and gripped her shoulders as if she was physically holding herself together.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Kevin Roseberry died a couple of days ago.’
‘Well that’s one less white prick.’
‘He had quite a lot of money when he died.’
‘Bullshit. What he didn’t piss up against a wall he gave to the bookies and the TAB.’
‘He won a lottery, Ms O’Day. He owned a house worth almost a million dollars and there’s a couple of hundred thousand in investments. I’m a private detective. Kevin hired me to find you. He wanted you and your daughter to have the money. I understand there’s a grandchild, too.’
Her hands flew from her shoulders to her face and she collapsed into a chair. She lost colour and her olive skin went a blotchy pink.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said.
‘Crook heart.’ She fumbled in the pocket of her cardigan and got a pill jar in her shaking hand. ‘Get me a glass of water, will you.’
I went through to the kitchen and filled a glass. When I got back she was struggling to get the top from the bottle. I helped and shook a pill out into her hand. She got it to her mouth and I helped her steady the glass as she drank.
‘Thanks,’ she said. The colour slowly returned and she pulled herself up from the slumped position. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Jimmy told me you were ill.’
‘Jimmy talks too bloody much. So he told you about Siobhan and the baby, eh? They’re at the park just now. Lovely little kid. Prick of a father, but, just like… Did I hear you right-Kevin left over a million bucks?’
I nodded.
‘To me and Siobhan?’
‘And the grandchild. Kevin hoped there were some.’
She drank the rest of the water. ‘Sit down, Mr… whatever your name is.’
I sat and she looked around the room. ‘Crummy, isn’t it? All we can afford on a couple of pensions. Look, who’s got the say about this money?’
‘When I told Kev I’d located you he made me the executor of his will, so the answer is-me.’
She said nothing for a minute, fixing me with a stare that seemed to strip me bare. ‘Kevin wasn’t a bad man. Just weak, like so many.’
‘Black and white,’ I said. ‘And like some women.’
The first smile I’d seen from her appeared, making her look younger and stronger. ‘You’re not so bad. Okay, let’s see how you handle this-I’ve never been certain that Siobhan was Kevin’s child. Could’ve been one of a couple of others. I was a wild girl at the time. You’ve met one of the other possibles.’
‘Jimmy.’
‘Right. He’s sure she’s his although she’s fairer than both of us. Buggered him up and he gave me a very hard time when I kept saying I wasn’t sure, which was the truth. Oh, I know he gets a bit of money to us from time to time. Bet he doesn’t know I know.’
‘That’s right.’
The smile came back. ‘Men. All right, Mr Detective, what d’you make of all that? Kev’s left his dough to a woman who fucked around and a child and grandchild who might not be related to him at all.’
I didn’t even have to think about it. The will was rock solid, there was no clause about verifying parenthood or anything like that.
‘Kev was a gambler like you said, Marie. I reckon he’d have taken a punt.’
I put the Currawongs CDs on the shelf somewhere between the Beatles and Dire Straits and whenever I play them I raise a glass to Kev.
Break point
You play tennis, right, Cliff?’ Sydney Featherstone said.
‘After a fashion,’ I said.
‘Come on, your mate Frank Parker told me you played at White City. Schoolboy championships.’
‘Yeah, got to the third round of the doubles. Newk and Roche had nothing to worry about.’
‘But you know the difference between a topspin backhand and a lob?’
I nodded. We were in the bar of the Woollahra Golf Club. Featherstone was a senior partner in a sports management agency with top level clients in a variety of sports. They had men and women on their books, Australians and internationals. Doing well, Frank had told me when he arranged the meeting. An old mate putting business my way.
‘We’re thinking of signing this kid, Cameron Beaumont. He’s just turned eighteen.’
‘I read about him,’ I said. ‘Reached a hundred in the world the other week.’
‘That’s him. Stands about one eighty-five, ideal for tennis, weighs eighty kilos. Leftie, quick; held the New South Wales junior one hundred metres record. Bench-presses his weight plus quite a bit more. Looks like Tom Cruise with legs.’
‘Sounds like money in the bank. What’s the problem with the superstar-to-be?’
‘He goes missing for days at a time. No one knows where or why.’
‘A girlfriend.’
‘Nothing wrong with girlfriends on the tennis scene. Within reason. If that’s it, fine. But why the secrecy?’
‘A boyfriend, then?’
‘Those who know him say not.’
‘When he comes back is he out of shape, distracted?’
‘No. Plays just as well as ever or better. It’s a mystery we need to solve.’
‘Why? Let him have his privacy.’
‘Are you kidding? There’s no such thing in elite sports.’
‘Is one hundred in the world elite?’
At his age, potentially.’
‘Lleyton Hewitt won an ATP event at sixteen, I seem to recall.’
‘He had the background. This kid’s a battler, up from nothing-local courts, no support. Both parents dead. He was fostered out as a kid. Pillar to post. You know how it is. He got on the satellite circuit at sixteen through a sports master at school and he’s been going through the opposition like a dose of salts. It’s a hand-to-mouth living but he’s come on strong just recently.’
‘Why hasn’t he been picked up before this?’
‘That’s a funny thing. A couple of sponsors and management mobs have approached him but he’s pissed them off. Must be waiting for a top drawer offer.’
‘Have you approached him?’
‘Not yet. There’s one thing I haven’t told you. He takes off on these jaunts from time to time over the last year or so, but always after he wins a tournament or comes close. He’s playing in an event next week that he’s got a shot at winning. A few of the top players have pulled out injured and Beaumont’s in really good form. Got in on a wild card. He’s bound to take off-should give you a chance to see what’s up.’
‘Why is it important that I know something about tennis?’
‘You’re going to have to watch him play. Be bloody boring if you didn’t like the game. Plus, Frank said you were a good judge of character. That comes out on a tennis court, win or lose, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Sometimes,’ I said.
Beaumont was playing late in the afternoon of the first day and I arrived in time to watch him. Just as well. He was up against a veteran who’d beaten a lot of top players in his time. He had a good serve and a wide variety of
