'Thinkin' about it.'
I folded the incomplete sketch and stuck it in my pocket. We shook hands.
'Thanks, Cliff,' Tommy said.
I wasn't sure that I'd earned it, but I accepted it anyway, from him.
A storm had been building all day and it broke as I was driving home. First, some big hailstones pelted down, big enough for me to feel them crunching under the wheels and to make me worry about the windscreen. The rain followed in bucketfuls; the gutters overflowed within minutes and we drivers were slowed to a crawl while trying to keep the revs up through water that was axle-high across dips in the roads.
I parked outside my house, collected my bits and pieces and got thoroughly soaked just getting to the front door. I didn't care. The air needed clearing, the dust needed laying, and I needed a shower anyway.
24
The security cameras had picked me up and the police hauled me in. Detective Senior Sergeant Piers Aronson, who I'd dealt with before, interviewed me in the Glebe detectives' room. I had my solicitor, Viv Garner, present and I wasn't expecting to have much fun. Aronson switched on the recording equipment, identified himself, me and Viv, and got down to it.
'You were present in the Queen Victoria Building when Barclay Greaves was killed?'
'Yes.'
'How did you come to be there?'
'I arranged the meeting between Jonas Clement and Greaves to try to resolve a matter I was working on.'
'That matter was…?'
'Confidential between my client and myself.'
'You don't have that privilege,' Aronson said.
Viv said, 'It's a moot point, Senior. Depending on the client. I suggest you move on.'
Aronson didn't like it, but he wasn't about to make an issue of it at this stage. 'You handed a bag to Jonas Clement.'
'Did I?'
'Video evidence says you did.'
'Those videos are fuzzy and jumpy and people cross the line and make the action confusing in my experience,' Viv said. 'Are Mr Hardy's fingerprints on this alleged bag?'
Aronson wasn't going to fall into a question and answer session. 'You provoked Clement into attacking Greaves. What did you say to him?'
'I forget. What does Clement say I said?'
I'd told Viv all I needed to convince him that I hadn't meant to bring about Greaves's death. His advice was answer questions like this with a question about Clement, who would certainly be getting the best possible legal advice himself. Ride piggyback on Clement's high-price brief.
Aronson's reaction confirmed Viv's advice. He was discomfitted, almost angry. Clement had told them nothing damaging to me, possibly nothing at all. Aronson kept it up for as long as he could, hammering away at my lack of confidentiality protection, my absenting myself from the scene and my conviction some time back for destroying evidence and obstructing justice. Viv and I fended him off enough so that he eventually finished the interview.
I thanked Viv and he left. I stayed where I was because I knew Aronson and I hadn't finished.
'Off the record, Hardy, I'm going to go after your licence as strong as I can. You've been up to some shit here and I'm sure you caused that man's death. Does any of that worry you?'
'The death, no. The licence, yes.'
'Good. You can expect to hear from the appropriate people. I think you're gone.'
'I've been through it before and survived.'
'Your luck's run out.'
'We'll see. I tell you what, Piers. When you lot get a conviction against Jonas Clement and have him safely locked away for, oh, five to ten for manslaughter, we can get together and I'll tell you all about it.'
That's how we left it. I'm still waiting to hear about the suspension of my licence, which is a good sign. The system is that suspension is followed by a searching interview with all sorts of bureaucratic bullshit, before an absolute de-licensing can happen. I'm still hopeful.
I followed the Clement case in the papers. Greaves, who was described as a financial adviser, had been dead on arrival, of course. Clement was charged with murder initially but the charge was reduced to manslaughter. Legal technicalities delayed the case coming to trial and it could be a while longer before it's heard. Rumour has it that Clement's defence is going to claim that the death of his son placed him under a strain and reduced his responsibility for his actions. Clement Junior's death was attributed to an accident. Might work.
Whether Clement used his information about Peter Scriven as a bargaining chip, I don't know. In any case it was no business of mine. Scriven had chiselled honest people out of their businesses and savings and if he was being bled by Clement that was all right with me. They never recover any money from these crooks who do a runner anyway.
Tommy did a terrific job at Mike's place and went on to do the painting and repair work. Still at it, and Mike's promised him a job driving when he's finished. I drop around there from time to time and always come away thinking I should get someone to do a job on my place. Never get around to it, though.
I went to Frank and Hilde's on election night, looking forward to seeing them but not expecting any joy. They had a few other people over, ex-cops, social workers-the area Hilde had gone into-and tennis club friends. It was a good group, lively, with a good gender mix and a range of political positions that meant the results pleased some and displeased others. There was a good deal of chiacking in an Aussie way that really says we think all politicians are bastards at heart.
Interest went out of the result very early and people started to drift away. Frank took me aside around 11 pm. We were both a bit depressed by the outcome, both a bit drunk.
'I hear you're sailing close to the wind with this Clement thing, mate,' Frank said.
'Yeah, I'm looking at a licence hearing. You going character witness for me?'
'Did it before an' I'll do it again. You could be out on your ear.'
'Viv Garner reckons just a suspension.'
'Viv's a bloody optimist, always was. Cliff, have you ever thought of packing it in and doing something else?'
'Like what?'
'I dunno. You need a business plan. Sell that bloody great terrace and buy a flat and invest the balance and…'
'Yeah, Frank?'
'Fuck it, you won't.'
He was right there.
Lily Truscott had agreed to come to the party with me even though I hadn't been able to follow through with any dope on Greaves. Harry Tickener was there too, and he told me the publishers were trying to see if there was anything they could do with the draft bits of manuscript they'd got from Lou Kramer on Clement now that he was in the news. They were playing it very close to the chest so there was nothing for Harry. I'd disappointed them both, and we were all depressed by the election. But Lily came back to my place and stayed the night so the evening wasn't a total loss.
I got a cheque from Sharon in the mail although I hadn't submitted an account. Enclosed in the envelope was a caricature of a bloke with grizzled grey-black hair, a broken nose, suspicious eyes and a humorous expression. Can't think who it could be.
Steve Kooti stays in touch with Tommy and I've run into him once or twice. He tells me that nothing much has changed out at Liston. John Manuma's protection centre is still working its scams and the Island Brotherhood
