The Price of Fame. Rowena Cory Daniels

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СКАЧАТЬ with unusual melodic harmonies. Why didn't you go down that road? The work from your UK and German period was strong and interesting, then suddenly- burn out. What went wrong in the US?'

      'It's simple. Throw enough money at someone and eventually they will turn into a monster. We all did. It was a case of arrested development. For years we'd been living in a cocoon of creativity, devoted to our music. To be blunt, Antonia, we were really boring little shits.'

      His wife flushed.

      I laughed as a wave of relief rolled over me. 'That's why I want to interview you, Arthur. Only you can get away with saying that.'

      He grinned slowly. 'You've really done your research.'

      I nodded, pleased to have him acknowledge this.

      'So,' Arthur asked, 'who do you think killed Genevieve?'

      It was way off topic. I floundered. 'I- I don't know. Pete O'Toole was the obvious suspect: a divorced man, prone to violent rages with a string of petty convictions in his youth. He protested his innocence when they took him in for questioning. They wanted him to plead manslaughter, but-'

      'He killed himself. Wasn't that an admission of guilt?' Patricia snapped.

      'That's what a lot of people thought, but he was never charged with her murder. No one was.' I didn't have an opinion either way, and my recent research had uncovered conflicting evidence. 'There was some doubt about his prints on the knife. The police never did find the missing mystery witness who could have confirmed O'Toole's alibi.'

      'Maybe that's because he had nothing to say. Since the mystery witness was supposed to be O'Toole's closest friend, surely he would have come forward to save him if he could? The police knew what they were doing, Ms Carlyle. That taxi driver was bad news, mixing with druggies and street kids. It was all so sordid.' Patricia repressed a shudder, making a heroic effort to smile. 'My husband has led an exemplary life since we were married. Ask anyone. Look, the election is the weekend after next. Arthur stands a good chance of winning this seat. Politics is a dirty business. We don't want a documentary about his past coming out after he's elected to undermine his credibility.'

      She turned to Arthur who was dunking a biscuit in his tea. I saw her wince. They'd been married 12 years and she hadn't managed to cure him of that. I didn't think she stood much chance now.

      When it became clear he wasn't going to speak, I prodded, 'Why ask me about Genevieve James' murder, Arthur? Do you have a different theory?'

      His slightly uneven eyes met mine. 'If you've read the statements you know as much as me. I wasn't even home when it happened. They sent me out to get pizza.' He sounded aggrieved. The high drama had happened while his back was turned. I suspected it was the story of his life. 'I reckon the only person who could have saved O'Toole was Joe.'

      The casual way Arthur used these infamous names sent a frisson through me. 'You mean Joseph Walenski?'

      Arthur nodded.

      I'd come to the same conclusion. O'Toole claimed he'd been with Walenski at the time Genevieve was attacked. But Walenski had disappeared. If the police hadn't been able to find him 25 years ago, I had no hope of finding him now. Luckily, he didn't even figure on my must-interview list.

      'You talked to anyone else?' Arthur asked.

      'I've read the police statements. I have photocopies of all the newspaper clippings and articles from the early days right through to now. I've been talking to Jake Tucker's agent. He's willing to see me,'

      Arthur snorted softly. 'Tuck'd talk to anyone if he thought it would help his tour.'

      Was Arthur just being frank or was there bad blood between him and the band's guiding light?

      Tucker was willing to talk, that was all I needed to know. As for Pia Zaffir, she was a lot harder to approach. When the band broke up she went into the movies. With her sexual magnetism and contacts, she'd walked straight into a leading role and hadn't looked back. Five years ago, at 38, she'd won her second Oscar for her role in Outing. Despite the rush of offers she had retreated from public life and done a Jodie Foster, buying designer sperm.

      It was even harder to get near Pia since she'd had the baby. Motherhood had made her reclusive, driving the paparazzi to howl like bloodhounds on the scent. I'd heard she was coming back to Australia but her publicity people wouldn't even reply to my requests. It was incredibly frustrating. I was sure if I could just speak with her in person I'd win her over.

      'Pia's come home for a family wedding,' Arthur revealed, following the same line of thought as me. 'I can ask, but I don't know if she'll see you.'

      His wife's mouth opened, then closed in a tight line.

      I fished around in my satchel for a business card and quickly scribbled my current phone numbers and address, then passed it across to Arthur. 'Here's how to contact me.'

      He glanced at it. 'You're from Melbourne?'

      'Queensland, actually. I'm renting number One-Eight-One.' I felt my face grow hot. One-Eight-One was the house where Genevieve James had been murdered. A flicker of something passed behind his eyes and was hidden. Resentment? I wasn't being ghoulish. I rushed on. 'Had to get the feel of the house, of St Kilda. The owners, Grace and Scott, are fans of the band. When I told them my plans they offered to let me rent while they went overseas. It's been renovated but-'

      'It's nothing like it was. St Kilda's become trendy. When we lived there you could still-' he glanced at his wife and shrugged.

      I knew what St Kilda was like 25 years ago. I'd done my research. The suburb had started as a little seaside town outside of Melbourne. It had become a holiday retreat for wealthy families, gradually losing popularity as the city engulfed it. Eventually the large homes were divided up into flats. For many years the suburb had had a bad name and deservedly so. Drugs and prostitution had lowered property values. Then low rents attracted people like Arthur and his band. Artists, writers and musicians mingled with druggies and prostitutes as the suburb took on a new life.

      Then, like many inner-city suburbs, especially those near the bay, St Kilda had experienced a rebirth. When it became trendy the prices rose. Yuppies bought the terrace houses and did them up, forcing out the very musicians and artists who had given the suburb its character, along with the pimps and prostitutes.

      Twenty-five years ago you could still score a fix on the street but Arthur hadn't wanted to say that in front of his wife.

      'I have an expression of interest from the ABC and I've done my research,' I said, meeting his eyes.

      He nodded.

      'Will you give me an insight into what it was like being one of the Tough Romantics?'

      I knew the answer before he shook his head. I hurried on. 'Everyone remembers Genevieve James' murder. They know your part in it. The band's past is explored in lurid detail on the web. It has a listing in Wikipedia. All someone has to do is enter your name and hit search. You can't hide from your past.

      'Besides, you'll be safely elected by the time I get this series off the ground. I still have to finish the script, compile archival footage, secure copyright and edit the pilot doco. I'm not setting out to milk it for cheap thrills. I want to discover what makes a band original and creative-'

      'At the expense of my husband's political СКАЧАТЬ