Mandy
Prenderville went over to her high-backed chair behind the desk and sat down
carefully. She had motioned me to one
opposite her, and I took the middle seat.
Harry thought he’d
better open the conversation. “How did
you know I was coming?”
“It wouldn’t
take you very long to discover the connection between your father and me via
his golf. I take it you are looking for
him?”
“How could you
possibly know that?” OK, so curiosity
got the better of him.
“He is
missing, isn’t he?”
“The question
still stands.”
“I happen to
be looking for him too. An outstanding
matter he was working on. I’m not used
to people up and disappearing on me.”
As much as Harry hated to think it, according to some of the reports on the Prenderville’s,
that’s exactly what happened to rivals and those who got in their way.
He didn’t bring
that topic up for obvious reasons.
“My mother
seems to think he had left her for another woman, which I might add, seems to
be the thinking of a number of others. I
have a hard time believing that might be the case, this time.”
It was
difficult to say what sort of expression she had, but it changed suddenly, to
very dark, like Harry had just trodden on her toes.
“You have a
different theory?” Her tone had lost
some of its geniality.
“I have no
real theory at the moment other than going around and visiting his business and
golfing associates and asked them a few questions about him and their
relationship with him. Yours, you say,
is golf. From what I’ve read about you,
golf is hardly a sport I would associate you with.”
“Playing,
yes. It’s a bit tedious walking around
hitting a little white ball. But it
seems it is a great medium for charitable outings, and, as you are no doubt
away, I do run a Foundation, and we are always looking for new ways to raise
money. Your father, though you may not
believe it to be the case, was very good at organising golf weekends for the
foundation.”
“And now he’s
gone will that fall to Emil Florenz.”
Expression changes
again, hard to incredulous maybe. Harry was
not very good at analysing people’s expressions.
She took a
moment to assess, in her mind, what she was going to tell Harry. Then, after what could be called a shrug, she
said, “Well, you have been a busy boy.
Your father once told me you were a failure at everything you tried, but
I put that down to the fact you had just walked away from a promising legal
career, the career he wanted for you. I
don’t think he ever appreciated your more interesting talents in the private
investigatory area. I assure you I will
not make the same mistake. Florenz is a
golfer, and a friend of your fathers, and therefore by proxy, known to me
yes. And yes, he might have to organise
the golf events while your father is away.
And before you ask me if I know where he is, I will reiterate, he was
doing a job for me, and my people are trying to find him too.”
There
was no doubting their connection was golf, she said it enough times. But in watching her closely, and those facial
expressions, Harry thought he had worked out when she was lying and when she was telling
the truth. And for the last few minutes, Harry believed he hadn’t heard one word of truth.
His father was
more likely to be doing a legal consultation of some sort for her. It might even have something to do with that
portside block if she was the mysterious owner.
He could ask
her, but Harry was willing to bet hr would not get further than her door before the
security guards dragged him off.
But Harry still
couldn’t tell if she had anything to do with his disappearance.
Change of
tack. “Do you know my mother?”
A half smile perhaps. “In a manner of speaking. She had attended a number of Foundation
functions and been a contributor to our cause for a number of years. Ever since I’ve known her I really couldn’t
understand why she married your father.
You do know she is very wealthy in her own right, and she doesn’t need
anything from either your father or his business. And no, she had never put a penny of her
family money into his practice, a sore point with him I can tell you.”
The fact Harry's mother had money was something she had told Corinne and him, but not necessarily
his brothers, but not to the extent that it would make a difference. He had checked it out when he had some idle
time, and the sums involved in her parent’s businesses, and that of her fellow
siblings made the Rockefellers look cheap.
She had lied
and he’d never understood why. She could
also have invested in Harry's private investigator venture, but she refused that too, telling him that
like his father he had to find his own way in the world. It was a variation on the, ‘if I give you the money you won’t go out to work for it’ speech.
He could ask
more about that, but it would only be from a third-party perspective, if at
all. Better to move on. “What was my father doing for you?”
“A legal
matter.”
“Couldn’t
elaborate?”
“Perhaps if you
were one of his lawyers I might, after signing a non-disclosure agreement, but
as you are not, I can’t tell you?”
“A hint then,
criminal or civil?”
“Your father
doesn’t do criminal unless you think he was defending me. I read the papers, and they do not like
me. I don’t know why, I’m out there
every day looking after the homeless, and those who can’t afford proper medical
help.”
“Perhaps it’s
the reputation your brothers brought to the name Prenderville. Perhaps if you changed the name of both
yourself and the foundation…”
Advice, by the
look on her face, was not sought.
“It might, but
it’ll be a cold day in hell before I do that.
Now, that’s all I can tell you, except for one observation, your father
spent a lot of his time at the golf club, and I suspect it became his proxy
office. Dig a little, and see if he has left
anything there. You never know. Now, I don’t expect to see you again.”
There was no
doubt in Harry's opinion, the meeting was over.
© Charles Heath 2020-2022
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