huddle at the far end of the table while the police did the same at their end. We mapped out a strategy.
When we reassembled, I said, ‘You spoke of us informing our client of her father’s death. That’d be a breach of this security, wouldn’t it?’
‘We’d ask you to withhold the information for a time while the investigation proceeds.’
‘That’d be deception on our part and would cost her money,’ Hank said.
‘Some measure of compensation might be possible.’
‘That’s very vague,’ I said. ‘Tell you what, we do have some additional information that could be relevant, and we’ll share it with you.’
‘Good,’ Dickersen said.
‘On the condition that a question we have is answered. That is, that DS Roberts tells us where she fits in and we decide we’re happy with her explanation.’
At a nod from Dickersen, she took a notebook from her pocket and cleared her throat. I gave her an encouraging smile, which she ignored. ‘At Inspector Gunnarson’s direction, I interviewed the assistant to the CEO at Tarelton Explorations-a Ms Barbara Guy. The CEO, Edward Tarelton, AO, is out of the country on business, allegedly. Ms Guy gave me copies of a whole bunch of documents relating to Henry McKinley’s employment, but refused to tell me anything about his area of research or what field investigations he might have done.
‘I asked if Dr McKinley had had a secretary or an assistant I could interview and she said he hadn’t. I asked who was closest to him in the firm and she said he was a very private person who had no close in-house relationships, as far as she knew. I asked to see his office and was told it had been reassigned and that all his files were covered by commercial confidentiality.’
‘A fun interview,’ Hank said.
She relaxed a little-Hank can have that effect. ‘At first, it was like hitting a ball against a brick wall. Then she tried to pump me about what we knew about Dr McKinley’s. .’ she consulted her notes, ‘. . absence, she called it. My turn to play a dead bat.’
Hank said, ‘A dead bat?’
‘Cricket term,’ I said. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘My report to the inspector suggests that Tarelton Explorations is sensitive and evasive about Henry McKinley. Outwardly cooperative, but actually very obstructionist. I believe they have something to hide and should be regarded as of interest in the investigation of Dr McKinley’s murder.’
Paul Keating said something like, ‘We’ll never get this place set up properly until we find a way to get everything settled with the Aborigines.’ He was right on the grand scale and on the personal level as well. DS Roberts’s statement was a model of clarity and judgement and I wanted to say so and would have normally, but how patronising would that look? We haven’t found that way yet. Everyone around the table nodded.
Gunnarson said, ‘Thank you, Angela. I hope that satisfies you, Hardy.’
‘It does,’ I said. I risked the patronisation trap by adding, ‘And for my money, I hope DS Roberts can stay on the investigation team.’
‘So?’ Dickersen said.
After getting the nod from Hank I told them about Terry Dart’s death and the theft of his briefcase. I had the copy of Henry McKinley’s drawing in my pocket. I unfolded it and filled them in on the attempt to suppress the set.
‘Three thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money,’ I said, ‘but it isn’t chicken feed either. I got the impression from the gallery owner that the buyer would have paid, whatever the asking price.’
‘Find that buyer and you’ve got a fair way into this thing,’ Hank said.
All three had been making notes. Gunnarson looked up. ‘Is there a good description of the buyer?’
I shook my head. ‘Worse than useless.’
‘We’re not in good shape,’ Dickersen said. ‘We can keep the surveillance on the car for a few days but we can’t keep the whole thing under wraps for much longer. McKinley’s daughter has to be told and we’ll have to appeal for witnesses who might have seen activity in the park. The media’ll take a pretty keen interest, at least for a while. As I see it, we don’t have leads, just a suspicion about the Tarelton company. DS Roberts is going to interview the CEO when he gets back and see how he reacts to this news about
one of his employees. Something might come of that.’
‘Like what?’ Hank said.
Dickersen shrugged. ‘Maybe McKinley was caught up in something that went wrong. Who knows? Could be industrial espionage. Maybe Tarelton has a rival, an enemy of some kind. Might give us another line of enquiry. But that’s about it at this stage. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Hank and I exchanged looks and we both nodded.
Dickersen said, ‘I propose that we liaise through DS Roberts. Share whatever information comes our way.’
‘That was weird,’ Hank said on our way back to Newtown. ‘Never said a word about you being on board, unlicensed and all.’
‘It was odd all right,’ I said. ‘They’re playing a very cagey game. I don’t imagine for one minute that they told us everything, do you?’
Hank shook his head.
‘Which was why we didn’t tell them Margaret’s guess about the drawing.’
‘Yeah, but Dickersen’s right-no real leads to follow.’
‘We’ve got the quarries and they’re bound to have something. It’s interesting.’
We were in the train we’d caught at Museum-the best way to get around the city and our part of the inner west. There were only three other people in the compartment, all Asian and, as it turned out, all bound for Central and then Newtown. Two looked like students and the other, middle-aged, groomed, in a thousand-dollar suit, looked as if he might own a sizeable chunk of King Street. He spoke in a low voice on his mobile the whole time, switching easily from an Asian language to English and French.
We were walking south along King Street when my mobile rang. I listened and broke into a run.
‘What?’ Hank said as he loped along beside me.
I stumbled, fought for balance. ‘Megan. She’s been attacked.’
9
It was the first time I’d broken into a full run since the heart business. Hank, with youth and a longer stride on his side, passed me easily but I more or less kept up with him except on the stairs, which he took three at a time. We found Megan sitting on a chair in her office with her feet on a stool being fussed over by Grant, the gay podiatrist who occupies rooms on the same level. Simultaneously, I saw the blood on the towel she was holding to her head and smelt the powerful fumes of petrol.
Hank rushed up to her, almost pushing Grant aside. She let him take the towel away to reveal a long cut on her forehead that had obviously gushed blood and was now still flowing. Hank put the towel back. Megan’s expression was alert. She showed no signs of shock, plenty of anger. She didn’t exactly shoo Hank away but she clearly didn’t want to be comforted. I stood where I was.
‘What happened?’ I said. ‘Megan. .’ Grant began, but she waved at him to be quiet. ‘I got back from buying coffee to find this fucker backing out of our space, sloshing petrol around. I threw the coffees at him and tried to kick him in the balls. He hit me with the petrol can. I got in one kick before I dropped. He fell down the stairs. I hope he broke his bloody neck.’ ‘He didn’t, love,’ I said, ‘but you did pretty good.’
Grant said, ‘You macho types. Time to call the police.’
Hank had picked up on Megan’s attitude and abandoned the solicitude. He eased Grant towards the passage.
‘We’ll take it from here,’ he said. ‘Might need a statement. Did you see this guy?’
Grant shook his head. ‘What’re you going to do about the petrol?’
‘Be careful with matches,’ Hank said.
‘Petrol and blood,’ Megan said, ‘an exciting combination.’
