Chapter 4: Lunch with a private investigator

It was going to be hard. 'I've been told that before.' She could see him debating whether to ask the results or let it go. He let it go.

Elisabeth introduced a new name. 'There's a Sydney neurosurgeon. William Liu at St Vincent's. I'd like him to have a look at Russell but I don't know if he'll traipse all the way down here. I'll go to Sydney. Can you or Judy arrange it?'

'What can he add that Westmore hasn't already said?' He saw her draw breath. 'There needs to be a reason. And if anyone talks to him it should be me.'

She leaned forward. 'He's Professor of Neurosurgery. He's the best. If he will say Russell has amnesia it would be worth it. And if you don't mind I'd like to talk to him.' She was conciliatory. Barristers should leave proofing witnesses to the solicitor, but she wanted to see this one. 'As for the others, I'd like to have a look at whoever I can. This stuff,' she gave the papers before her a flick, 'only takes you so far. Would you shut the door on your way out.'

He did, feeling outmanoeuvred and manipulated.

Alone Elisabeth picked up the phone, making several calls that occupied most of the afternoon. With Joseph Gaudry, the private investigator the office used in its investigations, she made arrangements to meet after work at a local restaurant for an early evening meal. She met him strolling, as he had said he would be, up and down the tree and park-bench lined street outside.

'No trouble finding the place?' he asked as they shook hands. 'Right. Let's get out of the heat.'

At five thirty they were the only customers and as they walked through the door were greeted and shown to a table at the back. The lower eating level was surrounded on three sides by glass that gave views of small courtyards for fair weather dining, or for those who couldn't last the meal without lighting up. Glass walls slid back to break the barrier between the internal and external tables and an easterly blended with the air conditioning around their legs.

Gaudry was an individual who had learned how to dull the distinctive edges. From clipped even-cut dark blond hair to clean-shaven face, white shirt, dark grey and white diagonally striped tie, mid-grey summer weight suit and dark grey moccasins, he was smart but unremarkable. As he shed his jacket Elisabeth noticed that the lack of fat around his face, neck and hands extended to the shape under his shirt. 'Have you spoken to Robert Murphy today?'

He settled down and lifted his hands away to give the waitress clear access to his lap with the napkin. His acknowledgment included his thanks to the dark-haired girl and Elisabeth's remark. 'Ran into him at lunch,' he said as the waitress repeated the process with Elisabeth. 'He said you'd be ringing me.'

They were being offered menus and Elisabeth ordered a caesar salad without consulting. Joe ran his eye over the menu and wine list. 'The tuna for me, thanks, Naomi, a bottle of the Jeir Creek, and some bread while we're waiting.'

Small talk was not part of Elisabeth's plan. After the waitress left she said, 'I spoke to the Principal of Glenelg High School today.' She stopped when the waitress returned to pour the wine.

Joe raised his glass, and his eyebrows.

'I apologise if this seems rude,' Elisabeth said. 'But allow me a little latitude. I'm new and I want to hear things for myself.' His expression modified. It would not have mattered if it hadn't. 'The Principal said that he and several teachers had remembered more since you contacted them. Apparently Russell was a bit of a loner but there was one kid he hung around with, a Simon Constantine. They gave me his home details and I managed to catch his mother. She said they've known Russell since he was thirteen. His family moved to the area around then and Russell met Simon at school. They became best mates. She said she met Russell's parents several times at school functions and remembers that around the time Russell went jackarooing they returned to live in America. Mr Montgomery was apparently from there and had married and stayed in Australia. He worked for a computing firm, she thinks. She also remembers that the eldest son wanted to go to West Point but Russell wanted to stay in Australia. The Constantine's offered to put Russell up but he was set on going to Western Australia. She said they were away on holiday when he was trying to contact them.'

'You've been busy.'

Elisabeth went on, 'I intend bringing Mrs Constantine and maybe Simon up for the trial. I want the jury to see Russell when he realises he's supposed to know them.'

'That's risky.'

Another table filled unnoticed.

'I don't think so. I believe he has amnesia.'

'What makes you so certain?'

Elisabeth went to speak but took a sip of wine instead. The glass shook. 'It's a chance I'm willing to take.'

He gave the brief vignette some thought. 'You don't have to risk it. Bring them up now and let them meet.'

She shook her head. 'It would defeat the purpose.'

He felt like shaking his. Instead he gave his attention to his food.

'I'd like you to check out Waite and Moody. And the Stavros family.'

He finished chewing, rinsed his mouth, refilled his glass and asked why.

'Can you do it?'

'Yes.' He laid his utensils down. 'But why?'

'I want everything you can dig up.'

'What are you trying to do?'

The tables enhanced intimacy. She saw the inner corner fine lines under his eyes crinkle with otherwise undetectable suspicion. 'Find a weakness. If there's any room for doubt I want to know about it.'

'How do you intend getting around the fact that Mrs Stavros saw it?'

'Robert says she was nervous at the committal. Needed an interpreter.'

'Of course she was nervous. And her English isn't good.'

'It's hard to believe she hasn't picked it up after thirty years.'

Joe's voice took on a lecturing quality. 'You can find it as hard to believe as you like, but the fact is that there's an awful lot of people like her. Everyone speaks the mother tongue at home and because the woman stays at home she doesn't get the chance to learn her new country's language.'

'I know. I'm just saying that I think she probably knows enough to understand and be understood.'

Joe became patient. 'In a crisis people revert to what's comfortable.'

'Belligerently nervous, Robert said.'

It took him a moment to dovetail this. 'Well, maybe she was anxious that her husband wouldn't receive justice. If she couldn't understand everything she'd naturally have been worried.'