Peter Corris - The Washington Club

‘Anything you can find out about Wilson Katz would be useful.’

‘I don’t think… Hold on. Julius had his books somewhere. Awful self-help sorts of things. Julius laughed about them, rather unpleasantly.’

‘I’d like to see them.’

‘They’re in Vaucluse. I could go there and get them. There’s other stuff I should look through. I should put in an appearance over there anyway, or people’ll forget the horrible place is mine, sort of. That’d give me something to do at least, while you’re off being mysterious.’

‘We should see Stratton together, then I could drive you to Vaucluse and collect you later.’

That left it very open where she would spend the night and neither of us wanted to close anything down. What we’d mapped out was far enough to look ahead. I corked up the rest of the wine, she emptied the ashtray and we went to bed. It was cooler now and she pulled a light cover up over us as we lay close together in the middle of the bed.

‘If I lie on my back I’ll snore,’ I said.

She laughed, let out a monstrous snore and wriggled away. I rolled onto my side. We’d left lights on in the other rooms and the bedroom wasn’t in complete darkness. The last thing I was conscious of before I fell asleep was the outline of my holstered pistol on a chair near the bed.

The Nissan was undisturbed and the mobile phone worked. I made a series of calls, including one to Pete Marinos advising Gatellari of where Claudia would be later in the day. She looked as if she’d like to protest but didn’t. The other calls seemed to amuse her.

The final call was to Cy’s office. Leon Stratton would see us as soon as we got to the city. We didn’t talk much on the drive. Claudia was mildly interested in the fact that she’d been followed and reported on, but no more than that.

‘I’m getting used to it,’ she said. ‘I’ve just realised that there’s a lot of it going on. As soon as you do or say anything that lifts your head out of the shell, antennae pop up everywhere.’

‘I suppose so. Trouble is they’re watching the wrong people a lot of the time.’

‘You’re thinking about Wilson Katz.’

‘I am. Did he ever make a pass at you, anything like that?’

‘Hard to say.’

I was negotiating the bends south of Avalon and couldn’t look at her. ‘How’s that?’

‘He’s on the make all the time. There was so much happening back there I couldn’t think straight, but I remember now. His nickname was Tom-”Tom Cat”. He had a reputation for screwing every willing female he met. I wasn’t willing but he held up the sign just the same. I think it was just a matter of habit with him.’

The Sackville chambers weren’t exactly gloomy, too busy for that, but you got the sense that something was missing and that the place was waiting for a new style to evolve or impose itself. Leon Stratton was a tall, fair-headed character with blue eyes and white teeth. He seemed to be smart and energetic, which is what you want in a lawyer. He was very well up on the Fleischman case but this came out in his responses to what Claudia and I had to say rather than as something he advertised. Impressive. I told him about my interview with Van Kep. He listened closely, then shook his head.

‘Quite unusable, of course, Duress, intimidation, all that. Not that I’m saying you didn’t handle it well, but I can’t see any way for us to apply pressure for him to change his story.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘And Van Kep would know that. He’s flaky, won’t be a good witness for the other side, but he’s more scared of whoever threatened him than of a perjury charge and he’ll hold up, more or less. Still, what I’ve said should help to convince you that Mrs Fleischman had nothing to do with her husband’s death.’

He didn’t respond to that and Claudia and I exchanged looks. Of course it was more complicated than I was prepared to let Stratton know at this point. Even if Van Kep learned that the actual threatener was dead he was still likely to stick to his story just in case and to avoid a perjury charge. All I had were indications of a conspiracy to frame Claudia and not a shred of solid proof. I told Stratton about my meeting with Judith Daniels.

‘Not so good,’ he said. ‘How will she go in court?’

I thought about the woman’s impressive profile and figure, her style. ‘Just fine, if she’s sober, and there’s no reason to think she won’t be.’

‘Quite. Well, there may be a way to discredit her-if she’s had treatment and so on. But the first thing to do is get the trial date put off and an extension of Mrs Fleischman’s bail. Shouldn’t be any problem about that, given the circumstances. Then I suppose I can open talks with the other side, see if they’re willing to give a little.. ‘

‘No,’ Claudia snapped. ‘No deals. I didn’t do this and I won’t be punished for it.’

Stratton pursed his lips and suddenly looked less boyish and handsome. I could see him some years down the track with jowls from too many business lunches and thinning hair. He was a deal-maker, no doubt a shrewd and advantage-seizing one, but not a fighter. Claudia had a head of steam up. I sensed that she’d taken a dislike to Stratton. The strategy he’d proposed for dealing with Judith hadn’t gone down well. But this was dangerous. At this point, we needed his level-keel approach.

‘I’m pursuing some lines of enquiry,’ I said quickly. ‘I think they’re promising and may… open this whole matter out. Do I have your authority to proceed?’

That put the ball right on the service line in Stratton’s court. He was smart enough to see that he could lose the brief if he followed the line of least resistance, and he’d have known that Cy would’ve backed me all, or almost all, of the way. Was he about to break ranks with the revered boss not yet buried? Not his style. He smiled, showing the great teeth and made a note on a pad, showing his keen mind. Although there wasn’t an ashtray in sight, Claudia flicked out a Salem and lit it. A look of annoyance crossed Stratton’s face before he smoothed it away. He was discomforted though-he didn’t have an ashtray, possibly about the only client comforter he didn’t have, and he had no idea of what to do about it.

‘Of course, Mr Hardy. You have carte-blanche, subject to the usual restrictions.’

‘Good. I can get a cheque from Janine?’

‘Have you submitted a progress report?’

‘Cy just wanted a final report.’

He nodded. He was itching to say something like ‘Things are going to change around here,’ but he didn’t. All three of us exchanged nods and we left the office, Claudia nursing the long ash on her cigarette. She dropped it in a pot-plant immediately outside the door and turned to me, smiling that great, toothy smile.

‘What a prick,’ she said.

‘Yes. But we need him for the time being.’

‘He thinks I did it!’

I shook my head and took hold of her arm. She was wearing a collarless white cotton shirt, loose black trousers and medium heels. I wasn’t trying to steer her in any direction, I just wanted to touch her and a hand on the arm is about as much as you can do in legal chambers. ‘Worse than that. I don’t think he cares who did it. He just wants to win, but a win for him, as he sees it, could mean five years or so in gaol for you.’

‘No!’

‘Fucking right, no.’

We moved away from Stratton’s door down a corridor, past the rooms of Cy’s other associates and partners to the general office area where three or four people worked at telephones, word-processors and photocopy machines. Miss Mudlark saw us and I steered Claudia over to her.

‘The funeral’s tomorrow, Mr Hardy,’ she said.

‘I know. I’ll be there.’