He was leaning against a wall lighting a cigarette when Harry and I came out of the gym. Again, there was something exaggerated about the way he did it, the way he cupped his hands and flipped the spent match down the stairs. He was good-looking in an old-fashioned, Leslie Howard sort of way, and he turned a boyish smile on us.
“Thanks very much. That ape could’ve hurt me.” He put a hand up to his face to make sure it was all there just the way he’d left it.
“Forget it,” I said. “Gymnasiums aren’t places to barge into shouting names. You’re Saul James, right?”
He looked pleased and trotted along abreast of me as I started down the stairs after Harry.
“That’s right. You’ve seen me on TV?”
“No, I only watch TV when I’m sick. Big Ted Tarelton told me about you.”
It deflated him. He said nothing more while we went down the stairs and he seemed to take a great interest in the end of his cigarette when we stopped in the doorway.
“I know about Noni.” I said. “We better have a talk about it. Drink?”
He nodded. Tickener wanted to talk about Moody and so did I but it looked like work would come first. He tagged along when I suggested the pub across the road. We made the dash through the rain again.
“Let me get them,” James said. Harry and I didn’t kick. We sat down at an ancient table; I rolled a cigarette and Tickener got a Camel going. We watched cynically while James got served. He was slim and he wore a waisted suede coat to accentuate the fact. They’d eat him alive in Redfern. He couldn’t even get himself served in a Newtown pub. He tried waving his money and clearing his throat and the barman ignored him until he was good and ready. James was red in the face when he got back to us, but we watched with polite interest as he lowered three double Scotches onto the scarred beer-ringed boards. He sat down.
“Cheers.”
We drank a bit. I studied his face. It was mostly full of conceit to my eyes but there were some signs of something else in it. Maybe it was character, maybe worry. He had tried to get into Trueman’s after all.
I introduced Tickener and told James that he was a reporter. The actor looked interested and asked what branch of reporting Harry was in. When he was told he lost interest. He transferred his attention to me.
“And what do you do?”
I told him. “I would have had to see you soon anyway,” I said, “I take it you’ll co-operate with me?”
He nodded.
“Give me the story.”
He told me that he’d met the girl two years before when she had a small part in a play he was in. They set up house with an understanding that there were no ties. The girl went off for a week once a month and she claimed to spend this time with her father. James said he didn’t check.
“That seems odd,” I said.
He shrugged and drank some of his Scotch. “That was the deal.”
“Did you go off too?”
He looked smug. “Occasionally.”
I was liking him less by the minute and wanted to get the interview over. Tickener looked bored. He finished his drink.
“Look Cliff, I’ve got to go. What did you think of Moody?”
“He’s good, give him a bit of time.”
“Yeah. He’s fighting soon, I’ll get you a ticket.”
I thanked him. The reporter nodded to James and thanked him for the drink. He wrapped his big tweed overcoat around him and bustled out of the pub. For no good reason it crossed my mind that I knew nothing about Harry’s sex life.
“Can you remember that address?” I asked James.
“Yes.” He recited it back.
“What do you know about this Ricky?”
“Almost nothing. He’s an Aborigine, but not dark I gather.” He said it quickly as if it made a difference. “Noni met him when she was doing a TV film, he was an extra.”
“How old is he?”
“Young.” He hated saying it. “About eighteen.”
“Why do you bring his name up?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s disappeared, I just thought…”
I got it. It was like that, never far below the surface in silvertails like him. I pulled out the street photo of the girl and showed it to him. He confirmed that it was a good likeness. I grilled him a bit on other contacts the girl might have had but he had the idea of the black stuck in his mind and had nothing else to suggest. He offered to buy another drink but I refused. I didn’t want to be obligated to him.
“Has Mr Tarelton hired you?”
I said he had.
“That means I can’t?”
“That’s right.”
“I would if I could. I want her back.”
I believed him. It was the only plus about him I could see.
“I’ll keep in touch with you. Where do I reach you?”
“The Capitol theatre, I’m rehearsing a new play. I’ll be practically living there for the next few weeks.”
“Carrying on, eh?”
He looked at me sharply. “I have to, work’s scarce, even for me.”
The Scotch he’d bought me suddenly tasted thin and sour. I put the glass down and reached for my tobacco packet. He offered me a filtertip.
“No thanks. What do you know about the girl, her background and friends?”
“Not much.” He lit up himself and held the match for me. Nice manners, but my foot itched. “You’ve met the father, I haven’t. I know her mother died some years back. She went to a private school on the north shore… I’d remember the name if I heard it. Friends? None that I know of, she doesn’t make friends easily. She used…”
“What? What were you going to say?”
He took a deep draw on the cigarette. “I was going to say she used my friends. Funny expression but I suppose that’s what I meant.”
She was sounding more and more like someone who should stay lost. It’s often like that. Nice poor people get lost and nobody gives a damn. Someone rich and nasty goes missing and there’s a stampede. But I had to know a little more about her than I did.
“Did she have any money?”
“No, only what she earned, which wasn’t much. Her father paid some bills when she got stuck but he didn’t give her money. She was very bitter about that.”
“Ted looked like a soft touch as far as she was concerned, why didn’t he see her right?”
“A stepmother I believe?”
“Right. That fits. And you’re surprised to find that she had connections down here?”
He raised a theatrical eyebrow and spoke through tobacco smoke.
“Very.”
I couldn’t take any more. I got up, put out my cigarette and tossed off the drink. He did the same then stood looking helpless. I gave him a nod and walked out of the pub.
My car was parked a block away; I ran through the rain, risking instant paraplegia on the wet pavement. I pulled the Falcon’s door open and sat down in a pool of water that had come in through the gap between the window and the frame. I swore and turned the key viciously. The answer was a choked whirring noise that indicated water where water didn’t ought to be. I leaned my head forward on the steering wheel and sighed. It was a bad start to a job and I felt like giving it up and getting a taxi over to Ailsa’s place and having a few drinks and getting into bed with her for twenty-four hours or till the rain stopped. But Ailsa was on a Pacific tour, looking in on her investments. I’d refused a free ride and had to stick with what I had.
I got out of the car and stood proudly in the rain until a taxi condescended to stop for me.