my last words and hers. ‘Your future,’ I said.
25
She was a woman who’d played a role for some time and had probably coped with some difficult moments in that role. This was harder. She kept her cool, but I imagined I could see the conflicting possibilities working behind her smooth facade. She could bluff, try tears or maybe her feminine appeal, of which there was plenty. Nothing in my manner would have encouraged those options. You can’t make the jump from stripper to real estate queen without being pragmatic and resourceful. My guess was that Matilda Sharpe-Tarleton Farmer would do her best to turn the situation to her own advantage. ‘What do you have in mind?’ ‘I need to talk to Wendy, one on one. Put certain propositions to her.’
She shook her head. ‘I doubt you can do that. I don’t know anything much about what went on and I don’t want to know, but I do know that Wendy wants to lie low for quite a while. She’s frightened, I think, but she’s the kind of woman who’s dangerous when she’s frightened.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ I said. ‘Ring her and tell her that the coast is clear at the hotel-the would-be buyers aren’t keen.
Then you say Elizabeth Farmer is interested in selling her
land but will only talk to her.’
‘Elizabeth doesn’t know Wendy.’
‘But Wendy knows about her and how important the land is. She knows Elizabeth has been using me to sniff around. I could’ve told her about Wendy and now she’s playing it her way. She’ll bite. She’ll contact Buckingham and he’ll tell her to do it. He wants the place that badly.’
‘It might work but I’d be taking a big risk if it doesn’t. Buckingham would ruin me. What guarantee do I have that he won’t anyway, however it turns out?’
‘Not much of one, but look at it this way. If you don’t do it I’ll give this tape to the police who’ll want to question you about some of the admissions you’ve made on it- harbouring criminals, for example. And your agent’s licence is history. Part of the bent cop connection Buckingham’s got in the Illawarra has come apart and it’s likely some of those cops’ll start singing.’
‘That’s not much reassurance.’
I shrugged. ‘With a lot of luck this could finish him. He’s already in trouble and he desperately wants that land for some big deal or other. That’s why he’ll tell Wendy to do what he says. The signs are that the land thing is his big play. If it doesn’t come off, chances are he’s stuffed and he’ll be too busy to worry about you. Or not able to do you much harm anyway.’
‘He’ll harm me. Bet on it.’
‘I’ll put in a good word for you.’
She snorted, sounding more like the old Tilly than the new model. ‘It all sounds very iffy to me, but you’ve probably got enough nerve to pull it off. All right. I haven’t got much choice. I’ll do it.’
I gave her explicit instructions and she made the call. She played it straight and Wendy asked for some time as I expected she would. Matilda hung up looking strained around the eyes. This was tougher than flogging decaying terraces to yuppies.
‘You did that well,’ I said. ‘But you shot me a look just before you said “Never heard of him”. Was that what I think it was?’
‘Yes. She was asking if I’d had any contact with you.’
‘Okay. She’ll be ringing Buckingham now.’
‘I bet you wish you could hear the conversation.’
‘You’re right. But I’ll tell her the hotel phones are bugged and I have heard it.’
‘You’re a devious bastard. That’ll put me in still deeper. My calls here must be piling up. Do you think I could do a little work?’
‘You’ve got some nerve yourself.’
She shrugged. ‘Life must go on. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need every cent I can find when this washes up. Whoever wins.’
Pragmatic to the max. She had it right-it felt like a contest between Buckingham and me. ‘After Wendy calls back,’ I said.
She fidgeted and I tried not to while we waited for half an hour. The call came and Wendy agreed to come to the agency at six o’clock to meet with Elizabeth Farmer. I told Matilda to make her calls and to be sure they were about the real estate business and nothing else. I’d be listening. I also told her to get one of her minions to bring up some coffee and to make sure none of them worked overtime.
The coffee arrived and although the woman bringing it looked surprised at the company her boss was keeping, she didn’t comment. Matilda busied herself and I tried to get Elizabeth Farmer on my mobile to put her in the picture but she wasn’t answering at the university or at home. Maybe getting in a quick nine holes before dark. My next call was to Hank Bachelor, the young American working part-time for a security outfit and doing the TAFE private eye course. I keep him on a small retainer for backup work. If Wendy arrived with one of her mates I wanted to know about it. I gave Hank the time and the address and the descriptions.
‘You want information, Cliff, or action?’
‘If she’s got a mate with a bazooka you’d better shoot him, otherwise just let me know.’
‘Got it.’
Matilda looked at me across her desk. ‘You’ve thought this all out, haven’t you?’
‘Tried to, but shit happens.’
‘You never said a truer word. Elizabeth hates me, doesn’t she?’
‘I think that’s fair to say.’
‘Dykes,’ she muttered and got back to her work.
Time went by; a couple of the office staff came in for quick consultations; Matilda’s phone rang and she answered it; she made some calls; the working day ended. At five forty-five I heard a buzzing and clicking.
‘Last one to leave sets the security alarm,’ Matilda said.
‘Okay, let’s go down and disarm it. You can buzz people in, right?’
‘Yes.’
We dealt with the alarm and went back to her office. ‘When she rings, you let her in. Then you call her up here.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then we see how it goes.’
At a minute to six my mobile rang.
‘Cliff, blonde chick on a Harley. No passenger.’
The intercom cut in as the call ended. ‘Matilda? It’s Wendy.’
Matilda pressed a button. I was standing at the open door near the top of the stairs and heard the door lock release. Boots scraped on the polished wood floor. I waved at Matilda.
‘Up here, Wendy,’ Matilda called.
She came up the stairs with a springy step and took a long stride into the room. I was behind the door. I tripped her and she fell hard. I had a pair of plastic restraints ready and I had them on her with her arms behind her back before she could draw breath. When she did, she snarled and spat.
‘What the fuck…?’
‘Shut up,’ I said. I grabbed her by the collar of her leather jacket and heaved her into a chair. Her eyes blazed at me and the jewel implants in her teeth glittered.
‘You’re Hardy,’ she said.
‘That’s right. Nice to meet you.’
‘Matilda, you’re fuckin’ dead.’
I told her to shut up again and laid it out pretty much as I had for Matilda but with a different spin. I emphasised her association with Lonsdale and the evidence the police had on him in connection with the
