kelims on the floor, two regimental swords on a side wall.
‘About ready for the pre-lunch gin,’ he said. ‘Join me?’
I declined. He went over to the drinks tray, poured a modest amount of gin into a glass, added tonic from an open bottle. Perhaps not the first G &T of the day.
‘Police did mention Connors’ family,’ he said, sitting down. There was something wrong with his left leg or hip.
‘When were they here?’
Wendell sipped, put his glass on a side table, leaned over and picked up a black ledger with red binding from the coffee table. ‘The book,’ he said. ‘The good book. Thank God for the book. Relied on memory, I’d be buggered.’ He pushed his glasses up, flicked pages, stopped. ‘Fifth of April, morning.’
‘What did they want?’
He looked puzzled, put the book in his lap, lowered his glasses. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Family reported Connors missing.’
I nodded. ‘Of course. The police wanted to look around the flat.’
‘Yes. Thorough too, I can tell you. No need to worry on that score. You can tell his father. No need for concern. Took the matter very seriously indeed.’
‘He’ll be pleased to hear that.’
‘Sure he will. Worrying business. Still worry about my daughter. In Canada with three teenagers and I still worry.’
‘We all do. Did they find anything of interest, do you know? They’re being very non-committal with Mr Connors senior.’
He drank a teaspoon of G &T. ‘Can’t help. Wish I could. Had me let them in, shooed me off. Wouldn’t let me through the door. Didn’t want the waters muddied, I imagine. They were up there for a good forty-five minutes.’
‘I suppose they identified themselves, left a card, that sort of thing,’ I said.
More G &T. ‘Absolutely. We don’t let any old person in the front door here.’ Wendell repositioned his glasses, raised the ledger and read. ‘Detectives Carmody and Mildren, Australian Federal Police.’
‘Federal Police. Not the local police?’
Puzzled again. ‘Connors’ father hasn’t had dealings with them?’
‘He reported his concerns to the local police. I suppose they handed the matter on.’
‘Absolutely. Carmody, he was in charge, said missing people were a Federal responsibility. Cross state borders, that type of thing. Makes sense, doesn’t it?’
‘Impeccable sense. When did you last see Gary?’
‘Oh, some time in March, middle of March. We arrived in the car park together, exchanged a few words.’
‘The card the police left you. It’s got a phone number on it, I take it. Can I get that?’
‘Of course.’ He adjusted his glasses and read out a number from the ledger. I wrote it in my notebook.
I stood up. ‘Well, thanks for seeing me. Gary’s father will be reassured.’
Wendell came out of his seat with difficulty. ‘Pleasure. My good wishes to him. Worrying business. You read about these people murdered in Bangkok hotels. Still, experienced traveller. Seldom here, I can tell you. Off on business all the time. High-powered. Nice chap. Quiet.’
He saw me out.
Charlie was in a contemplative mood when I got back. We drove back in silence until, in Hoddle Street, stuck in the small-business traffic, in the rain, the exhaust-perfumed rain, the Stud’s wipers making greasy smears, Charlie said one word.
‘Unwurdig.’ His face was turned from me, looking in the direction of a printery. He was thinking about Mrs Purbrick’s library. The hands, the huge machines, were lying upturned on his thighs. It occurred to me that I couldn’t recall seeing Charlie’s hands in repose before.
I knew what he meant, although it contradicted things he had said to me. I didn’t say anything until I turned up Gipps Street. Then I said, ‘Utterly Unwurdig. Worse than Unwurdig. Since when did Unwurdig bother you? I thought you were making the stuff for the generations to come?’
Charlie didn’t cheer up. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘I think the generations to come might be just as Unwurdig.’
I dropped him at the workshop’s front entrance and drove around the corner to park in the alley. The mobile rang as I was getting out of the car.
‘Jack Irish? Tony Rinaldi.’ Brisk barrister’s voice.
‘Tony, you probably won’t remember me…’
‘Of course I remember you. On the town with that bloody Greer last night, I gather.’
‘Can we have a little talk in confidence about the question Drew asked you?’
Pause. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t know what Drew read into my remark to him, but I think he’s got it all wrong. In any event, it’s all confidential stuff. I can’t discuss it. You’ll appreciate that, even if Greer doesn’t.’
We said goodbye. Back in my office, I stared out of the window, listening to the industrial noises coming from across the road, thinking about Gary and the TransQuik connection. Did it exist? If it did, why would they go to such lengths to deny it? Who had reported Gary missing?
I got out my notebook, found the number on the card the Feds left with Clive Wendell, dialled it. It rang briefly, then blipped again.
‘Offices on Collins,’ a man said. ‘The number you’ve dialled isn’t presently in use.’
‘What is Offices on Collins?’
‘We provide full office facilities for limited or long-term rental.’
‘Can you tell me who was renting that number on April 5 this year? I may have the wrong number.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ I heard computer keys clicking. ‘The rental was for two days in the name of J. A. Ashton.’
‘Do you have an address?’
‘Sorry, sir, I don’t have that information. It was a cash transaction.’
So much for agents Carmody and Mildren.
The phone rang as it touched the cradle.
‘Jack, Tony Rinaldi. Forget the other call. What about today? Lunchtime?’
15
Tony Rinaldi came trundling down the riverside path towards me, the shortest member of a group of four trundlers. He was wearing a T-shirt saying Even the Short Arm of the Law is Long and he was a lot thinner than when I’d last seen him. Losing your wife to a librarian can have that effect.
I stood up. Tony saw me, panted something to his pack and slowed to a walk.
‘Jack,’ he gasped. He didn’t shake hands, sank onto the bench next to me, short hairy legs stuck out. I sat down, let him recover, offered him the plastic bottle of mineral water he’d suggested I bring if I was going to interrupt him before he got to his watering hole.
He drank half the bottle, dribbled some onto his chest, panted for a while. Finally, he took a deep breath. ‘Thanks, mate.’ Ran his hand through dark thinning hair. ‘Jesus, worst thing I ever did getting in with that mob. Bastards wait till you’re so clapped out you can’t breathe, then they pick up the pace, start asking you questions.’
He had another large draught of expensive water, took another deep breath. ‘So, Klostermann Gardier. How’s the name come your way?’
I told him. ‘Gary calls himself a security adviser and one of his clients appears to be Klostermann Gardier. I’m clutching at straws here.’
‘Gary connected with TransQuik?’
‘He worked for them for about eight years. Left in ’88. Security. He’s an ex-cop.’
‘Let’s walk,’ Tony said, pushing his way off the bench. ‘Bit of a mystery man, weren’t you? Didn’t you marry one of the Ling girls?’
‘Very briefly. Frances. She’s married to a surgeon now. General surgeon. Cut off anything.’
