Peter Corris - Matrimonial Causes (Cliff Hardy Mystery 17)

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Matrimonial

Causes

[Cliff Hardy 17]

By Peter Corris

Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

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I sprinted hard on the coarse sand ofDudley beach, ignoring the camber, jumping over the rocks. Id be sorry thenext day when my ankles and knee joints would remind me of my age, but for nowI had no choiceGlen Withers was beating me. Sure, Id given her a start butthat wasnt the point. I could see the line wed drawn in the sand looming upand she still had a lead. She was flagging, though; I was pulling her in. Ithrew myself forward, tripped, dived for the line and got my hand on it at thesame time as her bare foot.

Draw, I gasped. Idsprayed sand into my mouth and had to spit it out.

Glen collapsed twometres past the line. Her chest was heaving. Thats not fair. You were fallingflat on your face.

I wriggled throughthe sand towards her. Win at all costs. Thats the motto of the Hardys.

It was a bit past8.00 p.m. on a summer night. The day had been hot and wed had several swims,several drinks, made love and had an afternoon sleep. Glens house was aten-minute walk away on the rise overlooking the ocean. There was a prawn saladin the fridge as well as several bottles of Jacobs Creek chablis. We were onholidays me from my private inquiry agency in Sydney, her from teaching at thePolice Academy. Our second summer together and still laughing at each othersjokes. Pretty close to paradise.

We splashed aboutfor a while as the last few people left the beach. Glen wasnt the swimmer shehad been. A bullet had left her arm a bit stiff. She got the wound at the timewhen we first met, back when a case had brought me to Newcastle and SeniorSergeant Glen Withers father, who was a high-ranking policeman, had beenkilled. We enjoyed more than the usual number of bondsan acquaintance withviolence, a distrust of authority and, oddly, the suspicion that relationshipscouldnt last. We also showed each other our wounds, competed fiercely onoccasions, and liked old black and white movies.

We walked up thehill and went into Glens house, one of a set of mine managers cottages onBurwood Road. The houses are big and simple and perfect just the way they are,but some of the other owners are going mad with trellises and decks. One has evenbuilt a swimming pool, which strikes me as an obscenity so close to the ocean.There ought to be a law. The sandstone house was cool and quiet.

We showered andshared the preparation of the meal, which is to say that I cut the bread andopened the wine. It was good food.

Sneakily, I admiredGlen while we ate. She is medium tall with no-nonsense features, all excellentlyproportioned, and a fine head of thick brown hair. Her hair had got fairer inthe ten days wed been up here. She tans but is careful about it and criticalof my carelessness. I had an Irish gipsy grandmother whose skin had the colourand texture of a well-kicked football. Im a bit the same and go very dark inthe summer if I get any beach time. The recession was still with usbeach timewasnt a problem. Bill-paying was, but a man with a woman who has a house onthe coast shouldnt ask for much more.

Why are youlooking at me like that? Glen asked.

Like what?

As if youre stillhungry and thirsty.

I laughed. Throughthe open French windows, an acceptable modification of Glens, I could hear theneighbours playing in their pool. There were loud splashes and laughter.Perhaps a pool wasnt such a bad idea. I put the heretical notion aside I wasgetting up early and walking briskly to Whitebridge for the paper and then tothe beach and back every morning. A very sound constitutional. Wandering out toswim a few laps of the pool wouldnt keep the flab down. I made coffee and,after dabbing on the insect repellent, we sat out in the backyard to drink it.The waves slapped on the beach and the night wind whispered in the tallcasuarinas.

Jesus, I said. Thisis good.

Glen murmuredsomething I didnt catch. We were sitting side by side in deck chairs. Sorry,I said. What was that?

I said you makebloody strong coffee. This is going to keep me awake all night.

Dont drink itthen. Ill dilute it if you like.

No, its allright. Weve only got two more days. We ought to stretch them. Stay up allnight.

I was wakeful, too.The afternoon sleep had been a long one and Id only had a couple of glasses ofwine. She was right. The coffee was strong and it tasted so good I wanted moreof it. Glen massaged her arm. I moved my chair closer and took over the job,rubbing down the muscle towards the elbow the way she liked.

How is it?

Aches a bit. Thatsnice. Good holiday, eh?

Terrific.

Did you have anygood holidays with Cyn?

I tried toremember. Id been married to Cyn for eight years. We must have had someholidays, but I couldnt recall any. No recession back then maybe wed beentoo busy detecting and architecting. I shook my head. None come to mind.

With HelenBroadway?

More recenthistorya battlefield, essentially. If you can call Hastings a holiday, orAgincourt or Dien Bien Phu. I went to New Caledonia with a woman once. We had apretty good time.

And wheres shenow?

Ailsa Sleeman. Shedied of cancer a few years back.

Did you love her?

Glen, what isthis?

I feel liketalking. No, I feel like listening. How long have you been a private detective,Cliff?

Bout twentyyears.

Gee, I was stillat school when you started.

Yeah, in YearTwelve.

Glen laughed. Notquite. Tell me about your first case. You must remember it.

Sure, but Christ,I havent thought of that in a long, long time.

What was it about?

Back then?Divorcewhat else? But there was a bit of perjury, fraud and murder as well.

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Alistair Menzies, I was told, claimed somesort of kinship with the former Prime Minister, and there was a physicalresemblance to back the claim. He had the same height and ponderous build andhe wore the same kind of double-breasted suits. But his hair wasnt as whiteand thick as old Bobs nor his eyebrows as dark and dramatic, even though heapparently did all he could to get them that way. He was fiftyish and smokedthick cigars. He was a solicitor and he gave me my first job because someonetold him I was fairly bright and inclined to be honest.

This will requiresome tact, Hardy, he said.

Which you prefer tohire rather than exercise yourself I thought. Im sorry, I said, Im goingto have to call you something other than Mr Menzies. You understand why, dontyou?

The bushy eyebrowsmoved but not with much dramatic effectframing more of a puzzled frown than animperious stare. No, but I was warned you were impudent. I suggest you avoidcalling me anything. Take care to avoid mate I detest false egalitarianism.

As an opening spar,that made us about equal. I was sitting in one of his leather chairs in hisMartin Place office. He had the work to hand out and I welcomed it. Id been inbusiness for a few weeks now but there hadnt yet been a cent to deposit inthe Cliff Hardy business account. I assumed a neutral expression while he tooka puff on his cigar. As I say, tact needed. You are familiar with theprovisions of the Commonwealth Matrimonial Causes Act of 1959?

As amended in1965, I said.

Quite. This is adivorce case. Our client, Mrs Beatrice Meadowbank, is suing her husband,Charles. She requires evidence of adultery.

If memory serves,I said, she requires a fair bit of evidencemultiple occasions, consistentindulgence, frequent occurrence.

Are you married,Hardy?

Yes. Tenuously,