel. ‘Night.’
I made lists of things to do as I finished the wine: talk to the Bulli cops, to the people at the party Barnes had attended, to the witnesses at the crash site. I had to get details of Barnes Todd’s business dealings from Michael Hickie and more from Felicia about his adventures in the art trade. Plenty to do to earn the money. It would take time and be hard on the nerves and tyres, but it was all comparatively straightforward compared to the tricky job of making contact with Kevin O’Fearna.
7
I hadn’t drawn the blind and sunlight, bright and glaring, woke me early. I pulled the sheets and blanket up as I got out of them, which is about all the bedmaking I do these days. I collected the paper from the doorstep and noticed a real estate agent’s leaflet I hadn’t seen last night. ‘Ready to sell?’ it asked. I looked up and could see the sky through a line of small holes in the rusty guttering above the porch. Well, are you ready? I thought.
I had some coffee and toast, read the paper and took a walk around the streets and back lanes in the hope of seeing the cat. If I found the cat, I told myself, it meant I should stay in Glebe. I’d treat it better, feed it most days. I’d let it sleep on the couch. I wouldn’t let the milk get sour. I’d make my bed. People were hosing their gardens, sitting on their balconies, hanging out their washing. Gaps were opening up along the sides of the streets as the workers took their cars away. I wandered down Wigram Road, where the cars are parked half on the footpath. Very illegal but very necessary in such a busy narrow street, and the cops seem to have accepted the practice.
I didn’t find the cat.
By the time Felicia rang I was impatient to start work, and the O’Fear problem was nagging at me. ‘Hardy.’
‘You sound snappish,’ she said.
‘Sorry. Where are you?’
‘In a phone box close to home. I must say I quite like all this intrigue. No sign of the car you described last night, by the way.’
‘Good. I suppose you’ve got a few cameras?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Might be an idea if you sling one around your neck when you go out. It’s a nervy feeling, following someone who’s got a camera.’
She laughed. ‘I can’t go around with a bloody camera all the time. Mind you, I haven’t taken any pictures for a while. It’s a great day. Might be a good idea.’
‘What’ve you got planned for today?’
‘Not much.’ The laughter went out of her voice.
‘I suggest you ring Michael Hickie and talk a bit of business with him. Can you tell me anything about the party Barnes was at?’
‘Yes. It was at a gallery in Paddington. Barnes was considering it for his exhibition. I’ve been to a million gallery parties. I couldn’t face another one. Also I was afraid he’d get violent, and that was the one part of Barnes’ personality I had trouble with. I went to the coast.’
I got the name of the host and the address t from her. I imagined her standing in the phone box or outside a shop. I wanted to see that brown hair in the sunlight. I wanted to see her. ‘I think you should go to this studio of yours tonight. Say before dinner. Leave your car and leave the house looking normal. Leave a light on, or the TV or something.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll tell you tonight when I see you. Will you do it?’
Her characteristic pause again. Then she said, ‘Yes. All right.’
‘What’s the address?’
‘Flat two, 505 Chalmers Street, Redfern. It’s opposite the park. There’s no phone.’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can make it. Should I bring anything? Food, or…?’
‘No, it’s well stocked. Just a minute.’
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m just wondering why I’m letting you order me around like this.’
I drew a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. There might be nothing happening or a simple explanation. I just think it’s wise to take a few precautions.’