‘How?’
‘I don’t think we’ll go into that. You left your card for her. We need to know when you saw her and why.’
‘I actually left the card for her daughter. But I saw her the day before yesterday. I was hired to locate her son, who’s been missing for over two years.’
‘Hired by her?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t piss me off, Hardy. Hired by who?’
‘Whom.’
He let that go by. ‘What was her state of mind when you saw her?’
‘She had a failed marriage, a missing son and a difficult daughter. She wasn’t a happy woman. And if you want to see my notes on the interview you can forget it.’
For all his tough exterior and aggressive style, Watson wasn’t going to make life harder for himself than it needed to be.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You don’t like me and I don’t like you. Neither of us likes being here or talking about a woman being killed. Can we cut the shit and try to do something useful?’
So I told him about the Hampshire-Pettigrew problem and about my confrontation with Ronny and the later conversation and my meeting with Sarah. In line with him not revealing anything about how Angela was killed, I was selective. Watson scribbled notes in shorthand. Useful talent.
‘Ronny who?’
‘I don’t know. Wasn’t told.’
‘He hit Ms Pettigrew?’
I peered at his notes. ‘I hope you’ve got the squiggle right. I said he pushed her. I did the hitting.’
‘Of a juvenile.’
‘As big as me or you, and faster if he got a chance, I’d reckon. Now, let’s have a bit from you. How was Ms Pettigrew killed?’
He paused, but I’d said enough to convince him I wasn’t at Church Point the day before. He wanted more from me though, so he decided to play along: ‘She was beaten to death with a ceramic ornament.’
‘No chance of an accident-a blow and a fall?’
‘None. Where’s the ex-husband?’
I gave him the address in Rose Bay, hoping that Hampshire had moved as I’d advised. I didn’t think it likely that he’d killed Angela. All the indications were that he’d spent the time drinking and smoking while trying to get his financial affairs in order, as he’d said. Still, you never know. In any case, it’d be better for him if he contacted the police rather than have them hunt him down. I figured it was my turn for a question.
‘Where’s the daughter, Sarah?’
‘She’s there. Distressed. She found the body. A policewoman’s with her and a neighbour.’ He consulted his notes, ‘You haven’t really said anything about the missing son. D’you reckon he’ll turn up?’
I shrugged. I’d been about as cooperative as he could have expected, but he still didn’t like me and he decided to let it show.
‘Oh, maybe I haven’t asked the right question. Do you think you can find him? Or have you found him?’
‘All that’s between me and my client.’
‘I suppose this is the fiftieth fucking time you’ve been told you have no privilege.’
‘Being a shitkicking private nuisance? Yeah, about that often.’
He closed the notebook. ‘I think that’s all for now, but if we need to talk again, and we probably will, you’ll make yourself available, won’t you?’
‘Under the right conditions, yes.’
‘I don’t have to tell you to stay away from the people involved in this, do I?’
‘Including my client?’
He didn’t answer. He put his card down in front of me, got up and went across to the senior detectives’ glassed-in room. The cop who’d been watching us from time to time as he went about his paperwork waved me out.
At the phone booth outside the post office I called the number I had for Hampshire and was told he’d checked out the day before. I went home but there was no message on the answering machine. I drove to Darlinghurst and heard on the radio news about the death of a woman at Church Point which the police were investigating. The light was blinking on the office machine and Hampshire’s message told me he was at another set of serviced apartments, this time in Crows Nest. I rang and got him.
‘Hardy, what’s up?’
‘I’ve got some bad news for you.’
‘Justin, is he…?’
‘No, it’s Angela. I’m sorry to have to tell you. She’s dead. She’s been murdered. The police came to me because I left my card in the house.’
‘Yeah, it’s very bad. Are you in control now, not fucked up like yesterday?’
‘You don’t think I…?’
‘You have to contact the police and cooperate with them. They’ll find you eventually and it’d be much better for you to do as I say.’
‘Angela, she…’
‘Don’t lose your grip. There’s your daughter to think of, and maybe, if Justin’s around somewhere and he hears, he might surface.’
‘D’you really think so?’
‘I haven’t the faintest fucking idea. Here’s the number of the cop who’s on the investigation team. Ring him and tell him where you are. He’ll have an answering service or a beeper or something. It’s going to be tough. You might have to identify her. You’d better be up to it. Have you got a lawyer?’
I heard him suck in a breath as if he was gearing himself up for the ordeal. ‘I’ve got more lawyers hanging off me than I need.’
‘Alert one you can rely on.’
‘How do I say I heard about Angela?’
It was a funny thing about the Hampshires-him, Angela, Sarah, and Justin as well for all I knew-they were bright enough to see the angles when they were under pressure. Maybe too bright for their own good. And that went with a capacity to put things in compartments, hold things back. We’re all like that, I suppose, but these people seemed to make an art form of it.
‘Tell them the truth, for Christ’s sake. I gave them your previous number. You moved and told me the new one. I told you about Angela and now you’re doing everything you can to help. Lie, and they’ll make things even harder for you.’
‘Thanks, Hardy.’
‘For what?’
‘For believing in me.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
I rang off and left him to it. I didn’t make the point that Sarah would be his responsibility from now on. He had enough to worry about. I had to hope that the police didn’t find any evidence against him sufficient to hold him for more than the regulation time. Eventually I’d need more money if I was going to keep looking for Justin and the case had me completely hooked by now. I couldn’t see a connection between Angela’s death and my search, but I had to consider it.
9
I had nothing to do but wait. I was due to see Pierre Fontaine at the hospice the next morning. More flak would be coming from the police, especially if they didn’t latch on to Ronny. I rang Viv Garner again and told him the cops hadn’t locked me up yet because I hadn’t done anything I shouldn’t.
‘I’ll take that with a sack of salt, Cliff,’ he said. ‘But call if you need me.’
There was nothing in the office that required urgent attention but I filled in the time doing non-urgent things like putting a new ribbon in the typewriter. I listened to the news and got a repeat of the item about the woman killed at Church Point. No name, no developments. The next item was about the governments idea for an identity card to be called the Australia Card. It’d have all the information on it you needed to get things you needed, and all the information they needed to get you. I was against it, although I knew almost everything was on file about almost everyone somewhere.
I remembered a friend named Jim telling me about the difficulty he had registering the name and details of his second illegitimate child. The Canberra official said illegitimate children couldn’t have siblings, not officially.
‘She’s got the same mother and father,’ Jim said.
‘Why don’t you just marry the woman and everything would be straightforward.’
Jim, a big bloke with a ready wit but a short fuse said, ‘Because I don’t want to make it easy for bastards like you.’
I felt pretty much that way about the Australia Card.
That memory made me smile, the first bit of amusement since I’d been with Kathy Petersen. The phone rang. I wasn’t in the mood for more work or free to do it, so I let the machine take the call. It was her.