‘Marrickville RSL.’
I laughed. ‘Try again.’
‘Fuck you. You say.’
I drank some wine and thought. I knew Stafford wouldn’t venture too far from his own stamping ground.
‘I fancy somewhere with people around. Lots of them, where this punchy animal and you would have to behave. Wouldn’t want to take you too far out of your comfort zone though-what about the outside area of the coffee shop at the Smith Street entrance to the Marrickville Metro? I seem to remember that the coffee’s all right, and it’s BYO at lunchtime. You could have a nice focaccia. Nothing for Sharkey, of course.’
‘When?’
‘Oh, about now tomorrow-lunchtime eaters and shoppers around. You bring Sharkey and I’ll be there. Even Stevens or a bit our way, allowing for Sharkey’s brain damage. No weapons.’
Stafford drank some wine, did some more fidgeting and nodded. ‘All right.’
I finished my wine. ‘Good. Ah, here’s your lunch, looks like swordfish. Good choice. Bet Sharkey nicks a chip or two. See you tomorrow and thanks for the drink.’
I phoned Hilde to say I had something she could help me with and asked after Sarah.
‘She’s okay. We went to the cinema last night. Aliens. She and Frank enjoyed it, can’t say I did much-very scary. I’m glad we left Peter with a sitter. Sarah’s getting on well with him and I heard her telling him all about the film-sorry, movie. She doesn’t talk about her mother, but says having Peter around makes her miss her brother all over again.’
She paused as if she was going to say more and I prompted her.
‘Perhaps she’s a little too easy. I sometimes get the feeling she’s acting.’
I said I was coming over and drove to Paddington, negotiated the narrow streets with their speed humps, and pulled up in front of the Parkers’ house just as Sarah was coming out. She gave me a smile and lifted the shopping bag she was carrying.
‘Hello, Mr Hardy. I’m going shopping, would you believe? Hilde’s going to teach me to make lamb on a spoon.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Search me. She reckons it takes eight hours to cook. Bit of a change from the TV dinners I’ve lived off lately. Twenty minutes max.’
‘You like the Parkers?’
‘Sure. Frank’s a bit, you know, official. But Hilde’s great, and Peter’s a shit-hot pool player and a cool kid. He reminds me of Justin.’
‘Pool, right-how d’you stand, head to head?’
‘Dead level.’ She shifted the bag to her other hand and dug in it for her cigarettes. She lit up. ‘Did they find Ronny?’
‘Yes, but that’s all I know. If I hear more I’ll tell you.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She walked off in her denim jacket, jeans and sneakers-an ordinary teenager, trailing smoke. A little further down the street a car door closed and a man stepped out and approached me.
‘Constable Simpson, Mr Hardy.’ He flashed his ID. ‘Happy to be out of uniform for a bit. No sign of any trouble so far.’
‘D’you know what to look for?’
‘Everything.’ He set off at a smart pace after Sarah as she rounded the corner.
I rang the bell and Hilde came to the door. A quick hug and I was in. The Parkers’ house was just the way a Victorian terrace should be-uncluttered, making the most of the available space, furniture and trappings more or less in keeping with the style of the house, but in an unstudied way. I followed Hilde through to the kitchen, which was renovated but not glossy. She had been my tenant for a few years, around the time my path crossed with Frank’s. I’d brought them together and the three of us were close. She knew my ways.
‘A sandwich and a glass of wine,’ she said. ‘All ready. What’s this help you need?’
I handed her the folder, sat down at the table and ate the sandwich. Curried egg-a favourite.
‘Cliff, where did you get this?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘The man must be mad to let you even see it, never mind…’
‘He didn’t have any choice, but don’t worry, he won’t squawk. Great sandwich.’
Hilde shook her head as she flipped over a few pages. I drank some cold white wine, picked up a few bits of egg with my fingers and wiped my hands with a napkin. ‘Can you read it? Do a rough translation?’
‘Yes, of course, but I’m not sure I should.’
‘Look, I don’t even know if it’s important. As Frank might say, I’m trying to eliminate it from my enquiry. I’m doing everything I can to find Sarah’s brother.’
She smiled. ‘You bastard. You’re applying pressure.’
‘If it’ll make you any happier, I promise I’ll send it back to the shrink after I know what it says.’
She nodded. ‘All right. It’ll take a while. Probably a few days for me to find the time. I’ll have to brush up on the differences in the languages a bit. Sort of get the feel of the Dutch. Some of this looks technical.’
‘That’s okay. Just give me the gist. I’ve got other things to do.’
‘Do you think you can find him?’
It’s never been my habit to ask a question like that midway through a search-it can be confidence sapping- but she forced me to it. I finished off the wine and stood.
‘I don’t know, love. I really don’t know.’ I gave her a kiss. ‘Thanks for everything. I like the sound of lamb on a spoon. Invite me over for it some time, eh?’
16
I phoned Hampshire and told him the arrangements. I offered to pick him up, but he said he’d get there under his own steam. A little odd, but what wasn’t in this case?
‘I’ll arrive a bit early then,’ I said, ‘to check things out. It’d be best for you to be just a shade late.’
He agreed and rang off. He sounded reasonably steady given his many problems. He didn’t mention Sarah.
I called Frank in the evening and asked him how the investigation into Wayne Ireland was going. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. My knowledge of Ireland was sketchy, amounting to nothing more than being aware that he was part of the right-wing machine, with all that implied about connections to unions and the tougher elements in politics and business. He was the minister for transport-middle ranked but influential.
‘Can’t tell you, Cliff, you know that.’
‘A hint.’
‘It’s ongoing, as they say. Sarah asked me about Ronny and I told her that he wasn’t being held. I also advised her to have no more to do with him.’
‘How did she take that?’
‘Pretty well. She’s not a bad kid. Gets on very well with Hilde and Peter. It’s sort of nice to have her around. She pitches in.’
‘I met Simpson outside today when I came over. Simpson without his donkey’
‘Jesus, Cliff, you’d joke on your deathbed.’
‘Never happen. Anyway, I saw Sarah and she seemed fine. I’m grateful for your help, Frank.’
‘You should be. As usual, you’re on a long leash with me, but I hope you haven’t been talking out of turn-to your client, for instance.’
‘Not a word. If the Ireland case gets to court Sarah’s in for a rough time, wouldn’t you say? Be a help if I can locate her brother.’
‘Stay with it, and for Christ’s sake try to make it somewhere near the legal line.’
He hung up. Did his last remark mean that Hilde had told him about the Van Der Harr file on Justin, or was it simply a comment on my usual methods? Hard to say. He seemed to think I’d paid my visit just to see Sarah. I
