Elena settled herself more comfortably and sipped her wine. ‘It’s not only that, he’s extremely elusive.’
Maggie eyed her humorously. ‘That must be irritating for you.’
Elena grimaced. ‘I’ve got some background on him. It’s his love life that’s the problem.’
Maggie hesitated, then she couldn’t help herself. ‘Background?’
Elena elucidated.
Jack McKinnon had been adopted as a baby by a loving but very average family. From an early age he’d exhibited above-average intelligence; he’d won scholarships to private schools and university, where he’d studied civil engineering and marine design.
Despite something of a mania for protecting his privacy, he appeared to be very normal considering his difficult start in life. He certainly wasn’t ostentatious.. no particularly fancy homes, no Lear Jets, et cetera.
‘As for the women in his life—’ Elena sighed ‘—he doesn’t flaunt them and they don’t talk once it’s over.’
‘What about…’ Maggie thought briefly ‘… Lia Montalba and Bridget Pearson?’
‘Both models, both Melbourne girls.’ Elena frowned. ‘I wouldn’t class either of them as one of ‘‘his women’’. They were hired to advertise his catamarans. There’s a big promotion coming out shortly, but both girls are back in Melbourne now.’
‘Is there anyone at the moment?’ Once again Maggie couldn’t help herself.
‘Not as far as I know. He does,’ Elena said thoughtfully, ‘have a hideaway. Maybe that’s where he conducts his affairs.’ She shrugged.
Maggie frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
Elena tapped her nose. ‘My sources are always classified, but he has a holiday home at Cape Gloucester—keep that to yourself please, Maggie! So, you reckon I should leave him on my list?’
‘I…’ Maggie paused as she tried to think straight. ‘It doesn’t matter one way or the other to me. Where… where is Cape Gloucester?’
‘North Queensland. Up in the tropics near Bowen. I believe you have to drive through a cattle station to get to it, that’s all I know.’
* * *
After Elena left, Maggie sat for a long time staring at the lengthening shadows on the golf course.
Was this fate? she wondered.
Everything she wanted to know including, perhaps, Jack’s whereabouts, literally dropped into her lap?
Of course, she cautioned herself, he could also be in Sydney, New York or Kathmandu, but if he was at Cape Gloucester and she went up there, might that be the only way she would ever get the explanation she so badly wanted?
Working on the theory that what her mother didn’t know about she couldn’t worry about, Maggie left her a vague message and she packed her bags again and drove north. At least, she thought as she set off, she would be off the local scene, should a certain P. I. and journalist be looking for the mystery girl found in a shed in compromising circumstances with Jack McKinnon.
Or what might have looked like compromising circumstances, she reminded herself.
The Gloucester passage flowed between the mainland and Gloucester Island, a regal green island with several peaks. The passage, at the northern end of the Whitsunday Islands, was the gateway to Bowen and Edgecumbe Bay. It was a narrow strip of water and you could visualize the tide flowing swiftly through it. There were several sand banks and patches of reef guarded by markers.
It was remote and beautiful and, although you did have to drive through a cattle station to get to it, this was an improvement upon, until recent times, only being able to approach by sea.
There were two small beach resorts nestled into the tree-lined shores of the mainland, one overlooking Gloucester Island and Passage Islet, one overlooking Edgecumbe Bay. Maggie chose the one overlooking Gloucester Island; there was something about the island that intrigued her.
Her accommodation in a cabin was spacious and spotless and it was right on the beach. There was a coconut palm outside her veranda, there were casuarinas and poincianas, some laced with bougainvillea. Many of the trees had orchids growing from their bark; many of them were rather exotic natives like pandanus palms and Burdekin plums.