Peter Corris - Beware of the dog

* * * *

Beware of the Dog

[Cliff Hardy 15]

By Peter Corris

Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

* * * *

Dan Sanderson cleared his throat, Ladiesand gentlemen, he said. Id like you to meet Mr Cliff Hardy, who has been aprivate enquiry agent for...

Longer than someof you have been alive, I said.

It got a laugh, butit was true. Some of the bright young faces looking at me didnt have twentyyears on them and that was how long Id been in the business. We were gatheredin a room in the Petersham College of TAFE where I was doing a guest lecturerspot in the Commercial Agents and Private Enquiry Agents course. When I got mylicence it was different. All you needed were some solid citizens to vouch foryou and an insurance company to give you the appropriate cover. As a formerarmy officer and investigator for an insurance company, I had no troublequalifying. Now, you have to do a course in small business practice, legalprinciples and other things. Im not sure I could pass it. Dan showed me thetext booksvery thick and not at all racy. But I didnt have to pass it.Instead, I was on the instructing end.

I talked for aboutforty minutes, giving them the spiel Glen Withers and I had worked out. I toldthem about the unwritten rules of confidentiality, the necessity for goodrelations with the police force, the advisability of having a friend in anewspaper office and various other short cuts to success. I told jokes, likethe one about the client who had failed his drivers licence test ten times andwas convinced there was a conspiracy against him. Id taken him seriously for atime. Then Id stuck some L-plates on my car and had him take me for a drive.End of case. And I told them about some sad ones, like the man who was surethat he was the father of his younger brother.

The main thing toremember, I said in the wind-up, is that, as a PEA, you are at the end of along line. People have been let down by the law, their families, their friendsand all the authorities listed in the phone book. Often, you are a last resort.Thats either an opportunity to exploit them, a reason to dismiss them or achallenge. The choice is up to you.

I got a hand. Thenit was question time. Nothing very tough: Did I carry a gun? Sometimes. Did Iever break the law? Not if I could help it. How many men had I killed? Two, onein defence of someone elses life, one by accident.

You should beasking me if I can name all fifty of the United States of America.

A blonde womanspoke from the back of the room. You mean the work is often boring and thatyou have to kill time.

Thats right, Isaid.

Many eyes turnedtowards her.

And can you nameall fifty?

Usually, I said.

Time was up and thestudents trooped out of the room. Dan Sanderson, usually a restrained type,shook my hand. That went great, Cliff. Will you do the other class?

Glen Withers hadjacked it all up. Senior Sergeant Glenys Withers, that is. She was taking abreak from hands-on policing, and teaching at the Sydney annexe of the GoulburnPolice Academy. She had a flat in Petersham and spent three or four nights aweek there; the other nights, her visits to Goulburn and my work permitting,she was at my place in Glebe. We were being very cautious about the wholethingI had yet to sleep at Glens flat. She had met Dan in a coffee shop andthey got talking about their different teaching jobshe was a lecturer in thecommerce department of the Petersham Collegeand Glen produced a real liveprivate eye for his students.

Id enjoyed the lecture.Who wouldnt? Applause, appreciative young faces. Sure, Dan, I said.

I could probablyget you a few tutorials, too, he said. Could be the beginning of a new careerfor you, Cliff. Youre a natural.

I shook my head. Idont think so. Once was fine, twice might not be so good and after that

Well, see how itgoes. Gotta rush. Thanks, Cliff. Give my best to Glen. The chequell be in themail.

Better be, Igrowled. He laughed and hurried out of the room. I gathered up the cards Idscrawled a few notes on and followed him. The College is a grim, redbrickstructure that looks forbidding from the street, but the library,administrative offices and classrooms are arranged in a three-storeysemi-circle around a small garden, making it all surprisingly bright inside. Iwalked down the big-windowed corridors enjoying the atmosphere. It had been along time since my own, brief, university days, and things seemed to havechanged enormously. There was an air of informality that had been totally lackingin my time when we wore jackets and ties and tried to look older than we were.The students here were all ages and didnt care how they looked.

Mr Hardy. Could Ispeak to you?

The woman whodtwigged about the boredom component of the job was standing under an archway atthe top of the steps that led down to Crystal Street. I judged her age as latetwenties; she was tall and slim with a pile of blonde hair held back by acouple of combs and a velvet band. Her clothes were studentishloose top, long skirt,boots. Her eyes were an alarmingly penetrating blue; they seemed to go rightthrough me, out across the street, over the used car yard opposite and upbeyond the rooftops.

I stuffed the cardsinto the pocket of my leather jacket and took the hand she held out. Smartmove, to stick out your hand when you want to talk to someone. Takes adouble-barrelled rudeness to snub you. Of course, I said. Ms... ?

She laughed. Mrs.Im old-fashioned. Mrs Paula Wilberforce. Paula.

She wasnt as sureof herself as she wanted to be. Her hand was smooth and warm. She looked thetype to trick herself out with earrings and bangles, but the only jewellery shewore was a wedding ring.

Hello, Paula. Whatcan I do for you?

Are you going tobe doing any more teaching in that course?

I dont think so.It was just a one-off for me. Something I havent done before. Ill do a repeatperformance for the other class, but thatll be it.

Her nicely-shapedface fell into lines of disappointment. Oh, Im sorry.

Come on. At aguess you were the smartest one there. Youre not going to have any troublegetting your ticket. I glanced down at the backpack she had on the groundbetween her boots. It was stuffed with books and folders. Youre obviously aworker.

I am, she saidfiercely. Thats the trouble. I only enrolled in this course as backup to myPhD.

I must have startedto edge away at that point. Theres something about the intensity of people whowant to be doctors of philosophy that disturbs me. Well, Im sorry I canthelp you.

She grabbed fivefingers worth of leather sleeve. You can! You can. You see, Im doing mythesis on the role of the private enquiry agent in the legal system, and Imhaving terrible trouble gathering material.

Im not surprised,I said. We dont exactly go around shouting about our place in the scheme ofthings.

No, but when Iheard you talk today I thought I might actually get something useful out ofthis course. Youve had the experience.

Thats true, Isaid. But

Will you at leastgive me an interview? A long, in-depth session to let me get a handle on howexperience feeds into the philosophical

That was enough forme. I pulled free of her and headed down the steps. Afraid not, MrsWilberforce. Professional codes against it. Sorry. Best of luck with yourstudies.

I could feel thoseblue eyes boring into my spine as I walked along Crystal Street. There wassomething scary about her. Id parked my car in a side street and I actuallychecked to make sure she hadnt followed me before I drove off.

The thing is,business is slow. Theres plenty of work around at the nastier endindustrialespionage, bugging, various forms of intimidationbut the bread and butter workof summons serving, bodyguarding and money moving has shrunk. This is one ofthe reasons Glen encouraged me to take on the lecturingwe were sitting in thebackyard at Glebe, catching a few feint rays of June afternoon sun. For no goodreason, I was having my third glass of wine after lunch.