‘Pick up your stuff!’
Lewis started to gather up his things as I opened my locker and got dressed. I took my time about it and that increased his distress as I’d intended. Everything had gone wrong for him and he wasn’t used to it.
When I was ready I pointed a finger at him. ‘You knew where to find me, but I know where to find you. I don’t think either of us wants to meet up again, do you?’
Lewis shook his head and I took a wire coathanger from my locker and twisted it into something nasty in case Stivens was outside the door. He wasn’t and I was surprised. I thought he’d have a bit more go in him, but you can never tell. The spa room was empty and I opened the door to the sauna. Stivens was sitting on the top bench. He’d mopped up the blood and was getting the benefit of the steam.
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘Mr Lewis and I talked things over. You can leave now.’
‘Fuck you.’
No marks for originality. I let the door swing back and walked out, thinking that the tough guys didn’t seem to be as tough any more. In the old days men like Rhino Jackson and ‘Haitch’ Henderson went all the way and it’d take a bullet or a lead pipe to stop them. The modern heavies seemed to know when to call a halt. Maybe there’s a TAFE course on it.
The rain had stopped but it was dark now and I exercised some caution in the parking lot. It’s always possible that the muscle you meet and deal with isn’t the only muscle around. But all was quiet. At a guess the gunmetal Saab parked a few spaces from my car was Lewis’s and I was tempted to do some work with my Swiss Army Knife on the tyres. But there was no way to be sure. From habit I made a mental note of the number. I put the twisted coat-hanger on the bonnet; if I was wrong about the car, no harm done, if I was right — message delivered. I was well ahead of Lewis and Stivens on points anyway, and it was definitely time for a drink.
I had one small glass of red with a plate of spaghetti in Leichhardt. Over the meal I pondered why the beautiful Sammy had needed to employ professional escorts and whether she’d had her first encounter with Jason in that capacity or as a poacher of Danni’s boyfriend. Maybe she just had a taste for commercial sex. Emotion-free, producing fewer lines and wrinkles. Maybe the escorts were good drug contacts. I bought a bottle of champagne for three times the price I was used to paying in case I needed an entry prop and then headed for Strathfield. The rain stopped and started and a blustery wind added to the discomfort and danger of driving. It was a night for any sensible person to stay at home, but I was hoping that the woman in the high-security house in Henry Street hadn’t called off her Wednesday night parties.
No worries. When I drew up outside the house the lights, the music and hum of voices and the fact that there was nowhere close by to park told me that there was a party going on. I parked on the other side of the street fifty metres away and watched while a taxi dropped a passenger. She was neither young nor old, fat or thin and she was dressed to the nines in a stylish frock and an elegant jacket that shimmered under the streetlight. I watched her go up the path and step inside. Open house, and not BYO.
Although I was never a Boy Scout I try to be prepared. I keep a tie, a jacket and an electric shaver in the boot of the car in case I have to tog up. I put the jacket on and tied the tie, taking three goes to do it as it’s something I don’t do that often. I customarily shave with a blade on account of my heavy beard, but I ploughed away with the shaver and got the stubble down to a sandpapery smoothness. A red Porsche sports car pulled up a bit ahead of me and a woman got out and activated the automatic locking. She was tall and slim to the point of gauntness and had silver hair flowing to her shoulders. Black velvet pants suit, high heels, white silk scarf. She crossed the road and headed for the house and I followed her, just far enough back not to be annoying but close enough to surf in on her stylish wake.
That’s how it happened. She went through the open doorway and I followed her into a well-lit passage that led to a big double room on the right. Party room. The music was Van Morrison down low, like the lights. There must have been about sixty people there and a preponderance of females. A waiter in dress shirt and bow tie cruised up with a tray of glasses and Silver Hair and I took one simultaneously. She noticed me for the first time and I smiled, confident now that I was in and had a glass in hand.
The dim light must’ve helped because she returned the smile. ‘Tanya Scott.’
I lifted the glass in a restrained salute. ‘Cliff Hardy.’
‘Available?’
‘Could be.’
She reached into the little bag hanging from her bony shoulder, took out a silver cigarette case and extracted a smoke. ‘Don’t play too hard to get, Cliff. You’re longish in the tooth for this gathering.’
I watched her flick a flame up from a lighter attached to the cigarette case. It all felt a bit Charles Boyer or even older, but she did it with style. I drank some of the champagne — very dry and cold and good, and looked around the room. She was right: most of the women were around my age, plus or minus, but the men were decidedly younger, and definitely better looking.
Tanya Scott blew some smoke over my head, not hard for her to do because in those heels she was as tall as me or taller. ‘Take a look around and see if you can come up with something better. I doubt if you can.’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘but I have to be polite. Where’s our hostess?’
She pointed with the cigarette extended in slender fingers with long, silver-painted nails. ‘Over there, but forget it. She’s given up sex.’
Of course I wasn’t looking for the lady of the house in order to meet her but to avoid her. In that crowd and smoky atmosphere it wasn’t hard to do. I moved across and stood in the archway between the two rooms and looked around. I don’t go to many parties and even fewer now than in days gone by, but I know that they’re all different. Some go with a bang from the first cork pulled or can cracked; some take a while to warm up and some just lie down and die. This one was curious. The people seemed not to know each other but to be keen to rub along. The women were cruising the men and some were getting attached and some were staying loose. Some of the women seemed more interested in other women than the men which evened the ratio up a bit. I got a few glances and smiles but I was way too rough to be high on anyone’s list.
I was an odd man out and it would only be a matter of time before I was brought to the attention of the hostess. I lifted another glass of bubbly and wondered if Silver Hair would give me the drum on what the gathering was all about, although by now I had a pretty fair idea. I looked across to where I’d left her but I’d missed my chance — she was deep in conversation with a tall, blond classical profile in an Italian suit.
I sidled past people, ducking and weaving with my glass, and when I was sure no-one was watching and there were no waiters about, I scuttled down a passage past the kitchen where three or four Asian women were working towards the back of the house. The place was a lot bigger than it looked from the front. The block sloped severely and the house was on two levels at the back. There was a sitting room and three smaller rooms on both levels, plus bathrooms top and bottom. I did a quick recce: double beds in each of the rooms. I flicked on a light and went into one — TV and VCR with raunchy videos lined up ready to roll; condoms, lubricant and three sizes of vibrator in a drawer.
I pushed open a door and stepped out into the subtly lit back garden: tall trees around the edges, a few shrubs and a little grass, but most of the space was taken up by a twelve metre pool and a number of cabanas built close around it. The joint could sleep two dozen people easy, or not sleep.
I walked down the terracotta path, skirted the pool and looked into one of the cabins. Very cosy. Light rain began to dapple the surface of the pool and I dashed back under cover. The door to the house swung open.
‘Just exactly what d’you think you’re doing?’
It was her, glass in hand, teased up hair, red dress and stoked. I moved towards her, twiddling my glass in my hand. ‘Nice party,’ I said. “Think I’ll get a refill.’
‘You will not! You’ll leave immediately. Good God, you’re the man…’
‘That’s right, I’m the man who came looking for Ramsay Hewitt, and you’re the woman who lied to me about not knowing him.’
‘You’re trespassing and being offensive. I’ll call the police.’
‘Will you? I wonder what they’ll say about the set-up here? All these fuck rooms?’
‘You’re revolting.’
‘I don’t mean to be. I’m open minded. It’s your business but it sure looks like a business and that could be your problem, Mrs…?’
She took a gulp from her glass and I wished mine wasn’t empty. It was an edgy kind of standoff for us both. In the dim light she came across as an attractive woman and if Tom Bolitho was right about her age and the surgical intervention, she’d done the right thing. Maybe she noticed and appreciated my evaluation, because she abruptly changed her manner and tone of voice.
‘I’m Prue Bonham.’
‘Cliff Hardy. And I’m still looking for Ramsay Hewitt.’
‘I can see I was hasty and underestimated you, Mr Hardy. I do know Ramsay of course. I know him quite well.’
‘If you can tell me where to find him I’ll be on my way.’
She drew in a deep breath and her breasts rose impressively under the red silk of her dress. But somehow I knew it wasn’t for me. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said. ‘Come back in and have that drink. Have a couple. I think you’ve cottoned on to what happens here. The numbers’ll be down to next to nothing in a couple of hours and we can talk.’
‘And what will we talk about, Mrs Bonham?’
‘We’ll talk about love and life, life and love. They should interest a man in your occupation. And after that I’ll talk about Ramsay.’
Occupation, I liked that. By not saying profession she kept an edge. Suddenly, I liked her a lot. ‘Is there any Scotch?’ I said.
For the next few hours I nursed a couple of Scotches with water while couples paired off and adjourned to the bedrooms and cabins out the back. Prue Bonham circulated, kept conversations going, made sure the food and drink kept coming. Towards the end Silver Hair, whose name I’d immediately forgotten, approached me again.
‘And?’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m otherwise engaged.’
She puffed smoke. ‘Not my night. Don’t tell me you’ve scored with the chatelaine?’
‘We’ve got business to discuss.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t think you were up for grabs. Well, goodnight.’
She sauntered out of the room in her smart black outfit, bound for her Porsche. I watched her stylish departure. Prue Bonham appeared beside me and watched likewise.
‘Poor Tanya. Still hunting,’ she said. ‘Go out to the kitchen and make yourself useful. You look so obviously out of place.’
I dried dishes, amusing the hired help, and kept an eye on the passage as the traffic went by. A few pairs I’d seen go out earlier came back and looked the better for the experience. The exodus slowed and the last couple I saw was female. The voices were fewer from the party room and then faded away altogether with the music — Ella Fitzgerald by now. The two waiters finished up and the kitchen hands got everything shipshape and gave me little salutes as they went out. I hung up my dishcloth, went across to the table that was serving as a bar and mixed a last weak Scotch and water.
Prue Bonham came into the kitchen, looked around and nodded approvingly. She crooked a finger. ‘Come in here. I can give you a few minutes now.’
I followed her back to the party room. It smelled strongly of smoke and wine and perfume. She waved her be-ringed hands in the air. ‘The only thing I don’t like about this is the smoke. Disgusting habit. I can’t think why they do it.’
‘Neither can they now, most of them.’
She sank into an armchair and gestured for me to sit close by. Her skirt rode up and showed her nice calves and knees. ‘You’ve surprised me,’ she said.
‘How’s that?’
‘Moon Teh says you’re a gentleman.’
‘When I have to be. In her case it’s probably a matter of racial guilt.’
She raised her artistically plucked eyebrows. ‘Why so?’
‘I killed a few Chinese guerillas in Malaya.’
‘You don’t look quite that old.’
‘Thanks for the quite. I was young and it went on longer than most people think. Can we get down to business?’
‘Fine. How did you know there’d be a gathering here tonight?’
‘You have a secret admirer in the street.’
Her hand flew up to her mouth in a gesture that was just a bit too young for her to carry off. ‘Oh, God. Old Tom. That poor old bugger.’
‘He’d be flattered you know his name. He doesn’t know yours.’
‘I suppose he’s told you all about my scarlet womanhood.’
‘As I said, he admires you. But he did let slip a thing or two.’
She said nothing for a moment and then drew in another of those figure-enhancing breaths. ‘Do you have any idea how many women in this city are sick and tired of having sex with their husbands? Oh, they might still love them and be committed to them, but the thought of going to bed with them bores them to tears.’
‘I don’t. Do you?’
‘Not really, but it must be thousands, tens of thousands most likely. I was like that. The tedium of it… Anyway, I provide an outlet, relief, an alternative. Call it what you will.’
‘For a fee?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m not up on this but I’d imagine you’re breaking several laws to do with introduction services and so on, and your tax situation must be interesting. Your power bills’d be worth looking into and I wonder if your building modifications had council approval.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
I swilled the dregs of my drink. ‘Not at all. I couldn’t care less one way or the other about your lonely hearts club. I suppose I’m just encouraging you to tell me about Ramsay Hewitt.’
‘Hmm, you might not have as much leverage as you think. I paid a good deal to steer certain things through the council.’
‘Corruption.’
Peter Corris
CH24 — Lugarno
She nodded. ‘Grease to the wheels of enterprise, call it. And there are a couple of police who are not unaware of what goes on here.’
‘Good for you, but I suspect you’re smart enough to know how easily it could all come tumbling down. Ramsay Hewitt.’
‘I met him on an environmental demonstration. Don’t look so surprised; I have a life apart from this. He was so full of aggression and so vulnerable underneath.’
‘Yeah, and then with a good thick layer of self-pity under that.’
She let that pass. ‘I contributed some money to the cause and then sort of took him under my wing a bit. Not sexually, I thought I’d made that clear to him. I’m on a different path in that regard as I’m sure Tanya told you. But Ramsay turned out to be a very needy boy and I wasn’t about to give him what he needed. So…’
‘So you didn’t give him the Merc and the clothes and pay his university fees?’
She shook her head.
‘He wrote a note to his sister using your notepaper but blanking out the phone number. I’m told he stayed overnight.’
She shrugged. “There’s room.’
I was tired and not in the mood for a jigsaw puzzle. ‘You’ll have to tell me a bit more, Mrs Bonham. I’m puzzled.’
‘Don’t call me that! Call me Prue. I’m not some dried up suburban housewife.’
Her flare-up sparked me a bit and I straightened in the chair. I could tell her reaction wasn’t only to being called something she didn’t like. What was really bothering her was close to the surface now and I just had to ease it up.
‘Tell me,’ I said.
‘Did you take any notice of the men who were here tonight?’
‘Youngish, good-looking. Rent a bloke?’
‘Yes, some of them are escorts. Some are the male equivalents of the females.’
‘Very interesting,’ I said. ‘An overhead for you if you’ll excuse the expression. But where’s this going?’
‘I’m not proud of this. I told Ramsay to leave me alone. He was too clinging. He took it very badly. Before he went, he took some things he shouldn’t have, including cash. He just disappeared. I tried to contact him but I think he felt so guilty about stealing from me that he went to ground.’
‘So, you don’t know where he is now?’
‘No.’
‘He was here not so long ago.’
It was getting late and even under the flattering light she was beginning to wilt and talking to the likes of me about this subject hadn’t helped. But she was game; she got up and held out her hand for my glass. ‘I think I’ll have a drink. You?’
I nodded and admired her still athletic movements — nothing surgically enhanced there. She left and came back quickly, carrying glasses that seemed to hold the same sort of booze. I took a sip; it was better Scotch than she’d given me before. This woman knew the angles.
‘He came around a couple of times. He had a nice car and clothes. I don’t know. He was a little drunk. He paid me back some of the money he’d taken. I felt guilty.’
‘He’s an adult, sort of.’
‘Yes. You’re right. Sort of. D’you know why he’s like that?’
I thought I did, based on my past experiences with Ramsay, but I wasn’t telling. ‘Not sure doesn’t mean don’t know,’ I said. ‘Where do you think he is, Prue?’
‘With some woman, and living off her no doubt, but I don’t know who.’
I had the feeling that there were things she wasn’t telling me and wouldn’t, but I didn’t know what they were or whether I wanted to know. I finished my drink and left. She didn’t see me out.
When I reached the porch I smelled cigarette smoke and there was Silver Hair, standing in the shadows.
‘Hey, Mr Hard-to-get,’ she said. ‘I think I can help you.’
‘How’s that?’
‘I hung around for a bit out here with another prospect but he didn’t work out. I was eavesdropping. I know where Ramsay is.’
‘Where?’
She took me by the arm and steered me away from the house. ‘I’ll tell you, but there’s a price.’
We reached the street and crossed to where our cars were parked. ‘What’s the price… Tanya?’
‘You remembered my name. That’s a start. Come home with me and stay the night. You don’t have to sleep with me. I just can’t bear to be alone tonight. Please.’
‘You can’t be serious. You don’t know a thing about me.’
‘I’m a risk taker. Are you?’
‘When the odds are right. You know where Hewitt is?’
‘I do, as of last week anyway. She boasted to me about getting him.’
‘She?’
‘Right. Are you on?’
Following the Porsche in the Falcon was like a duck following a swan. We ended up in Coogee at an apartment block that overlooked the water. She glided into the underground car park and I found a space on the street. She’d told me the unit number and I buzzed it at the security gate and she let me in. I took the lift to the fourth floor.
‘This is it,’ she said as she opened the door. ‘What d’you think?’
‘Give me a minute.’ The track lighting was held down low and everything under it gleamed — the polished wood, the glass, the paintwork. The living room had a knockout view of the water through a window that occupied the whole wall. The balcony outside it was bigger than my backyard and had more greenery on it. I waved my hands in the air, imitating a conductor. ‘What can I say. It’s fabulous, darling.’
She laughed. ‘You’re right. It’s over the top. It was his, now it’s mine.’
‘Sounds like a Patsy Kline song.’
She sat down on one of the overstuffed leather-covered chairs. ‘Something like that. Thanks for coming back with me. You don’t really have to stay. I just didn’t want to walk into this bloody mausoleum alone tonight.’
She made coffee and we talked. Her very rich husband had left her for a very young woman and it had rocked her badly. Trying to restore her confidence she’d tried escorts and Prue Bonham’s soirees but the artificiality of it wasn’t working for her.
‘What did she say about me?’ she asked. ‘I know she said something.’
‘She said you were still hunting.’
She gave the kind of throaty laugh only a pack-a-day cigarette habit can give you. ‘She’s right. You bet I am. But you’re taken, aren’t you?’
I wasn’t and wasn’t looking to be, so I said, ‘Sort of. Yeah.’
She shrugged. ‘That’s the way it is. Give me a hug and a kiss and I’ll tell you what you want to know.’
We embraced and her firm, slender body sent out a Siren call I responded to despite myself. We kissed and I was carried back twenty years to when every kiss tasted of smoke and no-one cared. I was getting hard and I tried to kiss her again but she eased back.
‘Bad timing,’ she said. ‘Ramsay’s with a woman named Regina Kipps. She’s fat and fifty and she lives in Concord. She’s in the book. Goodnight, Cliff.’