Peter Corris - Master's mates

Did my name mean anything to you when we spoke on the phone, Mr Hardy?

Her name was Lorraine Master and she was in my Darlinghurst office at 2 pm, as arranged, right on time.

Ive known a few Lorraines and some Masters, but no one putting them together.

Put together described her pretty well and that was probably why the remark occurred to me. She was tall with broad shoulders and then everything tapered down. Her eyes, skin and hair were dark and her teeth and tailored suit were snowy white. She had high cheekbones and a broad mouth over a strong chin. She smelt vaguely of some flower, one of the thousands I couldnt name, and the perfume was working well against the dust and damp spores that flavoured my office. She exuded confidence, but with it there was a note of strain, a tension.

Im Stewart Masters wife, Stewart Henry Master, that is.

Ah, I said. That cant be easy. What did he get, ten years?

Twelve with ten to serve minimum on account of his record. But hes innocent.

Master had been convicted of attempting to import a sizeable quantity of heroin from New Caledonia. He was a career criminal with a long list of prosecutions and quite a few convictions.

Stewart never had anything to do with drugs, she said. Never! He didnt use them and he didnt sell them. Hes a health freak, a body builder.

Hes in the right place then, I thought. All the time in the world to work on his lats and pecs and everything else.

She was sitting very straight in the clients chair, which isnt that easy to do because it has hard spots. Thats deliberate. A private detective doesnt want clients to get too comfortable. They might decide that its just good to talk, get it off the chest, and go on their way. I was on a much better chair behind my desk with things to fiddle with. I fiddled while I spoke.

As I remember, Mrs Master, they found the heroin in the false bottom of a suitcase that held your husbands things.

Thats so, with presents for the children and me in the case too.

Well

It was planted. That wasnt Stewarts suitcase.

Im sorry. I didnt follow the trial closely. He-

You just took in the charge and the conviction, like everyone else. Her smile was thin with no humour in it.

I was going to say he mustve claimed the bag.

It was identical to his, but it was switched.

I was fiddling with a ballpoint pen and just managed to stop myself from clicking it on and off. I put it down. Where, by whom and why?

Thats what I want you to find out and Ill pay you very well to do it.

Thats encouraging. But just say I could do it, what good would it do?

Then whoevers responsible could be convicted and Stewartd be let go.

She was somewhere in her thirties, well educated and confident. I couldnt help wondering how shed hooked up with a crim like Master. She wore discreet makeup, fashionable clothes and muted accessories. She seemed the kind of person who expected things to turn out well for her, but minute cracks were showing. The last statement was too simple and she knew it. She shook her head and her glossy, shoulder length hair danced.

I need help, she said. The kids need their father, I need him.

That impressed me. Not a rave against fate or the lawyers or the cops. Good word, help. I needed it myself often enough to be glad to give it if I could. If. It didnt sound likely.

Lets look at it, I said. The customs guys couldnt do the switch, could they?

No.

Baggage handlers wouldnt have the time.

Shed been sitting with her hands still in her lap. Now she clenched her fists and tapped them together. Not at the Sydney end, no. It mustve happened in New Caledonia and thats where I want you to go.

It was September, two weeks after the media blitz on the anniversary of the attack on the twin towers and the story was still running, although there was a weird segue to the threat posed by Iraq to the freedom loving people of the world. The day was cloudy and dull but the light in the room seemed to lift as she said New Caledonia. I had visions of palm trees and blue lagoons and snorkelling under a tropic sky. I looked at my hands, a bit pale after winter, scarred from fights and accidents, and I shivered although it wasnt cold. Im a summer type, greedy for the sun, and now maybe I wouldnt have to wait for it.

New Caledonia, I said, just to be saying it.

You know where it is?

Vaguely, I said. You turn right at Townsville.

Rockhampton actually, but near enough.

The correction reined me in a little. If I didnt really know where the place was, how likely was it that Id be any use there? I dont speak French.

She laughed, showing those strong white clackers and the thought crossed my mind that being shut away from her must be bloody hard for Master. Neither does Stewart or any of his mates. Theres a whole gang of them over there and one of them, or a couple, mustve set Stewart up.

Why?

She shrugged. Thieves fall out.

Youre frank about him.

Stewarts a con artist, a fraud merchant, a thief, but hes not violent and he doesnt deal in drugs. He he mostly takes advantage of people whore trying to take advantage of him.

What was he doing in New Caledonia?

Property deal. Legitimate.

It couldve gone wrong. He couldve been sucked into something he couldnt control. It happens.

Not to Stewart. Too smart.

I seem to recall convictions.

A long time ago when he was careless.

Did she mean before he met me, I wondered. I picked up the pen and dropped it again. You want me to go over there, link up with these mates, whoever they are, and get one of them to own up to

Its not quite as raw as that. She reached down for the big leather bag shed put beside the chair. Ive got some letters he wrote me, with names and places. She took out several airmail envelopes secured with a rubber band. And also She dropped the letters on the desk and hauled up a big ring binder. A transcript of the trial and Ive spoken to Stewarts lawyer about getting you access to visit him. I dont expect you to take this on without checking up on us and doing some preparation.

You were pretty sure of me, Mrs Master, but I dont know how realistic you are. Your husbands what? In his early thirties? And a body builder. I suppose his mates are the same vintage and shark hunters, windsurfers or whatever. Im not in the first flush of youth and I cant take my AK47 to New Caledonia. How dyou think I should proceed?

By bribery. Im offering you a hundred thousand dollars to spend on getting what I want.

By mutual agreement we didnt sign a contract there and then. I undertook to read the letters and the trial transcript and ask around about Master while his wife made arrangements for having the money available in New Caledonia. She made it clear that if I refused the job shed look for someone else, which tapped straight into my competitive instinct.

You can keep the transcript, she said, but not the letters. I only brought the originals to show you theyre genuine. You dont have a photocopier?

I waved my hand. As you see. Theres one in William Street close by.

Low overhead.

Thats right. Do you mind telling me how come youve got a hundred grand going spare?

She stood up to a full 180 centimetres in medium heels. Yes, I do mind. But Ill tell you this-its not Stewarts ill-gotten gains.

I put the transcript in a drawer, she picked up the bundle of letters and her bag and we went out and down the stairs into St Peters Lane. Her looks and the white suit turned heads as we made our way to the motor showroom where they let me use the copier. I wondered why she wore something like that on a dull day with rain threatening. Maybe she liked turning heads.