Farewell to the Dancing Man Ch. 25-29

"Cynthia Pearson?"

"Now that is one person that I remember well. I was just beginning to think of myself as a good tennis player, after all I had been given the very best coaching ever since I was old enough to hold a racquet. My coach had convinced me that I should try for the Gillespie Club teams and he had me certain that I could make the A1 team without any problem, then along came Cynthia Pearson, calm as you please and proceeds to make a total mockery of me and all of that expensive coaching. If she wasn't so unaffected by it all I probably would have hated her. Now that I remember it she also beat someone else that day who didn't take it nearly as well as I did."

"Who was that?"

"Paul Thomas. Rumour had it that she had been getting private coaching from him and, if you were to believe the rumours, the coaching didn't stop at tennis. Then she, after comprehensively showing me what a talentless player I was, she goes out and has him chasing the ball all around the court. The game was called off when she was leading 4-2 when he was supposed to have sprained his wrist. I felt much better after that."

"Have you heard from her lately?"

"No. She left the club just after her mother left. I left not long after that to concentrate on my studies. Why the sudden interest in what happened twenty years ago?"

"You've probably he3ard of the skeleton that was found in a septic tank at Wahroonga the other day. Well it was that of Paul Thomas. Cynthia Pearson is now Cynthia Swain and she is again living in the same house she was living in as a child."

"Now that you mention it I can remember seeing that on TV and thinking to myself that the young girl that they interviewed looked familiar. If they had shown her mother I would have remembered straight away."

"How was that?"

"It must be something in the genes, the girl, what was her name, Rebecca? She looked exactly like Cynthia did at her age. If I was to see Cynthia now I would find that she looks the same as her mother did twenty years ago. I wonder if Cynthia has had a long series of lovers like her mother is alleged to have had?"

"She says not but I'm not so sure."

"If I didn't know better I would suspect that you have more of a professional interest in her."

"I try not to mix business with pleasure."

"You surprise me Sergeant, from what I have heard, New South Wales' finest are not above a little extracurricular action whenever they can, and you definitely do not look the celibate type to me. Do I shock you?"

I decided that protestations of innocence would not fool this astute woman. "I only said that I tried, I didn't say that I succeeded."

"Touché. Now will that be all?"

"Just a few more questions. You obviously have a good memory and are very observant, did you see Paul Thomas at any time after Judy Pearson left for England?"

"I don't think so."

"What was said around the club after his disappearance?"

"Everyone said that he'd gone to England to be with her, everyone that is except for his wife and the Pearsons."

"His wife believes that he is still around, there are moments when she actually believes that he is still, living in her house. The Pearsons, what was their explanation?"

"The story that they told was that she was visiting relatives in England. As for him, they just ignored the fact that he wasn't around."

"What did they say when she hadn't returned as expected?"

"Cynthia had already left the club my then and he was never a member."

"Wasn't he?"

"No. He always gave the impression that he was, he came to all the matches especially after Cynthia joined. He supported all the functions, but he never joined, and I don't know why."

"The relationship between Cynthia and her father, how would you describe it?"

"I think I know what you're getting at, but no, at most it was a very warm father/daughter relationship and one that was the envy of a lot of people."

"Including yourself?"

"My relationship with my father was different, but yes, I was jealous of theirs."

"Do you think that it was close enough for her to lie to protect him?"

"Again I know what it is that you are inferring, but again, no. From what I saw of him, the one thing that he demanded of her, and she gladly gave him especially after he found out about her and Paul Thomas without making a federal case of it, was total honesty, at least to him."

"Now that he is dead do you think that still holds true?"

"If you expect me to say the she would lie to protect him now you are mistaken. To do that would require me to make a supposition. While I might think it privately, you will never get me to say so."

"It was worth a try. If you think of anything else would you give me a call on this number." I wrote my home number on a slip of paper and handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me that you are a police officer investigating a murder and you give me a phone number that is not a police station number. What is going on?"

"I am not officially on this case anymore. You see they wouldn't give me time to investigate properly so I took some leave that I had coming to me and I'm doing this in my own time. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"You are placing yourself in a difficult position and if you want some free legal advice, I would tread very carefully if I were you."

"I'll bear that in mind. How did you know that the number wasn't my direct line?"

"I know the prefixes of all the police station numbers and the numbers of most and that is not like any of the police numbers."

"I would still like to hear from you if you think of anything. Thank you for your time." The interview was more interesting than fruitful. I had just about exhausted my sources of information and was no closer to getting solid evidence, or Cynthia Swain.

I called into the office on my way home to check if there were any messages. The Pathologist's report was on my desk so I skim read it. There was little of significance so I dropped it into the file on my desk. As I was leaving I noticed a group of detectives in the lunch room looking at a series of photographs. "What's so interesting?"

"Have a look at these photos. One of the guys in Vice left them for us to have a look at."

I flicked through about twenty of the dirtiest photos that I had ever seen before coming to some that were different. "Can I have a copy of these?"

"I always knew that you were fond of girls mate, but two young ones together, now that's really kinky."

"I would still like a copy of them."

"Take them, I'm sure the we can get more."

I didn't call into the pub on the way home for fear of running into a certain woman, instead I bought some fish and chips and sat down in my kitchen with my meal and a beer and stared at the photos. "Now my pretty lady, I have you right where I want you, you will do exactly what I say or else these photos will be sent anonymously to some sleazy publication.

I was just about to go to bed happy with my prospective victory when the phone rang. "Sergeant." The voice was smooth and sophisticated and recognisable as one that I had heard not all that long ago. "Jane Tomlinson, I have been giving your particular problem a great deal of thought since you left. Can we meet somewhere?"

"Sure, you name the time and the place."

"Do you know the Acapulco restaurant?"

"Yes, the one at the St Ives Shopping Centre?"

"Yes, can you meet me there in half an hour?"

I was there in twenty-five minutes. I told the waiter that I was to meet Mrs Tomlinson and was escorted to a small table in a dark corner. "You were quick."

"Privilege of position."

"What I have for you may be important and then again it may not, I'll explain later, but it still may be worth following up. A friend of the family used to live next door to the Pearsons. Her father was something of a voyeur."

"You mean a peeping tom."

"As you wish. He kept a pair of binoculars handy so that he could keep an eye on what was going on, things like skinny dipping late at night and nude sunbathing. Well he remarked one night that something unusual had happened."

"What was it?"

"Someone, and this person had been a regular visitor during the day when Judy Pearson was home alone. This person arrived late at night and by taxi. That in itself was unusual because he used to always come by car. But what was even more unusual was, he was not seen to leave."

"I don't suppose that you could pinpoint the date by any chance?"

"Roughly, yes. It was about two weeks after the last of the Pearson parties. He particularly remembered because he was the man that was having an affair with Judy Pearson and she had left a couple of days before this happened."

"How come he could still remember all of this?"

"Because it was unusual enough for his memory to retain it."

"You said something that suggests that we may not be able to use this."

"Yes, you see he is in a nursing home and he has senile dementia which means that while he can remember things that happened a long time ago his short to medium term memory is virtually non-existent, he can't remember things that happened yesterday. Any competent lawyer will know that this is not unusual in the elderly and, by asking questions about recent events, cast doubts as to the accuracy of his testimony."

"Just what I need, some evidence that isn't evidence."

"The reason I gave this to you is that it is part of a circumstantial body of evidence that, if it is strong enough, can be used to establish a Prima Face case. Now let's forget about this case for a while, waiter." He hovered. "I would like a bottle of champagne to go with the meal that I have ordered but not yet consumed."

Over the bottle of champagne I told Jane something of myself and found out a lot about her. She had not had any male companionship since her husband died and had thought that she had been too busy to be lonely. "That was until you arrived on my doorstep today," she whispered over the rim of her glass, "I realised then that I have been so desperately lonely."

I would love to have stayed in her company, but I had to leave. "Look, the thing that I want to do most is at this very moment is to take you home and relieve your loneliness, but unfortunately duty calls. Some other time, soon." It was all I could do to drag myself away from her sad eyes.

"I'll hold you to that, soon. I'll call you tomorrow, good night."

The vision of her competed with the pictures I had got from the station. I took one final look before turning off the light. There in front of me were the exquisite and naked forms of Rebecca Swain and her friend Samantha.