The Dunbar Case(15)

Watson wasn't dumb. I can see your beat-up brain working, Hardy. You're wondering how many lies to tell.'



No,' I said, I'm wondering how to protect Marisha and myself and my client's interest first and then how to help you.'



Thanks a lot.'



I'd like you to nail whoever killed Pete McKnight.'



Oh, that'd be a sort of bonus, would it? You're a scavenger, Hardy.'



I'm tired,' Marisha said.



I looked at Watson.



There's a hotel we use. You'd both be safe there.'



I put my hand gently on Marisha's slumped shoulder. And you'd be able to keep an eye on us.'



Give me something, for Christ's sake,' Watson said.



I wanted to talk to him about stolen millions and a missing backpacker, to get some corroboration of Templetons and Kristine's story, but it wasn't the right time.

 
 

  13





The hotel was of a higher standard than I expected. There was room to move around, good lighting and fittings, and even white terry-towelling bathrobes. Marisha took a very long shower and wrapped herself in a robe as she watched me making coffee.



She was rapidly regaining her confidence. Put yours on and we could be like Bob and Blanche.'



No thanks.'



You ever think of getting married again, Cliff?'



Don't see the need. Look at Julia and what's-his-name.'



Tim. You're right, I never felt the need, ever. Why did you say Joseph might be at war with Jobe but not Hector? What dealings have you had with them?'



Is this research or ... ?'



Oh, shit. I'm sorry. It must sound like that. No, I just want to know to help me work out what to do next.'



What to do next, I thought. Good question. I was sick of holding everything in and I told her pretty well the whole story, stressing that she'd have to get my okay to publish some of the stuff I'd spoken about relating to Wakefield and the supposed Dunbar documents.



Colonial history didn't interest her; she homed in on the present. When I finished she said, I'd like to talk to Kristie.'



More single-mindedness. So you're going on with the Newcastle underbelly stuff?'



Hell, yes. I need a book to my name. I want to get back to Sydney. I thought I'd had enough of it and coming up here was the right move, but I miss it.'



I could understand that. Couldn't live anywhere else myself, and the prospect of her being back there was attractive. At my age you need all the friends you can get. I decided I'd help her as much as I could, hope the Tanners would resolve their differences one way or another and leave the way clear for me to persuade Kristie to help in Wakefield's quest. It was all a bit speculative but the best I could do.



We ordered a room service meal. Marisha spent a good hour fielding phone calls. She told her editor she'd be filing tomorrow. She fended off other journalists and reassured a few people she was all right. I phoned Templeton. Again, he said he could talk for a short time.



He said, I'm about to drive Hector to Newcastle to see his father.'



I said, There's a whisper that Joseph fired the shots.'



He wouldn't. He hires people for that kind of work, mostly. Unless it's very personal. He hired the hit on McKnight.'



Why?'



I'm putting this together from bits I've overheard and things Clem's told me when he's pissed. Joseph thought McKnight was edgy. He got someone to pressure him and he learned that McKnight was all set to talk to some journalist Jobe was talking to. Joseph's got too much to hide to let that happen.'



That made it likely Joseph was behind the attack on his father and Marisha. I asked Templeton if he had enough to get Joseph arrested.



Almost. Things are happening; gotta go.'







Marisha and I went to bed, sleeping comfortably together like a married couple without the need for sex. But it was a different story in the morning.



After a leisurely breakfast we left the hotel soon after ten o'clock and I was surprised that there was no sign of a police presence.



Some protection,' I said.



Marisha didn't answer. She was staring at a poster outside a newsagency: GANGLAND BOSS KILLED-SON ARRESTED. The story, with photographs, occupied the whole of the front page: Jobe Tanner had died of his wounds in hospital overnight. Joseph Tanner had been arrested on a charge of conspiracy to murder. Hector Tanner was being sought by police.

 
 

  part two


14





Marisha worked her phone, contacting everyone she knew who might know what had happened and what the official line was. She learned that everything had changed in a few hours overnight. Jobe had identified the man who'd shot him. The police picked him up. Charged with wounding at that time, he had rolled over and named Joseph as the one who'd commissioned the hit. He'd be pissed off and worried later when the charge was upgraded to murder.



From Templeton I heard that there had been a violent confrontation between Joseph and Hector involving threats and weapons. Hector took himself off before Joseph was arrested and Templeton claimed not to know where he'd gone. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. The Tanner crime network fell apart in a matter of days without the lynchpins.



Marisha filed several stories drawing on some of the information she'd had from Jobe. They were picked up by other media and her profile rose sharply. With the threat from the Tanners reduced, she went back to her flat and started serious work on her book. I hung around for the next day with her and we got on well, but her focus was on the book and the rewards it might bring her. I'd developed very strong feelings for her and, in the game of who-can-help-who we seemed to have fallen into, I had one card to play-Kristie.



I really want to talk to her,' Marisha said.



We were eating breakfast on her balcony on a mild morning with the sun filtering through light clouds and the waves enough to tempt some surfers-black dots out beyond the breakers.



So do I,' I said. But I don't know where she is.'



You've got her number.'



Yeah. She's in the book. I tried the landline and went to the address. Nothing. Same on her mobile and the number for her undercover mate.'



Whose name is?'



I shook my head.



You're a detective, aren't you?'



Yes, and do you know what we do a lot of the time? We stir a bit and wait for things to happen.'



Great.'



It was shaping up as that kind of relationship: good but combative. I'd told her something about the Wakefield matter and my hope that Kristie could be useful. She was only mildly interested. I'd also sketched in a bit about Johnnie Twizell and the buried money. That interested her more as a sidebar to the Tanner story.



When's his hearing?' she asked.



Yesterday. I'm waiting for a result.'



And then what?'



If he gets out I'll see if he can help with the Wakefield thing. He might even know where Kristie is. They were together for a while.'



What about the buried money?'



I don't give a shit about it.'



I do.'



I reached over and stroked her arm. So we'd better stay in touch.'







I drove back to Sydney, checked on things at home and in the office, visited Megan and phoned Wakefield to bring him up to speed.



He struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice. Are you saying this woman knows about a set of family papers?'



That's what she said. I think I believe her.'



But you don't know where she is now.'



That's right.'



My God, Hardy, you haven't exactly carried all before you.'



There were distractions.'



Yes, well, I registered the name Tanner and the connection with Twizell. Were you involved in all that gangland business?'



Peripherally. Did you make representations to the parole hearing?'



Yes.'



We should hear results from that soon. Johnnie Twizell knows something about the family history but not as much as Kristine.'



Disappointment replaced excitement. So what do you propose to do now?'



You want me to stay with it? Costs are mounting. You've just about run through your retainer.'



Of course I do, and that's what you have a reputation for, isn't it-seeing things through?'



I like to think so.'



I'll make a deposit into your account. Email me the number. Please try to find that woman.'



If I do and she has what you're after, she'll want a share if there's money involved.'



I'll be delighted to discuss it with her.'







More or less out of curiosity I rang Ted Power, the old cop whose name Templeton had given me as a reference. You don't discuss such matters over the phone and Power, a resident of Ultimo, agreed to meet me at my office after he finished work that evening.



I remembered him as superficially calm but underneath highly strung from his own years of undercover work. He'd been shot at least once and bashed a few times and bore the scars like badges. His face was lumpy, ugly. He accepted a large scotch in a plastic glass gratefully.



Tough day, Ted?'



Cheers. Tough enough.' He glanced around the room. You've picked up a bit since your St Peter's Lane days.'



So's the rent. I'm glad to have a drink with you, Ted, but I won't piss around-an undercover guy I met up in Newcastle gave me your name as a reference. It was enough to make me trust him, sort of.'



He raised his glass. Thank you.'



I'm going to need to talk to him again so I thought I'd better follow up and get your assessment.'



You have this place swept?'



Regularly. Hank Bachelor did it yesterday.'



I know Bachelor, he's good.' Out of long habit his voice dropped several notches. Okay, name?'



Rod Templeton.'



Power eased his back in the hard chair and took a swig of his drink. Roderick Fitzjames Templeton, BA, bronze medal Olympian.'