The Undertow by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online Page B

just me and Cassidy . . .’
    I poured myself a drink. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜It’s time to talk money.’
    â€˜I could go a couple of hundred.’
    He shook his head and regretted doing it. ‘Way too low.’
    I considered. He wasn’t an actor. ‘Three.’
    â€˜Six.’
    â€˜Five tops.’
    â€˜Okay. Let’s see it.’
    â€˜We’ll have to go to an ATM. Time you were on your way anyhow.’
    â€˜Let’s go. You can drop me at the ATM.’
    â€˜How’d you get here?’
    â€˜Fucking bus.’
    â€˜We’ll walk. I’ve had a bit too much on an empty stomach to drive.’
    He sneered at me, the confidence returning again.
    The heavy rain had stopped. I put on a jacket and we walked to the Commonwealth Bank ATM in Glebe Point Road. Wain shambled along. He’d never been a solid performer as a detective, either police or private, but now he was a ruin. I drew out the money and we stood on the steps of the bank with the evening traffic passing and the people out to eat Thai, Italian, Indian, Lebanese, whatever, strolling by. The rain started again, lighter.
    I held the folded notes in my hand. ‘What was the whisper, Rex?’
    There was no one close, but he looked around furtively. He appeared to be about to speak but he kept quiet. He cleared his throat and the sound was like a groan crossed with a whimper. I could smell his foul breath and the rain brought out the mustiness of his clothes. He looked hungrily at the money, then shook his head.
    â€˜Can’t do it,’ he muttered.
    â€˜We had a deal.’
    â€˜Fuck the deal. I can’t do it.’
    â€˜I might go up a bit if the information’s good.’
    He laughed. ‘There isn’t enough money in this fucking bank.’
    He meant it. He took a step away and turned up his collar. I handed him a fifty. He took it and stumbled down the steps into the drizzle.

7
    I phoned the Parkers and got Hilde.
    â€˜Hello, Cliff. Haven’t seen you for a bit. Been busy?’
    â€˜Yeah. How are you, love?’
    â€˜I’ve got my bloody time of life which isn’t much fun.’
    â€˜Bit young for that, aren’t you?’
    â€˜You’re losing track of time. I’ll be okay. I’m trying some herbal stuff that’s said to be good. When’re we going to see you?’
    â€˜Soon, I hope. Is Frank around? I need a bit of help with something.’
    â€˜I’ll get him. Make it soon.’
    No outright lies there, but close.
    â€˜Hello, Cliff. Results already?’
    â€˜Hardly,’ I said. I decided to work my way towards the subject—an old habit. ‘A couple of things I’m interested in. Padrone’s medical records. Nothing about them in your notes.’
    â€˜I should’ve mentioned that—they went missing.
    Heysen was happy to produce them but they couldn’t be found.’
    I skimmed through the pages of Frank’s notes. ‘What about this receptionist—Roma Brown? Didn’t she know what happened to them?’
    â€˜Cassidy interviewed her, not me. He was a sloppy cop.
    Fat slob. God knows how he got the rank he did.’
    â€˜Corrupt?’
    â€˜Back then, who knows? Anyway, he said she didn’t have a clue. You think the records are important?’
    â€˜Dunno. How about Rex Wain?’
    â€˜What about him?’
    â€˜Was he any good?’
    â€˜Better than Cassidy.’
    â€˜Not as good as you?’
    â€˜Modesty forbids. He was all right. Thick as . . . I was going to say thick as thieves with Damien Cassidy, but I never heard they were on the take. Why the interest?’
    I told him about my interview with Wain, how down on his luck he was and how he and Cassidy seemed to know something about the Heysen case that no one else did.
    Something he wouldn’t tell me for any money. Frank was quiet, taking this in.
    â€˜Frank?’
    â€˜It wouldn’t be