Read Online Appeal Denied: A Cliff Hardy Novel by Peter Corris - Free Book Online Page B

…’ I shrugged again and the stiff neck hurt. Townsend noticed, left the room and came back with a foil of paracetamol capsules. ‘You’re done for the day, Hardy. Have a couple of these and get your head down. We’ll look at it all tomorrow.’
    I popped a couple of the capsules from the foil. ‘How secure’s this place?’
    ‘Solid. Alarm system A1 and connected to a private security mob. Why?’
    ‘I must’ve been followed through the late part of the day. Getting here I didn’t notice anything, but my skills are obviously down.’
    ‘I’ll give the guys a ring and tell them to keep an eye out.’
    ‘You’re not worried on your own account?’
    ‘You kidding? Think I haven’t had death threats?’
    ‘That’s what Tim Arthur mentioned.’
    ‘Right. Well, you can talk to him about old stories he and Lily covered, but I doubt that’s the source of the trouble. Possible, I suppose. Arthur’s a prick but he’s not dumb.’
    I swallowed the capsules with the last dregs of the drink. Townsend showed me where the toilet and the spare room were. After I’d had a piss I went back to the kitchen to see him doodling on the lined pad.
    ‘Last thoughts?’
    He looked up, still alert, still energetic. ‘Constable Farrow,’ he said.
    I slept soundly in a comfortable three-quarter bed, woke a bit stiff and sore, showered and used one of Townsend’s stack of warmed fluffy towels. He was in the kitchen with coffee brewed and the Australian , Sydney Morning Herald and Financial Review all on the table. I’ve never known a journalist who wasn’t addicted to newsprint.
    He barely looked up from one of the papers as I came in. ‘Sleep all right? Coffee’s made. Croissants in the bag there.’
    ‘Coffee’ll do fine.’ He was wearing a tracksuit and sneakers. ‘Jogging?’
    ‘Walking,’ he said, still reading. ‘Jogging’s bad for the joints. How do you stay trim?’
    ‘Trimmish. Gym, walking, diet, worry.’
    ‘That’ll do it. How’re the head and the knees?’
    ‘Okay. I might take a couple more of your bombs with the coffee just for insurance.’
    I sat and drank coffee, took two more capsules and watched him rapidly process the newspapers while he sipped coffee. He was a picture of concentration; I almost expected him to take notes. Didn’t have the nerve to interrupt him. Eventually he pushed the last paper away.
    ‘Sorry. Ingrained habit.’
    I nodded. ‘Lily was the same. Let’s get down to it. Have you got an opinion on which of the two stories is most likely to be the one that got her killed? That’s if it wasn’t something else altogether.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Dunno. That’s one of the things I’ll be taking up with your bête noire, Arthur.’
    ‘I’m over that, Hardy. Well over it. Yes, I’d go for the media person laundering money. Dodgy politicians will usually only go so far, at least in this country. They stop short of killing people. In the US and the Philippines, some parts of Europe, there’s so much more at stake. I’m going to dig around and see if I can get a whiff of what she was on to.’
    ‘And a possible connection to Gregory.’
    ‘Right. One thing though—can you remember which story VER, meaning a minister of religion, cropped up in?’
    I tried. I poured more coffee. After the break-in at the house and the attack on me, the quiet sifting through Lily’s work seemed to have happened a long time ago. I tried to recollect my jottings about the codes, their organisation on the page.
    ‘The money laundering story, I think. Can’t be positive.’
    ‘Good. It’s a hook. And I do so like to see a God-botherer with his nuts in the blender.’
    I was starting to like Townsend.

10
    T ownsend said he’d work on finding out more about the media money launderer, if he could. He had an arrangement to meet Constable Farrow at a wine bar in Chatswood at 6 pm and thought it’d be a good idea if I came along.
    ‘What’s her grievance exactly?’ I said.