The only interest Ive got in Sydney is in the horses and the football. Cavendish paid the money into an account regular as clockwork. There was nothing to watch. Tell you one thing, though.

Whats that? Max said.

That Neville bitch, the one that used to be on the force, gave the ransom note to me.

This was almost too much to handle. Why the fuck would she do that? I said.

Sligos face, flabby in some places, sunken in others, almost made it to a smile. Youve gotta understand how much all these people hated each otherJohnno, Peg, me, Neville. We were all looking for the edge. Neville got the edge on Johnno but she reckoned she was safer giving me an edge on him, too. If Johnno ever sent anyone after her shed tell them who had the note. It was all so fucking devious, no wonder it came unstuck. How did it come unstuck, anyway?

We dont know yet, I said quickly. Wheres the note?

The almost smile had faded. Sligo sucked in a deep breath, apparently to give him the strength to get his glass to his mouth. I was part of the bloody game. It amused me that Johnno was sweating for years and paying through the nose for something that didnt exist. I burnt the fucking thing.

Describe it, Max said.

Oh, it was fair dinkum, Id say. Not one of your TV bullshit things with cut-out newspaper and that crap. It was professionally typed and what Id call stylish. I cant remember exactly what it said. Something about having abducted the girl and being prepared to let her live for two hundred thousand dollars.

Max was taking notes. Who was it addressed to?

Sligo scratched at his grey, flaky skin. The family, I think. Im not sure.

What were the arrangements?

Jesus, its a long time ago. None of your pickup nonsense. The money was to be paid into a bank account and the girld be freed in a few days. You could do that back thenmove large sums of money around, before the fucking government had its finger up everybodys arse.

That much talking appeared to exhaust him and he sank back in his chair and sipped his drink.

They had photocopiers back then, I said. Are you sure you didnt make a few copies, for insurance?

Ive told you. I burnt it and I fucking laughed while I did it.

Youre not laughing now, I said. In fact youre not much of anything. Whats wrong with you, Mr Sligo?

He drew in a deep breath and I could hear a rattle inside him that seemed to start in his lungs and come out through his throat. Ive got cancer. Found out for sure two days ago, except Ive really known it for weeks. Ive got it everywhere. Probably got it in the dick, and I dont give a shit about you or Cavendish or Beckett or any fucking thing.

19

Colin Sligo had never married and had no immediate family. He didnt care what revelations about him came out after he was dead which he said would be a matter of weeks if he didnt speed it up himself. He gave us the numbers of the bank account Cavendish had paid into on behalf of himself, Hawkins and the two women. He kept drinking steadily and was three parts drunk by the time we were ready to go.

I still dont see whats in this for you, Hardy, he said. Its ancient history.

I couldnt see any harm in it so I told him about the reward.

He came as close as he could get to a laugh. Good luck. Good fucking luck.

We drove back to Broadbeach and brought Bob up to scratch.

So theres no need for you to go chasing hookers in Byron Bay, Max said.

Bob nodded. Pity. I suppose you guys are keen to get back to the big smoke?

Keen wasnt quite the word, but things needed doing. We booked a flight, thanked Bob nd I told him to send a full account.

You havent got a client.

Im going to collect the reward, remember? And if I dont Im going to get something out of somebody.

On the plane Max suddenly said. I never did get to meet my widow.

Pity, I said. Youd have liked her. I did.

At Mascot, Max and I agreed to talk later on the question of our next moves. Max went off to collect his thoughts and impressions and to contact Penny Draper. I got a cab to my office and checked the mail, fax and answering machines. There was nothing from Claudia. I phoned her number at the Connaught and got no reply, not even a machine. It was late in the day and, after the warmth of the Gold Coast, the air had a bite. That suited my mood. Carrying my overnight bag, I walked to the Connaught as quickly as I could, fuelled by anger.

I keyed her number in on the pad and got no answer. I beckoned to the desk attendant who pressed a button to unlock the door. That let me into an area that was still sealed off from the lifts. I could see what Claudia had meant about the security. I asked the attendant if hed seen Ms Vardon recently.

Ms Vardon?

Apartment 809.

He consulted a booklet. That is not the name of the occupier.

I was in there a day ago. Its her apartment. OK, OK. Who is the occupier?

Im afraid I cant tell you that, sir.

I got out my PEA licence and showed it to him. He was very unimpressed. A fifty-dollar note didnt change his attitude and I went out onto the street seething with frustration. I stood on the spot where Id bumped into her and could almost feel the force of her presence. I backed off to the street and stared up at the windows, remembering how shed looked and felt and the hopes Id had. I couldnt trust myself to talk to another human being, not even a cabbie. I slung the bag over my shoulder by its strap and walked home to Glebe.

No messages, no notes. I unpacked the bag, took a long shower and sat down with a large Scotch and my notebook, the one I assumed Claudia had investigated while I was asleep. I made my usual diagram with the broken and unbroken lines but my mind wasnt on the job. I wondered whether any of what shed told me was true. Most wasnt. I put the pen and notebook down and worked on the Scotch. I realised that Id dropped my guard way down. I hadnt even recorded the registration number of her car.

Images of her kept flashing into my mind. Ive been told this happens when someone close to you dies. Well, that was fitting. The images were elusive, though, tangled up with vague memories of her laughter and sharp pictures of her face and movements. I scoured through the house in the hope that Claudia might have left something behind. I told myself I was doing this in the hope of finding some way to track her down, but I knew I was just looking for something to hold on to. I found nothing. I had another drink and, having skipped lunch after a busy morning and a bad afternoon, it hit me. I felt myself getting drunk and knew I should eat something but I had no appetite.

I was on my third drink when the phone rang. Just for a split second I thought it might be Claudia and I tried to marshall my thoughts.

Cliff, this is Penny Draper.

Right.

Are you OK? Max wants to talk to you.

Im not sure I want to talk to Max.

A pause. I could imagine her mouthing my words. The thought irritated me and I slammed down the phone. Fuck the disabled, I thought. As soon as it formed, the thought seemed childish and I poised my hand over the phone waiting for the ring. I snatched it up.

Penny? Im sorry, I…

Another woman already? Thats fast work, Cliff.

It was Claudias voice and I realised why Eve Crown hadnt been able to remember whether a man or a woman had made the call to Andrea. Claudias voice was deep, almost masculine. Half-drunk, I was delighted by it and hated it at the same time.

Arent you going to say anything, Cliff?

Why are you doing this?

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