Wet Graves by Peter Corris

Author:Peter Corris [Corris, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781743437957
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2014-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

12

“You must be Hardy. Is that right?”

The big man bending over me was breathing heavily and sweating. I’d seen him before—in Arundel Street in the company of the widowed Mrs Glover and her unpleasant son Clive.

I wriggled up into a sitting position. I had an aching head, a closing eye and pain almost everywhere. “And you must be Detective Sergeant Meredith. I’m very pleased to see you.”

“Yeah, I bet you are. Could you tell me what the hell’s going on here? I came looking for you and …”

“For me? Why?”

You left your name at the morgue. I wanted to know why you were interested in Glover. Then I saw the sheet from the Woolloomooloo station that you were on the scene when another guy died, and in sight of the bridge. We have to talk, Hardy.”

“Sure. But how did you know to come here?”

“I put out a marker on your car. A cruiser spotted it up the road and called in. We’re pretty well organised these days.”

The flashing blue light had been turned off, but there was still a lot of commotion on and around the jetty and on the houseboat. The sorts of protesting voices that I’d heard before were being raised again and the cops were talking in their quiet, emotionless way. I’d really spoiled some folks’ night. Meredith took a look over my shoulder at the handcuffs.

“Can you locate a guy named Arch?” I said. “He should have the key to these bloody things. How come you piled in like this? I thought you just wanted a chat.”

“If you mean Arch Bailey, we’ve got him in custody. He’s wanted. That’s what I mean. I arrived and found all these bloody crims swarming around—Bailey, Fred Murdoch, Sammy Camarella. Couple of them ponced up in red jackets like they were in Las Vegas. All on the wanted list. I called in for support. “What’s going on, Hardy?”

I grinned at him. “You just raided Barry Tobin’s gambling boat. You’ve probably got the odd magistrate and MP in chains down there.”

“Shit.” Meredith pushed his lank fair hair back from his eyes.He was younger than I’d thought, at least ten years younger than I. His bulk had misled me. In the dim light he looked almost boyish. “Who cares” he said. “Those old pricks have had it coming for years. Their protection’s just about run out.”

“Good.” I said. I jiggled the short chain on the cuffs. “Arch?”

Meredith’s eyes went suddenly shrewd. “Still, I could be in the shit over this. You wouldn’t have anything else to tell me, would you, Hardy?”

“A lot, on this and the bridge business. But first you should send someone up to get a tape from the wheelhouse.”

“The what?”

“Up there!” I jerked my head to indicate the direction and then I saw Rhino Jackson. Two men, one in uniform, one in a dinner suit, were bending over him in attitudes that suggested he was a lost cause. Meredith gave urgent commands to a couple of the cops, and one returned with a key to the handcuffs.

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