I didn’t answer, I was too busy staring. She had left the brochure open at a page extolling the virtues of the Washington Club’s gym and spa. There was a glossy colour photograph of the changing room, all tiles and teak under discreet lighting, showing a big bank of tall, shiny metal lockers. The locker numbers were twenty centimetres high, printed in white paint. Locker number C20 was centre left in the photo, plain as day.
23
Claudia must have thought I’d gone mad. I started slapping pockets, digging in, turning out linings. The key was in the fob pocket of my trousers. I held it up in triumph and almost whooped. I took a gulp of wine and grinned at her.
‘So you’ve got a key,’ she said. ‘What does it open?’
I showed her the brochure and the number on the key. I hadn’t mentioned finding the key at Henderson’s hideaway. Now I did. ‘It’s a connection between Katz and Henderson. Has to be.’
‘Come on, Cliff. As soon as you get a reasonable-sized stack of lockers you’re going to get a C20. It stands to reason. Come to think of it, I seem to remember I was C20 back at Fort Street. Or was it D20? Christ, it seems so long ago.’
Not nearly as long as Maroubra High for me, I thought, but I wasn’t put off. ‘This is the intuitive part of the detective game,’ I said. ‘You might want to call it the feminine part.’
She smiled. ‘Bullshit. Blarney.’
I stroked the key. ‘My grandma would say it talked to her. Told her things. That was bullshit if you like. She was just reading all the signs people hold up-I’m rich, I’m poor, I’m happy, I’m a liar.. ‘
‘And you’ve inherited the talent?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m a rationalist. I get hints, inklings, feelings like everyone does. If they make sense I act on them. If they don’t, I chuck them out with all the other mental garbage. This makes sense. Katz makes sense! What d’you know about him?’
‘Next to nothing. I wasn’t privy to Julius’ wheelings and dealings, didn’t want to be. Why does he make sense?’
‘Most murders are domestic and corporations are like families these days, aren’t they?’
She snorted. ‘Not very in this case, I shouldn’t think, more like a despotism. Why would Wilson Katz want to kill Julius?’
‘I haven’t a clue and I don’t even need to think about it just now. I’ve got what I think is a link and I’m going to check it out, see what comes.’
‘How? You’ve already pretended to be a landscape gardener there. You can’t show up as a plumber wanting to check the toilets in the men’s room.’
‘I’ll think of something.’ In truth, I was already thinking of it. I flexed my legs, testing them for age and stiffness.
‘You’re not going to break in?’
‘No, I’m too old and smart for tricks like that. Would have at one time. I think I’m going to play some tennis.’
She reached for her cigarettes, stopped herself and drank some wine instead. ‘Tennis! Jesus, I’m facing a murder trial and you’re playing tennis.’
‘In the line of duty,’ I said. ‘Let’s go back to bed.’
‘I don’t understand you. I don’t know what’s happening here. What
… ‘
I got up, pulled her out of the chair and put my arms around her. I thought I was doing it for her and realised immediately that I was doing it for me as well. Good feeling. We stood there locked together for a full minute without speaking. In my mind I was back in Sydney, back on the job, testing myself, proving myself as always. It’s not something that’s easy to explain, especially to women. Claudia seemed to have some sense of it. She pulled away gently.
‘Bed then,’ she said. ‘In the morning I’ll ring the lawyer and go back to town. Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘Anything you can find out about Wilson Katz would be useful.’
‘I don’t think… Hold on. Julius had his books somewhere. Awful self-help sorts of things. Julius laughed about them, rather unpleasantly.’
‘I’d like to see them.’
‘They’re in Vaucluse. I could go there and get them. There’s other stuff I should look through. I should put in an appearance over there anyway, or people’ll forget the horrible place is mine, sort of. That’d give me something to do at least, while you’re off being mysterious.’
‘We should see Stratton together, then I could drive you to Vaucluse and collect you later.’
That left it very open where she would spend the night and neither of us wanted to close anything down. What we’d mapped out was far enough to look ahead. I corked up the rest of the wine, she emptied the ashtray and we went to bed. It was cooler now and she pulled a light cover up over us as we lay close together in the middle of the bed.
‘If I lie on my back I’ll snore,’ I said.
She laughed, let out a monstrous snore and wriggled away. I rolled onto my side. We’d left lights on in the other rooms and the bedroom wasn’t in complete darkness. The last thing I was conscious of before I fell asleep was the outline of my holstered pistol on a chair near the bed.
The Nissan was undisturbed and the mobile phone worked. I made a series of calls, including one to Pete Marinos advising Gatellari of where Claudia would be later in the day. She looked as if she’d like to protest but didn’t. The other calls seemed to amuse her.
The final call was to Cy’s office. Leon Stratton would see us as soon as we got to the city. We didn’t talk much on the drive. Claudia was mildly interested in the fact that she’d been followed and reported on, but no more than that.
‘I’m getting used to it,’ she said. ‘I’ve just realised that there’s a lot of it going on. As soon as you do or say anything that lifts your head out of the shell, antennae pop up everywhere.’
‘I suppose so. Trouble is they’re watching the wrong people a lot of the time.’
‘You’re thinking about Wilson Katz.’
‘I am. Did he ever make a pass at you, anything like that?’
‘Hard to say.’
I was negotiating the bends south of Avalon and couldn’t look at her. ‘How’s that?’
‘He’s on the make all the time. There was so much happening back there I couldn’t think straight, but I remember now. His nickname was Tom-”Tom Cat”. He had a reputation for screwing every willing female he met. I wasn’t willing but he held up the sign just the same. I think it was just a matter of habit with him.’
The Sackville chambers weren’t exactly gloomy, too busy for that, but you got the sense that something was missing and that the place was waiting for a new style to evolve or impose itself. Leon Stratton was a tall, fair- headed character with blue eyes and white teeth. He seemed to be smart and energetic, which is what you want in a lawyer. He was very well up on the Fleischman case but this came out in his responses to what Claudia and I had to say rather than as something he advertised. Impressive. I told him about my interview with Van Kep. He listened closely, then shook his head.
‘Quite unusable, of course, Duress, intimidation, all that. Not that I’m saying you didn’t handle it well, but I can’t see any way for us to apply pressure for him to change his story.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘And Van Kep would know that. He’s flaky, won’t be a good witness for the other side, but he’s more scared of whoever threatened him than of a perjury charge and he’ll hold up, more or less. Still, what I’ve said should help to convince you that Mrs Fleischman had nothing to do with her husband’s death.’
He didn’t respond to that and Claudia and I exchanged looks. Of course it was more complicated than I was
