Cooking the Books (32 page)

We walked down through a city which was in the middle of the afternoon rush and found that Salino’s was half full, as it always was, day or night. The group at the far table near the kitchen hailed Daniel and we found chairs and ordered coffee.

The group was composed of three people in suits and one man in jeans. They were all young and had that sleek air of those who know that they are privileged and rightly so, because they are clever and well dressed and deserve to succeed. This is an attribute of the very young and wears off fairly soon, as they are eroded and bruised by encounters with an unfair world. It is not unattractive, however brief.

They introduced themselves as Matthew, Mary, Luke and John.

‘Very apostolic,’ I commented. They looked at me. Oh, well.

‘So you really are investigating Mason and Co?’ asked Matthew.

‘Surely,’ said Daniel.

‘About time,’ said Luke.

‘They are a disgrace,’ said Mary, sipping her free-trade latte.

‘Tell me all,’ said Daniel.

So they told him all. Mandatory early-morning runs, which bore particularly hard on Luke, who had a damaged knee. Ritual humiliation of those who could not participate in the lunchtime gym sessions.

‘I worked in the city and I couldn’t even go shopping,’ complained Mary. ‘But not hopping on a treadmill was impossible. I was so glad when I got out of there.’

‘But their business,’ I hinted. ‘What did you find out about it?’

‘Shaky,’ said Matthew.

‘Shonky,’ corrected Mary.

‘In what way?’

‘Loans secured on wobbly estimates,’ said Luke. ‘That sort of thing. Futures trading. And at least two sets of books. I thought about complaining about them, but you know what happens to whistleblowers. I just did my time and got out as soon as I could.’

‘Which one is the crook?’ asked Daniel.

‘They’re as bad as each other,’ said John. ‘Tony’s all teeth and ears and zeal. Mason’s all laidback and smiley and just as greedy as Tony.’

‘Horrible pair,’ shuddered Mary.

‘What I wondered was, why did they take interns? They didn’t have to take interns. Did they bring us in just to make us miserable?’ asked Luke.

‘They brought us in to blame us,’ opined Matthew. ‘I remember when a bond went astray I was called up and carpeted and they poured shit on me from a great height. I hadn’t misplaced the bloody bond. I hadn’t even seen the bond. But it was me they blamed. I only got out of that office by promising to be a very good boy in future and signing a statement that I had indeed lost it. It’s probably on record somewhere, even now.’

‘Unfair,’ sympathised Mary. ‘They did that to me, too. Said that I must have been pre-menstrual and advised me to see a doctor. The cheek! I can still see that slimy creep Tony talking about “female problems”.’

‘No way,’ said Luke. ‘They must have done it to all of us to cover their defalcations! You too, John?’

John nodded and they all stared at each other.

‘You’ve never mentioned this until now?’ asked Daniel.

‘No, we don’t like to think about our time with good old Mason and Co,’ responded Luke. ‘We’ve got problems of our own—you know, present ones.’

‘All right,’ said Daniel. ‘Tell me all about Mason and Co. From the beginning.’

‘They handle the accounts for most of the restaurants and catering companies in Melbourne,’ said John. ‘This was good, because whenever they had a catered event it was superb. Healthy, you know, but luscious.’

Luke was beginning to put on a little condition and I felt that under the fancy waistcoat a fine corporation was already growing.

‘Yes, but after a while you long for a hamburger,’ said Mary. ‘And I can eat a hamburger without having PMS.’

‘And some of those food people are pretty difficult,’ said Luke. ‘And some of them are downright cheating on their tax. Mason and Co made no enquiries. At all. Also, they are dabbling in high-risk shares and the money they are supposed to have invested in secure stocks might not be all that secure. Not to mention sources of income which no one can explain.’

‘All right, they’re shonky,’ said Daniel. ‘Why hasn’t anyone done anything about them?’

‘Accountants are not like lawyers, who have the Law Institute breathing down their necks all the time. You don’t have to join the CA. There’s not really anyone to complain to except Companies and Securities, and no one does that unless they’re desperate. We weren’t desperate. Internships are only for six months and sometimes you get a bad one; so you suck it up and move on.’

‘I see,’ I said. ‘You have your own futures to think about.’

Mary looked at me gratefully. ‘You know how hard it is to get a job,’ she said. ‘We only
thought
there was something nasty going on. We didn’t
know
. But if Daniel’s going to out them,’ she added, ‘we can cheer from the sidelines.’

‘Bit harsh on whoever is there now,’ said Luke.

‘We’ll get her out before we blow it,’ said Daniel. ‘If there is anything to blow.’

The table of young people strayed onto other topics and Daniel and I listened, hoping to glean more information. But it was ordinary gossip. Interesting to the people involved but otherwise idle.

We paid for their coffee and left.

‘What are we going to do about Lena?’ I asked.

‘We are going to get some more evidence,’ said Daniel. ‘And we are going to have a chat with Mr Mason and Tony.’

‘I’ll get my running shoes,’ I said.

Meanwhile there was Pocket’s clue. Dilly dilly. Lavender’s blue. We discussed it all the way home. We came to no conclusion. No statue, location or illustration leapt to mind. Lavender undoubtedly grew somewhere in the city’s gardens—it is a nice durable plant and it smells divine—but I could not offhand think where I had seen it. And as to kings and queens, we had lots of both. Royal statues never go out of fashion.

‘Well, what do we do now?’ I asked helplessly.

‘We go see Pockets in hospital,’ he replied. ‘Or, at least, I do. I know how you feel about hospitals.’

‘In that case,’ I responded, ‘I shall go home and try a little contemplation. Horatio hasn’t had his outing today.’

So we parted and I returned to Insula. My ‘You have mail’ light was blinking. I accessed it. Oh my. The Lone Gunmen had tracked down GerGer, who had advised Lena to commit suicide.

It was her bone-thin friend, Claire.

Disgusted, I collected my esky and my cat and we ascended to the roof garden in our usual state. The temple of Ceres was cool and I set Horatio down to prowl off on his own occasions while I poured a gin and tonic and contemplated, as required.

I got nowhere. I did notice that the garden was looking a bit bruised from the recent storm. Since sitting still wasn’t working, I thought I would imitate my cat and prowl, so, glass in hand, I paced along the little paths. We had lavender. Several kinds, as far as I could tell, my botanical knowledge being very limited. And among the lavender, Trudi’s blue T shirt was visible as she swore dark Dutch oaths. She looked up and gave me her considered opinion on couch grass. It took some time.

‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘It should never have been invented. I see that Lucifer is assisting.’

Her half-grown ginger kitten looked up when he heard his name. His paws were dabbled with earth. Lucifer loves to get dirty. He is very un-cat-like in some ways.

‘He is good cat,’ said Trudi. ‘Gardener cat. Maybe I forgive him for the pigeon. It landed near and he gives a great spring and—paff! Feathers everywhere. Still, they make good compost.’

‘Tell me about lavender,’ I said.

Trudi sat back on her heels and shed a coil of couch grass into her trug.

‘Strong,’ she said. ‘Smells sweet. Pruned at the end of summer, but not too hard, it will bloom for years. Meroe makes tea from the flowers. What else is there to say?’

‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘Drink?’

Trudi agreed that she could take a break from her epic battle with the weeds and we went back to the temple of Ceres. Our gardener and all-round useful person takes her gin neat and she had her jar of rollmops to complete the treat. Luckily Lucifer likes rollmops too. We snacked amicably. But I was no nearer a solution for my puzzle. I had just finished my drink when Horatio arrived and engaged in a game of romps with Lucifer. They looked so cute that I could not interrupt them.

Trudi stared out at the garden as she munched her rollmop and swigged her gin. Lucifer grabbed one of Horatio’s ears and pretended to worry it, giving tiny little kitten growls. Horatio pretended to punch Lucifer’s lights out with his back feet. There was a blur of ginger and tabby and suddenly two cats were at least a metre apart and studiously ignoring each other. Cat? What cat would that be? asked Horatio. Pigeon! said Lucifer, taking off after one.

And on that note, Horatio and I took our leave of a chuckling Trudi. When we got back to the apartment, Daniel was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked grey.

‘What?’ I asked, letting Horatio down.

‘Pockets. He’s dying. That beating set off a stroke. And your computer just went bling and look what’s on the screen.’

I looked. I had set the computer to search for other mentions of ‘dilly dilly’. And this is what it showed me:

What shall we have for dinner, Mrs Bond?

There’s beef in the larder and ducks on the pond.

Dilly dilly, dilly dilly, come and be killed

For you must be stuffed and my customers filled.

‘So that’s what he meant,’ I said.

‘The poor old man,’ responded Daniel.

I thought of poor harmless old Pockets, who had done nothing except try to destroy himself with any available alcohol and who had been sent to his death by a couple of corporate greedheads for the sake of a few pieces of paper.

‘Mason and Co did this,’ I said.

‘No evidence,’ said Daniel. ‘It doesn’t take much to steal a life so unregarded. Most of his derro mates would do it for a bottle of Scotch. They aren’t talking and no one would believe them if they were.’

‘You’re right,’ I said, and sat down next to him. I didn’t know what to do. It didn’t seem right to grab Daniel and go back to bed.

‘And the Lone Gunmen found GerGer,’ I said. ‘It’s Claire.’

‘I thought it might be,’ responded Daniel gloomily.

We sat in silence.

Then the doorbell rang. The bell on the actual door, not the one which summons the householder from outside. I didn’t want to see anyone and fought the urge to hide under something until they went away. Daniel went to the door and let someone in.

It was Jason. I stared at him and I couldn’t even summon up a smile.

‘Hey, Corinna,’ he said uneasily.

‘Hey, Jason.’

‘I just come down to ask . . .’ he stopped. ‘What’s happened? Not Horatio?’

‘No, Horatio’s fine. But an old man we know has had a stroke,’ I told him.

‘Oh, well, he’s had his innings,’ said Jason blithely. So much for Pockets. ‘I just come to ask, when you opening Earthly Delights again?’

‘End of January,’ I told him. ‘Why?’

‘Want me job back,’ he said. ‘I been thinking. I talked to the Prof. He said I was an ungrateful young hound and Kyl called me a dickhead. Which sorta means the same thing. I shoulda known those two blondes’d get it wrong. Airheads!’

‘Airheads they are,’ agreed Daniel.

‘I sorta did me block,’ explained Jason. I could have hugged him. ‘Then Bernie told me that she wasn’t goin’ to stay. Is this bloke really goin’ to take her with him to LA?’

‘Who knows?’ asked Daniel. ‘He hasn’t got a great track record in that respect. Possibly.’

‘Any road, I wanna come back. Can I?’