tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50033992011-04-22T02:53:30.890+01:00Naylor's Canberrafreshly squeezed pulp noirDougnoreply@blogger.comBlogger621100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1109591360353264832005-02-28T11:48:00.000Z2005-02-28T22:57:58.663ZInstallment 61: pages 248 - 249 [In which Elliot makes a decision]“Yes, Minister,” I replied. “I think we’re done.”He nodded, and left.“I think you’ve made the right decision, Elliot,” said Carmichael.“I wasn’t aware I’d made a decision, David,” I replied, getting stuck into my steak. It was rare and bled as I cut into it. Carmichael kept his eyes from my scarlet on white plate. He seemed to be Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1108982509805588662005-02-21T10:41:00.000Z2005-02-28T11:46:42.986ZInstallment 60: pages 246 - 247 [Elliot is dining with David Carmichael and the Minister, who has just made a surprise resignation announcement]“Everyone knows I’m treading water. I’ve gone as far as I can. I gather Marina told you as much. It’s best this way,” throughout the Minister’s calm, kindly uncle expression didn’t flicker. The press story had been simple: Murderer and brothel-owner shot Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1108314567432353022005-02-13T17:09:00.000Z2005-02-28T11:47:30.880ZInstallment 59: pages 242 - 245 [In which we move forward a little over two months to see how it all pans out ... ]Coda: a night in late SeptemberThe evenings were longer now. The days, while windy, had tops cresting into the high teens and low twenties. After a prolonged stay in Jervis Bay, I was back in Canberra and fit to be let out in the evening.Danielle rested one hand with an unassuming Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1107703683213146002005-02-06T15:20:00.000Z2005-02-21T10:40:52.080ZInstallment 58: pages 240 - 241 [Elliot has provoked Ryder, who unfortunately is holding a knife.]While baiting Ryder, I hadn’t realised Stephen was busy justifying the confidence in his manliness demonstrated by the selectors of numerous First Fifteen teams. He had been edging closer to Marina and the wine-bottle just within her reach. Ryder lunged towards me just as Stephen made a grab for the Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1107100791505508372005-01-30T15:59:00.000Z2005-02-13T17:06:58.983ZInstallment 57: pages 237 - 240 [Elliot tries to engineer an Agatha Christie ending.]I was thinking of my text message to Detective Cole, but with the phone stuck in my pocket, I had no way of knowing if it had been sent, let alone received. I’d given the address here and added, with all the punctuation I could command: “tell the Minister I’ve found marina carmichael. weve been followed by the Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1106157821688720212005-01-19T18:00:00.000Z2005-02-06T15:19:45.296ZInstallment 56: pages 233 - 236 [Elliot has a rather unexpected interview.]
It's not a comfortable feeling, really, sitting in a holiday house when a murder walks in the door. When swimming with sharks, Elliot, I thought, try and remember to stay in the cage. One hand curled around my mobile. If I can just keep him occupied for bit ...
"How'd you find us?" I asked.
He chucked, in a low Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1105515327554293162005-01-12T07:29:00.000Z2005-01-30T15:34:34.380ZInstallment 55: pages 230 - 232 [Elliot, confronting his callous ex Marina, reflects on a few home truths.]
Perhaps, I thought, she's awlays been like this, I just didn't see it at the then.
We'd all grown up since uni, shed a few skins, but thinking back - it was there. I'd always been drawn to smart, gregarious Marina. She was the one who was always on the student law society, the one who ranDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1104803191375516562005-01-04T01:45:00.000Z2005-01-30T15:32:21.113Zinstallment 54: pages 225 - 229 [Elliot arrives with Danielle and Eva at the cottage where he hopes to find his missing ex, Marina.]
Getting to the cottage, it seemed further than I’d thought, but the streets were as quiet and poorly lit as I’d recalled. We had crossed the main street without incident, and quickly gotten into the reserve and followed the paths back towards the houses away from Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1104195444771652862004-12-28T01:54:00.000Z2005-01-12T07:42:28.026ZInstallment 53: pages 222 - 224 [Elliot arrives in Jervis Bay with Danielle and Eva, they are being followed by an associate of Ryder's.]
We wound our way down onto the peninsula. A winter's Monday night is not a big night in the Jervis Bay hamlets. The tourist cafes and restaurants were all shut. Theirs weren't the lights we were looking for. I'd explained my plan to Eva and Danielle and been Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1103496848835731792004-12-19T22:53:00.000Z2005-01-04T01:20:06.830ZInstalment 52: pages 218 - 221 [Elliot is driving to Jervis Bay with Danielle and Eva to find his ex Marina.]
We drove on in silence for some time. Bateman’s Bay was behind us, we had turned North into the darkness, small roadside towns and fishing villages streaming by in the night.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you Elliot,” said Danielle, eventually, “I hope it doesn’t have toDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1102846206159985232004-12-12T09:44:00.000Z2004-12-28T01:22:23.300ZInstalment 51: pages 213 - 217 [Elliot makes a night-time dash to Jervis Bay with Danielle and Eva.]
As we drove out of Canberra the twilight had thickened into a cold winter’s night at the end of the longest Monday of my life. Traffic was light, and I really wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the road, content to let Danielle drive. I certainly wasn’t paying much attention to the cars behind Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1092772742023097992004-08-17T20:57:00.000+01:002004-12-19T22:59:36.313ZInstallment 50: pages 209 - 212 [Elliot has some explaining to do.]
"Elliot we are not going anywhere," said Danielle firmly. "And we are definitely not making a three hour drive down to Jervis Bay. You aren't well, you basically look like something the dog's brought up. So, you’re going to slow down, explain what’s going on and then we are going – as planned – to my place, and we are definitelyDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1092042497178403832004-08-09T10:06:00.000+01:002004-12-12T09:44:20.563ZInstallment 49: pages 206 - 208 [Elliot, still at Marina's share-house, receives a call from his grandfather.]
I perhaps half knew what was coming as I took the call.
"Pop," I said, "really sorry I haven't called you back or dropped round. It's been an unbelievable week."
"No worries," he laughed. "I was only calling because I finally got to speak to Libby Hughes like you asked. You know Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1091180303252188412004-07-30T10:21:00.000+01:002004-08-17T21:03:45.986+01:00Installment 48: pages 201 - 205 [Elliot, back at Marina's share-house, has walked in on Sarah in the bathroom with a knife.]
It's a funny thing, walking in on someone's attempt at self-harm and being overwhelmed with a sense of embarrassment; it's simply a situation where the rule-book of polite middle-class phrases for all occasions comes up a terrifying blank. What do you do? You start talkingDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1086734065465460642004-06-08T23:33:00.000+01:002004-08-09T21:11:29.290+01:00Installment 47: pages 197 - 200 [Desperate for leads, Elliot returns to Marina's share-house to confront her flatmate (and he suspects her lover) Ted. He hopes Eva and Danielle can distract Ted's girlfriend Trish.]
The door opened on a view of as much concern as could be expected to occupy a woman’s face.
“Elliot,” Trish began, “are you alright?”
“Doing fine,” I said, smiling unconvincingly. Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1081535345968532132004-04-09T19:29:00.000+01:002004-07-30T10:43:15.250+01:00Installment 46: pages 193 - 196 [Elliot, still reeling from Danielle's suggestion that a political leak may have gotten Jenny killed, decides he needs to look at Marina's room again. He prepares for what could be a difficult interview.]
“Elliot,” began Eva firmly, “do you think you’re in over your head here? Mightn’t it just be time to call that detective and tell her all this?”
“Come on Eva,Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1080927733241705462004-04-02T18:42:00.000+01:002004-06-09T00:02:09.956+01:00Installment 45: pages 188 - 192 [Elliot inspects a vandalised apartment, surives two interviews, recaps the story so far and encounters a potential revelation.]
Danielle had parked right behind the marked AFP car. I didn’t relish the idea of riding in one again quite so soon. Danielle led me, more or less sleepwalking, into the units’ courtyard and up the stairs. Eva was entertaining a sturdy Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1079883949764883522004-03-21T15:45:00.000Z2004-06-09T00:02:26.046+01:00Installment 44: pages 184 - 187 [Elliot, having been warned of trouble by Dave Pritchard, calls the women in his life, flatmate Eva and almost-definately girlfriend Danielle.]
It had grown dark outside, and colder than I’d bothered dressing for. Between me and my car was the thin four-lane strip of London circuit that separated the Sydney building and the open-air car-park next to the ACT museumDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1078492558505816882004-03-05T13:15:00.000Z2004-04-02T18:08:57.483+01:00Instalment 43: pages 179 - 183 [Elliot interview Dave Pritchard, old battle-horse of the union scene, about Bob Mitchell, the financial backer of the shady property development involving David Carmichael.]
Dave Pritchard was not a hard man to find. A dubiously beige jacket was, as Eva had predicted, zippered up to his chin, marking him out from the Phoenix’s other punters. He looked like a blokeDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1077640217432362362004-02-24T16:30:00.000Z2004-03-21T15:53:19.903ZInstalment 42: pages 175 - 178 [Elliot returns home briefly after being roughed up at Unchaperoned, his day fails to improve]
Before they repainted and got some new furniture, perhaps one could have been served at the Phoenix with a bad case of gravel rash and wearing crumpled clothes that smelled slightly of your own sick. But two or three years back it had been spruced up, the stickiest of theDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1076955294911825462004-02-16T18:14:00.001Z2004-03-01T16:47:55.593ZInstallment 41: pages 169 - 174 [Elliot's day gets significantly worse when he tries to interview the receptionist at Unchaperoned]
“Yes?” she asked. “First visit?”
“It’s not that. I was wondering if you’d seen this man.”
I produced the photo of David Charmichael. The receptionist leant back in her chair, pushing away from the desk with one hand, and running the other through her hair in a Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1076374684420047592004-02-10T00:58:00.000Z2004-02-22T15:07:08.686ZInstalment 40: pages 165 - 168 [Elliot visits Unchaperoned]
I had never been to a brothel before. I drove past the place twice, once in each direction, on Fyshwick’s long, looping streets.
Regardless of the season, Fyshwick is flat and brown. It’s a collection of brick outbuildings, factory wholesale showrooms and hastily assembled warehouses. In a green city, it’s a solid expanse of concrete,Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1074792590334696142004-01-22T17:29:00.000Z2004-02-15T14:06:08.293ZInstalment 39: pages 161 - 164 [Elliot finds himself in an awkward position]
Beneath a handful of very bright lights, a locomotive medley of human sound and motion occupied the floor: an interlocking six-person parody of engine assembly. Two more sun-lamp tanned slabs of flesh stood near the noisy industrial process, whether as pieces to be joined to the existing machinery or as workmen waitingDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1074127927080069602004-01-15T00:52:00.000Z2004-02-15T00:01:06.420ZInstalment 38: pages 157 - 160 [Elliot investigates Jeremy Ryder's conference venue]
I turned off Yarralumla Drive a bit upstream of the dam, where the road becomes lined with earthy banks and pine trees, before looping back in towards Weston Creek. The side road I was on did indeed wind down towards the river. I was wondering about parking in plain sight of Ryder, when I passed a turn-off to Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1071339481008438402003-12-13T18:18:00.000Z2004-04-02T18:11:36.403+01:00Instalment 37: pages 152 - 156 [Elliot continues his internet research into the businesses owned by Jeremy Ryder]
I tried “Unchaperoned” and also got a Fyshwick address. Suspecting what I would find, I tapped it into the yellow pages as a business-name search.
One entry: escorts.
I clicked, and the relatively tame yellow pages ad came up.
Unchaperoned, for gentlemen of taste.
Meet ladies of Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1070037107953807812003-11-28T16:31:00.000Z2004-01-15T00:56:25.496ZInstalment 36: pages 148 - 151 [Elliot makes some legal inquiries about Jeremy Ryder]
I dropped in at the office to ask Chris about getting some ASIC searches done. Chris, a member of the registry team, is a marvellous useful chap to know. No matter how shady or respectable your business, there’s a lot of information you have to register, and a lot of it is public if you know where to look. A Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1069004812808269982003-11-16T17:46:00.000Z2003-12-13T18:21:30.340ZInstalment 35: pages 144 - 147 [Elliot's interviews with Jeremy Ryder concludes]
“Mind if I put the Bruebeck on?” I managed eventually.
“Not a problem, I’ll be dressed and straight with you. Sorry to hold you up.”
“Not at all,” I smiled, “glad to be out of the office.”
He smiled in return, a broad, handsome smile. He hitched up the collar and lapels of his robe before turning to head Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1068041772163789802003-11-05T14:16:00.000Z2003-11-28T16:38:18.233ZInstalment 34: pages 140 - 143 [Elliot interviews a man, Jeremy Ryder, connected to Marina's father's dubious business deals]
Jeremy Ryder’s house was enough to tell me we were poles apart in the Canberra status game. It was a serious address in Yarralumla, not that far as the crow flies from Hamilton Row, but worlds away in terms of the dollar-figure on the rates notice. It was an Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1067516710620782892003-10-30T12:25:00.000Z2003-11-16T17:50:29.093ZInstalment 33: pages 136 - 139 [Elliot continues his late-night interview with Jenny and Marina's boss, Milton Dawes, Minister for Justice and Customs]
“I am terribly concerned for Marina’s safety, given the tragedy that’s befallen Jenny,” he said. The concern sounded genuine. I could hear him dictating the press-release. Switchblade-quick, his tone suddenly changed: “Don’t mistake me Elliot, IDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1066578774710346732003-10-19T16:52:00.000+01:002003-11-05T14:19:49.246ZInstalment 32: pages 132 - 135 [Elliot is taking an unexpected, late-night call from Jenny and Marina's boss, Milton Dawes, Minister for Justice and Customs]
“I’d like you to come round to my house in an hour. You’re available?” The question was firmly enunciated, a formality, a command.
“I am.”
“Good,” the voice replied, and gave me an address in Ainslie, not too far from the war memorial.
Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1066229521154523192003-10-15T15:52:00.000+01:002003-10-30T12:28:08.013ZInstalment 31: pages 127 - 131 [Elliot returns home after a day in the cells, and speaking to David Carmichael]
Danielle dropped me home, but didn’t stay. I was reassured by a certain glance that passed between her and Eva, that scary feminine telepathy that we with two chromosomes can never properly tune into. It was a look that seemed to say: You go get some rest, I’ll cover this shift.
Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1063197078738579022003-09-10T13:31:00.000+01:002003-10-19T16:58:01.846+01:00Instalment 30: pages 122 - 126 [Elliot speaks to David, Marina's father, about what Marina discovered of his business dealings]
David sighed.
“I was storing some documents at home. In the safe. She knew the combination, sometimes left things there. She must have found them. They were annexes, schedules. Additions to the environmental impact statement for High Trees the consultant chose …” He Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1062630481407392582003-09-04T00:08:00.000+01:002003-10-15T15:59:28.983+01:00Instalment 29: pages 117 - 121 [Elliot speaks to David Carmichael, Marina's father, about his police interview]
About five minutes later we were in the square before the Supreme Court, blinking in the late afternoon sun. I stared at the Henry-Moore like sculpture, a sitting woman, her extended legs floating above the rectangular pond’s water jets. My solicitor cut an uninspiring figure, all Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1061418295399319292003-08-20T23:24:00.000+01:002003-09-10T13:34:17.846+01:00Instalment 28: pages 113 - 116 [Waiting in the police station, Elliot tells Danielle about his trial the previous year for running a man down]
“But it was an accident,” she said. “No-one thought you did it deliberately, did they?”
“Not the issue. You can still get seven years for culpable driving, reckless indifference to human life. The DPP went for me pretty hard. I’d also told the police I Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1060823826756363362003-08-14T02:17:00.000+01:002003-08-28T02:17:53.990+01:00Instalment 27: pages 109 - 112 [Elliot and Danielle talk at the police station]
VII.
Sunday afternoon in the cells
“I came as soon as they finished questioning me,” said Danielle. Her voice was low, almost a murmur. “It was surreal, a woman and a man in suits, badges out, introducing themselves as Federal Agents.”
“Yeah,” I answered flatly. “Hysterical. The Australian Federal Police, Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1060224278402983732003-08-07T03:44:00.000+01:002003-08-20T23:29:31.840+01:00Instalment 26: pages 105-108 [Danielle drops Elliot off to collect Jenny while she picks up brunch food, things do not go to plan]
Jenny had a good Kinston address: an apartment tower, rising like a grater, covered in balconies of solid brick. The glass doors were set in heavy metal frames beside a panel with a speaker and buzzers. Under the speaker grille was a thick slot. I buzzed number Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1059549454561695092003-07-30T08:17:00.000+01:002003-08-14T02:27:35.450+01:00Instalment 25: pages 102-104 [Elliot and Danielle drop Danielle's car off]
We didn’t make it to the bar. Danielle’s house was dark, her flatmates out dancing until daybreak. We had decided to go in to finish the wine, but something happened at the doorway. The front step was narrow. As she put the key in the lock, despite my earlier misgivings, I had slid an arm about her waist, kissing her Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1059086421076224332003-07-24T23:40:00.000+01:002003-08-07T03:31:28.046+01:00Instalment 24: pages 97-101 [Elliot has dinner with Danielle and learns a few home truths]
VII.
Saturday night and Sunday morning
There are moments at the start of a date when I’m certain I’ll never speak again, when each sentence leaving my mouth precedes a hideous pause, stretching interminably onwards. It’s a good time to be busy with a menu. Reading also gave the weak gin and tonic Eva Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1058513871657115692003-07-18T08:37:00.000+01:002003-07-30T08:20:12.566+01:00Instalment 23: pages 94 - 96 [Elliot discusses Libby Morris with his grandfather]
Pop could take care of himself, except for the cooking. His rooms included a kitchenette big enough to make tea. Tea, sipped while sitting the vinyl armchairs on Pop’s stub of a balcony, was the great ritual of my visits, even in winter. On a still clear day like today, the morning sunlight was too warm and too Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1057790518881183762003-07-09T23:41:00.000+01:002003-07-29T07:38:36.610+01:00Instalment 22: pages 89-93 [Elliot visits his grandfather before his date with Danielle]
VI.
Saturday
I woke late Saturday morning, and despite my efforts the previous night, I’d still a good deal to do. Before going to bed I’d made a late start on the calls I should have made straight after speaking to Stephen. First I’d needed to track down numbers for Angela in Melbourne and John VetheuilDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1057130958861452212003-07-02T08:29:00.000+01:002003-07-18T08:40:14.596+01:00Instalment 21: pages 85-88 [Elliot chats with Eva about the Minister's past]
Eva muted the television’s gleeful home renovators with a deft wrist-flick, her attention falling on me with spotlight-intensity. The gossip-hound awakes, I thought. She whistled.
“Hold the phone - Marina’s boss and her Dad are old pals?” she asked rhetorically. “What’ve you got there?”
“Background and bios,” I said,Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-1056667936308959352003-06-26T23:52:00.000+01:002003-07-09T23:44:05.706+01:00Instalment 20: pages 82-84 [Elliot discovers more about David Carmichael]
Lawyers often work late, but late in Canberra has a different meaning to late on the fiftieth floor in Sydney. In my town even the lean, hungry senior associates are gone by seven; true, there were a few notorious lingerers - but not on a Friday. Library assistants, however, have been known to only clock on at four. Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-958199042003-06-19T08:15:00.000+01:002003-07-02T08:30:37.076+01:00Instalment 19: pages 78-81 [Elliot goes to the library]
Daphne dropped me in Dickson, sparing me the public transport shuffle. I collected my car and dropped by Carmichael’s office to collect my cheque. I took the opportunity to leer a little at Sharon the receptionist, who hadn’t developed any great love of me in my absence. I visited the bank and scraped into work just before lunchtime. Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-955673242003-06-11T23:51:00.000+01:002003-06-26T23:55:20.640+01:00Instalment 18: pages 74-77 [Elliot speaks with Marina's mother, Daphne, again]
If Daphne Carmichael had sounded a little rattled when last we spoke, something now seemed to have crystallised: there had still been an edge in her voice, but determination as well. I looked round the flat, not bad. I wasn’t dating her daughter any more, but still felt some compulsion to tidy up. I wouldn’t have Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-952575322003-06-03T23:50:00.000+01:002003-06-19T08:09:05.000+01:00Instalment 17: pages 70-73 [Elliot recieves an agitated phone call]
V.
Friday
I was content. It was morning, and I was in my own bed, in my own flat. Well, mine and Eva’s. It was a lovely little place, if you overlooked the exercise-freak neighbours next door; the audible parties and copulations enjoyed by the lads downstairs (who also had a habit of leaving their noisy bathroom extractor Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-949594502003-05-27T23:11:00.000+01:002003-06-12T00:01:27.000+01:00Instalment 16: pages 66-69 [Elliot speaks to Eva and Danielle at the end of the houseparty]
The party drifted on into the later hours. Everyone there I’d known at uni was either still studying, or had just returned from travel or was settling into post-uni employment. I felt I was the only one without a legitimate excuse for being only semi-employed. Little turns in conversation showed me aDougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-947273762003-05-22T09:06:00.000+01:002003-06-03T23:54:12.000+01:00Instalment 15: pages 62-65 [Elliot speaks to Marina's colleague Jenny at the Thursday Night Dinner houseparty]
While we were on the topic, I took the chance to press Jenny about Marina: “You two hang out a lot?”
Jenny laughed: “Staffers don’t have a lot of choice. You live at the Hill. Still working for the boss makes it worthwhile.”
“He always seems pretty gruff on the telly,” said Sarah.Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-939152162003-05-07T09:04:00.000+01:002003-05-27T23:12:48.000+01:00Instalment 14: pages 57-61 [Elliot has offended Marina's colleague Jenny at a houseparty]
“Well, if anyone should have intelligent answers, it’s her. But you’re right, I should go apologise,” I answered. My amateurish detective efforts certainly weren’t going to get far without it.
“Don’t rush off just yet,” said Danielle, brushing her fingers over my forearm. For a long moment later, Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-935610532003-05-01T00:33:00.000+01:002003-05-22T09:11:57.000+01:00Instalment 13: pages 52-56 [Elliot talks with Marina's housemate Ted at the Thursday Night Dinner house party]
“No Marina this evening?” I asked with affected naivety.
“Nooo,” answered Ted. “Your favourite former girlfriend hasn’t shown up for a while. Owes me some rent, too.”
Strike one for sensitivity, I thought.
“Not like Marina to miss the rent,” I grunted. “What’s the story?”
“Some Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-931499392003-04-24T03:03:00.000+01:002003-05-07T09:07:38.000+01:00Instalment 12: pages 48-51 [Elliot drives back to Canberra, and attends dinner with Marina's flatmates]
It was a three and a half hour drive back, and I had to beat the closing dark. Eva was bound to be angry with me for pushing it, but the idea of looking up one of our Sydney mates or dossing in a youth hostel didn’t appeal. I also needed time to think over what Stephen had given to me Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-927015522003-04-16T07:52:00.000+01:002003-05-01T00:00:47.000+01:00Instalment 11: pages 45-47 [Elliot has coffee with Marina's brother Stephen]
Stephen lead me back out through the building’s foyer and across the road to a café that had a certain mortuary charm: all wipe-down tiles, stainless steel and bare white surfaces.
“Mate,” he said again, as two children’s-tea-set-sized cups were put before us, “what can I do for you?”
His grin was indulgent, wolfish.Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-922764432003-04-09T08:21:00.000+01:002003-04-24T03:36:50.000+01:00Instalment 10: pages 41-44 [Elliot goes to Sydney to speak to Marina's brother Stephen]
IV.
Thursday in Sydney, Thursday night back in Canberra
Outside Sydney, I called Carmichael when I pulled over to refuel – ignoring the frantic signals of the attendant inside at the till that I wasn’t to use a mobile near the bowsers.
“Mister Carmichael’s chambers,” purred the receptionist.
“It’s Naylor,Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-917987712003-04-01T23:26:00.000+01:002003-04-16T08:10:39.000+01:00Instalment 9: pages 37-40 [Elliot spends the night at Danielle's coast house]
Once inside Danielle began fiddling with the pot-bellied stove, restarting the fire. The paper caught quickly, flame rustling through it.
“Bugger,” I said. “These are the only pants I’ve got.”
“Packed a little light for a weekend at the coast, didn’t you?”
“I travel light.”
“I have some old tracky dacks that Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-913941832003-03-26T05:35:00.000Z2003-04-09T08:28:47.000+01:00Instalment 8: pages 32-36 [Elliot arrives at Danielle's coast house, hoping to find Marina]
The place had a warmth about it: constructed by a carpenter-grandfather during Danielle’s childhood, it was all unfinished timber, and home-made furniture assembled from heavy planks. The wood shone smooth from three generations’ use. Every second-best, slightly ratty, novel, board game, jigsaw or Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-909758232003-03-19T06:25:00.000Z2003-04-01T23:31:00.000+01:00Instalment 7: pages 28-31 [Elliot drives to the coast in search of Marina and reminisces]
III.
Wednesday afternoon: driving to the coast
The change in the weather Eva had mentioned that morning was now drawing in, and with it the beginning of another claustrophobic Canberra winter. By evening, the basin would be capped with wood smoke and clouds that hunkered into Black Mountain like an old Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-905721392003-03-12T06:25:00.000Z2003-03-26T05:40:04.000ZInstalment 6: pages 24-27 [Elliot leaves Marina’s mother and calls Eva again]
I made my promises and left. A promise to drive down to Guerrilla Bay and a promise to call her tomorrow. There was an uneasy taste in my mouth, not the dregs of my third coffee, but the growing tang of hypocrisy: coming over to Daphne all kind family concern, when the impetus was all David’s money. Either way, I Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-904797802003-03-10T21:47:00.000Z2003-03-19T06:35:31.000ZInstalment 5: pages 20-23 [Elliot talks to Marina’s mother]
I made a pointed study my coffee cup. Give people enough silence, they tend to fill it.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t very fair, was it? I always liked you for your frankness, Elliot. I was just trying to match it.”
“Well, Daphne, I always liked you more than –”
“You liked my husband?”
“I was going to say, more than you gave me credit Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-901618502003-03-05T06:29:00.000Z2003-03-12T06:30:49.000ZInstalment 4: pages 15-19 [Elliot talks to his flatmate Eva and Marina’s mother]
II.
Wednesday’s second cup of coffee, and a third.
When I don’t know what I’m doing, the only thing to do is speak to Eva, the world’s best flatmate. Besides, I needed to scour Sarah’s hippy tea out of my mouth with something black, bitter, and teeth-rattlingly sharp. I pulled out David Carmichael’s mobile and Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-897948842003-02-26T21:17:00.000Z2003-03-10T21:52:50.000ZInstalment 3: pages 10-14 [Elliot talks to Marina’s housemate Sarah]
“I’ll get the kettle on,” Sarah yawned, shambling into the kitchen. “’Scuse me. You know where the CDs are.”
She gestured vaguely at the lounge room, a primordial unformed chaos of books, bric-a-brac and expensive grey entertainment appliances. As in many share-houses mostly filled with new wage-earners fresh from uni, it Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-896148012003-02-23T21:30:00.000Z2003-03-05T06:33:53.000ZInstalment 2: pages 6-9
“Well, I can make some phone calls,” I said. “Work out who saw her last, drop round to her place.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said. “But this is a small town – “
“Look, David, you asked me because you know I won’t embarrass Marina, which means I won’t embarrass you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I began to get up.
“Do you have a mobile?” asked Charmichael.
I sat back in Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-893298022003-02-18T21:56:00.000Z2003-04-08T04:25:02.000+01:00Instalment 1: pages 1-5 [In which we meet Elliot Naylor and his new employer]
I.
Wednesday morning
A liquorice all-sorts set of books covered one foyer wall. Rows of law reports: blue for the All England, red for Chancery Cases, Green for Kings Bench and Victoria, caramel for New South Wales and dirty beige for the Commonwealth Law Reports. Each spine striped with a red or black label or Dougnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5003399.post-892030662003-02-16T21:51:00.000Z2003-02-17T06:13:25.000ZNotes
Here, in 1 300 words you find:
1. Why is Doug doing this?
2. An introduction to Canberra, Scandanavia of the South
3. A Legal-ish Disclaimer Thingee.
Why an on-line crime novel?
Tackling the first part: why on-line? Writing every weekday for my blogspot was getting in the way of just even finishing a draft of the first novel I’ve had a really serious stab at since high school. (I wroteDougnoreply@blogger.com