Although it was early in the morning, the streets seemed quite busy, full of seedy-looking neon lights and grubby bars. When they arrived at their hotel, Jane was shocked to discover that they had been booked into a very low-grade establishment in the notorious Kings Cross area, rife with drug addiction and prostitution. She was even more disgusted to find there were rooms let on an hourly basis.
‘Jesus Christ, this looks like a knocking shop,’ she muttered to Tim.
The reception area was dark and there was an unpleasant-looking man behind a grille. Jane asked briskly if they could be shown to their rooms. Hers had a large double bed covered with a cheap cotton throw. The room had a stained carpet, with a wash basin and mirror in the corner beside a wardrobe. Jane checked to make sure that at least the pillows and sheets were clean.
She’d told Tim to unpack quickly and meet her downstairs in the lobby, as she wanted to get to the Thorpes’ house as soon as possible.
As she was unpacking her toiletries there was a knock at her door. When Jane opened it, Tim was on the landing holding a towel.
‘The bathroom is just down the corridor on the right,’ he said, pointing.
Jane decided she would shower later. ‘I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.’
She changed into her light trousers, shirt and jacket, brushed her hair and dug out her sunglasses from her handbag before descending the three flights of stairs to the lobby.
The same rough-looking man was wiping glasses behind the bar.
‘I wonder if you could help. I need a taxi to take me to Circular Quay?’
He completely ignored her.
Jane waited a moment. ‘Excuse me, can you possibly order me a taxi, or tell me where I can find the nearest taxi rank, please?’
‘Take the first turning right as you leave the hotel,’ he grunted.
They walked out into the sunshine and headed towards the taxi rank. There was one yellow cab waiting and Jane asked the driver to take them to Circular Quay. Then they had a fifteen-minute wait before a ferry going to Mosman arrived. It was eleven in the morning and it was already about seventy-five degrees, but there was a welcome breeze on the ferry.
Tim puffed out his cheeks. ‘My God, it’s hot.’
‘Wait until it gets to the hottest part of the day,’ she said, peering at him over the top of her sunglasses.
‘You probably should have checked out the weather, as well as whether you were booking us into a flea pit of a hotel.’
‘I didn’t make the booking, ma’am,’ Tim said. ‘I think Carter told Sergeant Hunt to do it.’
Jane nodded to herself. ‘I bet he did.’
They were on the ferry for about twenty-five minutes before it slowed down as it arrived at Mosman Bay Wharf, passing several privately owned yachts anchored offshore along the way. Jane instructed Tim to get a ferry timetable as she took in the steep steps leading up to the top of the small cliff beyond the pontoon.
‘Bloody hell,’ Tim said. ‘Do you mind if I keep my jacket off?’
‘Not at all,’ Jane said. ‘I’m going to do the same.’ Jane slipped her jacket off as they started the climb, and at the halfway point they both had to pause for breath. After a few minutes they started climbing again, then walked over a small bridge which eventually led them past a small wooden ticket building, with large window boxes full of flowering geraniums.
Jane told Tim to wait as she went inside. ‘I’m looking for The Glades. It’s a property owned by Mrs Beatrice Thorpe. I was told it was on the waterfront, on Mosman Lane?’
The deeply tanned ticket seller pulled a map out of a drawer and pointed out Mosman Lane.
‘If you walk past the bus stop to the left of the ticket box, you’ll see this lane here, which I think leads to the property you’re asking about.’
Jane sighed. ‘How far would you say it is?’
‘Oh, only about a fifteen-to-twenty-minute walk. But it is all uphill.’
Jane thanked him profusely and went back to a sweating, red-faced Tim.
‘We’ve got a bit more of a walk, I’m afraid.’
‘I wish I’d brought sunglasses... this glare really blinds you,’ he said.
As they walked, they detected a slight breeze coming up off the water and they began to feel more comfortable. They passed numerous gated properties, many with high white-painted walls.
Jane paused to catch her breath. ‘I hope to God we find it soon.’ She looked around. ‘All the properties on this side of the road must have their rear gardens facing the water. Unsurprisingly, waterfront properties in this area are incredibly pricey.’
Tim wiped the sweat from the top of his lip. ‘There’s a lot of new-builds high up there on the right-hand side.’
‘Yes, I suppose they’d have to go high up to get a good view. Let’s keep going.’
They continued walking, passing an abundance of eucalyptus and jacaranda trees. Tim stopped abruptly, and Jane almost bumped into the back of him.
‘Look at all the birds! Is that a cockatoo? My God, there’s four of them!’ Tim was pointing to a large white cockatoo with a yellow crest. It was only when they stopped that they were able to fully take in the sound of the parakeets and lorikeets, who were screeching and cawing.
‘I think this is it,’ Jane said.
She had stopped beside a high wooden fence and a heavy door with an iron latch. Above it was an iron filigree archway with a hanging glass lamp. Tim puffed out his cheeks.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Tim, it says “The Glades”, albeit on a very faded plaque.’
Jane paused to put on her jacket.
‘Should I put mine on, ma’am?’
‘I think so.’ She took out a comb, tidied her hair and freshened up her lipstick. She was praying that she hadn’t blown it and that Beatrice Thorpe was actually at home. She lifted the heavy door latch and pushed it open.
‘Oh, good heavens... I didn’t expect this from the outside.’
The two-storey house had six shuttered windows at the top level, and on the lower level there were two more shuttered windows either side of a porch, with white stone steps leading to a brightly painted front door. The whole of the house had been painted a fresh cream colour.
There was a short path from the gate, surrounded by grass and flowering shrubs.
‘This is old Australian, I think,’ Jane said.
When they reached the front door there was a faded notice: PLEASE USE SIDE ENTRANCE. Jane and Tim went back down the white steps to follow the path around to the side of the house, which lead to steps up to a veranda. They then followed the veranda around to the impressive rear of the house.
‘Wow!’ Jane exclaimed. She walked down the steps onto the lawn and turned to look back at the house. Intricate wrought-iron railings surrounded the top-floor veranda, and one half of the property had an ornate cream stone façade.
Tim stood next to Jane looking out at the bay. ‘Well, they’ve certainly got a view...’
The garden was on three tiers, with topiary hedges separating each level. One level had an ornate waterlily-covered pond with a fountain in the centre. The second level had a manicured lawn with neat flower beds. The third level led to a waterside dock.
‘They must have a yacht, so there’ll probably be a boathouse somewhere down there,’ Tim suggested.
‘Well, you’re not going off to look for it,’ Jane replied, but she was equally impressed.
On the veranda there were several white wicker chairs with faded, sun-bleached cushions, as well as a glass-topped table for dining. Jane went up the few white steps to the side entrance, which looked like another front door with a polished brass knocker and old-fashioned bell pull.
She took a deep breath and yanked the bell pull. There was a loud jangle but no response. Jane was unsure if she should pull it again when she heard footsteps and the door was opened by a young housemaid wearing a pale blue cotton dress and white apron.