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it?’
    â€˜We might. I might have time to look. You might call me, eh?’
    â€˜Thanks, Frank. Good about Hilde and the kid.’
    â€˜I told you they had measles, you prick.’
    I squeezed out of that somehow. When I put the phone down Greenway was closing the diary. He got a crumpled, much-used tissue out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. ‘Shit,’ he said.
    â€˜Are you talking about yourself?’
    â€˜You didn’t do such a great job either.’
    â€˜Right. I feel like making some kind of amends, what about you?’
    â€˜What can we do?’
    â€˜We can break about five laws and take a look at the records of Southwood Hospital.’

 
    14
    G REENWAY made more coffee and we drank that and then started on beer. I gave him my doctor theory and we looked through Annie’s diary for medicos. We came upon ‘Dr Charley’, the druggies’ friend, whom Greenway knew.
    â€˜Not him,’ he said. ‘He’s out of his brain himself most of the time.’
    We got ‘Dr S.’ and ‘Dr K.’ from the diary. S. would be Smith whom I’d met. K. meant nothing to either of us. Greenway began prowling the room restlessly. ‘How about checking the registration records to see if a doctor at the hospital has a white Volvo?’ he said.
    â€˜That’d be harder than you think. Most doctors are incorporated these days, their cars are registered to their companies. Or they lease them. It’d be easier to go and look in the car park.’
    â€˜Well?’
    â€˜Yeah, maybe, but would you go to work in a car you’d used the way that Volvo was used yesterday? I wouldn’t.’
    â€˜Hey!’ He dug around in a pile of newspapers on a chair, bent and looked on the floor. ‘Shit!’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜He took my gun!’
    â€˜Great! Well, it could be worse. It only had one shell in it.’
    â€˜No. I loaded the full clip at home yesterday.’
    I shook my head. ‘Well, it’s not so bad. We’relooking for a strong, bald doctor with a white Volvo, a fully loaded Browning Nomad and a thick moustache.’
    Greenway shook his head slowly. I looked at him enquiringly. ‘I dunno about the moustache. I’ve remembered what I was trying to recall before. From acting—I smelled that spirit gum you use to stick on false beards and moustaches.’
    I gave him a small round of applause. ‘Terrific recall. And I’ve just thought of something else.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜It could’ve been used to stick down a bald wig.’
    We both laughed.
    Greenway was exhausted from his long day and sleepless night. He sank lower in his chair and his eyes kept closing and I had to tell him to go to bed.
    â€˜What’re you going to do?’
    â€˜Make telephone calls. Really run up a bill. We’re still using this bastard’s money, aren’t we?’
    He yawned. ‘Suppose so. Okay, I’ll snatch an hour.’
    Within ten minutes he was sleeping deeply, looked like he’d be out for six hours at least. I left a note in case I was wrong and drove to my office in St Peter’s Lane. That was a waste of petrol and effort. Nothing there needing attention. No lonely clients with Rita Hayworth legs. Even Primo Tomasetti the tattooist, with whom I could usually waste some time, was on holidays and his establishment was closed. I knew why I was there of course—to check the mail and the answering machine for messages from Helen. I didn’t know whether I wanted a message or not, but there was nothing.
    Back in Bondi, I bought a late lunch—two big salad sandwiches—and a six pack in Campbell Parade and ate one sandwich and drank one can sitting on the grass and looking out to sea. It wasfine and warm with a clear sky and a pollution-clearing breeze. When I was young I’d come here to surf. Now they came to score—and surf, probably. It was confusing.