Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [64]
As I walked out the door, I glanced back. Cass looked more at home there than I ever had. And it didn’t upset me at all. In fact, in a funny way I was kind of glad for her – and them. My parents needed to feel . . . needed.
Back in the flat, I added what I’d learnt to my notes. Shakes and Hardwick were definitely having their own problems, which had nothing to do with Bolo Ignatius. I felt happy to demote them to the bottom of the suspect list.
Over the next hour I did more background work on Team Bennett. Bennett’s Hardware was struggling to compete against Bunnings, and one motorcycling fan blog claimed the team was up for sale on the quiet. I found a year-old interview with Tony Bennett in which he talked about the family’s history in the West Australian motorcycle racing scene, and how much the team meant to him personally. Securing a berth in the Nationals would no doubt boost sponsorship and publicity but my instinct told me it was already too late. Bennett’s Hardware was going down.
I called Garth Wilmot. As an accountant and all-round know-it-all, he liked to keep abreast of who was on the up – and the down.
‘Tara? It’s Friday night.’
Garth and I had a kind of hate–tolerate relationship. Even though our romance had failed because we drove each other nuts, I knew he was good at all the things I was bad at, and he knew that I brought some much needed unpredictability into his stuffy life. We stayed in contact because he was my accountant, and occasionally we compensated for each other’s shortcomings.
‘I need to pick your brains,’ I said.
He sighed. ‘I was just about to eat dinner.’
‘It’s nine o’clock.’
‘I’m living on the edge,’ he retorted.
‘What do you know about the state of Bennett’s Hardware?’
He took a mouthful of his dinner and chewed in my ear for a bit.
‘Well . . . I’ve heard the receivers are moving in next month.’
‘That far gone?’
‘Don’t quote me on it. But I don’t think you’ll find I’m wrong.’
Garth hated to be wrong.
‘So they’ll be selling off their assets?’ I asked.
‘It’s the usual procedure.’
‘What about the Bennett racing team?’
‘That? Well, I imagine it’s been bleeding the company for years. In fact, it’s probably the reason things got so bad for them. Always a mistake mixing your passion with your work.’
That was such a Garth comment. Most people aimed to find a way for their passion to intersect with their work. Garth aimed to keep them separate. Mind you, I wasn’t sure that Garth knew what passion meant.
‘So even if the racing team had a good result for the season it wouldn’t help the company?’ I asked.
‘Not even a drop in the ocean of their debt. Why? What are you up to?’
Garth always made it sound like I was a criminal.
‘Just doing some background work on a client’s case.’
‘You’ve got another client? How did that happen?’
Garth thought my whole ‘business’ was a joke, but he was still happy to charge me for business consultations.
‘I need to come and see you soon about insurance and things,’ I said.
‘I’m an accountant, not a broker.’
‘Come on, Garth, you know a bit about everything.’
‘That’s true,’ he said smugly.
‘And that’s because you have no life.’
I hung up before he could reply. You had to get the last word with Garth or he became insufferable.
I reflected on what Garth had told me before moving on to the Rileys. It seemed my gut instinct was right: Bennett probably had too much going on to be targeting Moto-Sane. I spared a second to mourn the death of another independent business before putting through a call to Crack.
‘Sable’s Bar, Crack speaking.’
‘Crack, it’s Tara. I know you’re working so I’ll be quick. Do you know anything about Frank Farina’s reputation with women?’
He hesitated. ‘He’s a player.’
‘He do kinky stuff?’
‘Doubt it. Look, I gotta go.’
‘You busy?’
‘Yeah. Bolo Ignatius just brought in a large group.’
‘Bolo? Is there a red-headed guy with him in black jeans and a black tee-shirt who looks like an old rocker?’
‘Yeah. How’d you know?’
‘Is he asleep?’
‘Yeah, out cold in a chair