'I know of him, like all Clement's functionaries. He was a steward at Randwick until he got sacked for doing things he shouldn't. He got the grip from controlling horses.'

'Interesting,' I said.

'Meaning, again, what am I doing here?'

'You're drinking my coffee with enjoyment apparently, and saying interesting things. I'm not busy, as you can see. I'm not grizzling.'

'Like I say, I've looked into you. For someone in your game you stack up pretty well. I'm thinking of hiring you.'

'Well, we'd both have to think about that. You'd have to believe me that I was a fill-in at that event and I'd have to know what you're on about.'

She nodded. 'I believe you.'

'That's a start.'

She drew in a deep breath. 'I'm writing a book about Clement. An expose.'

'What's to expose?'

'A hell of a lot. Know how he got his kick-start capital?'

'No.'

'He puts it out that he got it speculating in stock in the dot com boom.'

'Sounds possible.'

'But he didn't. I've searched the records.'

I shrugged. 'They can run and they can hide.'

'Not from me. He got his start from some huge brokerage fees arranging loans. One was from the Niven-Jones bank, which was run by crooks, to Blue Rock Mining. As everyone knows, they went bust. There were a few others like that, but the really interesting one is from Tasman Investments to Peter Scriven. Twenty-five million, five million brokerage.'

That got my attention. I didn't follow the financial news but everyone able to watch TV had heard of Scriven. He'd been one of the media moguls of the nineties who'd slowly got in too deep and had skipped the country owing tens of millions and ruining many small businesses in the process. He'd left scores of employees high and dry and what he owed the tax office would put a dent in the current account deficit.

Louise Kramer enjoyed watching my reaction. 'I reckon he helped Scriven get away and got well paid for that, too.'