The man known as Eric Moss was a ghost.

Chapter 33

I DECIDED TO do what I should have done with Gus and Jennifer Finch and double-check who our clients were and what they claimed to be.

I refused to be played again so this time I searched for Eliza Moss. An abundance of photographs of her appeared in business and social pages. She talked with pride about her father, but there was no mention of a mother.

She claimed she’d been born in Lithgow, not far from Contigo Valley. Only there was no birth record for Eliza Moss. By now, my patience was at breaking point.

What were these people playing at? If they wanted their true identities to be secret, it was beyond bizarre that they would both hold high-profile jobs. I had to wonder what sort of fraud the two could have been perpetrating. Was Moss siphoning money from Contigo or its donors? One thing was certain, I wouldn’t be party to it.

I headed back to the lab to check on Darlene’s progress. She was in the middle of attempting to highlight a fingerprint on the aglet from the blood-stained hoodie.

‘I tried cyanoacrylate in the fume cupboard,’ she said. ‘It didn’t pick anything up. Now I’m adding a fluorescing agent.’

The fume cupboard was a way of highlighting latent fingerprints. The work was tedious and fiddly. It took someone with Darlene’s patience and experience to develop new ways to improve the technique.

‘If there’s a partial, you’re hoping ultraviolet light will show the definition?’

Darlene smiled, the full-dimpled version that was reserved for someone appreciating her ingenuity. ‘You so get me.’ Her attention quickly turned to the remaining specimens. ‘I’ll let you know the second I find something.’

Next stop was Mary and Johnny. They hadn’t made much progress on the IP address. I suggested they go home, get a few hours’ sleep and come back early.

Mary stood up and stretched her back, cracking the joints in her spine and neck. ‘You should grab some kip too,’ she said.

‘I’ll stay here on my office couch.’ It wouldn’t be the first time. Anyway, after the door being smashed last night, I’d be more comfortable if Darlene had someone with her in the office.

Johnny offered to stay but there was little point. He agreed to keep working a couple more hours, though. There was something important I needed to do.

I headed out to confront Eliza Moss.

Chapter 34

I PARKED BY The Rocks at Circular Quay and walked along the promenade. The night was clear with a slight hint of a breeze. Summer crowds were out enjoying the best of the harbour. It still amazed me how stunning the city could look, particularly at night with the iconic Bridge and Opera House lit up.

I’d lived in a few great cities but this one always felt like home.

It was almost ten. Eliza’s function would be in full swing. I was now calm enough to challenge her without emotion.

I breathed in the sea air and entered the Park Hyatt through the bar.

The noisy ballroom was decked out in full Mardi Gras splendour. Colourful streamers, ornate masks, beads and brightly coloured candles adorned the banquet tables. The residual aroma of spicy Cajun wafted from the ‘Spice Palace’ buffet as a jazz band played to a full dance floor. On the perimeter of the room, people jostled around carnival stalls offering temporary tattoos, fortune tellers and voodoo instruction. The atmosphere was electric, not the usual dull, charity event.

I spied Eliza at a table near the centre of the ballroom and wove my way through overly merry revellers. A street magician I passed seemed affronted that I wasn’t interested in his card tricks.

My client sat amid a sea of wealth, at a table with a couple of recognisable faces, and some barely identifiable ones thanks to overzealous cosmetic work.

She saw me approach and interrupted her conversation, without getting up.

‘You have news?’ Her piercing green eyes looked up at me.

‘We need to speak in private.’

A minion delivered her a glass of wine. ‘Things wrap up in about half an hour. Can this wait till then?’

I wondered what the hell this woman was playing at. She seemed more interested in holding court than finding her missing father. I didn’t like being used or made a fool of. She’d contacted Jack Morgan and misled both of us. Given she was going to profit in the event of her father’s death, she could leave her workers to ‘wrap up’ for her.

‘I need to see you in private. Now.’ I was sharp, exactly as I’d intended.

Tags: James Patterson Private Mystery
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