I drove past the hotel and parked a hundred metres along the street. The Soldiers Arms occupied a corner and I circled around behind it and approached down the side street, keeping to the footpath furthest away. Tall trees blocked some of the view and the sun was in my eyes so I couldn’t get much of an idea whether there was anyone inside the place or not. Both streets were narrow and quiet with the usual gentrified terraces and semis that characterise Balmain. There might even be a glimpse of the water from the top level of the tallest houses. Money in the bank. There appeared to be a sizeable yard at the back of the pub, enclosed by a high fence with three strands of barbed wire on top.
I kept moving, trying to register everything without drawing attention to myself. A narrow lane ran behind the yard and there was a driveway beside the building leading out onto the front street. Three possible exits. Hard to imagine a better place to hide, especially if the beer was still on.
This needed thinking about. If I was right about the pub being the hideout, there was no way I was going to charge in there up against Lonsdale and his mate and possibly Wendy and others. I was in the information business, not the crime-busting one. I wanted to know what was planned for the Wombarra properties and who was behind it. That’s all Elizabeth Farmer could expect me to do. Anything else would be a bonus.
First thing would be to find out if they were there. Then to isolate someone and get him or her to talk. If Lonsdale had killed MacPherson then he was potentially in bigger trouble than his associates. Might be some leverage there. A patient and cautious person would see it as a watch and wait situation, something I’m not good at. I had to stir the possum somehow. I went back to the car and called Marisha on my mobile.
‘So soon,’ she said.
‘Can you do something for me?’
‘Of course.’
I asked her to phone Matilda’s agency and express an interest in buying the Soldiers Arms. She should be insistent to the point of rudeness. I told her she could expect to be put off. When that happened, she should say that she and her husband would drive by anyway and take a good look.
‘Acting,’ she said. ‘Fun.’
‘Yeah, but do it from a public phone, not from your place or a mobile. When you’ve done it, call me and let me know how it went.’
She called back in a few minutes. ‘I was put on to the boss, a Ms — ’
‘Hyphen, hyphen. What did she say?’
‘She was very discouraging, and the more insistent I became the more discouraging she got. In the end I did as you said.’
‘That’s great, Marisha. Thanks.’
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s a whole lot. I’ll tell you about it later.’
I positioned myself with a pair of quality field glasses at a high point back from the hotel. Under a tree, not too conspicuous, could almost have been birdwatching. After a few minutes the big gate to the yard slid open and a figure emerged. He wore a cap and shades and I couldn’t identify him. Not Lonsdale, I’d have expected him still to be limping. Maybe his mate, maybe not. He grabbed the handles of the wheelie bin standing a few metres from the gate and pulled it back inside. The gate stood open while he positioned the bin. Long enough for me to see a car parked in the yard. I made a quick adjustment of the focus and got a fix on the numberplate. BMWs look much the same as a lot of other makes, especially at a distance, but this car was fire engine red and bore the registration number De Witt had given me for Wendy’s new toy. The gate slid closed smoothly.
First point established. I put the glasses away and leaned back against the tree to ease my still slightly aching bones. I ran the personnel through my mind-Wendy, Lonsdale, the guy with the wheelie bin, Matilda, Buckingham-where was the weakest link? Only one answer to that. I drove to my place, stowed my bag, checked on the mail and sat down with a pot of coffee to think. I ran various scenarios through my head, speculating on their likely outcomes and rejected one after another. It was well on in the afternoon before I’d sorted it out to my satisfaction. I picked out a piece of equipment and headed for Newtown.
I parked as close as I could get to the agency and went up the steps and through the door. The front office was as busy as it had been the time I called wearing my best suit and almost polite manner. Different now.
‘Matilda in?’ I snapped at one of the women who lifted her head to look at me.
‘Yes, but — ’
I stepped around the desk and made for the stairs.
‘You can’t — ’
‘I can and she’ll tell you so in a couple of minutes.’
I went up the stairs and into Matilda S-T Farmer’s office without knocking. She looked up as I slammed the door behind me. In drill trousers, boots, army shirt and with my face chopped up she didn’t recognise me.
‘What do you think you’re — ’
I strode to her desk and slapped it hard with my hand centimetres away from hers. ‘Wendy Jones, Matthew Lonsdale, the Soldiers Arms, the murder of your husband, Larry Buckingham-we’ve got things to talk about, Matilda. Ring down and tell them no interruptions. Otherwise, it’s the police right here and now and they’ll be keen to hear what I have to tell them.’
Her perfect makeup and studied composure seemed to crumble at the same time. ‘I don’t — ’
I slammed the desk again. ‘Do it! Do it now or someone down there’ll get the cops and believe me, you’ll be deep in the shit.’
She sucked in air and touched a button on her desk with a perfectly manicured but trembling finger. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘It’s all right, Phoebe. It’s all right, really. No calls please, and no interruptions.’
No coffee on a silver tray this time, but issuing orders restored some measure of her authority, in her own eyes at least. She sat straight in her chair and looked at me. She wore a dark, high-necked blouse with a silver brooch at the throat. She passed a hand over her hair although it was immaculate. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘You don’t recognise me?’
‘Should I?’
‘Didn’t you wonder why Mr Gerard Lees, the security consultant, didn’t get back to you about renting office property?’
Her big blue eyes narrowed. ‘Jesus Christ. I thought there was something fishy.’
‘Doesn’t matter now. Shut up and listen.’
I told her who I was and who I was working for, why I’d come to see her initially, and most of what happened subsequently. She blinked a bit at the murder bits but otherwise took it without flinching. I told her that I knew a man wanted by the police for a shotgun killing was holed up in a property owned by Larry Buckingham that was in some sense under her care.
‘No, I — ’
‘Don’t bother. A phone call from an associate of mine to you here set things humming at the place. I was watching.’
She shook her head. ‘A stupid mistake.’
‘I think you’ve made a few.’
‘Possibly. So you’re a private detective. You work for money. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement.’
‘No, I work for people. Don’t even think about it. But there could be a way out of this for you. I’m not sure. It’ll depend on what you tell me now.’
She nodded.
‘Your firm is connected in some way to Kembla Holdings. Kembla Holdings’ principal is Larry Buckingham. His ex-lover is Wendy Jones who’s running around with a guy who tried to kill me and did kill someone connected to
your husband’s Wombarra land.’
‘I know nothing about a threat to you or a killing.’
‘Maybe. I hope so for your sake. I think you’ve been instrumental in Buckingham getting hold of the land adjoining your husband’s property. It goes without saying that Frederick Farmer’s death wasn’t an accident.’
I didn’t put it very well and she could feel the amount of speculation involved. It gave her confidence. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You do. I’ve got someone following the money trail. Someone good. The connection’s there and she’ll find it.’
‘Bugger you!’
‘What would Phoebe think if she heard language like that? Here’s the real question, Tilly-why does Bucking-ham want the land so badly that he has one, maybe two people killed for it?’
She was more composed again now, although she suddenly looked a lot older, more like her real age than the one she could easily pass for when she had everything fully under control. Her hands were clasped together in front of her on the desk with her elbows tucked in as if she needed physical as well as mental control. The precise, up-market voice that had slipped momentarily when she’d sworn was back in place. She sat very still. She wasn’t one of those people who needed to make a show of thinking, weighing things up. No wrinkling of the brow, no scratching of the chin. She just did it.
‘Before I answer that,’ she said, ‘let me tell you something. God, I don’t even know your name.’
‘Hardy.’
‘Mr Hardy. I have had what could politely be called a “past”. To be blunt, I was a stripper when I was young and a call girl when I was a bit older. I did…performances for police functions and for footballers. I have two convictions for prostitution and one for wounding. That was when a client got out of hand. I served a short sentence. Larry Buckingham was present at a couple of my strip shows and he has photographs. He also has friends in the police and found out about my convictions. When he saw notices of my marriage to Frederick and read that I had established this business, he got in touch with me. As well as the photographs he has statements from some of my former clients and the police records. Frederick Farmer was a very straitlaced man and you cannot hold a real estate agent’s licence if you have a criminal record. Buckingham’s been blackmailing me virtually since the day of my marriage.’
‘He got you to provide a hideout for Wendy and company?’
‘Yes.’
‘And forged some link between your company and one of his?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s all very interesting,’ I said. ‘But you haven’t answered my question. Why does Buckingham want the land?’
She clasped and unclasped her hands. She wore rings on several fingers of both hands and they grated together. ‘I swear to you that I don’t know.’
I didn’t want to, but I believed her. It had cost her a lot to say what she’d said to a total stranger and a hostile one at that, and it wasn’t something she’d do lightly. She could see herself getting into another tight spot when she was already in one. I reckoned that a good part of what she’d said was
the truth.
‘What’s Buckingham like?’
‘He’s a brute.’
‘Couldn’t you… manipulate him?’
She smiled but there was no humour in it. ‘When I was younger, maybe. I’m talking about much younger, like, say, thirteen. But I was still a good girl at thirteen.’
‘He and Wendy Jones were lovers, I’m told.’
‘Yes, she’s how old, would you say?’
I thought about the showy entrance she’d made at the casino in her red dress and all the trimmings. Probably looked older than she was. ‘Mid-twenties, maybe.’
‘A bit less, and her time with Larry was at least ten years ago.’
‘They’re still connected?’
‘Yes, in some way. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got something on him the way he has on me. She’s got some pretty tough friends, unlike me.’
‘Again, that’s interesting,’ I said. ‘Tell me more about Wendy. How do you know her?’
‘I’ve been Larry’s… companion a couple of times when he’s needed someone he could rely on to keep her mouth shut and who wasn’t about one-third of his age. He introduced me to Wendy.’
‘What sort of occasions?’
‘It’d be more than my life’s worth to tell you.’
‘Meeting someone isn’t knowing them. You seem to know a lot about her.’
‘Not really, but she approached me after Frederick died with an offer to buy the place. They assumed that I’d inherited it rather than Elizabeth. I was curious and strung her along. We met a couple of times. Then I told her the
truth.’
‘How’d she take it?’
‘Badly. She looks…well, you know how she looks with those ghastly jewel implants, but she’s a shrewd young woman.’
‘Do you think she’d know what’s behind all this?’
She shrugged. The talking had restored her confidence more than I would have wanted. ‘Possibly,’ she said. ‘Probably.’
‘You’re going to have to help me find a way to isolate her and put her under pressure.’
‘No. I’d be much too afraid.’
I reached into my shirt pocket and took out a miniature tape recorder. I pressed the buttons and played back my last words and hers. ‘Your future,’ I said.