The Washington Club by Peter Corris

and a tremor ran through her. ‘I’ve thought about this for so long and in such a crazy state that I’m not sure anymore of what’s true and what I’ve imagined. Do you understand?’
    â€˜I’m a bit of an imaginer myself,’ I said.‘Have to be in this game. Sometimes, what you imagine can turn out to be as true as what you know, or think you know. I understand.’
    â€˜I believe that Julius was deeply suspicious of me. I think he knew what was in Dad’s journal and how damaging it was to him. He knew I didn’t understand Yiddish very well but he didn’t know how well. I think he had a doctor keep me in a sort of stupid state while he thought about what to do. I’ve got no evidence for any of this.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    â€˜I’m basically a very strong person physically. I’d hardly ever been sick before this. Nothing much worries me—antihistamines, antibiotics. I’ve drunk a lot at various times and I’ve never had a hangover. I can drink strong coffee at midnight and still get to sleep. I took the pills and things but somehow I came up out of the bog they were trying to keep me in. I surfaced one day and I heard and saw Julius abusing Van Kep for some minor thing he’d screwed up. Van Kep didn’t like it. And at the same time Julius had to leave Sydney on business. He didn’t tell me, but I picked up an extension phone in the house and heard him make the arrangements. I pretended to be as dopey as I was supposed to be and he left.’
    Her body was warm and yielding against mine and I wanted to tell her that she had nothing to worry about, that I’d solve all her problems and . . . I jerked back from thisnonsense and forced myself to put a sensible question to her, one that would anchor us in harsh reality.
    â€˜How long before he was shot was this?’
    She tensed a bit and then relaxed. ‘It must have been a couple of days. A week at most. He went to Adelaide. The next bit’s hard to tell you. Do you want to hear it?’
    â€˜I
have
to hear it.’
    â€˜I seduced him, Van Kep. I fucked him four times in one night and I gave him five thousand dollars to protect me from my husband.’

9
    â€˜What’re you thinking?’ Claudia said. ‘Tell me the truth.’
    â€˜There’s so many questions. What did Fleischman have on your parents? Why was he so worried about you getting hold of the journal? And the big one—if Van Kep killed him, for whom?’
    â€˜Are they your only questions, Cliff?’
    I knew from the tone of her voice what she meant, but I was concentrating now, focused, as the sports commentators say much too often. ‘Christ, no. Who was watching you and who tried to blow me apart? But those are the primary ones, the ones that need to be answered to get a grip on this. Did you look for the journal after Fleischman was killed?’
    She nodded, but she was frowning. ‘Everywhere. No sign of it. I’ve assumed whoever killed him took it.’
    â€˜You’ve got no idea who this other man might be?’
    She went rigid and the gentle rubbing of her head against my shoulder stopped.‘How could I? I didn’t have anything to do with . . .’
    â€˜I know. I know. I just thought Van Kep might have mentioned needing help. Something like that.’
    â€˜No! No! All I asked him to do was to keep an eye on Julius, make sure he didn’t hurt me or try to take me away or anything while I got things together to leave him. That’s all! He said he’d do it. He said he hated Julius, he . . .’
    She didn’t cry much and she didn’t actually collapse, but letting all this loose drained her. She’d been holding it in for a considerable time, telling no one, rehashing it over and over until it was like a permanent thread through her every thought and action. She’d called on her wits and reserves of