Follow the Money by Peter Corris

Author:Peter Corris [Peter Corris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Allen & Unwin Pty Ltd
Published: 2011-04-06T14:00:00+00:00

The venue for the meeting, at lunch the following day, was a café at Circular Quay. Fine by me; plenty of people about and I like to see the ferries at work. A bit of didgeridoo goes down well, too. It wasn’t quite May Ling’s kind of place though, a touch too much of the common people, and she struck me as an indoors woman, the place where she did her best work. That complexion hadn’t been subjected much to sun, wind and rain. A bit of a threat on this day. The winter sun was strong and she had mounted massive protection—a broad brimmed hat and sunglasses that seemed to cover most of her face.

She’d dressed down for the occasion in trousers, medium heels and a sweater and I wondered what this meant about her relationship with her sister. The scarf and gloves she wore added a touch of elegance, but she clearly wasn’t trying to outshine another woman.

I watched her approach, cleaving through the tourists and lunchtimers, expecting them to part, which they mostly did.

‘Mr Hardy,’ she said as she deposited her bag on the table and took off her gloves.

‘Ms Ling,’ I said. ‘Sydney at its best.’

‘Which puts it way behind a lot of other places.’

‘You think so? I don’t agree.’

‘You wouldn’t. I hope you’re ready for . . . Gretchen. She devours men.’

‘Why here? She lives in Seaforth.’

‘So she’s a bit out of her comfort zone. Gretchen’ll find this very tacky . . .’

‘She’ll have trouble parking her Beemer or Porsche or whatever.’

‘Taxi. She’s lost her licence at least twice. She’s a maniac driver.’

Unlike you, I thought. ‘Devours men, you say—is that why you never told Miles about her?’

She ignored that and glanced around for a waiter. ‘I’m betting the service here is sub-standard.’

‘I’ve got a carafe of the house white coming. What was her name before she changed it?’

‘I forget. Why don’t you ask her if you want to get off on the wrong foot. Here she comes.’

I could see why May Ling hadn’t chosen to compete with her sister. There was no chance of winning. The photograph in the magazine hadn’t done her any justice. There was no other way to describe her but as exquisitely beautiful. I caught an amused look on May Ling’s face as I got to my feet. For her, I’d only made a sketchily polite gesture. This woman could pull the strings.

‘Why, May, honey, how nice to see you in such rugged and polite company.’

‘Cliff Hardy,’ May Ling said, ‘this is Gretchen Nordlung. Gretchen spent a little time in San Francisco and she likes to let it show.’

Gretchen smiled at me, showing perfect teeth, perfect eyes, perfect lips. The effect was overwhelming and, strangely, almost comic. ‘Bitch,’ she said. ‘Where’s your fancy lawyer, and who’s this thug? I’ll give you ten minutes.’

Like May Ling, as well as the fragile beauty there was a tough side to her. Thug might be the only way to play it, I thought. I remembered the loose, almost sloppy style of her speech on the phone.

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