She was wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday. So was I, as it happened. We walked along Bent Street past the government buildings, in the direction of the Stock Exchange. There were very few people about. We walked slowly. She said that she hoped this interview would be brief.
‘Were you fond of Robert Adamo?’ I asked.
‘Very,’ she said. ‘Very, very fond. That was the trouble. I hadn’t ever allowed myself to feel as much for anyone before. It was a mistake.’
‘Why?’
‘Robert wanted to marry me and for us to have children. I can’t possibly do that, and you know why.’ She quickened her pace slightly and spoke more quickly, as if she wanted to get the talk over. ‘Oh, I know he loved me and he might have agreed not to have children. But that wouldn’t have been fair on him. Or I might have weakened, or… or there might have been an accident. Anyway, my first duty is to Carl. I should never have got involved with Robert. He’s too intense, too… good. His hiring you proves how serious he was. It was an awful, cruel thing for me to do.’
‘I know this is painful for you, Ms Hammond, but I’d be glad if you could just answer a few questions. Why do you say you can’t have children?’
Her high heels tapped faster. ‘Because there is severe mental and physical disability in my genes.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘I didn’t have to be told. Take a look at my brother, Mr Hardy.’
‘Who told you?’
‘My mother.’
‘Did you ever inquire yourself about his condition, ask a doctor…?’
‘No. I love Carl, strange as it may seem. I just want to make sure he’s as happy as he can be. That’s all. That’s my life.’
‘When did your mother die?’
‘Six years ago. She left Carl in my charge.’
We’d reached a row of benches outside a new steel and glass tower. I steered her towards one which was shaded by a tree growing in a large wooden box. ‘Sit down, Ms Hammond.’
She sat. The tension in her body was visible in every line; also the slight buffer zone created by the Valium between her and the world. On close inspection, she was a little too heavy-featured to be really good-looking, but she was impressive and there was energy and intelligence behind her sadness. ‘I can’t imagine what you have to say to me,’ she said.
‘Your mother lied to you,’ I said. ‘I suppose she was afraid that if you led a full, normal life you’d neglect your brother. She told you a very cruel lie. Perhaps she was ashamed.’
‘That’s impossible! My mother was never ashamed of anything. She was… was immensely strong.’
‘I imagine so. Nevertheless, the disability your brother suffers has nothing to do with genetics, at least as far as you’re concerned.’
‘What do you mean?’
I had to resort to my notes, but I pride myself that I gave it to her clearly and accurately. I explained the medical terms and stressed that the whole Rhesus tragedy could be easily averted by today’s technology. She sat perfectly still and absorbed it all. Tears were running down her face by the time I’d finished. She pulled a tissue from her leather shoulder bag and blotted the tears. Through all the distress her mind was razor sharp. ‘If what you say is true, how is it that I was born normal, and Carl had this terrible thing?’
‘I’m not very sure of my ground here,’ I said. ‘It could be a matter of chance, but if not, I think you know the answer.’
‘Different fathers?’
I nodded. ‘And the reason for your mother’s behaviour. Guilty people can be strong and vice versa. When did your father die?’
‘A few years after Carl was born. They were very unhappy, my mother and father. They fought terribly. I was very young and didn’t understand much. I thought it was because of Carl, or the money. But perhaps…’
She was sobbing now. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against me, “You’ve got a lot to think about,’ I said. ‘Most of it’s very painful, but not all. You don’t have to think of yourself as cursed or tainted. I don’t want to push things, but Adamo’s a good man. I don’t see many, but I recognise one when I do. I think you’d find him understanding and sympathetic…’
She lifted her head and sniffed. ‘He’s very smart, too, isn’t he?’
I remembered Adamo’s firmness of purpose, his confidence that he could set things right if he just got a little help. ‘Smart enough to run a small business profitably,’ I said. ‘I’m here to tell you that’s tough. And smart enough to be in love with you and to hire me. Yes, I’d say he’s pretty bright.’
‹‹Contents››
The House of Ruby
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ the woman behind the table said. ‘My name is Marcia. Do you want someone in particular, or a special service?’
‘In a way,’ I said. ‘I’d like to see Ruby.’
Marcia was a nice-looking woman, thirtyish, with short curly hair and a humorous expression. The fact that her ruffled blouse was open almost to the waist and her make-up would have looked garish out of the dim orange light was to be expected. This was The House of Ruby, massage parlour and relaxation centre in Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross, and the woman behind the table wasn’t selling raffle tickets. She pressed a red button on the desk. The blue button, I knew, summoned two or three women in various states of undress. The red one, appropriately, summoned Ruby.
‘Cliff, my love, you came.’
‘Once or twice, Ruby,’ I said. ‘It’s good to see you looking so well.’
Ruby is about fifty, and carries a lot of flesh on a large frame, but she carries it with style.
Her hair is red and luxuriant, like her lipstick. She was wearing a purple silk dress that outlined her charms rather than displayed them. The dress was short, however; Ruby has great legs and them she displays. She reached for me with her ruby-ringed fingers and red-painted nails. ‘Just you come in here, love, and I’ll give you a drink and tell you a story that’ll make you weep.’
‘Private eyes don’t weep,’ I said.
Ruby burst into laughter, and I heard the woman behind the desk snigger a little too. Definitely the place to go to be appreciated for your wit, Ruby’s. She took me through a door and down a short passage to her private suite, which is fitted out like an erotic dream-silk and velvet hangings, black and red decor, pornographic paintings and photographs. Ruby poured generous measures of scotch into tall glasses and added ice. ‘Put you in the mood, Cliff?’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘But it’s just a bit overdone. I kind of get out of the mood from having been put in the mood, if you follow.’
She nodded. ‘Me too, but it’s what the punters like.’
I lifted my glass and drank down some good, nicely iced scotch. ‘How’s Kathy?’
‘Fine. Two kids.’
Kathy was Ruby’s daughter, who I’d found one time after she’d run off on learning that her mother was a whore and a madam. Kathy was a convent-educated teenager at the time, and I’d taken her back to my place, where my tenant, Hilde Stoner, and I had talked to her for several days about life and the world. I’d shown her a bit of it, in the Cross and around Darlinghurst, and she got a different perspective on things. She’d been her mother’s greatest supporter ever since, and Ruby was a friend of mine for life. I could’ve fucked my brains out for free forever if I’d been that way inclined. As it was, I’d availed myself of Ruby’s services but twice, in moments of distress.
‘So, what’s the problem, Ruby?’ I said. ‘The girl out front looks nice-you seem to be keeping up your usual standards. Are you still catering to the taste for older women?’
Ruby drank deeply, which was a worrying sign; she usually sipped for a while and then forgot she had a drink.
