Peter Corris - The Big Score

‘I marked you down as a concerned neighbour, whether you knew him well or not.’

‘You’re right. He was renting, but I never had any trouble from him. Didn’t keep the place up very well but the owner’s a… Well, the hospital people only talked to me because I was the one who phoned the ambos. Apparently he’s got no family. They told me he’s in a coma and it’s touch and go.’

‘When was this? Where’s the police crime scene tape?’

‘Some kids nicked it. Two days ago. Hey, who’re you with all these questions?’

But I’d got what I needed from Ted. I gave him a salute and I was on my way. I rang the hospital, but with no right to ask all they would tell me was that Mr McCafferty was in intensive care. That could mean a lot of things, none of them good for me. Would anyone bash a man into a coma to steal a manuscript? It didn’t seem likely and perhaps the attack on McCafferty had nothing to do with Theo and his opus. Impossible to say.

Being unable to talk to McCafferty, my only other point of contact was the agent. Phillip Weiss had an office in Paddington. I phoned and was told he was out of town for the day. The woman asked me my business and I gave her a very general account. I made an appointment for the following morning. Then I rang Rosemary Kingston and let her know how things stood.

‘That’s distressing,’ she said.

‘Yeah, especially for McCafferty. Did Theo have a lawyer representing him at the trial?’

‘Not really. You’ll recall that he had no assets. He had a lawyer friend who just went through the motions. There was no serious defence and Theo didn’t really want to mount one. He was counting on contrition getting him a reasonable sentence and it worked. Why d’you ask?’

‘I don’t know really. I just thought Theo might have discussed things with him and mentioned a name or two. Could be useful in trying to find out who might be interested enough to assault someone in order to get hold of the manuscript, if there is one.’

‘You’re carrying your scepticism a bit too far, surely?’

‘I’ll start believing in it when I meet someone who’s seen it. Do you have the name of the lawyer?’

She did and she gave it to me along with the phone number. Efficient person, Rosemary. Too efficient? I lined up an appointment with Courteney Talbot for a few hours after the agent. A busy day coming up and I’d done all I could for now. Time to go home, ring my live-in, live-out partner Lily Truscott, and see if she was free for the night. The case wasn’t an earner yet but it might be, and I thought I could shout us a decent meal on the strength of it.

I had my hand on the car door when the mobile rang.

‘Mr Hardy?’

‘Right.’

‘This is Detective Sergeant Rule, Parramatta police. We understand you telephoned the Parramatta hospital today enquiring about the condition of Colin McCafferty.’

These days they’ve got you in the crosshairs as soon as you draw some money or make a phone call.

‘That’s true,’ I said.

‘Why?’

‘He’s a friend of a friend.’

‘Why didn’t the friend make the call?’

‘He had reasons.’

‘That’s not a satisfactory answer.’

‘It’s all I’m prepared to give you at this stage, Sergeant.’

‘We have your occupation down as private enquiry agent. That entitles you to no privileges whatsoever in regard to withholding information.’

‘I know. All I can say is that it’d cause you a lot of trouble to haul me in and it wouldn’t be worth your while. I might have something useful to contribute later.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yeah. You’ve got my number and you know where to find me. Give me your number and we’ll stay in touch. Tell you what, you let me know if and when McCafferty’s able to talk and I’ll tell you what my connection is.’

‘You’ve got a fuckin’ nerve.’

‘Is it a deal?’

He cut the call but I had a feeling he’d cooperate. The bashing of a prison guard was a fairly important matter whether the man died or not, and if DS Rule had no leads he’d be smart to play along. Couldn’t be sure, though, particularly about how long his patience would last. I rang Lily from home and found she was keen to go for a feed and whatever might follow. Lily lives in Greenwich.

‘Great,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it over your side and your bedroom.’

‘I know what that means. Who’s after you-Philip Ruddock, Alan Jones, Mr Big? Never mind, see you when you get here, if you do.’

We had a good night as we always do-a North Sydney eatery, a walk, and long, slow lovemaking-all the better for not being every night. I drove to Paddington feeling in harmony with the world, a mood I had to jerk myself out of-not appropriate in my profession.

Phillip Weiss’s office was in a tiny two-storey terrace in a narrow one-way, closely parked street. I had to circle a few blocks to get the car anywhere near it. The Weiss Literary Consultancy was a small operation with a female secretary who probably doubled as several other things. She was fortyish, bookish-looking and efficient. She said that Phillip had an office upstairs but would be down in a minute and we could have our meeting at her desk while she went upstairs in his place. Meanwhile, would I like coffee?

A voice preceded its owner down the stairs. ‘He’s a bloody private eye, Claire, and it’s after eleven. The man wants a drink.’

Weiss was large in every way-tall and thick through. He had a head of wiry grey hair and the facial features of a man who enjoyed life, with laughter lines and a wide, smiling mouth. He had a long-neck bottle of Coopers in one hand and when I shook the other I wasn’t surprised at its strength. For a literary consultant he’d pass muster as a wharfie. He shooed Claire up the stairs in a non-objectionable, affectionate way, sat down at her desk and waved me to a chair. I took the pile of books from it and sat. He produced a bottle opener, flicked the top off and took two glasses from a shelf behind him. He poured with a practised hand and pushed one glass across.

‘Claire’s note was almost cryptic,’ Weiss said, ‘but my guess is you’re here about Theodore Baldwin.’

'Theodore,' I said. 'I suppose he is, but he's Theo to me. I guess Theodore would look good on a book cover and spine.'

'Certainly would. I hope you're here to tell me the manuscript's on its way. From what Theo told me on the phone I'm not surprised there's a serious level of security involved.'

I studied him closely. I haven't had a lot to do with literary types but I imagine, from all the reading they do, they must know a few tricks about dissembling. But Weiss betrayed no such signs. Maybe it was the residue of my cheerful mood, but I was inclined to trust him. I shook my head.

‘No such luck, Mr Weiss. Things have got sticky.’

I brought him up to speed with everything that had happened. He drank his beer and listened without interrupting. I took a good gulp of my drink when I’d finished.

He put his glass down as the phone rang. He pressed a button and diverted the call upstairs. ‘You say McCafferty might die?’

‘Comas are dodgy. The thing is, it’s all so uncertain. If McCafferty was a regular smuggler-out of stuff from the gaol there could be all sorts of reasons why he’d be attacked-disgruntled former prisoners or pissed-off people on the outside. On the other hand, if Theo’s book is as hot as he says and word leaked out

‘It could be ashes by now. More hopefully, it could be sitting quietly in McCafferty’s house. The funny-no, the strange thing is, not many books are written on typewriters now. With anything done on a computer you have backup options, as I’m sure you know.’

I nodded. ‘I have a journalist partner.’