‘I see. And what d’you want from me, Mr Hardy?’
He was a smooth number, self-assured, confident – almost arrogant. Not a guy to threaten, maybe a guy to flatter. ‘First,’ I said, ‘your professional assessment of Talbot. How dangerous is he? How serious is his physical impairment? Anything you can tell me along those lines. I know there’ll be limitations to what you can reveal.’
He frowned and tented his fat fingers. ‘Very severe limitations I’m afraid. And secondly?’
‘Can you help me to find him?’
‘Help how?’
‘Can you get in touch with him?’
He smiled, revealing expertly capped teeth. It struck me that he was vain, despite his bulk. In fact he gave the impression of being proud of every kilo and their arrangement. ‘Help you to trap him in other words.’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’
‘I daresay you wouldn’t. I’m afraid I’ll have to think this over, Mr Hardy.’
‘Why’s that?’
He frowned. ‘As you suggested, there’s a serious matter of confidentiality involved.’
‘There’s also the public interest.’
‘And your own.’
‘You’re being offensive.’
I recognised the technique. This guy was a master at putting you on the defensive. I struggled to get back into the action, considered mentioning the police, but he didn’t give me the chance. He was levering himself up and he was just a touch short of breath when he gained his feet. ‘As I say, Mr Hardy. I’ll consider what you’ve put to me. It’s not something to be undertaken lightly. I take it my secretary can get in touch with you?’
He glided out on what I suddenly realised were very small feet. Twinkle toes. I stayed where I was and waited for the announcement. It came a few seconds later. ‘Please leave the waiting room.’ I sat still and looked around. The camera could’ve been anywhere but I made guess at the ventilator high in the wall opposite me. From there a swivel mounted camera could survey the whole room. I poured the cold coffee into a vase of flowers, put up two fingers and left the room.
Once outside the building I expected to be escorted to the gate but no-one appeared so I drifted around to the back to see what else the doctor had on the premises. A four-berth carport with two 4WDs at home, several small Besser-block buildings and another drive-in entrance. Back here grass gave way altogether to concrete and the whole area gave off an air of high security. As I stood there in the weak sunshine with the breeze cutting into me, a man emerged from the main building. He was stocky and looked uncomfortable in his suit as if his natural uniform was more like mine – something allowing quick movement and travel over rough ground.
‘Help you, sir?’
From the nicely balanced way he stood, he looked more ready to hit than help.
‘Not really. I’ve just seen the doctor…’
‘And now you’re leaving. The gate’s that way.’
He pointed but not the way an untrained person points, not so as to disturb that precise balance. He was about my size but a good deal younger and I didn’t fancy a physical contest with him even if there’d been something to gain from it. I wondered if I could get the edge in other ways.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Just off. What goes on there?’ I pointed to one of the small buildings and let my jacket come open so he could see the . 38. He did, but it didn’t faze him.
‘That’s the doctor’s library. The other building is a pathology laboratory.’
‘Uh huh. Well, I’m on my way.’
He said nothing but I could feel his eyes on my spine as I walked away, around the main building towards the front. A button released the gate and I went out to where the air was free to breathe and there was no-one watching your every move. Or so I thought.
I was irritated and dissatisfied. I had questions: how often did Talbot see the doctor; when did he last see him; what was the nature of their relationship? Macleod wasn’t going to tell me and neither was the well-balanced attendant. I looked along the street. The clinic occupied at least two frontages with a vacant block on one side and a paved car park serving a small electronics factory on the other. Privacy. Opposite, it was a different story. The houses on large blocks had deep gardens. Some were double-storeyed behind high hedges; some were set close to the street and some further back. I wondered if there were any sticky-beaks, nosey-parkers, snoops behind those hedges and gates. You never know.
I decided to try my luck at the houses and started at the end of the street, a hundred metres or so from the clinic. I took a risk, saying that I was from the sheriffs office with a warrant to serve. The ID card I carried to that effect was legitimate but specific to the warrant it related to and long out of date, but it opened some doors. I asked several women, one man and an adolescent with a heavy cold if they’d ever seen Talbot’s van and learned nothing. At a house almost opposite the clinic, the door was opened by a small, elderly woman of the kind that used to be called a little old lady.
Standing on the doorstep she barely reached to my chest which made her not much over five feet in the old measure. She had white hair but her blue eyes still had a lot of colour and were bright. Her hands were well worn and the skin on her face was finely lined rather than wrinkled. She held her thin body very straight. I guessed her age at about eighty but judged there was still plenty of mileage left in her.
The path up to the house was flanked by lines of tall pines and other trees dominated in the garden and the temperature was several degrees lower than out in the street – nice in summer, a bit chilly for now. The woman was dressed for it in slacks and a heavy cable-knit sweater. I gave her my spiel and she looked at me as if she was considering calling the dog. Another miss, I thought, and put the card away.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ I said.
‘It’s all right, I’m not bothered. I’m thinking.’
More promising. I stayed put.
‘You’re not a policeman, are you?’
‘No.’
She pointed at the clinic. ‘If you’re working for that man I’ll say good day to you, but I have a feeling you’re not.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what you have in mind but…’
‘You’re not working for that man?’
She really had my interest now. It’s rare for people to deny doctors their title and it generally means something when they do. I more or less followed suit by stating that I wasn’t working for Macleod.
‘I thought not when I saw you in there. I can tell you things about him if you’re interested.’
Batty, I thought, but possibly useful. ‘You saw me in there?’
‘I can see into the place from my second-floor window.’ She touched the spectacles she wore. ‘I can see very well with these. I saw you with one of his thugs and I could tell that you weren’t getting on from the way you both moved.’
‘Could you? And why are you so interested in what goes on over there?’ I thought it was time to produce the card again. ‘You are?’
‘Miss Mirabelle Cartwright. I’ve seen that van you asked about, too.’
Bingo. ‘Perhaps we could talk inside.’
‘Yes, you see, that man murdered my sister.’
16
I stared at her.
‘You think I’m mad, don’t you?’
‘Not at all’
Her look was shrewd. ‘You’re not what you say you are, I believe. Your behaviour over there was quite odd. I must say you put that card you showed me away very quickly and it looked rather old. Would you care to show it to me again? I’d like to check the date on it.’
