Peter Corris: The Reward

Very nice, she said. You havent mucked it all up.

Far from it. Its pretty original. Two out of three fireplaces intact. No aluminium windows.

She laughed. I hate those things.

Me, too. Look, put your bag down and have a good snoop through. Ive had a tough morning and Im going to make a sandwich and have a glass of wine. Would you like something?

She slung her bag at a chair and it landed neatly. Ive had lunch, thanks. Some wine would be great.

I took off my jacket and headed for the kitchen. I heard her going up the stairs and grinned as she hit the step that squeaks like a mouse. I made a cheese and tomato sandwich, finished off the remainder of a bottle of Long Flat White in two swigs and opened another. I had a glass poured for her when she came through to the kitchen.

Its a good house, she said. Youve been here a while?

Mm. Have a drink.

She took a solid sip. I dont think you want to sell this place. You and it seem to go together. I think youd be lost anyplace else.

I heard the low rumbling from above. I pointed at the ceiling. Hang on. Listen.

We stood close together, almost touching, listening to the plane overhead. When it passed she touched me on the shoulder. Not bad at all.

No, thats about it. Come and have a look at the back.

We carried our glasses out into the courtyard that I bricked in a rough fashion when Cyn and I first moved in here a hundred years ago. Grass grows through the cracks and some of the bricks have broken but it doesnt look too bad. Shirley waters the plants and pulls up some of the weeds. A biggish mulberry tree gives some shade and stains a section of the bricks. The plastic outdoor furniture is white-spotted with bird shit.

If you stand on the fence you can see Blackwattle Bay, I said.

She lifted one elegant black shoe. Not in these heels. Its a great place for you. Very spare, very masculine. Dyou mind if I ask what you do for a living?

Im a private detective. You?

I was a solicitor and shouldve stayed with it. Im recently divorced, hence the great house search. The Hunters Hill place is sold and Ill get halfshould be enough to buy something around here. I love Glebe even though its changed. I lived here when I was a student at Sydney.

We both drank wine. We both smiled. Will you go back into practice? I said.

Hell, I dont know. Why?

I need a lawyer.

Her head went back and she laughed. I wanted to kiss her smooth brown throat. Does that mean youve got lots of money or lots of problems?

Prospects of both.

Thats interesting. Im not sure what Im doing. Im very rusty on everything, but we could talk about it.

Good. Whatre you doing tonight?

She finished her wine and looked down at the glass. Nothing. Waiting.

Have dinner with me in Glebe. Indian, Lebanese, Spanish, French, Italian, you name it.

Why not? she said. Indian sounds good. Dyou think I should wear a sari?

You could, I said. You could.

I was as excited as a kid. Amazing how quickly and thoroughly that feeling of attraction to a new person of the opposite sex, when its possibly reciprocated, can change your perspective and priorities. Claudia Vardon would be back at my house at 7 p.m. and Id be ready. Barry White, Peggy Hawkins and the others in the cast of characters associated with the Beckett case all took two places to the rear. I was about to launch into a house-tidying, a bed-changing and buying some supplies when I remembered the appointment at Redfern station. The last thing I needed was a copper arriving on the doorstep that evening to conduct me to the lockup. I carefully hung the suit on a hanger, smoothed out the tie, checked that I had a clean shirt and socks and went off to Redfern in my more usual uniform of drill trousers, open-neck shirt and battered linen jacket.

Detective Sergeant Jack Fowler had evidently done a bit of checking up on me and was puzzled by the results. I was a long-term PEA and a mate of a well-placed senior cop and yet had recently served a prison sentence and been de-licensed for a period. Will the real Cliff Hardy please stand up? He conducted me to a room which wasnt as rough as the ones where they put the frighteners on the junkies nor as pleasant as where they interview child-molesting clergymen.

Wed like to know more about your association with White, he said.

Sorry. Professional matter. Confidential.

You cant run that line.

Im doing it. Look, all I can say is that the matter relates to events a good many years ago. Before you left school, Detective Sergeant. I have no reason to think Whites death is connected to what we were discussing.

Discussing?

Thats as far as it got.

You say youd arranged to meet him at the house.

Thats right.

Some of the blokes there say you seemed agitated.

I knew that was a lie. The men who saw me arrive didnt register anything. Im a busy man.

There was hardly a scrap of paper in the joint. No wallet, no TAB tickets, fuck-all

I shrugged. Your blokes patted me down. I didnt take a thing. Id say that points to Barrys past history catching up with him. Someone cleaned up everything. What kind of gun was used?

He looked at me, trying to gauge my honesty, sincerity, duplicity, but Id been at this game longer than him and he gave it up. He took five sheets of printout from a folder and pushed them across the table. Sign it and you can go. You dont seem too cut up about losing your client.

I hadnt brought a pen. I borrowed his blue ballpoint with a chewed end, read through the statement and signed at the foot of each page near the crosses. In the private sector, you learn to live with these disappointments. I hope you find out who did it. Any leads?

He took back the sheets. Piss off, he said.

Back home the red light on the answering machine was blinking reproachfully. I ignored it and set about putting the house in better order. I ran the gutless vacuum cleaner over the carpets, cleaned the bathroom and toilet and put out some fresh towels. I changed the sheets on the bed and three of the four pillow slips. I emptied the waste-paper baskets and the kitchen tidy and sprayed air freshener around where the air didnt smell fresh.

I wiped down the sink and bench tops, thought about pinching some flowers from other peoples front gardens and decided against it. I ran a squeegee over the kitchen lino and took a few swipes at the coffee pot with steel wool. Id bought wine and Scotch, biscuits and cheese, coffee and milk on the way home. Also mineral water, soap and shampoo and a packet of Trojan lubricated condoms. Be prepared.

I showered, shampooed and shaved as closely as my old electric Philishave would let me. I looked at myself in the mirrorthe lines around the eyes are there for all time and getting deeper; the cheeks have long, parallel grooves in them where the dimples used to be. The only thing you could call an improvement is in the teeth which have brightened up since I stopped smoking and look better since I had the old decayed fillings replaced by ceramic stuff. Expensive but necessary. You fool, I thought. Shell probably make a rock-bottom offer on the house and head for home when you turn it down.

At seven-fifteen Claudia Vardon, wearing a blue silk dress and a white jacket, arrived at my door. An hour later the jacket was on the back of a chair at the Flavour of India restaurant in Glebe Point Road and we were looking at the menu and drinking Wolf Blass chablis. Two hours after that she took off the blue dress and her black underwear and lay down on my bed. Half an hour after that, give or take a few minutes, we were lying under the covers with sweat drying on us and our bodies still locked together and our hands still wandering.

Jesus, she said. I can still feel you in there.