‘Do you mind me asking what you’re writing there, Gail?’ Frank asked.
She held up the notebook. ‘Just the names of everyone here. Am I right in thinking no one else shares this information?’
‘Except Sarah and Ronny and his dad,’ I said.
Watson said, ‘Ronald Charles O’Connor and Michael O’Connor are both under surveillance pending the outcome of this meeting.’
Then there was a lot of procedural stuff about MPs’ diaries and their drivers’ log books and telephone and tax records and background checks. Angela Pettigrew had been a partner in a small firm importing ceramic ornaments from Italy. A blow from one of these-a vase I certainly hadn’t noticed on my visit to the house-had killed her. The books would be looked at and a search warrant secured for the house.
‘To look for the frilly stuff,’ Cafarella said. ‘My job, I suppose.’
‘Give you a hand if you like,’ I said.
The look she shot me would have made lava freeze.
Watson asked the question I’d been waiting for. ‘Hardy, was there anything else she said that you didn’t get on tape? I mean before or after you started recording?’
‘Yes.’
Lomax, Watson and Cafarella leaned forward; Gail Henderson had her pen poised. Cafarella twigged that I was playing games and shook her head, leaned back. Watson didn’t catch on. ‘What?’ he said.
‘She said it was neat that Deputy Commissioner Parker’s house has a pool table.’
Frank smiled. Gail Henderson smiled. The detectives didn’t. What I’d said was almost true: I didn’t think there was any need to tell them that Justin had also seen the psychiatrist Sarah had described as dopey. That had more to do with my case than theirs.
I phoned Hampshire and arranged a meeting. He wanted me to go to Crows Nest and I said I was tired of the Harbour Bridge and how about Glebe. He hesitated and I knew why. Sydney’s criminal world was divided into sectors, like Berlin, and you didn’t want to be in your enemy’s sector. Wilson Stafford was inner west.
We agreed on Hyde Park. I walked there from where I’d left the car in Darlinghurst. I had no reason to think that Wilson Stafford had anyone watching me, but with cops and crooks always talking to each other you never know, so I took the. 38 and paid very careful attention to my rear and sides on my way.
I took a seat fifty metres on from the fountain and watched the passers-by and the pigeons and the windblown leaves. Therapeutic. Hampshire came from the direction of St James train station. He looked very different from the jaunty figure who’d come to my office. He was tieless, wore a grey suit that didn’t match his brown shoes very well. He was smoking and he stumbled over a small step in the paving. He got to my bench and sat without saying anything, breathing hard. He took a long drag on his cigarette before dropping it and stamping it out.
‘Last one,’ he said. ‘Ever.’
‘Good luck. I met up with Wilson Stafford the other day and he-’
‘Jesus Christ!’ He half rose and looked around as if he expected Sharkey Finn to pop out from behind a tree.
‘Easy,’ I said. ‘You didn’t tell me you had such interesting acquaintances, Paul.’
14
I told him what I’d learned from Barry Templeton about his activities before he went to America. Hampshire nodded his agreement.
‘That’s about right. What you don’t know is that when I was flush in America I made restitution to some of those people.’
‘Not to Wilson Stafford.’
‘No, that was beyond me and the money I made ran out pretty quick.’
‘Money made how?’
He sighed. ‘The usual way. Americans can be very gullible. But it all went pear-shaped after a while.’
‘That’s why you came back? Because there were Wilson Stafford types in America?’
‘Worse. They contract out their grievances to ruthless individuals who… but that’s not the whole of it. The woman I took up with turned out to be a gold-digger who got very nasty when the gold ran out.’
‘Which expression do you prefer-between the devil and the deep blue sea or between a rock and a hard place?’
‘You’re taking the piss. I suppose I deserve it. You won’t believe me, but I genuinely wanted to try to get things in order-make my peace with Angela, try to find Justin. But now, with everything that’s happened, I don’t know.’
‘You did the identification?’
‘I did. The injuries were horrible. It must have been a terrible sight for Sarah.’
‘Let’s talk about Sarah. You implied she wasn’t your child.’
‘That’s right. Angela wasn’t faithful to me, any more than I was to her. When she fell pregnant with Sarah it was just barely possible I was the father. Unlikely though.’
‘Any idea who the father might have been?’
‘No. I was away a lot, in the Pacific, in the States. I had the impression there was one person in particular but I didn’t know who. I didn’t want to know, and I wasn’t in a position to throw stones. Why are you asking?’
I expanded a bit on what I’d told him on the phone when I was getting his permission to look after Sarah. Then I’d simply said that Sarah was distressed and there were concerns for her safety. Now I said that an important person was under suspicion for Angela’s death-someone capable of exerting pressure on the police.
‘Who, for God’s sake?’
‘I can’t tell you. It’s under control, but the lid has to be clamped tight on it until they get more evidence.’
He felt in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes and came up with an empty packet.
‘Day one,’ I said. ‘No, tomorrow’s day one.’
‘I don’t think I’ll make it. What happens now?’
‘Up to you. I’ve got some leads on Justin. Nothing solid but worth pursuing-if you want to go on with it.’
‘Of course I do. If you can find him it’d be something good at least to come out of this mess. But…’
‘What?’
‘What about Stafford?’
‘Any chance you could recompense him to some extent? You spoke of investments. Any way to make him less unhappy?’
‘Just possibly.’
‘I could probably arrange a meeting for you to talk it over. At best you might be able to calm him down a bit, at worst you’d know exactly where you stand.’
‘Please do it,’ he said.
Without enthusiasm on either side, we shook hands and he wandered off, almost certainly to buy more cigarettes. I watched until he was out of sight. I was still on the payroll, which was good, but I was on ethically shaky ground. A meeting between Stafford and Hampshire just might cool things down and that would be good, but neither party was trustworthy. And, if I was being honest with myself, I’d have to admit that I’d welcome a chance to even the score with Stafford and Sharkey Finn. Well, there’s nothing wrong with having two beneficial objectives.
I walked back through the park under the trees that showed signs of suffering from the city pollution-blotchy leaves and discoloured trunks. The water in the fountain had a tired look, but that might just have been my mood. I skirted the war memorial, a dreary, ugly structure that someone told me was only half-finished from the original design. Probably just as well.
Kathy Petersen rang me at home late that afternoon. She’d visited her grandmother and put the question to her.
‘It took quite a while and a few cups of tea laced with brandy to get her talking,’ Kathy said, ‘but she finally told me that the scandal had to do with a Hampshire deserting in World War I. Apparently he jumped ship somewhere on the way to Gallipoli. The army contacted the family and wanted to know if he’d got back to Australia. As far as Grandma knew, he never did. The family disowned him and changed their name. There was something about it in the local paper and the family nearly died of shame.’
‘It fits. Thank you, Grandma, and you, too,’ I said. ‘Justin found no Hampshire on the memorial. Looks like he must have gone to the Mitchell Library where he could’ve looked up the paper.’
‘The poor kid, after all that build-up from his father. So are you getting anywhere, Cliff?’