Peter Corris - Matrimonial Causes

‘I’ve seconded Detective Gallagher onto this team, Hardy,’ Loggins said. ‘He’s picked up some information relevant to our problem. Ian, over to you.’

I tensed. Was Gallagher going to double-cross me? Tell all I knew, claim credit for it somehow and still dangle me as a bait for Chalky Teacher? Gallagher lit a cigarette and began talking. After a few sentences, I relaxed. He said he’d heard that a very valuable commodity was at stake in the Meadowbank divorce.

Loggins grinned. ‘Wait till you hear this,’

‘A knighthood,’ Gallagher said.

Loggins got his reaction-I was very surprised. ‘A what?’

‘Going rate’s fifty grand,’ Gallagher said. ‘Cash down. The whisper is that Mrs Beatrice Meadowbank is lining up to marry a bloke who’s paid his money. He won’t get the gong though, if he’s linked with a woman who’s cited in a divorce case. That’s why Meadowbank was providing the co-re so his wife looks pure and innocent.’

‘And why it was bad news when he looked like backing out,’ Loggins said. ‘That was a useful contribution from you, Hardy, courtesy of your client.’

I was getting confused. Had I passed that on to Gallagher? I wasn’t sure. I nodded modestly. ‘Who’s the knight-to-be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gallagher said. ‘I’m working on it, now that Bob’s given me a freer hand.’

This was tending in the right direction. I rolled a cigarette and concentrated on getting the ends right. ‘Still a bit messy, isn’t it? For Mrs M, I mean. Hubby shot down in the street…’

‘I’m a Catholic,’ Loggins said. ‘Marrying a widow’s OK and the innocent party in a divorce case isn’t too bad these days. The guilty party’s out, but. I reckon Mrs Meadowbank’s intended is a Catholic.’

Gallagher nodded. ‘It’s a strong possibility, Bob. The thing is, Hardy, this is all very delicate-as you can imagine.’

‘Political,’ I said.

Loggins removed his half-glasses. ‘Right. I want to keep it all tight among the three of us until there’s something solid to go on.’

I couldn’t help letting a sceptical look come over my face. ‘Inspector, this is the sort of thing that gets tucked away. You know that as well as I do.’

‘No!’ Loggins said fiercely. ‘I don’t know that. This is a criminal matter. Two fucking homicides that I want off the books.’

Gallagher stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Fifty thousand dollars is quite a lot of money. It doesn’t just go into one pocket. This can lead in a lot of different directions.’

I was putting off asking Loggins the big question. I looked at Gallagher. ‘Can you tell me where you picked this stuff up?’

‘From a man named Vernon Morris. He’s a clerk in Alistair Menzies’ office. I believe you know him.’

‘I’ve met him, yes.’

‘He got wind of it and he owed me a favour.’

‘OK,’ Loggins said. ‘The question is, what happens next? That’s where you come in, Hardy.’

Loggins had arranged to give an interview to a reporter in which my name would be mentioned ‘off the record’. The reporter was notorious for not respecting this convention and the implication would be that I knew what lay behind the Meadowbank and Farquhar murders. He intended to talk to Andrew Perkins and allow the same impression to be conveyed. Loggins was convinced that Perkins was more deeply involved than it presently appeared.

‘Mrs Meadowbank went to the country straight after the funeral,’ Gallagher said. ‘She gets back today. You’re going to see her and make a bloody nuisance of yourself. If she knows what’s going on, word will travel.’

I didn’t like the sound of that, and said so.

Tough luck, Hardy,’ Loggins snapped. ‘We’ve got enough on you to put your pissy little business down the dunny.’

‘I thought you liked me, Inspector.’

‘I like the idea of clearing this mess up and sticking it to a few people who deserve it, like Perkins and these idiots who want to be sirs. I like the thought of promotion for Detective Gallagher and myself…’

‘Good motivation,’ I said. ‘Assistant Commissioner Robert Loggins. Sound ring to that.’

‘Fuckin’ oath,’ Loggins said.

They were doing the rough old cop, smooth young cop, and not with any great finesse. Gallagher cut in with, ‘I can possibly do a bit through the professional channels with Morris. He’s decidedly dodgy.’

I hated ever word of it-the attitudes, the contempt and condescension-and I couldn’t help being bolshie. ‘Detective Gallagher’s got a law degree,’ I said to Loggins. ‘Did you know that?’

‘I don’t give a shit,’ Loggins said. ‘Are you going to do what you’re told, or not?’

‘How about my protection?’

Loggins relaxed. This was more his territory-people in fear. ‘I understand you’ve got a wife. Any kids?’

‘No. And my wife’s in Queensland for a bit.’

‘Good. That makes things easier. This is an eastern suburbs matter-Perkins, Meadowbank, Farquhar-all on that side. You and Gallagher are inner-west types. That’s good, too. Gallagher’ll look after you round the clock. He’s Darlinghurst-based, so he’s got some idea of the area. I’m a Coogee man myself. You’ll be all right, Hardy.’

‘I grew up in Maroubra,’ I said. ‘Maybe we can all go surfing when this is over.’

Loggins consulted his watch. ‘We can’t hang onto this room much longer. Have you got any serious problems, Hardy?’

I considered the question seriously. Loggins had come up with a more or less credible plan along the lines he’d outlined previously. Gallagher had supplied a new wrinkle that suggested he knew a useful thing or two and was in touch with the right people. I didn’t like the idea of being a worm on a hook, but Gallagher had apparently kept the faith about my information, hadn’t he? We had another, more positive, agenda. I thought I caught a slight nod from Gallagher. I gave the moment a bit of air, poured some water and drank it slowly, collected up my smoking materials and stowed them away in my pockets. I pushed my chair back.

‘I’ll go along with it all, Inspector. As you say, I haven’t got much choice. I assume I can get my bloody gun back at the front desk? And that I can claim expenses from the police department if I run the mileage up.’

‘Well, that was bright,’ Gallagher said as we left the building. ‘What did you want to go and antagonise him for?’

‘I didn’t like his attitude. I notice he didn’t issue you with a permit to break down any door you liked’

Gallagher laughed. He’d been tense in the meeting but he was visibly relaxing now. We turned the corner into Liverpool Street. I’d left my Falcon in the Goulburn Street car park. I had my gun on my hip and the meeting had made me edgy and anxious for some action. Gallagher strode along beside me. He was about two inches shorter than me but he was athletic and fit and had no trouble keeping up. He said he’d walked from the Darlinghurst station-a fair trot on a warm morning.

‘We should have mentioned the ballistics results,’ Gallagher said. ‘No match. Meadowbank and Farquhar were killed with different guns.’

I shrugged. We entered the car park and climbed the stairs to the level where I was parked. Gallagher’s heels rang on the concrete and echoed in the enclosed space. He was moving and acting very confidently so I assumed he had things to tell me. I unlocked the car.

‘We’ve got a few calls to make,’ he said. ‘Be better to use your car than one of ours. Unless you meant that crack about the mileage.’

I drove down the ramps, paid the fee and came out in Castlereagh Street. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind,’ I said, ‘or do I have to guess?’