Peter Corris - Comeback

I squatted beside her. ‘You told him all about your father and Bobby Forrest, didn’t you?’

Her eyes drifted down to a set of photographs she’d spread out on the floor in front of her. I’d noticed them when I’d put the gun down but now I bent to take a closer look. There were twelve, arranged in a semicircle. Jason Clement was the subject: Jason at the beach, Jason aiming a pistol, Jason in company with people I didn’t recognise, and four or five of Jason with Chloe. In one he was kissing her tattooed arm, in others they were smiling together at the camera or at each other. In one he was on crutches. It struck me how young he looked and how fresh and open his smile was. In the group photo several of the others were turned towards him and their looks were admiring. Youth, good looks and charisma-a powerful combination.

Chloe moved her feet and destroyed the pattern of the photos. She reached down and flicked some of them over, the ones in which they were together and glowing. She sniffed and knuckled her eyes. I had some tissues in a pocket of my jacket and I gave them to her. She wiped her face and dropped the tissues on the floor as she’d done a thousand times before.

‘I love him.’

‘I understand that. So when Jason found out all about Bobby and how he was happy and everything, he couldn’t stand it and he killed him.’

‘He’d had his life ruined. He had the right.’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘He used to be so good-looking and he could do everything and now he can’t even. .’

‘He’s got some sort of plane, hasn’t he?’

She nodded. ‘An ultra-light.’

‘Where’s he going?’

‘Nowhere.’

‘You’re not making sense. I’m not trying to destroy him. Maybe it was an accident. It doesn’t have to be the end of his life.’

She shook her head and seemed unable to speak. Then she pointed to the pistol. ‘I told him to throw it away but he wouldn’t.’

‘What happened when you told him I’d been talking to your father?’

‘He said he knew you’d catch up with him sooner or later. You or the police. He said he didn’t care. He didn’t care that I loved him. He didn’t believe me.’

‘That’s hard.’

‘He gave me a test. He said if I loved him I should go with him in the plane. I wanted to but I was too scared. I couldn’t do it. So he laughed and said it couldn’t be much of a love.’

‘Why were you scared? Had you ever been in the plane before?’

‘Yes, of course. You don’t understand. He drank nearly a whole bottle of rum and he left the gun so you or the police would be able to prove what he’d done. He got the plane out of the shed. He said he had enough fuel for an hour’s flying and that he planned to be a thousand feet up when it ran out.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘I don’t know. It feels like a long time. I didn’t have the guts to go with him. He said I’d see him come down and be able to say goodbye.’

She started crying again as a distant buzzing sound grew louder and closer.

I retrieved the Glock and went downstairs and outside to stand at the top of the runway. I knew nothing at all about ultra-lights. Could they glide when the fuel ran out or did they drop like a stone? Was Clement serious about suicide, or would he change his mind or lose his nerve and land safely?

The sky was dark now but as the buzzing noise drew closer and became louder I could see a moving light high above. How high I had no idea-five hundred feet, a thousand feet? High enough anyway not to want to fall from. I looked back at the house and saw Chloe standing at the window watching the moving light.

The engine noise intensified as the plane swooped low over the house. It was painted white and just visible against the clouds. Then it climbed up towards the darkness and began a series of high, slow-seeming circuits above the property. It maintained or increased the height with each circuit and showed no signs of making an approach to the runway. With the light almost gone, it was doubtful that the pilot would be able to see the landing strip, and the ground to either side of it was rough and uneven.

Suddenly the engine noise changed into a sputtering whine that carried down to me on the breeze. I knew I was about to witness the death of another young person, the end of a life scarcely begun, and the realisation was like a heavy weight on my shoulders.

The light appeared to hang in the air for a second and then it went out. I lost sight of the plane and then picked it up again as it fell, turning end over end like a bird shot on the wing. The plane landed on the roof of the shed with a shattering sound as the skylight broke. Then there was an explosion and a sheet of flame as the shed burst apart at the seams.

I was too close and the blast knocked me flat as I heard Chloe’s scream.

I rolled away from the blast and the heat and heard several more explosions. When I got to my feet I saw the skeleton of the place glowing red hot. The wooden parts of the shed were burning fiercely and the paperbarks were burning like torches.

I staggered back to the house and sat on the steps. Chloe appeared beside me. I moved to give her room and put my arm around her shoulders. She wasn’t crying.

‘He really did it,’ she said.

‘Yes. You were right not to go with him.’

She sighed and when she spoke her voice sounded older than before. ‘I suppose so. Look, I need a smoke. I’ve got some dope in my car. You won’t stop me, will you?’

‘No, but better be quick. That fire’s going to attract a lot of attention.’

She went to her car, treading gingerly barefoot on the rough ground. She opened it, reached into the glove box and rolled a very big joint. She held it up inquiringly. I shook my head. She lit up and stood, smoking and watching the fire. She finished the joint and came back to tuck the stash under the steps. We sat there while the wood smouldered and the trees burned and shot sparks into the sky until we heard the sirens.

She rubbed at a fresh-looking tattoo on her right forearm. ‘What will I say?’

‘Tell them the truth.’

‘That I helped Jason kill Bobby Forrest.’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

‘I did, you know,’ she said and she went back into the house. I followed her but she’d gone upstairs. The sirens were close now and I thought I should be on the spot. I looked longingly at the drinks tray but thought better of it. I put the Glock on the sideboard and went out to meet them.

The police, an ambulance and the fire brigade arrived. I talked to them at the scene and several times later, along with someone from the Department of Civil Aviation. I was permitted to drive myself back to the city, but Chloe went in the ambulance. She was sobbing again, almost hysterical. Maybe she had acting talent after all.

What took place at police headquarters subsequently they called debriefing. It felt more like the kind of spray football coaches direct at poorly performing players. The Glock had fired the bullet that killed Bobby Forrest and the paint on the Commodore’s bumper bar matched that on the Alfa Romeo.

I told Sean Rockwell he should be pleased the case was closed.

‘You should’ve come to us.’

‘With what? I had nothing solid.’

‘I’d have listened to your suspicions and your reasoning.’

‘Would you? I’ll bear that in mind next time. Face it, Inspector, you’re a busy man with a lot of things on your plate. This was all I had to think about and that’s the difference.’

He gave me a weary smile. He wasn’t a bad bloke. ‘I bet you didn’t even get the Falcon fixed,’ he said.

The media gave it a big splash but such things have a brief time in the sun and it wasn’t long before the story was displaced by others. I resisted all the offers and approaches for interviews. I didn’t follow the coverage closely, but I didn’t see any mention of the Newtown acting school, so Kylie March would be happy. Or maybe not. I remembered what she’d said about the value of managed notoriety.