Deep Water

Deep Water by Peter Corris Page B

Book: Deep Water by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Corris
and I didn’t want to be on the end of one of Fitzwilliam’s wild swings.
    I sat in the back of the car with Fitzwilliam while the young policeman drove. For some time Fitz said nothing, which was unlike him. He enjoyed the sound of his own voice, boasting, exercising his authority. I tried to look unconcerned and to keep quiet while the driver did a skilful U-turn and headed back towards Newtown.
    â€˜Do you remember being scrubbed as a private detective by the Board? For life?’
    â€˜I do.’
    â€˜It’s come to my attention that you’re making enquiries as if that ruling meant nothing to you.’
    â€˜It’s not quite—’
    â€˜I don’t give a fuck what it’s not quite like. Your mate Bachelor is allowed to employ associates as long as they have the appropriate qualifications. You bloody well don’t and you know it. Bachelor’s licence is hanging by a thread.’
    He was right. The PEA’s Act is specific on this matter and rightly so. Can’t have people running around doing the job without the training.
    â€˜Make your point, Fitz.’
    We were travelling down King Street and the driver made the turn into Missenden Road, cut across to Bridge Road and headed towards Glebe. Fitzwilliam said nothing until we pulled up in front of my house.
    â€˜There you are, Hardy. Brought you home. Don’t say I never did nothink for you. And I see you’ve spent some money on the joint.’
    I had. Front garden cleaned up, guttering replaced, tiles and pavers expertly relaid, fence and gate renewed and painted. All done while I was away.
    â€˜A tidy-up,’ I said, reaching for the door handle.
    Fitzwilliam grabbed my arm; pudgy though he was, he still had a strong grip. ‘I haven’t forgotten the couple of times you put me in the shit, Hardy. You and that mate of yours—that fuckin’ Parker. I don’t like you. I don’t like you inheriting money from your dead slut of a girlfriend, and I don’t like you surviving a heart attack and coming up roses.’
    I wanted to hit him, but you just can’t do it. ‘I’d feel the same about you if things were reversed.’
    â€˜I can’t do bugger all about all that—nothink, but I can tell you if you go on playing fuckin’ private eye, I’ll get Bachelor’s licence lifted and I’ll find a way to get charges laid on you both. Piss off!’
    He released me, opened the door and used his bulk to shove me out. The door slammed and the car drove away.
    Interesting development. Would Phil Fitzwilliam have the clout to get Hank’s licence lifted? I doubted it. So far Hank had a pretty clean sheet and it takes more than one infringement to bring about a cancellation. I should know; I had a pile of them before I finally went too far. There was no question that Fitz hated my guts and wanted to get even with me, but it was an odd way of going about it. How had Fitz heard about our investigation of Henry McKinley’s disappearance? There were several ways—a leak from the Missing Persons Division, information from Josephine Dart, or a spin-off from Hank’s enquiries. The last was the most likely and that brought the Tarelton company squarely into the picture.
    I didn’t go in for interior renovation of the house. I liked it the way it was, and with some new carpet, fixing of the staircase and some quarry tiles to replace the kitchen lino, I was content. I’d had a bit of rising damp treated, a few walls repainted. On the advice of the people installing wireless broadband and Foxtel I’d spent money on the wiring. The insurance company would be happy about that.
    Not wanting to mix my drinks, I sat in the breakfast nook in the kitchen with a gin and tonic on the scarred table and thought about Fitz. Among those in the know, he’d been notorious for taking kickbacks from companies and individuals for information about police

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