'Bullshit.'
We went for a walk in Camperdown Park. Megan gazed fondly at the infants in strollers and the children playing on the grass. I've never prayed in my life, but if I could I'd have prayed that everything would turn out well for her.
Standish and May Ling were waiting for me in the empty office. Standish seemed to have regained some composure and was nattily dressed again. May Ling wore an olive green pants suit and a strained, almost hostile, expression. Her makeup and hair were perfect and when she moved there was a faint waft of perfume. No one shook hands.
'Drink, Hardy?'
'Sure.'
Standish and I had scotch; May Ling had white wine. We sat around the table in the recess of Standish's office.
'It won't be a surprise to you,' I said, 'that Selim Houli and Freddy Wong have formed some sort of partnership with finding Richard Malouf as a focus.'
They nodded.
Any further contact from either of them?'
'No,' Standish said.
'I wonder why they've backed off.'
'Who knows? We're just glad they have. What more can you tell us?'
'Malouf's wife made a false identification of the body.'
'Why?' May Ling said.
'Houli terrorised her.'
Standish took a sip of his drink. May Ling watched him. He was pacing himself. 'I can believe that. So Malouf is alive.'
'Maybe. At least we know he wasn't the corpse in the car.'
May Ling said, 'Why is he so important?'
'Your cousin Freddy didn't tell you?'
Her sculpted lips tightened. She didn't like me putting it that way but she simply shook her head.
I took a slug of Standish's very good scotch. 'It's the big question. It's what led Freddy and Houli to scare the shit out of you and Houli and his mate to work me over. That's the easy part. Stefan Nordlung was murdered and the man Rosemary Malouf identified was killed as well. It's all connected but we don't know how. The police are working on it.'
Standish almost spilled his drink. 'You didn't…'
'Your name hasn't come up so far. I know you've got something to hide, perhaps lots of things. I know you were involved in some dodgy stuff with Nordlung, but unless you actually know where Malouf is-'
'I don't!'
I looked at May Ling. She shook her head, again.
'Are you sure?'
Her fists clenched, the lacquered nails biting into her palms. 'Yes. Yes!'
'Then I don't much care about what you might have been up to. The thing is to find Malouf if it can be done.'
I'd printed out the photograph of Gretchen Nordlung. I put it on the table and leaned back. 'Sister?' I said. Another cousin, perhaps?'
The look May Ling gave me would've scaled fish. She put her glass down as if it offended her to be drinking with me. 'I worked for another solicitor before coming to Miles,' she said. 'He had frequent dealings with people in your line of work. Detestable probers into people's lives. Nasty turners-over of rocks.'
'Some rocks need to be disturbed. You haven't answered my question.'
For a moment I thought she was going to turn to Standish for support, but a glance at him showed her that he was interested in her answer too. She came as close to being flustered as I imagine she ever got. The private school accent even slipped a bit. 'Yes, she's my sister. So what?'
'Gretchen.'
'Yes, she's ashamed of being Chinese. I'm surprised she hasn't had her eyes straightened and her hair bleached.'
'I want to talk to her and I want you to pave the way.'
Standish evidently thought it time for him to play a part. 'Why, Hardy?'
'Boats,' I said. 'Boats have a lot to do with all this somehow. I phoned Mrs Nordlung, she told me where her husband was and within an hour he was dead. It looked as though Houli's enforcer Yusef Talat killed him, perhaps scared him to death. Houli's technique seems to be to get people to alert him to what's going on. I want to know if there's a connection between Gretchen Nordlung and Houli, or with Freddy Wong for that matter.'
'I didn't know you had a sister,' Standish said. 'I gather you're not close? You didn't go to Stefan's funeral. He was your brother-in-law.'
May Ling flared, 'Neither did you and he was your client.' She picked up her glass and had another sip. 'I try not to be close, but it's hard in our community to cut yourself off. And she clings, when she needs to, and that can be at any time.'
'Can you arrange to meet her?' I said.
'With you along?'
'Absolutely.'
Standish swilled the dregs of his drink in his glass. He wanted another but he didn't want May Ling to see his need and he didn't want me to see his dependence on her. A tough choice. He reached for the bottle and topped himself up.
'Jesus, Hardy,' he said. 'If… Gretchen is under Houli or Freddy's control they're likely to turn up at this meeting.'
I nodded. 'That'd be interesting, wouldn't it?'
May Ling looked worried, a frown line disturbing the satin-smooth brow. 'What game are you playing?'
'The only one I know,' I said. 'Push the buttons and see what pops.'
17
The venue for the meeting, at lunch the following day, was a cafe at Circular Quay. Fine by me; plenty of people about and I like to see the ferries at work. A bit of didgeridoo goes down well, too. It wasn't quite May Ling's kind of place though, a touch too much of the common people, and she struck me as an indoors woman, the place where she did her best work. That complexion hadn't been subjected much to sun, wind and rain. A bit of a threat on this day. The winter sun was strong and she had mounted massive protection-a broad brimmed hat and sunglasses that seemed to cover most of her face.
She'd dressed down for the occasion in trousers, medium heels and a sweater and I wondered what this meant about her relationship with her sister. The scarf and gloves she wore added a touch of elegance, but she clearly wasn't trying to outshine another woman.
I watched her approach, cleaving through the tourists and lunchtimers, expecting them to part, which they mostly did.
'Mr Hardy,' she said as she deposited her bag on the table and took off her gloves.
'Ms Ling,' I said. 'Sydney at its best.'
'Which puts it way behind a lot of other places.'
'You think so? I don't agree.'
'You wouldn't. I hope you're ready for… Gretchen. She devours men.'
'Why here? She lives in Seaforth.'
'So she's a bit out of her comfort zone. Gretchen'll find this very tacky…'
'She'll have trouble parking her Beemer or Porsche or whatever.'
