Peter Corris - Appeal Denied

A glib reply was on the tip of my tongue but I fought it. Had to be careful.

‘I’m sorry about your colleague,’ I said.

‘Yeah. Good bloke, Col.’

‘I thought so, too.’

‘Close, were you?’

‘I don’t think I’ll say any more until we’re in a controlled situation and I have a lawyer present.’

He pointed to the plaster on my forehead. ‘What happened there?’

Was he baiting me? Hard to tell. I didn’t answer and watched the paramedics stretcher the body, enclosed in a green bag, to the ambulance. At a guess, the police were telling some of the owners of the cars parked nearby that they’d be free to move them soon. I wondered whether any of the spectators would need counselling. Didn’t look like it. Everything was sanitised, clinical.

A TV crew arrived and began filming. Kristos grabbed my arm and hustled me towards a car. I resisted just a little and he almost applied a headlock. I grinned at him and went willingly.

The Northern Crimes Unit HQ was in Longueville and it had been a good move to dump the pistol because you couldn’t get into the building without undergoing a metal detector check. Kristos escorted me to a room with all the character and personality of an empty stubbie. I said I wouldn’t make a statement without having my lawyer present.

Kristos unbuttoned his suit coat and sat in a plastic chair that creaked under his weight. I remained standing.

‘Why?’ he said. ‘You’re not a suspect. Even a dickhead like you has the sense not to execute a policeman.’

‘Execute. That’s an interesting choice of words.’

‘What would you call it?’

I shrugged and sat. There are times to stick and times to give a bit. ‘I’ll meet you halfway,’ I said. ‘No lawyer and I won’t volunteer anything, but I’ll answer your questions until I decide not to.’

‘Jesus, for a disgraced private eye you come on proud.’

‘Family trait.’

He thought about it and eventually shook his head. ‘Christ, I’d like to charge you with something and hold you for a while, but I know you’d kick up a stink and have your lawyer up my crack. Anyway, this’ll go higher.’

‘Gregory,’ I said.

He almost laughed. ‘I said higher. Right, let’s get this over with.’

He switched on the recording equipment and we went through the identification procedure. In response to Kristos’s first obvious question, I said I’d arranged to meet Williams to discuss the investigation into the murder of Lillian Truscott.

‘Why him?’

‘He was the first person I dealt with, after the phone contact from Constable Farrow.’

I watched closely to see whether he reacted to the name. He didn’t.

‘Why that spot?’

‘His choice. He said he was in the area.’

‘Did you tell anyone else you were going there?’

‘No.’

‘Did he mention anyone else?’

‘No.’

Kristos consulted his notebook. ‘You told the uniformed guys you spotted a car you thought might belong to Williams. How did you know that?’

‘He parked it outside my house when I handed over my gun to him a few days ago.’

‘You approached, saw him, went back to the park and phoned it in.’

‘Right.’

‘Why not there and then?’

‘I needed time to think about whether to report it or not.’

‘Why did you?’

‘I’d rung his mobile three times. I thought there’d be a record. I also thought he could have made an entry in his notebook.’

‘You fucked up there. Shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re such a smartarse I can’t resist. His mobile and notebook are missing. You could’ve walked away.’

‘So I look better for not doing that.’

‘Unless you took them.’

‘You don’t believe that.’ I had to hope he didn’t because if he did he’d order a search of the park, including its rubbish bins.

He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. But I have to wonder how you’re making a living. You’ve got no job. Mind you, I’m told your house is falling down and I know you’ve got a crap car, so I suppose you’re living on savings. Can’t do that for very long. You’re bound to turn your hand to something. We’ll be keeping an eye on you and come down like a ton of bricks if-’

‘That’s tonne.’

‘What?’

‘Move with the times. A tonne of bricks.’

He sat back and looked at me. I never saw a man so keen to hit me except those who actually did. Plenty of them. He was stumped for something to say and in the pause an earlier question he’d asked popped into my mind-the one about telling anyone else where I was to meet Williams. I hadn’t, but there was a way someone could have found out-by bugging my home phone. If it had been done it was done cleverly. The jack was out of the wall. You plug it back in and forget about it, don’t you? And there was still the suspicion that Kristos had done the break-in. Then there was that instinctive move to apply a headlock. I felt the need to be very cautious.

I said, ‘I’m finished talking.’

Kristos stood and buttoned his jacket. His care with his clothing reminded me of Gregory. ‘And I’ve finished listening,’ he said. ‘You’re free to go. We’ll need to talk to you again though, Hardy. Could be any time, any place.’

It sounded like a threat, was a threat, but I just nodded. He opened the door and he and a uniformed man standing in the passage escorted me to the front door of the building. Kristos blocked the way, looked out and spun back with a smile on his face.

‘I hope those TV arseholes eat you alive.’

They were massed at the bottom of the steps. Must have been other ways out of the building and I could’ve been given the police coat-over-the-head treatment, but that wasn’t the strategy.

I went down the steps and they surged up halfway. Three microphones were stuck in my face and a voice said: ‘You found the body, right, Mr Hardy?’

The lifting of my licence had attracted some media attention, so the reporters had no trouble identifying me. My career as a PEA was officially shot, but public recognition would have done it anyway. Despite the posturing of some members of the profession, to be known and highly visible is the last thing a private detective needs. You have to be a chameleon, not a peacock.

‘That’s right,’ I said and pushed on, down at least one step.

‘Are you a suspect?’

I laughed and just stood there. They bombarded me with questions which I just ignored. I said nothing at all, standing stock still. In a way, they’re like their viewers- they have short attention spans. Time is money to their bosses in a very real sense, and they all know they have to get their picture and sound grabs quickly and make the most out of them in strict competition with one another. Like seagulls, feed them and they stick around, give them nothing and they go away. I bored them and they left.

I caught a taxi to the coffee place opposite Milsons Point station, bought a takeaway long black and walked down to the park. I wasn’t followed. I sat and drank the coffee, dropped the cup in the bin and retrieved the pistol. I couldn’t see the crime scene from down there and didn’t want to. I walked back to the car which had picked up a parking ticket. With the taxi and the strategic coffee, that made three expenses, and no client to charge.

I had a couple of hours to kill before the meeting with Townsend and Farrow in Chatswood. I wondered if she’d show, after the death of her colleague. I phoned Townsend and left a message. Thinking about Lily and the break-in reminded me that Hank Bachelor-a young American, now Australian resident, PEA I’d occasionally worked with-had set up business as an alarm installer and anti-bugging expert. Anti-bugging was something I used to have the rudiments of, but the advances in technology had outstripped me. Same with alarms. The system I’d had installed was out of date. Hank’s office was in Crows Nest and I drove there after phoning him. He was in his workshop tinkering.