Peter Corris: The Reward

Leo put half of his drink down in a gulp. Youre a lifesaver. Now what the fuck do you want?

Same old Leo. Oh, not much. Just keeping you up to date on the investigation that might still pay off big for us.

Its us now is it? Thats all bullshit, Hardy.

Maybe. Did you know Barry White was dead?

Leo finished his drink and reached for the drawer. I held it shut. He rolled his eyes. I mightve known. Yeah, I heard about Barry. I guess Rinso finally got him, eh?

Rinso?

Give us another drink and Ill tell you about it. Truth is I was never too happy about spending time with Barry like Id been doing lately in case Rinso turned up.

I was all at sea and another violation of hospital rules seemed the only way to enlightenment. I made Grogan another drink and sipped my own while he told me about the long-running feud between Freddy Rinso Persil and Barry White. Apparently White had got Persils daughter hooked on heroin, had supplied her and used her and sold her the junk that had killed her. Persil was in gaol at the time, but hed sworn to kill White. According to Grogan, he was released three days before White was shot. I tried to think back to Whites panicked phone call. Id assumed then that what was alarming him had to do with the Beckett case, but that was just an assumption.

Whats the matter, Hardy, Grogan mocked. Some sweet theory gone out the fucking window?

Maybe. What about you, Leo. Who gave you the heave-ho?

He laughed. Nobody. I was pissed and I fell down the fucking steps. Lucky Ive got this good hospital insurance. Part of my package. They reckon I might be partly paralysed but thats bullshit. Between you and me, Im faking it a bit sos theyll keep on their toes.

His second drink was gone and he was looking at the drawer again. I was having mixed feelings. If all this was true, then Claudia was off the hook as an actual and would-be killer. But could Grogan be trusted? Then something hed said came back to me.

Leo, you said youd been spending time with Barry White lately. I only heard about two meetingssounds like there was a few more.

Youre a prize prick, Hardy, but youre not dumb. Yeah, there was another meeting. Give me another drink and Ill tell you about it. Make it quick, theyll be coming around to feed us some fucking slop soon.

I gave Leo a weaker drink and showed him what was left in the bottle before putting it back in the drawer. He nodded and took a more judicious sip.

This woman came to see me. What she didnt know about the fucking Beckett case wasnt worth knowing. She knew Id been on the team and she asked me if I knew anything, anything at all, that was off about the investigation. Well, I hadnt thought about it for years, but I remembered that scene between Johnno and Peg, just like I told it to you.

For the second time, I said.

Leo swigged his drink. He was feeling pleased with himself now. For the fucking third time. We get together again and this time shes got Barry White along. I go through it again. Then she sets up the meeting with you and Barry and I have to act it out the way Barry told you it happened.

I never knew coppers were such good actors.

Are you kidding? You have to be, the fucking bullshit you have to say in court and write down and tell the brass, not to mention the crims, gets you that way. Anyway, thats it. I asked for a monkey and I got it. She and Barry set you up to do whatever you fucking did. And you still havent told me what that was.

You say she knew everything about the case. What do you mean?

I mean every fucking thing. All about the girl who went missing, the family, the lot. It seemed to me she wasnt even surprised when I told her about the note and that. It was as if she already knew about it.

So, do you think she was a secretary to the old man, or the mother, or worked for the lawyer, or something like that?

Be buggered, Leo said. I reckon she was one of the kidnappers, or knew them, and shed come up with a way to have a go at the reward money.

Took her a long time.

Leo shrugged. Playing safe. Maybe something changed in the set-up. Maybe shed finally decided it was time to dob someone in.

Yeah, maybe.

Theyre late with the fucking lunch.

I thought you said it was slop.

It is, but it breaks up the day. He raised his almost empty glass. Itll go down a bit better with this inside me.

Watch out they dont smell your breath. I took a deep breath myself and asked the question Id been holding back. What did she look like, Leo, this woman.

Fucking good-looker, Hardy. Too good for you.

Be specific

Leo shrugged and his flabby jowls bounced.

Tallish, great figure, good tits and arse, everything. She wore big dark glasses and that sort of makes it hard to describe her face.

Hair?

Dark. Funny thing was, I kept feeling that Id met her before.

Marrickville Park is my kind of placea big, open space, roughly mown with a football oval, plenty of trees, not too many flowers and some grass tennis courts tucked away in one corner. The croquet lawn in the opposite corner is a bit of an anomaly, but live and let live. You dont see grass tennis courts much any more. They remind me of the great days of Australian tennisHoad and Rosewall, Laver and Emerson, Newcombe and Roche. They werent such great days in other waysBob Menzies, six oclock closing, Vietnambut I yearn for them sometimes when I hear about crack and child pornography and the hole in the ozone layer.

I parked in Frazer Street and wandered through the park to the courts, kicking at pine cones. I was having trouble being objective about this twisting, turning mess of a case I had on my hands. Id started out greedy for a hundred thousand dollars, had entertained thoughts of a whole lot more money and now was mostly hoping that Claudia Vardon, or whatever her name was, wasnt too deep in the criminal soup. Who was I to be judgmental? Id recently killed a man, falsified evidence and served a gaol term. As a private investigator I was more or less on probation. My personal needs were greater than my professional standards and I knew it. Had always known it.

Two good players were on the courtsa baseliner and net-rusher. The baseliner had a double-fisted backhand like Agassi and the serve-volleyer had obviously modelled his game on Edbergs. It had always seemed to me that a serve-volley player should beat a baseliner because that game requires a high passage over the neteasy meat for the volleyer. It hadnt proved true over the years, but here on a suburban court, with a couple of fit A-graders at work, it was. The surface made the difference. The grass took the Edberg-style underspin and flat shots and kept the ball low. The Agassi clone couldnt get topspin on either side and had to hit up. Stefan was there at the net and Andre was dead. I felt like applauding. But it would be like applauding the dinosaurs. Id read that less than 5 per cent of professional tennis is played on grass these days.

I wasnt convinced that Claudia was one of the kidnappers, or an associate of one. It didnt seem to fit. Against that, Peggy Hawkins was certainly just such a player in the game. Why not someone similar from the opposing side that turned out to be unopposed? It was all confused by my feelings for her which were mixed to say the very least. The strong sexual attraction had to be balanced against the ruthless way shed used and manipulated me. My ribs were still sore and I still had sutures in my torn ear and I felt humiliated about being delivered home like a gift-wrapped package. I had a strong wish to meet up with those three blokes again with the odds better balanced.

As I watched the balls go over the net and hit the fences with the force good players can generate, I realised that the best way to resolve all my dilemmas was to act like the volleyertake the high ground and the initiative. I had to try to find Claudia Vardon before she phoned me and started calling the shots all over again. It had to be Claudia whod met with Leo Grogan and set the ball rolling. The dark hair was no problem.