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could have felt uncomfortable but it didn’t. There was a confident easiness about her that communicated itself to me and we were soon chatting, ordering—oysters, fish, boiled potatoes and salad both—and enjoying ourselves. The place was busy without being packed and the service was casual but efficient. We had a bottle of Jacob’s Creek chardonnay.
    â€˜We’re going Dutch, aren’t we?’ she said.
    I shook my head. ‘This is my first meal in company since my heart attack. It’s an occasion for me, and you’re my guest.’
    She smiled. ‘Should’ve ordered caviar.’
    â€˜Not too late.’
    â€˜I’ve never liked caviar. Never saw what the fuss was about.’
    I told her I’d relayed all the material she’d sent me to Hank Bachelor and that I’d see him about it as soon as I got back to Sydney.
    â€˜It’s over a month,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t look good, does it?’
    â€˜A month’s not that long if he’s had an accident and amnesia, or even if he had to take off suddenly for some godforsaken spot and can’t get in touch.’
    â€˜Thanks, but …’
    There was no point in kidding her and she seemed the type to be able to face facts. I asked her whether her father had made a will and she said she didn’t know. I asked if he had life insurance or superannuation. She thought for a while.
    â€˜He said something once about managing his own fund. What are you getting at?’
    â€˜Just that if he’s dead you’d be his heir, wouldn’t you?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜We’ll have to try to track down his lawyer. Maybe this Tarelton mob’ll know.’
    She went quiet and we got on with our eating and drinking. She’d already told me that she’d come by taxi because the San Diego police were red hot on DUI. She was drinking her share. I asked her a few things about her work but she barely answered. I tried to tell her something about the private enquiry game in Sydney but she scarcely listened. Eventually she put down her fork (she’d been eating in the American manner, cutting up the food and using her fork), without finishing.
    â€˜If he’s dead,’ she said, ‘and if I inherit his house and his money, I’ll come home to deal with it. But please, please, I don’t want you to find that he’s dead.’
    And then she wept.

3
    Tom Cruise in
Rain Man
was wrong about Qantas as he no doubt found out later when he was with Nicole—you didn’t have to go to ‘Mel-born’ to catch it. You could pick it up in LA and fly to Sydney. I gave myself plenty of time to cope with the absurd security screening, tougher in my case because I had a couple of minor criminal convictions to my name. I’d pulled strings to get the entry visa, but the men and women, black and white, in the starched uniforms with the epaulettes checked and rechecked before conceding that Guantanomo wasn’t an option. I travelled first class, stretching my legs, walking about to avoid DVT and enjoying the Australian accents, the beer and the barramundi.
    â€˜Been away long, Mr Hardy?’ a steward named Frank asked, as he poured a Crownie.
    â€˜Felt longer than it really was,’ I said.
    â€˜Right. Home in time to vote.’
    â€˜You bet.’ I raised my glass. ‘To better times and better people.’
    A man sitting opposite heard me and did the same, repeating the toast a touch more loudly. I glanced around the section—more smiles than frowns. Encouraging.
    * * *
    At Mascot, I was met by Hank Bachelor and Megan. I shook hands with Hank, and resisted his attempt to take my cabin bag and my single suitcase. I hugged Megan.
    She stepped back. ‘We’re an item,’ she said. ‘We think.’
    I laughed. ‘Since when?’
    Hank said, ‘We sort of got together when we heard about what happened to you in San