The Greenwich Apartments

The Greenwich Apartments by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Greenwich Apartments by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Corris
say what she wanted to say. ‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m sure you’re right about that. Her father feels the same way.’
    She detached herself from Press and turned to look out the window. ‘As fathers go he seems to be all right. Carmel loved him.’
    â€˜Did she love anyone else?’
    She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    I looked at my notebook. ‘Jan De Vries?’
    She grinned. ‘Wife and two kids. She fucked him but I don’t think she’d let a wife and two kids screw up her work.’
    I pulled my legs up and got slowly to my feet. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜For the wine?’
    I emptied the glass and put it on the ledge beside the dead butt dish. ‘Come on, Judy. You don’t have to be tough. You’ve lost your friend. I’ve lost a few in my time. It hurts.’
    â€˜So what does her father want? Revenge?’
    â€˜Partly, it’s natural.’
    â€˜Right,’ Michael Press said.
    I told her about Leo Wise’s wish to understand his daughter’s death. To see it as an accident. I mentioned the possibility of another child.
    â€˜Oh, great!’ she said.
    â€˜You don’t understand. He’s older than you, older than me. My grandmothers had about nine or ten kids each. Maybe five or six of them survived. Your great-grandmothers probably did the same. They expected some wastage. My father was the last in the bunch. Your grandfather might’ve been in the same spot. You mightn’t be here if they hadn’t operated that way back then. It was healthy in a way. Don’t knock it.’
    She went very still and looked at me. ‘I never thought of it like that.’
    â€˜Can I have a look at her room, please?’
    â€˜Sure.’ She walked over and opened the door nearest the window. I went into a big room with plenty of light. Better view of the racecourse from here. The room held the usual things—double bed, chest of drawers, built-in wardrobe, bookcase. A big TV set and a VCR were on a trolley at the foot of the bed. A door led to an
en suite
bathroom. I glancedaround but rooms give off an aura like people; I sensed that there was nothing to be learned here.
    Judy Syme stood in the doorway smoking again. ‘Go ahead. Look through her undies.’
    â€˜I don’t think so.’ I ran my eye along the bookshelf. Mostly titles to do with films, a few novels, a few left-wing political works. There was a cassette on top of the TV set and I picked it up. ‘Bermagui’ was hand-printed on a label stuck to the plastic case. ‘Can I borrow this? Her film?’
    She shrugged. ‘Sure. I’d like it back. She gave it to me. It probably sounds sloppy but I was watching it in here the other day.’
    â€˜I understand. Did she ever keep cassettes here?’
    â€˜Oh, sure. She had them all here at first. But they just got to be too many. They were everywhere so she asked her father if she could use that flat in the Cross.’
    â€˜Did you ever go there?’
    â€˜Once. Creepy joint. This crazy old woman came to borrow sugar. Sugar!’
    â€˜What old woman?’
    â€˜From the flats across the courtyard. Weird old girl with purple hair. Carmel gave her some sugar.’
    â€˜Hmm. Where did she do her work? I mean editing and all that?’
    â€˜Various places. Studios. The equipment isn’t exactly stuff you have around the house. Jan De Vries would know.’
    We went back into the other room. Michael Press was flexing his muscles in front of his reflection in a window. He didn’t seem to mind us catching him. I shook Judy Syme’s hand and gave her one of my cards.
    â€˜Thanks for your help. Please call me if you can think of anything that might be useful.’
    She held on to my hand a little longer than wasnecessary, as if I formed some sort of connection with her friend. ‘Okay,’ she said.
    I turned just before I

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