‘What you say’s very convincing, Jane,’ I said, ‘but can you supply the evidence?’
She fiddled with the coffee cup. ‘This is the hard part. I’ve kept a detailed record of things I know happened- names, place names and dates. And I have personal knowledge of amounts of money involved in
… some of the minor matters. I’ve got all this in a safe place, at least I hope it is. But I’m not going to come out of this squeaky clean. I’ve taken kickbacks myself. I had to, or I would’ve been sidelined. Or they would’ve made it so hard for me I’d have had to quit. That’s probably going to be difficult for you to understand.’
Townsend said, ‘Not necessarily, but it’s a complication in terms of your credibility.’
‘I know, but I’ve got every dollar documented and it’s all put away with the other stuff.’
She was very pale and her hands were shaking. Townsend put three fingers on her forearm and leaned a bit closer towards her. He was good at the body language- comforting, not condescending. I was sympathetic, but I didn’t feel I was getting a whole lot closer to my focus- who, in this tangle, spoke to Lily and who found that out and took the next step. Jane said it wasn’t her who put Lily on the track, but could I believe her? Professional, highly competent, concerned woman. Who more likely?
‘Cliff?’ Townsend said. ‘Where’ve you gone?’
‘I’m sorry. I’d like to know what your next move is, Jane. I mean, you’ve accumulated this… data. Why act now? And how?’
In fact, I had more questions: What was your relationship with Gregory and Williams? How did you team up with Townsend? Why were you happy to have me along at this meeting? Why are you prepared to blow the whistle now? But I let the questions I’d put stand.
Jane stopped fiddling and shaking. She drank some water, drew in a deep breath, and colour returned to her face. She glanced at Townsend and then looked straight at me. ‘I met Lee. As far as I could tell he wasn’t trying for a story, he was just…’
‘Attracted,’ Townsend said. ‘Right.’
‘So we talked, and then Lily Truscott was killed. I knew the name and that she was a journalist, and as soon as Colin Williams was reassigned, I made a connection to the sort of stuff I’ve been talking about and I spoke to Lee a bit more… specifically. And now we’re here.’
‘Lee,’ I said, ‘sounds as if most of this is all news to you.’
‘It is,’ Townsend said. ‘Jane has been very guarded. She gave me a few more hints when she heard I’d made contact with you.’
‘Why’s that?’ I said.
‘Because I want protection,’ Jane said. She broke off and took in another deep breath. ‘You’re driving, Lee. Can I get a brandy?’
Townsend ordered two-one for her, one for me. Not my favourite drink by a long way, but I wanted to give her some kind of support and Townsend was bound to get the best stuff. I’d do my nocturnal sobering walk trick if necessary. The drinks came and Jane took a slug. Me too. Smooth.
‘I’ve got a plan,’ she said.
Jane Farrow’s plan was for her to meet with Vince Gregory, who was unhappy about her having broken off their affair. She intended to confirm that it was all off between them, to insult him and then tell him she was planning to report the corruption within the Northern Crimes Unit to the police ombudsman.
‘He’ll go nuts,’ she said. ‘He’ll be furious with me on both counts, but he’s a cold, calculating bastard and he’ll try to persuade me not to talk. I’ll say I need certain guarantees from Gary Perkins, he’s the Chief Super, and pretty much at the heart of the corruption, or very close to it.’
‘They’ll kill you,’ Townsend said.
She nodded. ‘They’ll try, but we set the meeting up so you can film and tape the discussion and the deal we strike, and we rely on Mr Hardy here to protect me. We film the attempt on me as well. A bit before it gets too heavy, I hope.’
‘It’s madness,’ Townsend said. ‘Far too dangerous.’
Then I got an insight into the obsession that had hold of her. She became almost coquettish: ‘Don’t you want the story, Lee?’
Townsend said nothing and she turned her attention to me. ‘If we get Gregory and Perkins on toast, they’ll dob in the others. They’ll talk. They’ll deal. It’s your best chance at getting a line on who killed Lillian. They’ll know.’
‘You’d give me a free run at them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Off-camera?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
Obsessed, ruthless. Trustworthy? Impossible to be sure.
‘Jane,’ I said, ‘I can see what’s in it for Lee and possibly for me, but what have you got to gain? Just supposing it goes according to your plan, and I wouldn’t bet on it, you’ll be finished in the police force. A lot of mud’ll stick to you. Your future’d be pretty bleak. You might write a book, might sell the film rights, but…’
‘It stinks,’ Jane said. ‘People are getting hurt. It sickens me. Call me a martyr.’
The use of that word worried me a lot. In my book, martyrs of all kinds are deluded-paradise doesn’t exist and neither does a clean city. To do him credit, Townsend, who had most to gain, was as uncertain as me.
‘It’s not something to rush into,’ he said. ‘There might be other ways.’
‘There aren’t,’ she said.
‘When were you thinking of making your move?’
‘I can’t stand it much longer. As soon as possible-a week?’
Townsend shook his head. ‘It’d take that long at least to set up the locale and other necessary arrangements.’
Jane finished her brandy. ‘Ten days, max!’
‘Or?’ I said.
‘Or I find someone else to do it with.’
That’s where we left it. Townsend paid for the dinner and took Jane off, whether to her place or his I didn’t know or care. I watched them walk away, holding hands. She was ten centimetres taller in her flatties, but Townsend held himself so well and moved so fluently the difference wasn’t as noticeable as it might have been.
I decided that I was sober enough to drive, but I went for a long walk anyway. I had a lot of thinking to do and walking helps. The rain held off, but those Chatswood canyon winds got to me and made me step up my pace. Lily and I used to walk around the streets at night, in Glebe and Greenwich, burning off the evening meal calories, processing the booze, talking. We talked about politics, books, films, people. We told stories from our past that helped to bind us together. When someone knows that much about you and you know a lot about them, there’s a connection. It helps you to avoid mistakes, anticipate needs, keep things flowing. I missed those walks.
I found myself thinking more about Lily than Townsend and Jane Farrow and her extraordinary claims and proposal. I got lost, and had to concentrate to find my way back to the car park, so I stopped thinking about the evening’s developments altogether. I retrieved the car, paid the fee and drove out into heavy rain. More thoughts of Lily, who’d always mocked my clunky wipers.
I drove carefully in the sort of moderate to heavy traffic that seems to be on the move in most parts of Sydney day and night. For a couple of kilometres I found myself behind one of those drivers who hit the brakes unexpectedly and too often, and change lanes without signalling. I surprised myself by remaining patient. I turned the radio on but I could scarcely hear it over the drumming of the rain. I was back in my own territory before my mind could focus on the shape of things again. One thought came through clearly: Find out a lot more about Jane Farrow.
PART TWO
