‘What?’ Helen said. ‘Free rides?’
‘I’ve got to go out again later, love. Scott’s going to drive me. Might need a bit of help.’
‘You can’t afford a driver.’
‘Hey, I’ll work for free.’
‘You must be good,’ Helen said.
19
Scott Galvani came into the house. Before we knew it, he was cooking spaghetti bolognaise, scooting down to the bottle shop for a flagon of red, and generally being entertaining and helpful. He let Helen try out her Italian on him and he praised her efforts.
‘Six months there, really workin’ at it, you’d be like a native.’
‘What I wouldn’t give,’ Helen said.
This is getting out of hand, I thought. Bondi is one thing, Palermo is another.
The spaghetti was terrific. Galvani washed the dishes and didn’t sing in the kitchen.
‘He’s nice,’ Helen said.
‘He’s persistent.’
Over coffee I talked about the Wise case and Galvani nodded.
‘I read about it. The video girl.’
‘That’s crap! There’s something else behind it. Marjorie Legge or Phil Broadhead or someone like that.’
Galvani whistled. ‘That’s heavy.’
‘It could be. I’ll back off fast if it is, don’t worry.’
Helen glanced at me. Galvani was smoking filter tips and she had just lit her Gitane. The smoke was hurting my eye but I didn’t want to spoil her pleasure. I grinned at her but Galvani frowned. ‘I don’t get you, man.’
‘I just want something to satisfy her father. I’m not out to clean up Sydney.’
‘Oh, right,’ he said.
I drank coffee and thought about what I had to work with. It wasn’t much. Essentially I had to find Jan de Vries and find out why he was frightened.
‘Why is he frightened?’ Helen said.
‘Who?’
‘Jan de Vries.’
‘Are you a mind-reader now?’
‘It’s the obvious question.’
‘Yeah,’ Galvani said.
‘Look, Scott, I’m not sure this is such a good idea, you tagging along. I might get a line on de Vries tonight from the mother.’
‘Hope so,’ he said.
‘I haven’t got any worker’s compensation policy or anything like that.’
‘I’ll sign a waiver.’
‘Did you read that or see it on TV?’
‘What’s the difference? When do we go?’
Galvani went to the toilet and Helen put on a jacket. ‘Think I’ll go over to Ruth’s,’ she said. She kissed me and I could taste the French tobacco and Australian wine. ‘You’re an idiot to go out with an eye like that but I know I can’t stop you. Tell you what, though, I’m glad you’ve got him along.’
Something bothered me on the drive to Leo Wise’s house in Bellevue Hill. In fact the worry had started back when Scott asked me which car I wanted to take, the Falcon or the taxi.
‘The taxi, I think. Nobody looks at a taxi when it’s parked.’ But who cares who’s looking? I thought. As I say, it nagged at me as we drove. Scott took it easy out of consideration for my damaged state and he kept the chatter to a minimum. It was a cool night; I had on boots, corduroy pants, a thick shirt and a light jacket. I had the gun under my left armpit. What I’d really need, if there was any trouble, would be a cricketer’s helmet with visor. Scott had pulled a sweater on over his T-shirt. I could tell that he wanted to smoke but he chewed on a toothpick instead.
‘Here it is. Not bad!’
I pointed ahead and he let the taxi roll on past the house. It was big and white, behind a high white wall. Inside the wall there’d be a tennis court and swimming pool. Inside the house there’d be a miserable woman.
‘What do I do?’ Scott asked.
‘I told you it wouldn’t be exciting. You wait.”
‘Can I put the light on to read?”
‘No.’
‘What about the radio?’
‘Softly.’
‘Okay, Cliff. Good luck. You want me to honk if there’s any suspicious characters around?’
‘No. Run them over.”
There was an intercom by the front gate. I buzzed and got Leo Wise’s voice, distorted by the device. ‘Yes.’
‘Cliff Hardy, Mr Wise. Can I come in?’
‘Push the gate,’ he said. There was a bleep from somewhere and the gate gave easily. I walked up a flagstoned path, bordered by flowers, to wide steps in front of the house. There was a bright light over the front door but the house was so wide the sides of the building were in shadow. It had two storeys, with a wide balcony supported by wrought iron pillars running across the front and around both sides. Windows from the upper level let out onto the balcony; all those windows in the front were dark.
Leo Wise opened the door before I could knock.
‘Evening, Hardy,’ he said. ‘You look different with the patch. How is it?’
‘Evening, Mr Wise. No good for horse riding or swimming, otherwise okay. How’s your wife?”
‘Composed.’ I went into a sort of lobby with a high ceiling but no candelabra. Wise beckoned me towards a set of carved wooden doors off to one side.
‘Would you like a drink or something, or do you want to see her straight away?’
He opened the doors and we entered a study-cum-library. It was furnished with restraint-comfortable chairs, a writing desk and bookcases. It had cost a lot of money to keep it that modest.
‘I’ll see her now, if that’s all right.’
‘Yes it is. Have a seat. I’ll get her. I might go off and do a few things on my own if you don’t mind. Moira finds me inhibiting sometimes, or so she says.’
‘She knows what I’m doing?’
‘More or less.’
He went out through another door; I sat down and picked up a magazine. I looked at it without absorbing anything which is how magazines usually affect me.
Moira Wise came into the room and I started absorbing. She was taller than I’d expected, slim and dark- haired. She smiled and the effect of the large, dark eyes and slightly gapped teeth was devastating; she was dimmed by sadness and miles away from beautiful but I felt I could look at her all night. I started to rise but she stopped me.
‘Stay there, Mr Hardy. Leo told me about your eye. Getting up must be painful. I’ll sit here.’ She sat in a chair a few feet away and crossed her legs. She was wearing a black blouse and a white skirt, medium heels on plain black shoes. Once again, money spent on a tasteful, quiet effect. She cocked her head slightly to one side like someone correcting a small squint. ‘You’re not what I expected.’
‘Oh, how’s that?’
‘I expected someone bulkier, like… Robert Mitchum.’
‘You’re a movie fan too, then?’