He’d been through something himself. He’d gained weight, lost hair and his eyes were muddy. One of his thin cigars was burning in an ashtray on the desk and he picked it up and inhaled as if he wanted both lungs to be completely filled. I sat down in a chair pulled up close to the desk, well away from the leather couch. A blind had been drawn halfway down the big window behind Holmes’ desk and the room was gloomy. The smoke he was exhaling went up and floated around the ceiling rose. The hand I’d shaken, the books in the shelves on three walls, the chair, all smelled of cigar smoke.
‘Paula Wilberforce,’ I said. “Your patient.’
He inclined his head. ‘And to you…?’
‘Daughter of my client.’
‘Ah yes, the egregious Sir Phillip. Do you know what that word means, Hardy?’
‘I’ve got a rough idea. Don’t patronise me, doctor, and don’t waste my time, which is as valuable to me as yours is to you, even if less well paid.’
He laughed. ‘I’d forgotten how direct you were. I’m sorry. Do you have any idea of the damage Phillip Wilberforce has done?’
I shrugged. ‘I’ve met some of the children, stepchildren, whatever. I haven’t met their mothers and teachers and friends. I don’t know what they had on their DNAs.’
‘Quite. You’re right to reprimand me. Personalities are formed multi-causally, of course. But there are dominant causes and Sir Phillip Wilberforce’s example and behaviour are just such things.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I’m inclined to think that you have to take responsibility for what you’re like at some point in your life. Maybe not at eighteen, but by, let’s say, thirty or so.’
‘If only it were that easy. Have you accepted responsibility for what you are?’
‘Sure. I’m impatient, suspicious, inclined to be violent. It buggers me up sometimes but I try not to let it bugger up other people. That’s what I mean by taking responsibility. Look, doctor, a little bit of this sort of talk goes a long way with me. Can you.. ’
He squashed out his cigar and took another from the open tin immediately. Before he lit up he risked a breath of air. It wasn’t much of a risk in that room, the difference between smoking and not smoking was marginal. My eyes were beginning to water. The breath he took whistled and screeched like a train engine. He lit the cigar and inhaled quietly.
‘I have never encountered a person more lacking in self-esteem than Paula Wilberforce. Nor one so adept at concealing the fact.’
I shifted in my chair. ‘She followed me. She threatened me. She vandalised my car and stole my gun. She shot her father and shot up the house. I don’t need to be told that she’s disturbed. What I want to know is if she’s ever said anything to you that will help me to locate her now.’
‘Possibly. Privileged information, but I might be prepared to divulge it on certain conditions.’
‘Try me.’
‘That you do everything in your power to see that she does not come to harm. That you do not allow a situation to develop in which she may be shot, or driven to shoot herself. Anything like that.’
‘Sure. That’s implicit in my agreement with her father.’
‘I want it to be explicit in your agreement with me.’
‘Why are you so… adamant, doctor? ’
‘I told you. Her case is extremely rare, with many very interesting features. I had begun a study of it when she interrupted treatment. I believe that if I could resume treating her and gather more data, I would have the basis for a brilliant piece of research.’
I stared at him. ‘You cold-blooded bastard.’
He shrugged and blew smoke.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I accept. What do you have to tell me?’
He held up his meaty hand. His murky eyes examined the back of his gold wedding ring. ‘You are thinking that my condition is easy to accept. How can it be enforced? You will do your best and no-one can ask for more. I am asking for more.’
It was my turn to shrug.
‘I talked to Detective Sergeant Willis. A shrewd man in his way. I agreed to acting as consultant for the police in the matter of your psychological fitness to hold a private enquiry agent’s licence. Willis believes that such a report is in order, given your recent behaviour.’
‘You set me up. You and Willis.’
‘You do see the point, don’t you? Your best may not be good enough to enable you to hold your licence. I understand professionalism, Mr Hardy. Part of it involves looking ahead to the next project. Completing the one on hand, certainly, but learning from it and looking to the future. Unless you do better than your best you won’t have a future in your present career.’
My eyes were watering badly and my throat was becoming raw from breathing the smoke-laden air. I wanted out. ‘I understand,’ I rasped. ‘Tell me.’
‘Dogs,’ he said. ‘Somehow the key to her errant behaviour lies in her attitude to dogs. Wherever she is now, whatever she is doing, dogs will be involved.’
‘Is that it? Dogs?’
He spread his hands keeping the cigar imprisoned between two fingers. ‘I thought it might help.’
‘I thought you might tell me about a person-a friend, a lover, an enemy. Someone, somewhere…’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Who is in most danger from her?’
‘Other members of her family.’
‘Have you treated any of them?’
‘I cannot possibly discuss such things with you.’
That means yes. ‘Who?’
Another cigar died and another was reborn. ‘My hands are tied.’
‘Dogs,’ I said. ‘Great. I’ll have to make a note of that.’ I made a mock movement of my hand towards my pocket and felt the photograph. I pulled it out, unfolded it and laid it on the polished desk.
Holmes leaned forward to examine it.
‘What would you say about this, doc?’
‘Paula’s work?’
I nodded. ‘She did a painting, too. I suspect she went at that with a hammer or a knife, maybe both.’
Holmes blew smoke down at the photograph as he stared at it. I looked, too. For an instant the shapes in the background threatened to make sense, then they returned to their enigmatic vagueness.
‘This person is in grave danger. Who is he?’
I retrieved the picture and folded it up. ‘I couldn’t possibly discuss that with you,’ I said.
16
I drove away from Woollahra feeling that I’d accomplished something. By the time I reached Glebe I couldn’t think what the accomplishment might be. I had a vague feeling that things were coming together, but nothing clearly in my mind to justify the feeling. I’ve been in this condition before and my usual strategy involves a bottle, a ballpoint and some paper. I was still on antibiotics and medical opinion would be against the bottle. I remembered that I hadn’t taken the pills for the last twenty-four hours, against all instructions. On the other hand, maybe the antibiotics accounted for my failure to see a pattern. It didn’t seem like a good time to abandon a tried and tested strategy.
Glen’s car was parked outside the house. She wasn’t due back until the next day and the pessimist in me worried for an instant before the optimist in me was glad. I charged inside, scaring the cat from its sleep in the sun and putting a couple of the weak floorboards to the test. Glen was making coffee. She turned and the smile on her face died.
I reached for her but she held me back. ‘What’s wrong?’ I said. My first impulse was guilt but I had nothing
