of a gang war. The broadcaster had been speculating on the lines of influence operating in that same war.
These details relating to Griffin’s client weren’t relevant to Harrigan’s current investigation. But the item did prove that Joel Griffin had been at Parramatta Court House the day Ian Blackmore had disappeared; the day Blackmore had supposedly been intending to meet him there. What if one day Blackmore had been reading the paper and spotted Griffin’s name? This trial was the kind of item to make it to the newspaper, even if just in brief. According to his sister, Blackmore would have tried to get in touch with Griffin, probably immediately, to see if he was the same Joel Griffin he’d known at Camp Sunshine.
Blackmore had known both Craig Wells and the real Joel Griffin. If you were ruthless enough, it wouldn’t be too hard to force a man into signing his own suicide note. One way to keep a busy police force at bay. Particularly if you had already concocted an accusation of child molestation. There was just enough time here for someone to have done that. Someone moving quickly against an unexpected threat.
Blackmore was dead, he had to be. Probably murdered the very night he’d gone missing. But someone had still put his name to the bottom of a letter to Frank Wells, just as someone had appropriated Jennifer Shillingworth’s name for a property trust. Ghosts, both of them, made use of by someone with a nasty sense of humour. Just as Joel Griffin, on the basis of everything Harrigan had encountered to date, had to be a ghost as well.
Sara McLeod had been an attractive redhead. Was she also Nadine Patterson? Two ruthless people working together. That would be a formidable combination, one any person with a sense of self-preservation would avoid. Harrigan put Griffin’s card away. He wasn’t staying out of their way. He was coming for them. He just had to keep pushing for some more information, something that would bring some provable facts out of the shadows. Something that wasn’t just his own speculation, however compelling that speculation was. So far all he had was guesswork. He locked his gun away and left to collect his daughter.
That night, the three of them had what was almost a normal evening. As always, Grace cooked; she liked to cook, it relaxed her, she said. Ellie was in a happy mood, absorbed in her own play. Harrigan felt it as someone might feel an Indian summer, that interval of warm sunshine before the weather turns bad. It was enough for the moment. In life you should take what’s given to you, because you never know when you might lose it. He had learnt that lesson too often in his own life to let anything of value slip past him. Although neither could tell the other what they’d done with their day, they still seemed to understand each other past the need for words.
Tomorrow night was his book launch. He had dedicated his book to her. Until recently, his life had seemed a gift and this was his small way of acknowledging it to her. He asked if she would be there. She smiled.
‘Of course I will. It’s special.’
‘Just a book. Just my rantings about how the system doesn’t work.’
‘No. It’s special.’
She was asleep before he came to bed. After this quiet evening, her face was still drawn and pale. Again they slept, waiting for the next step in the dance.
17
At Chipping Norton, Duncan Wong was again the one who opened the door to Grace.
‘We weren’t expecting you to come back,’ he said. ‘Have you got any news? Narelle still won’t talk to us.’
‘No, I don’t, I’m sorry. This is more about seeing how you’ve all been getting on. Has Narelle been out at all?’
‘Once or twice with Dad. Mum doesn’t want to talk to her.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘If she’ll let you in.’
This time when Grace knocked on Narelle’s door, it was opened almost too quickly. Narelle stood there looking pleased with herself. Her brother had already walked away.
‘Yeah, I’ll talk to you,’ she said.
The room was as stuffy as the first time Grace had been in there. There was a carton of cigarettes on the table and a full ashtray. The smell of stale cigarette smoke had grown stronger. Narelle had freshened herself up and was wearing make-up. It made her seem more like a child in dress-up than a young woman in her early twenties. Grace recognised the look: the man you have been praying will call you has finally picked up the phone.
‘How are you, Narelle?’
‘I’m good.’
Grace saw she was nervous.
‘Has anyone been in touch with you lately?’
‘I got a message from Elliot.’
‘Your boyfriend?’
‘Yeah.’
Narelle smiled and took a plain white envelope out of a girlishly pretty china box. Careful about how she handled it, Grace opened it. The note inside was handwritten.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘Someone left it at the restaurant. I got one of the waiters to take messages for me.’
A waiter who would now receive a visit from Orion. Grace hoped it wasn’t someone who was having trouble with their visa.
‘You didn’t burn it.’
‘I know I was supposed to but I wanted to keep it.’
‘That was his name for you. Goddess of the Orchids.’
‘He said Narelle didn’t suit me, I was more exotic than that. So he got me that flat where I could be what I really was. Like the orchids.’
‘I’ll keep this,’ Grace said, tucking it away in her bag.
‘No, you won’t. I want that back!’
‘Not if you want a lift somewhere. I’m making sure no one does the dirty on me.’
Narelle bit her lip. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘No, of course he wouldn’t. I’m just being careful. The deal is this. Elliot wants to meet with you. You have to get yourself somewhere I can pick you up unnoticed. Any ideas?’
‘I’ll go to the restaurant. I can park under cover there. There’s a shopping mall next door. I’ll go through to the mall and meet you in the car park. Is he going to take me somewhere? Did he say?’
‘He wants me to take you to a service centre north of Gosford. He’s going to pick you up there and drive you to Coffs Harbour and then fly you to Cairns. He said he wants to go to Hong Kong with you by yacht.’
Grace almost blushed saying it. Narelle smiled with innocent delight.
‘He talked about doing that. He said I could help him with his business there because I know the language.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be handy. Have you got a passport and money?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got all that.’
‘Bring everything you have that establishes your ID. Your passport, your birth certificate and your driver’s licence. You need to dress anonymously, okay? Put on a tracksuit, something with a hood. Make sure no one can recognise you. But don’t bring any clothes. Elliot will buy you everything new.’
‘Okay. I’ll just bring my bag with my make-up and stuff. And my mobile.’
‘No, don’t bring any of that either. Especially the phone.’
‘I need my phone.’
‘If you bring it, people might trace you on it,’ Grace said.
