Peter Corris - Follow the Money

PETER CORRIS is known as the godfather of Australian crime fiction through his Cliff Hardy detective stories. He has written in many other areas, including a co-authored autobiography of the late Professor Fred Hollows, a history of boxing in Australia, spy novels, historical novels and a collection of short stories about golf (see petercorris.net). In 2009, Peter Corris was awarded the Ned Kelly Award for Best Fiction by the Crime Writers Association of Australia. He is married to writer Jean Bedford and has lived in Sydney for most of his life. They have three daughters.

Suddenly Standish looked closer to forty than thirty. His face seemed to clench and lines radiated out from his eyes.

Did you ever meet Malouf? he said.

Two or three times.

What did you think of him?

I didnt want to talk about Malouf. Id tried to forget him. As I said, I found all that money management stuff boring and I tended not to take much notice of the people who spouted it.

He persisted. Good-looking?

Certainly not ugly, anyway.

He had... has a fatal attraction for women, including my wife.

You want to say Ah at times like that but you dont.

I discovered that theyd been having a long-running affair.

How did you discover that?

She told me.

It hurt him to say it; Standish was the sort of man who liked to put a personal-positive spin on anything. Why?

It was after he disappeared with your money and other peoples as well, as I suppose you know. She seemed upset at the news about Malouf but not distraught. But it was a sort of catalyst. We hadnt been getting along for some time, the usual things... and she told me, shouted it to me. She said she loved him.

Saying this had taken a lot out of him. He got up and the athletic bounce had left him as he crossed to where his bar fridge and a cupboard were tucked away. Im going to have a drink. You?

It was about three hours before my usual drinking time, but I didnt want him to feel any worse than he already did. Sure, whatve you got?

Everything.

Scotch, a bit of ice.

I didnt recognise the bottle; that doesnt mean much; I dont see enough single malts to get well acquainted. He made the drinks and brought the bottle back to the desk. The whisky was smoothabout as far as my capacity for appreciation goes. Standish downed half of his in a swallow and topped up his glass.

Im not a drunk, he said.

No.

Just that its hard to... relive it all.

Yes.

Are you making fun of me?

I sipped the drink. No, Im not. But youve only scratched the surface of what you want to tell me about all this, and Im wondering how much youre going to have to drink to get through it.

He pushed the glass away. They told me you were a hard man to deal with, but that if I was straight with you youd give me a hearing and might be willing to help.

I wouldnt exactly call what youve been doing up to now being straight.

No, youre right. Im sorry. Im manipulativeforce of habit. Lets start again.

Standish said his wife, Felicity, had met Malouf at a dinner for people in what he called the finance industry where he was the keynote speaker.

I was swamped by commitments, clients, prospective clients, offers of various kinds. He pointed to his glass. Id had a few too many.

It happens, I said.

Yeah. I tell myself if not that night, then sometime, and if not him, someone else. I sort of believe it. Anyway, the point is, it became an affair. I was busy and didnt know until she hit me with it.

You said she was only upset when Malouf was killed, not devastated.

Youll think me paranoid, but I suspect her and Maloufs wife and Christ knows who else of being involved in a conspiracy. Theres a lot of money involved, but more than that...

For a man like Standish that was a big admission. What could be more than money? I sipped whisky and waited for him to tell me.

Word got around about Felicitys involvement with Malouf. Confidence is everything in this business. Trust is nothing. A few clients have... withdrawn; a few are cooling off and its not just the GFC. Im facing a personal fucking financial crisis.

So it was about reputation but still about money. He was serious, no question. Hed drawn up a list of namesthe person who claimed to have seen Malouf, Maloufs wife, his own wife, gamblers the police had interviewed, a journalist whod covered the case, a lawyer representing a client who was suing Perry Hassans firm and another who was processing Perrys application to the insurance company covering him against precisely this kind of disaster. For someone who didnt particularly care for lawyers, it looked as though I was going to be spending some time with them. If I agreed to work for Standish.

Well? he said after handing over the list and some supporting informationnewspaper clippings, web page printouts, emails. Will you help me, and yourself?

I finished the drink and ran my eye over the list. The alleged sighting had been in Middle Harbour, at a marina by the Spit Bridge. That helped me to decide. Itd be hard enough tracking people down and questioning them with no credentials whatsoever in Sydney, but impossible in Liechtenstein or the Bahamas. Standish saw me focusing on that entry.

Hes still in Sydney. That means theres a reason, probably an associate. He had to have someone help him mount this operation.

From what youve said it could be a woman looking after him, giving him sanctuary. Thats if the sightings genuine.

The names are there. Felicity and I are separated. You can approach her.

The helpful associate and the woman could be one and the same, I said.

Does that mean youre in?

Im thinking about it.

Lets talk money.

Standish began by mentioning a contract, a daily rate and expenses but I stopped him.

First off, Ill go and see this yachtsman, the one who says he saw Malouf. If he doesnt convince me then its all off and I wont charge you anything. If Im convinced Ill follow up the other leads and see where I get. Ill charge you what I think the works worth.

Thats not businesslike.

Right, I said, look where businesslike has got us. Ill need your email address and a mobile number where I can reach you twenty-four seven.

He slumped down in his chair. See May Ling in the office.

I dealt with May Ling, who seemed to have everything at her perfectly manicured fingertips. I went down the stairs to the street feeling strangely buoyant. It wasnt just the prospect of recovering some money or avoiding bankruptcy. High enough stakes to start with, but it was more than that. It was because I was working again and about to be useful in a way I hadnt been for too long. Maybe.

They told me that after the heart operation Id have a new surge of energy, feel ten years younger. I did some days, not others. Some days I worried about little things that never used to bother me and some days I didnt let quite big things concern me at all. And I couldnt predict the way itd go. For the moment I was feeling younger because of the prospect of interesting work. I decided to walk back to the city for the exercise and to plan ahead. I was looking forward to studying the material Standish had given me and interviewing Stefan Nordlung, whod claimed to have seen Malouf. He was a retired marine engineer, an acquaintance of Maloufs. A drive to Seaforth tomorrow morning was a pleasant pros- pect after all the sitting about and time-filling Id been doing.

Id covered several kilometres briskly and was feeling good when my mobile buzzed. For some reason I have an aversion to walking along with the thing cocked up at my ear the way so many people do. I stopped and stepped out of the way to take the call.