Read Online Faces in the Rain by Roland Perry - Free Book Online

eighties, Gaddafi tried to belittle Mitterand by helping – through training and weapons – New Caledonia Kanak separatists to kill Frenchmen.’
    I took more beer and contemplated the ever-expanding web I’d fallen into. Libyans. French. Hookers. Questionable old school mates. Armed prowlers. Private dicks. I didn’t need any of them.
    â€˜I wish they’d all drown,’ I mumbled.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜In the Pacific,’ I said. ‘Forget it. Tell me about Benns and O’Dare. Do they really suspect me?’
    â€˜There are several suspects.’
    â€˜What did they say about me?’
    â€˜They were suspicious of my connection to you. When I settled that they said they thought you had lied to them. They didn’t think you’d murdered her, but they suspected she was involved with you.’
    â€˜Not true.’
    â€˜I didn’t defend you. They asked me if you had hookers. I laughed that off. They said you had divorced your wife. They’d been doing their homework. Benns is thorough. O’Dare’s too nice to be a homicide investigator – got there because she’s bright and ambitious and well-connected, but I’d give her two years, three at most. I’ve seen very, very tough men wilt in that job.’
    â€˜Terry Hewitt tells me they have a new piece of evidence,’ I said, feeling my way, ‘any idea what that is?’
    â€˜Benns told Hewitt that?’
    I nodded.
    â€˜Reckon it’s bluff. They’re not going to tell a top crim lawyer they’ve got the dope on his client unless there’s a scare motive.’ Farrar finished his drink and stood up to get another. He leaned close to me. ‘It’s bullshit, and if Hewitt doesn’t see that, he’s gettin’ soft.’
    Farrar waded into the crowd at the bar and people made way. There were one or two men as tall as him, but none with his beef or meanness. He returned with two more Bloody Marys, one for the inner man and the other for the beefy outer layer. ‘On the off-chance you ended up in the slammer,’ he said, ‘how am I gunna get paid?’
    I wrote out a cheque for ten days work and added another thousand for expenses, which came to six thousand in all. Farrar seemed satisfied.
    â€˜If it takes longer than that,’ I said, ‘I’ll mail another four thousand to you.’
    He grunted and pocketed the cheque. He looked up, eyes darting. I glanced at the window facing Domain Road. ‘What’s the matter?’
    â€˜The same guy slipped past a second time.’
    â€˜Police?’
    â€˜Nar. It was one of the Frogs at the funeral.’
    â€˜Which one?’
    â€˜The skinny one who dresses like a poof. Name’s Maniguet.’ Farrar chewed on the word so badly that I got him to write it on a drinks coaster.
    â€˜Works for a perfume company, called Vital. So does the other one, the bruiser. His name is Cochard.’ Farrar scribbled that out too.
    â€˜You got onto them quickly.’
    â€˜Easy. I checked out their vehicle registration. It was under the company name with two men authorised to drive it. I rang the company and asked the woman on the switch a few questions.’
    Maniguet sauntered past the window again. It was six thirty and dark and he still wore sunglasses.
    â€˜We’d better get out of here,’ Farrar said, downing his drinks like water.
    We hustled out through the restaurant to an alley leading away from Domain Road and into Park Street, which was painfully familiar to me.
    â€˜I’ll ring Hewitt tomorrow,’ Farrar said, shaking hands, ‘good luck tonight.’
    I found the Rolls and got in. I felt alone and down as I drove off down Toorak Road. Traffic was heavy and we crawled along with many stops for lights. After a couple of kilometres I noticed a frisky red Fiat slipping in and out of the traffic. I lost it halfway home and thought nothing of it, except that I