Matrimonial Causes Read Online Free

deliver?’
    â€˜I’d rather not say anything more until I clear it with Mr Menzies.’
    Pascoe went away and left me in the empty, cream-painted room with my cigarettes, a gas lighter Cyn had given me, and my thoughts. Pascoe had left my licence folder on the desk and I put it back in my pocket. After that, there wasn’t much to do except smoke and think those thoughts. I quickly tired of that. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was less than two hours since Charles Meadowbank had set off for Rose Bay. Long trip. Another hour went by before Pascoe returned with a man whose face I recognised but couldn’t place.
    â€˜I’m Vern Morris, Mr Hardy,’ he said. ‘From Mr Menzies’ chambers.’
    I nodded. One of the outer office minions.
    â€˜Mr Menzies has authorised you to make a full statement to the police.’
    â€˜Big of him,’ Pascoe said. ‘Thanks, Mr Morris.’
    Morris departed and Pascoe plonked a battery-powered cassette tape recorder on the desk He turned it on and propped the little microphone up on its fold-out stand in front of me.
    â€˜All mod cons,’ I said.
    Pascoe squinted at a needle quivering in a small dial. ‘You’re on.’
    I told it as briefly and accurately as I could. Pascoe interrupted me to ask whether I had a file on the case in my office. I said I did and he raised an eyebrow. He stopped me again after I’d described the shooting.
    â€˜Description of the assailant. Take your time.’
    â€˜Small, five-six or seven with a light build.’
    â€˜Pity you didn’t get to grips with him. Big bloke like you could probably have cleaned him up.’
    â€˜He ran like the wind.’
    Pascoe grunted. ‘And he had a gun, of course. Did you see the gun?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Okay. Description, continued.’
    I paused. ‘Dark clothes, jeans I think and runners.’
    â€˜Features?’
    I shook my head. ‘Stocking mask. You know what that does to a face.’
    â€˜Yeah. One fish looks much the same as another. So, a very professional hit.’
    â€˜I guess so.’
    Pascoe added some identification remarks to the tape and then stopped it. He took a packet of filters from his pocket and lit up. He offered me the packet but I refused. I’d smoked too much already and smoking filter cigarettes is like drinking decaffeinated coffee—what’s the point?
    â€˜Any thoughts?’ Pascoe said.
    â€˜About what?’
    â€˜Come on, Hardy. When I said it was a professional job you sounded doubtful.’
    I shrugged. ‘I’ve never seen one before.’
    He butted his cigarette. ‘Okay, we’ll type this up and you can go after you sign it.’
    That happened. I caught a taxi back to Rose Bay. A television crew was packing up after filming outside ‘Lapstone’. A few people were standing around talking and a lot of lights were burning in the blocks of flats on both sides of the street. It had been the most excitement they’d seen there in years. I kept well away from the action. I was feeling tired and flat. My face was bristly and mymouth was sour after the smoking and talking. I was hungry and I needed a drink I looked up at the flats and wondered how Mrs Calvert and Miss Shaw were doing. None of my business. I got in the Falcon and felt around for the flask of Johnny Walker I kept in the glove compartment for cuts and abrasions. After a few pulls I felt better, well enough to go home to the loving arms of my wife.
    â€˜You’re drunk,’ Cyn said.
    â€˜No. Just a little lubricated on an empty stomach after a very tough night.’
    The house was a standard end terrace—two rooms and a kitchen on the ground floor, three bedrooms above, lean-to laundry and bathroom. It needed work, but the architect member of the team never seemed to get around to thinking about it. We went through to the living room and I flopped into a