Make Me Rich Read Online Free PDF Page B

pockets and his head down.
    Jess Polansky wiped her eyes with her hand and looked at me suspiciously.
    â€œWhat does he mean—you’re going to look for Ray?”
    â€œJust that. I’m a private investigator; I’ve found missing people before, quite a few.”
    â€œRay’s not really missing though, is he? I mean, Mr Guthrie says someone saw him last week. That’s not missing.”
    â€œNo. You’re half-right. There’s missing and missing. Look, can we talk now? Would you like a drink or something?”
    She shrugged. “All right. I’m on my lunch break. I might as well have a drink.”
    She pulled on one of the mooring lines that held the
Satisfaction;
muscle swelled and sinew tensed in her slim arm. She let the rope go and moved down the jetty.
    â€œRay loves that boat,” she said.
    â€œYeah. How old are you, Jess?”
    â€œNineteen.”
    â€œWhat d’you do?”
    â€œI work part-time for Mr Guthrie at the marina, and I teach water-skiing.”
    That explained the muscle and sinew. “You must be good—Ray any good at it?”
    We climbed steps to the walkway that took us past the boatshed. I paused and looked back down at the boats gently pulling at their ropes, rising and falling in the placid water.
Too dull for a spirited youth?
I thought. Then I remembered the order on the boat, the finely tuned engines and the anthology of sea verse. Jess Polansky moved ahead of me, exuding health and strength and I decided that Ray Guthrie couldn’t have been bored here. She didn’t answer my question until we were walking through the car park.
    â€œRay’s good at everything.” Her look challenged me to make something of it.
    We went into the beer garden and I asked her what she wanted, expecting her to go for something soft in keeping with the athletic image.
    â€œGin and tonic, please.”
    I got one of those and a glass of white wine for me, and carried the drinks over to where she was sitting. The stone wall she sat on was the one in the photograph. I handed her the glass.
    â€œYou and Ray come here much?”
    â€œHardly ever; why?”
    â€œHe’s got a photo of you sitting on that wall.”
    â€œOh, I remember that. I’d got third in the state slalom titles.” She gulped down a good deal of her drink, inexpertly. “Ray didn’t drink much, neither do I.”
    The tenses were becoming confused, as if she was unconsciously getting ready to put him in the past.
    â€œHave you got any idea why he took off, Jess? Or why he’d be drunk in a Kings Cross pub?”
    â€œI’ve been trying to think. He didn’t just vanish overnight, you know. He was sort of around less, always pissingoff somewhere. This went on for a while.
Then
he was just … gone.”
    â€œHe didn’t explain? Say what was on his mind?”
    She shook her head. “Not a great talker, Ray. Quiet bloke. Terrific bloke.”
    It was another weighty tribute to him and I let it have its moment. I drank some wine and thought of Helen Broadway and her one smoke a day. I could’ve done with one now to use as I’d used them for twenty years—to help the wandering mind to focus. But I’d decided some time back that a focusing mind was no good without functioning lungs.
    â€œWhat was the set up between you and Ray, Jess? Any plans?”
    She had dark eyes, slightly slanted, a straight nose and a firm, well-shaped mouth. When she smiled the slant of the eyes was accentuated and her face became lively and optimistic. She smiled now.
    â€œPeople don’t make
plans
anymore. They just live day to day or look, say, a few months ahead. Don’t you know that?”
    â€œI hadn’t thought about it. Sorry for the personal question, then. This might be another—did Ray have any unusual visitors, or mention meeting anyone out of the ordinary?”
    The smile went and with it the optimism.