Good Money (17 page)

Ben had gone to the bar, where wooden trays of sushi and canapés were lined up. I sat beside him and offered him a champagne. ‘This isn't going to fill me up,' he whinged.

‘I'll buy you a hamburger on the way home.'

He sneered at that, and shoved in his third sushi piece, covered in bright orange fish eggs.

Mathilde tapped the microphone — time for me to get some fresh air on the balcony. The shock of cold and the rush of wind caught my breath and set my hair whooshing around my face. Set up a couple of turbines in this gale and you could power a small city. A few brave smokers passed me, heading inside to listen to the announcement. ‘Bit fresh,' said a voice. On a bench seat, back to the wind, sat Merritt Van Zyl, smoking a cigar and holding a glass of whisky that looked like a triple.

‘Exhilarating.' I pulled my coat around me.

‘Have we met?' Van Zyl turned to inspect me.

I wasn't going to fall for that old put-down. ‘I don't think so.'

‘Yes.' He peered at me and nodded. ‘Crystal's friend. From the elevator.'

‘We say “lift” in this country,' I said.

Van Zyl baulked slightly.

‘And yes, that was me you insulted.'

His smile was almost apologetic. ‘I assure you it's nothing personal. It's … that woman, she gets under my skin.'

‘She does seem —'

‘Nasty is the word. I've been friends with Clay for years. He and Finch and I go back years. “Bow-Tie Club” we called ourselves, out on the tear — Perth nightlife, which isn't much but we made the best of it.' His words ran together, and even sitting down he seemed unsteady.

‘Finch — do you mean Finchley Price?'

‘Top bloke, Finch. Put me onto the bliss of the Islay whiskies.' He held the glass to his nose. ‘And Clay, he was a joker. But then his wife died and he married that harlot. Sorry, but that's what she is. A harpy.'

‘Actually, I'm no friend of Crystal, I'm Nina's friend.'

That shut him up for a couple of seconds. ‘You do get around. Rub shoulders with money. What was that phrase that so upset you … the
well-heeled
?'

From inside, Mathilde's amplified South African accent was exulting her audience to realise more ambitious projects. ‘The goal of the prize is to enrich the Australian cultural landscape by supporting ingenuity in the arts.'

‘I didn't know Nina had money,' I said.

‘No, of course not,' he said, all seriousness. ‘So how
do
you know Nina?'

‘I live right next door,' I said, now shivering violently.

After a pensive puff of smoke, he said, ‘You feel you know her without the barrier of money.'

At last he was making sense. ‘Definitely,' I said. ‘I think there's more that connects us than divides us.'

He nodded. ‘Our common humanity.'

‘Exactly,' I said, and sat beside him.

He puffed on the cigar and allowed the wind to steal the smoke from his open mouth. ‘And what is your interest in art prizes? An artist, are you? A woman of many sides?'

‘My boyfriend is a painter,' I said. The concept of ‘boyfriend' was a malleable one and open to interpretation.

He put his head on the side and studied me from behind his whisky glass. ‘Any good, is he?'

‘Excellent.'

‘Like me to put in a good word with the wife?'

I inhaled sharply and a speck of something caught in my throat. ‘Peter Brophy,' I coughed. ‘The Narcissistic Slacker Gallery, Footscray.' A second later, I regretted it.

‘There, now.' He turned calm eyes on me. ‘I think you're learning.'

As easy as that, I'd succumbed to corruption.

‘I see you're still here, so tell me, you're not freezing your tits off out here for the pleasure of my company — what do you want?'

‘Advice. Help. I have a technical document, mining industry-related, and I don't know who else to ask.'

‘What kind of document?'

‘It relates to soil samples, that kind of thing. Nina gave it to me for safekeeping.'

‘Safekeeping? Why would she do that?' His voice was even, his face emersed in shadow.

‘That's what I need to understand. I assume it's significant. It concerns gold deposits at Mount Percy Sutton.'

He sipped his drink. ‘I'm not familiar with that location.'

‘What about the companies then: Blue Lagoon Corp or Bailey Range Metals?'

‘Sorry,' he said. ‘Never heard of them.' Then he sat up and seemed rather more sober. ‘They might be one of those flight-by-night ventures, set up to close down the next year. There's a plethora of small-time operators. You might want to check the business register or the Minerals Council list of member companies, just to see if they still exist.'

I leaned back and bit my lip.

‘Probably just paperwork from an abandoned project.' He dropped the stub of cigar in his drink. What a waste. That inch of whisky was what I needed right now.

‘I'm not sure what to do,' I said, more to myself.

He smiled at me. ‘Want my advice? Toss it. The mining caper is drowning in reports of one kind or another. I doubt this one is relevant to anything.' He made an apologetic bow. ‘Would you excuse me? I have a phone call to make.'

A shudder shook my entire body. I'd get pneumonia at this rate. It was time I started taking better care of myself. And definitely time I gave up on this foolish business. I needed to be home in bed, not fifty floors up in the freezing wind.

I found Ben still at the bar. His shirt was covered in fish eggs, and he had consumed a great deal of champagne. ‘But I'm enjoying myself,' he slurred. I had to physically drag him off the stool and out to the lift. The lift doors opened and Brophy stepped out. ‘Hardy, you feeling better?'

‘No. Big mistake — dying. Sorry. See you.'

As the doors closed, the sight of a bewildered and slightly hurt Brophy bore into my retina, leaving a permanent impression. And all the way home on the train, I was thinking that I should have stayed, if only for long enough to explain myself. I imagined Brophy now thought I was a capricious liar.

18

BEN'S MAZDA
was still parked in the train station's carpark, so there was that to be thankful for. He drove us down Roxburgh Street and parked near the pine tree.

‘Look,' he said, with sudden alarm.

I followed his pointed finger to the top floor of my building, where a light flickered in my lounge room window. The light swept the windows and moved to my bedroom; I had left the curtains open and I could see shadows creeping up the walls.

I was out of the car, and sprinting across the road into my building. Ben was shouting at me to stop. I ignored him and took the stairs two at a time. I reached the top landing before I realised that my front door was shut and my key was in my bag, which was still in the car with Ben. Adrenalin had hiked up my heart rate. I was shaking with rage and pounded on the door, screaming words that made no sense. Brown Cardigan's front door opened. ‘Call the police,' I shouted. His door slammed shut. I turned back. My door had opened, but I couldn't see anyone.

I stepped in to hit the light switch — and my head snapped back, white hot pain searing the side of my face. I staggered, and a dark figure came forward and shoved me backwards; I landed hard on my arse and both elbows. Shockwaves reverberated to my shoulders. At least my head didn't hit the deck. The figure leapt over my writhing body, and I heard feet galloping down the stairs.

Brown Cardigan opened his door. ‘I called them. They said they'd be a while.'

For an answer, I held my face and rolled around in pain.

‘I'll get you a bag of peas,' he said, and left me again.

There were more footsteps on the stairs. Ben crouched down beside me. ‘Bloody hell, Stella. You okay?'

He tried to lift my arm but I flinched and shrugged him off. ‘Never better.' I rolled onto my knees and sat on my haunches. ‘Did you see who it was?'

‘No,' Ben said. ‘I tried to take a photo with your phone but —'

‘But what?'

Brown came back and thwacked an icy plastic bag on my face. ‘Hold that there.'

I did as ordered, and realised I was still shaking.

‘The fucker saw me. He reached right in the window and pulled the phone out of my hand.'

‘Ben,' I said, ‘where's my phone?'

‘I'm trying to tell you. He chucked it somewhere.'

‘Where?'

‘It was dark. I didn't see.'

I drew breath. ‘Go. And. Get. It.'

He fled downstairs.

Brown Cardigan made a
tut-tut
sound that I found intensely irritating. ‘You don't think it will happen here,' he was saying. ‘Not on the third floor.'

I was sitting up now — and everything hurt: my elbows, my arse, my face. Then Brown raised a finger to his lips and nodded towards Tania's.

‘In there,' he whispered, and he dashed inside his flat.

I braced myself. The door opened and Ben walked out carrying a bottle of Glenfiddich.

‘What do you think you are doing?'

‘It's an emergency,' Ben said. ‘Medicinal. I'm sure Tania won't mind.' A good point, and I felt especially entitled to the whisky, since I had tried for the entire day to get my hands on some. The fact that Ben
stole
it from Tania was the least of my concerns. In the landing light, I saw the blood drip from his nose.

‘Let's get you inside,' I said, and dropped the packet of peas on Brown's doormat.

The place had been trashed. Every shelf cleared, every cupboard door opened. Books were strewn over the floor, papers tossed in every direction. In the middle of the lounge room was a pile of DVD covers — all opened, and every disc smashed and broken. I went into the bedroom. My mattress had been upended. I went back to the kitchen, where Ben was pouring three fingers into two jars. I leaned against a wall.

‘Get this down. It'll help.'

I drank half the jar and rubbed my sore bottom, fearing it may never be fit for sitting on again.

‘I'll look for your phone in the morning. You can't see a thing now. It's probably in someone's garden. He kind of frisbeed it.'

A loud knocking scared the living Buddha out of both of us. Ben opened the door, with the chain on. ‘Only me,' Phuong said. He let her in. She was in uniform.

‘Jesus, look at you.' She came over for a closer look at my face.

‘I disturbed him. He gave me a whack and took off.'

‘Take anything?'

‘I can't tell yet. Turned it over pretty good.'

She looked at the destruction on the floor. ‘Looks like he wanted to break things.'

Ben had been inspecting the doorframe. ‘Lock's intact, wood's not splintered.' He stepped over the debris and started picking up bits of broken plastic.

‘You should go to Casualty,' Phuong said.

‘Nah.'

‘On the safe —'

‘Nope.'

Phuong looked at Ben, exasperated. ‘And what happened to you?'

‘Same guy,' he said.

‘Go wash your face.'

Immediately impelled by some impulse to obey Phuong, he shuffled along the wall to the bathroom. Phuong took out her phone and started taking photos. ‘You should make a report, when you feel up to it.'

‘I need to show you something.' I took Adut's exercise book from my handbag and handed it to her.

‘What's this?'

‘It's a list of drug deals. Adut Chol kept a record of his customers — my guess is, to satisfy Cesarelli's paranoia. Make sure he wasn't keeping a stash of his own.'

‘Stella, this is evidence, part of a major murder investigation. Do you have any idea how many laws you've broken by knowingly holding on to this?'

‘I know. But just hear me out. I'm involved in this. Look.' I rolled back the curling cardboard cover and revealed the last page. ‘My address.'

Phuong looked at it and frowned. ‘That's not your number. That's a two, not a zero. It's flat twelve.'

‘Wait, what? No, that's not possible.' I inspected it closely. The zero vanished, the two was real: a half loop, the circle never joined, the little tail at the bottom. It was obvious now, like perceiving a
Magic
Eye
image. It was impossible now to un-see it. ‘It's Tania's address.'

Sweet relief sent me into a convulsion of laughter. I'd lost sleep, and countless waking hours imagining hypothetical scenarios in which I was led handcuffed to a waiting police car. But Adut hadn't found me out — the address he had written down was Tania's. I stopped laughing. If I hadn't been so paranoid, so self-obsessed, I would have read that address correctly. I would have handed the stupid book straight to the cops.