Peter Corris - Open File

‘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.

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.

‘Hello, Cliff, just checking to see if you-’

I picked up. ‘Kathy.’

‘I was going to say, to see if you spent any time in your office or were always on the prowl.’

‘As little as possible. Good to hear you. No teaching, no surf?’

‘No teaching and that bloody south-westerly’s still blowing. Do you surf?’

‘Used to. Not for a while. The boards have changed, not sure how good I’d be.’

‘Were you good?’

‘Fair.’

‘How’s your investigation going?’

I realised that it had been a long time since I’d had anyone to talk to about what I did, even in general terms. No partner for a few years, the last tenant in my house had moved out long ago and my best friend, Frank Parker, being a senior cop and recently appointed Deputy Commissioner, didn’t want to engage in what was virtually shoptalk. We talked sport mainly, and I talked writs with Viv Garner and sprains and contusions with my doctor mate, Ian Sangster.

‘It’s getting complicated. Did you hear about the woman killed at Church Point?’

‘Yes.’

‘She was the mother of my missing kid.’

‘Jesus, that’s nasty. Is it connected with what you’re doing?’

‘I don’t see how but it means I’m going to have cops checking me over for a bit. Not that that’s anything new. I told them where I was yesterday, had to. Didn’t mention you, but you might confirm that I ate dinner in the pub.’

She laughed. ‘Sorry, it’s no laughing matter. I’ll confirm that you stayed the night if they ask. I’ve got nothing to hide and… I enjoyed it.’

‘So did I.’

A slight pause, then she said, ‘Well, I’ve got things to do. I wanted to tell you I’m going to Bega to talk to Grandma tomorrow. I’ll let you know if I learn anything useful.’

‘Call me anyway. This’ll sort out one way or another, so try and keep Easter free. Can I have your number?’

She rattled it off. ‘Don’t feel obligated,’ she said. ‘Sounds as if you’ve got enough on your plate. See you, Cliff.’

The mail brought bills and with Hampshire’s retainer in the account I wrote out a few cheques and, thinking about lunch, went down to post them in the box at the quiet section of Forbes Street. I dropped the envelopes in the box and felt a hard punch to the right kidney that drove the wind out of me. I spun around, fighting for breath, and took a solid thump down where you don’t want it. The toast and coffee threatened to come up, my eyes flooded and closed against the pain and I sagged against the postbox, still gasping, and with no strength to retaliate.

‘Keep your mouth shut, Hardy. If you chuck over me I’ll really hurt you.’