Peter Corris - Follow the Money

'You mean May Ling,' she said. 'Who can blame him? She's very attractive and I was a bitch. I can see that now. It won't last.'

'You think you'll get him back?'

'Who knows?' She sipped again. 'This coffee's bitter.'

I grinned. 'Okay, I believe you're not jealous and now I know you're rational. I make lousy coffee. That's enough fencing-how do I find Malouf?'

'We.'

'You'd better explain.'

She pushed the coffee cup aside and drew in a breath. As at our first meeting, her hair was perfectly groomed and her makeup was expert. Her features in repose were unremarkable, but when she smiled or spoke the movement animated them and made her interesting to look at. Standish wouldn't have objected to her money, but it was easy to see why he would have been attracted to her even without it.

Her voice had a hard, determined edge. 'I'm not jealous about Miles anymore as I said, and it's not exactly jealousy I feel about Richard. I knew about the wife, of course, and I imagined there were other women, but May Ling's sister? Something sticks in my gullet about that-the way he used people.'

She waved her hand at the bookshelves. 'You read about people like that, but you don't expect to actually meet them. You don't expect to be one of the people who get used.'

'I'm not sure about that,' I said. 'You're from a privileged background, Felicity. I think you'll find that people from more ordinary circumstances get used all the time.'

She shook her head emphatically. 'No, they get exploited, sure. They're ill-treated, overlooked and ignored. But not used in the way Richard Malouf used me.'

She went on to tell me that in the full throes of her love affair with Malouf he'd asked her for a favour. He'd said he was negotiating an important business deal that involved convincing an investor that he knew about and understood the needs of children.

'It was something to do with persuading someone to sell a property for development on the understanding that there was to be recreation space for children. Richard told this man that he had two children, a boy and a girl. You can guess the rest.'

I said, 'I've been told about his charm, but…'

'Charm doesn't come anywhere near it. I allowed him to have a photograph taken of himself with my two. At that point I'd have done just about anything for him, short of harming the children, of course.'

I nodded.

'But I feel now as if I did harm them. I lied to them about who "that man" was and I came so close to saying "don't tell Daddy" it wasn't funny. Can you understand?'

'The level of deception? I think so. I've been told that Malouf may not even be his real name.'

She shrugged. 'Nothing'd surprise me. Well, when I was told that he'd died I sort of saw it as just part of a tragic love affair. Dramatised it for myself, I suppose.'

'But now?'

She laughed. 'The other day I walked past the development and guess what? No recreation area. I want to see Richard Malouf squirm.'

Malouf had a genius for leaving enemies in his wake. Easy to see, at least on a personal level, why he would've needed to fake his death. I couldn't be sure how many of the affairs he'd conducted with women overlapped, but one thing's for sure-you can't keep that many balls in the air forever. Felicity Pargetter was serious and had to be taken seriously.

'Where is he then?' I said.

'Oh no, we have to lay down the ground rules. I have to be there when you tackle him.'

I wasn't sure that I wanted to tackle him. Malouf was more than twenty years younger than me and soccer, sailing and golf had no doubt kept him fit, but I knew what she meant.

I drank the rest of my coffee, cold and bitter though it was, and pointed to the bookshelves. 'I've got a few of the same books as you-novels and true crime stuff. It's all very interesting but only some of it relates to what really happens. If you're thinking of barging in on this guy, forget it. He could be very dangerous. He might be very frightened.'

'I doubt that, but go on.'

'OK, you know him better than me. I only met him a couple of times. The point is, we'd have to establish for certain where he is and who might be with him. He might or might not be dangerous or frightened, but he's associated with some people who are very dangerous and not at all frightened. I bear the scars.'

'I see. Miles told me you'd been roughed up.'

I laughed. 'Is that what he called it? OK, he's paying, he can call it what he likes, but I plan to go very cautiously on the basis of your information. That's if I think it's credible. If he's there I'll think hard about what to do next and who with. And I'll have the say about how far along the road you travel.'

She threw back her head and laughed. 'You sound like John Howard-"we will say who comes to this county…" '

I groaned. 'Don't say that. Where d'you think he is?'

'You've shaken my confidence, but… Watsons Bay.'

She drove. Why not? Her Saab would make the trip quicker and more comfortably than my old Falcon. She was a good driver, more adventurous than May Ling but not foolhardy. Like most people, I'm anxious about being driven by someone else until I'm sure they're competent. She was and I relaxed. We didn't talk much until we reached Edgecliff. She glanced across as we passed Standish's office.

'Did he tell you about the trouble he's in?' I asked.

'A bit. Some nasty people putting pressure on him. I was surprised. One thing I'll say for Miles, for all his love of stars, he steered clear of the fashionable criminals.'

I knew what she meant: the ex-coppers and jailbirds who sponsored ghosted memoirs and invited the glitterati to the launches. The books mostly ended up on the remainder tables and the socialites didn't stick around when the day in the sun was done. I decided it was time to press her for a few details.

'Why Watsons Bay?'

'He had a boat.'

'We know that. His wife told us.'

She drove on for a while before she spoke again. 'What's she like?'

'Damaged, but recovering. Watsons Bay?'

'He used to pick me up in Double Bay and we'd sail up there. I love sailing.'

Unlike some others; that must'vepleased him, I thought. This sounded promising. 'He had a mooring there?'

'No. He knew someone who had a mooring and he had the use of it sometimes, like the apartment.'

'The apartment?'

She steered smoothly around a truck. 'Look, the yacht was luxurious enough, everything that opened and shut, but the apartment was out of this world.'

'Hang on. Was the boat his?'

'Yacht. I don't know. He behaved as if it was.'

'Didn't it worry you? Someone working in a medium-range accountancy firm with all these toys?'

We passed the Gap and she didn't give the turn-off a glance. She wasn't the type.

'Ever been in love, Mr Hardy?'

'Cliff. Of course.'

'Did you size the person up completely before you knew you were that way?'

I thought of Cyn with her conservative North Shore attitudes I hadn't probably seen and Helen Broadway with commitments to other people and other places that overrode her feelings for me.

'Point taken,' I said.

The sun broke through as we came down into Watsons Bay and the place took on the sparkle it advertises. They say the Isle of Capri is like that-you look across from cloudy Naples and see it out there under a patch of blue sky. I wouldn't know but I wouldn't mind taking a look.

I'd been to Watsons Bay for lunch in the pub beer garden or, if I was flush or someone else was paying, at Doyle's restaurant on the jetty. I'd also had a case fairly recently where one of the parties had used a gym in the area. I mentioned this to Felicity.

'There's a gym in the same street as the apartment block. Belle Vue it's called, would you believe?'