Peter Corris - Matrimonial Causes

‘Yep, apart from Meadowbank. I didn’t get their names though.’

Joan poured the last of the bottle and accepted another rollie. I was feeling a lot better, considerably cooled down externally and internally, and relaxed by her calm, intelligent manner. I was confident that Joan would come up with something to help, but suddenly I remembered how I had sheltered Ernie Glass. I’d got careless, let my tongue run away with me, told Joan very much more than I intended and I felt guilty.

‘Look, Joanie’ I said, ‘this is dangerous stuff. I didn’t mean to spill it all quite like this. I wanted some help with something specific.’

She puffed smoke at me and laughed. ‘Big deal. I’ve got bigger secrets than this inside my head, Mister Hardy. And I’ve got the journalist’s protection, remember? If I get pushed too hard I can publish.’

‘Not if you’re dead, you can’t.’

‘True. It does sound like pretty heavy stuff and I’ve got a feeling there’s more than a batch of easy divorces behind it, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yeah, but what?’

‘I can do some work on it. Discreetly. Redding won’t be hard to sniff around. The good doctor’s a bit trickier, but there’re ways. Don’t look so worried, Cliff. This is my business. You’re doing me a favour by putting me on to it.’

‘You didn’t see that girl dead in her flat.’

‘I’ve seen ‘em. Now, something specific?’

I drank the rest of my wine and considered what to say. I was imbued with the idea that men protected women, even though I’d met plenty of women who needed no protection from anyone. I’d been shot at by women in Malaya. It was an idea that belonged in mothballs along with cardigans and tea cosies and the non-working wife. My own wife was working a thousand miles away and I’d already told Joan almost as much as I knew. Still, it was a hard idea to shake and I hesitated.

‘You’re pissing me off, Cliff,’ Joan said. ‘You know who hauled all these flagstones in here? Me. I’ve hitchhiked all over this country and Europe and Asia. I’ve got a. 32 Beretta inside and I’ll take you on at target-shooting any day.’

‘The specific thing is Chalky Teacher.’

‘Jesus, how is he involved?’

‘My information is that he killed Meadowbank.’

‘How did your informant come to know this?’

‘He wouldn’t tell me. Can you describe Teacher physically?’

She closed her eyes and leaned back. Her throat was a long slim brown column and the skin around her jaw and neck was taut. ‘I’ve seen him once or twice. He’s a small man. Not more than five-six. About my size, actually. Light build. He used to be a boxer. What’s the division above the one Lionel Rose was in?’

‘Rose was a bantam. The next one up’s featherweight. Nine-stone limit.’

‘That’s it. He was an amateur featherweight boxer. He’s not a featherweight crim, though.’

‘So I gather. How would I go about finding him? Do you know where he drinks? Who he hangs around with?’

‘He doesn’t drink. I know that much. I don’t know about the rest of it off-hand, but I suppose I could find out if I made a few calls. Bit hard on Sunday, though. How urgent is it?’

‘Very. You sound reluctant.’

‘Now it’s me who’s worried on your behalf, Cliff. Teacher is very bad news. You mustn’t even think of going up against him on your own. I won’t help you do that. And if you start asking around about him in the pubs and so on you’ll find yourself in big trouble.’

She got out another bottle and we talked about it for a while as we lowered the level. Eventually I agreed to go to Gallagher with whatever I got before confronting Teacher. It had been in my mind to do something like this anyway.

‘Promise?’ Joan said.

‘I promise.’

‘Who is this Gallagher?’

‘He’s a D at Darlinghurst. Bit younger than some, bright, ambitious. There seems to be a bit of subtlety about him.’

‘All right. I’ll ring a few people tonight. Might have something for you later or in the morning.’

I thanked her and stood up to leave. She got up as well and we were standing there, only a foot apart, both with a fair bit of wine inside us and conspiratorially involved. I put my hands on her shoulders.

She stiffened. ‘Where is she, Cliff? Cyn.’

‘She’s in Queensland on a job.’

‘How’re things between you?’

‘So-so.’

‘Work on it.’ She lifted my hands off, leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek. I wanted more and reached for her but she stepped away quickly. The better part of a bottle of wine hadn’t slowed her down.

‘Not a good idea,’ she said. ‘In fact a very bad idea. Let’s keep this on a business footing. If something publishable comes out of it, I’ve got the inside track, right?’

I picked up my tobacco and lighter. ‘Sure. Of course.’

‘Don’t sulk, Cliff. You’ll be glad when you get home. Let me tell you something. You know when this garden really started to grow properly?’

I shook my head. She took my arm and guided me towards the path down the side of the house. ‘When I finally got over the bloke after you.’

Joan didn’t call until around 8.30 the following morning. I’d slept badly and was edgy, wondering if she’d drawn a blank or changed her mind. I snatched up the phone.

‘Hardy.’

‘Don’t say it like a battle cry. This is Joan. I’ve got a line on your man. Do I have your promise you’ll contact that cop as soon as I’ve told you?’

‘Sorry, Joan. Yes, I’ll do that.’

‘Right. Well, Teacher’s around, that’s the first thing. Wouldn’t help you much if he’d been in New Zealand for the last six months, would it? He’s a hard man to pin down though-lives mostly in hotels and “with friends”, if you get the idea. The last address I could get was 103 Botany Street, Randwick, but I’m told that he’s not often there.’

I wrote the address in my notebook. ‘Where is he often?’

‘Your grammar’s lousy. He works for a bookie named Max Wilton. The word is Max is into a few other things as well and needs someone like Chalky by his side. Wilton lives in Randwick, too. Tonier address, Flat 8, 1 Glen Avenue. Said to be quite a pad.’

‘Is he often there?’

‘Better. Yes, and he’s often at the track riding horses and picking up information for Wilton and also in Centennial Park, jogging, and at the Bondi baths, swimming.’

‘Where does he lift weights and practise his fencing? When does he get time to read?’

‘It’s no joke, Cliff. A couple of the people I spoke to sounded very scared of him, and they aren’t wimps themselves.’

‘OK. That’s great, Joanie. Just one thing-was there mention of an association between Teacher and any private detectives?’

‘I don’t think so. No, I’m sure there wasn’t, but something rings a bell in that connection.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t place it. I’ll let you know if it comes to me. Give me your office number.’

I did and she rang off after urging caution again. She didn’t make a point of it, but I knew I was greatly in her debt. The sort of information she’d given me wasn’t easily teased out. Some head-kickers, collectors, standover men strut around the town like they own it and can be found by anyone, any time, especially by journalists and cops. Characters like Teacher played it differently preferring to keep their heads down and operate on the quiet. Joan must have called in some favours and given some undertakings to get the dope. I hoped I’d be able to keep my promises to her.

I showered and shaved. My nose had returned almost to its normal crooked shape and my other aches and pains had eased. I made a pot of coffee, rolled my first Drum of the day and called Detective Ian Gallagher.