‘You haven’t read it,’ I said. ‘How can you tell what it’s like?’
‘Theo’s told me about it in some detail.’
Theo had made a career out of telling people things in detail, most of which turned out not to be true. I asked a few questions designed to find out just how much he’d drawn her into his web. Subtly. The Irish coffee was going down well.
‘Mr Hardy, Cliff, in my business I hear all sorts of stories from all sorts of people. Many of them are trying to take advantage of me. That’s all right, sometimes I’m trying to take advantage of them. Do you follow me?’
‘Yes.’
‘More coffee?’
‘Thank you.’
She signed a contract. I stressed the retainer clause and she wrote me a cheque. She told me to invoice her for my expenses and daily rates by email.
‘You’re not set up for BPAY?’ she said.
‘No. Just post the cheques to my business address.’
‘Very old-fashioned. Clearance times and all that. What’s wrong with electronic deposit?’
She’d snookered me before and I felt I had to stay in the game. ‘I don’t have your level of trust.’
I finished off the second coffee which I’d spiked pretty heavily. I’d need a long walk around Alexandria and Zetland before I could drive. Always wondered about Zetland and how it came to be called that.
In my game you need connections and I had one in the Correctional Services Division. She sold information to journalists and people like me, charging according to the importance of the data. The address of a serving officer was sensitive and pricey, and the seller was taking a big risk. Rosemary Kingston’s account was up and running.
The guard, Colin McCafferty, lived in Homebush, not far from the gaol. Nice to be close to your place of work. I drove past the house, a semi with an overgrown front garden and a brick fence that looked as if a truck had ploughed into it at some time and minimum repairs had been made. The front porch held a sagging couch and a stack of broken Kmart plastic chairs. But there was no mail sprouting from the letterbox and no collection of free newspapers and advertising bumpf. Somebody was at home or had been very recently.
I went up the path and knocked at the door. No security here-a tattered flywire door, a window open ten centimetres at the bottom. I knocked again, louder, but got no response. A head poked around the brick divide between the two houses.
‘Are you looking for Col?’
The speaker was a shrunken, elderly type in a cardigan. He had bright, inquisitive eyes and his hands, supporting him on the brickwork, were trembling. Maybe, I thought, with excitement at something actually happening in his life. But not so.
I told him I was looking for Mr McCafferty-an administrative matter, I said.
‘You’ll find him at the Parramatta District Hospital, poor bugger. He got broken into and attacked right here- what’s the expression the telly uses?’
‘Home invasion,’ I said.
‘That’s it. I didn’t hear anything-pretty deaf, you see. But when Col came staggering out shouting, I woke up and when he collapsed I called the ambulance and they took him off.’
‘You were mates?’
‘No, no, hardly ever saw him. Worked funny hours, he did. But when a bloke’s been bashed like that you do what you can, don’t you?’
‘Right, Mr…?’
‘Davis, Ted Davis.’
‘So you rang the hospital, Mr Davis, and what did they tell you?’
The lively eyes squinted. ‘How did you know I rang up?’
‘I marked you down as a concerned neighbour, whether you knew him well or not.’
‘You’re right. He was renting, but I never had any trouble from him. Didn’t keep the place up very well but the owner’s a… Well, the hospital people only talked to me because I was the one who phoned the ambos. Apparently he’s got no family. They told me he’s in a coma and it’s touch and go.’
‘When was this? Where’s the police crime scene tape?’
‘Some kids nicked it. Two days ago. Hey, who’re you with all these questions?’
But I’d got what I needed from Ted. I gave him a salute and I was on my way. I rang the hospital, but with no right to ask all they would tell me was that Mr McCafferty was in intensive care. That could mean a lot of things, none of them good for me. Would anyone bash a man into a coma to steal a manuscript? It didn’t seem likely and perhaps the attack on McCafferty had nothing to do with Theo and his opus. Impossible to say.
Being unable to talk to McCafferty, my only other point of contact was the agent. Phillip Weiss had an office in Paddington. I phoned and was told he was out of town for the day. The woman asked me my business and I gave her a very general account. I made an appointment for the following morning. Then I rang Rosemary Kingston and let her know how things stood.
‘That’s distressing,’ she said.
‘Yeah, especially for McCafferty. Did Theo have a lawyer representing him at the trial?’
‘Not really. You’ll recall that he had no assets. He had a lawyer friend who just went through the motions. There was no serious defence and Theo didn’t really want to mount one. He was counting on contrition getting him a reasonable sentence and it worked. Why d’you ask?’
‘I don’t know really. I just thought Theo might have discussed things with him and mentioned a name or two. Could be useful in trying to find out who might be interested enough to assault someone in order to get hold of the manuscript, if there is one.’
‘You’re carrying your scepticism a bit too far, surely?’
‘I’ll start believing in it when I meet someone who’s seen it. Do you have the name of the lawyer?’
She did and she gave it to me along with the phone number. Efficient person, Rosemary. Too efficient? I lined up an appointment with Courteney Talbot for a few hours after the agent. A busy day coming up and I’d done all I could for now. Time to go home, ring my live-in, live-out partner Lily Truscott, and see if she was free for the night. The case wasn’t an earner yet but it might be, and I thought I could shout us a decent meal on the strength of it.
I had my hand on the car door when the mobile rang.
‘Mr Hardy?’
‘Right.’
‘This is Detective Sergeant Rule, Parramatta police. We understand you telephoned the Parramatta hospital today enquiring about the condition of Colin McCafferty.’
These days they’ve got you in the crosshairs as soon as you draw some money or make a phone call.
‘That’s true,’ I said.
‘Why?’
‘He’s a friend of a friend.’
‘Why didn’t the friend make the call?’
‘He had reasons.’
‘That’s not a satisfactory answer.’
‘It’s all I’m prepared to give you at this stage, Sergeant.’
‘We have your occupation down as private enquiry agent. That entitles you to no privileges whatsoever in regard to withholding information.’
‘I know. All I can say is that it’d cause you a lot of trouble to haul me in and it wouldn’t be worth your while. I might have something useful to contribute later.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yeah. You’ve got my number and you know where to find me. Give me your number and we’ll stay in touch. Tell you what, you let me know if and when McCafferty’s able to talk and I’ll tell you what my connection is.’
‘You’ve got a fuckin’ nerve.’
‘Is it a deal?’
He cut the call but I had a feeling he’d cooperate. The bashing of a prison guard was a fairly important matter whether the man died or not, and if DS Rule had no leads he’d be smart to play along. Couldn’t be sure, though, particularly about how long his patience would last. I rang Lily from home and found she was keen to go for a feed and whatever might follow. Lily lives in Greenwich.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it over your side and your bedroom.’
‘I know what that means. Who’s after you-Philip Ruddock, Alan Jones, Mr Big? Never mind, see you when you get here, if you do.’