‘Yeah, she said she knew him. I told Bobby that and he wanted to talk to Chloe to see if she could get him together with Clement. But Chloe wouldn’t even listen. Just laughed.’
‘Did you tell Chloe where Bobby lived?’
‘Dunno. I made some notes. She could’ve looked at them.’
‘She saw his car?’
‘Course she did. What’s going on?’
‘Here’s the big question-do you know where Clement lives?’
‘Wouldn’t have a clue. Jesus, I get it. You reckon this Clement killed Bobby?’
‘Could be. He was very badly hurt. It finished his acting career.’
‘Fuckin’ actors. Wankers. I remember now. That’s where Chloe met Clement. She wants to be an actor. She goes to some acting classes and Clement’s one of the teachers.’
‘What classes? Where?’
‘Don’t know. I wasn’t that interested.’
‘Does Chloe have an address book?’
‘Carries it around with her all the time. I think she’s got most of that stuff in her phone anyway.’
‘Does she keep a diary?’
‘Not that I know of. Do people still do that?’
‘I want to look in her room.’
‘I’m not sure about that.’
‘Look, if she passed on information to Clement and he killed Bobby, she’s an accessory.’
‘Shit.’
‘I could try to keep her out of it.’
He nodded wearily. ‘Second door. It’ll be a mess.’
A mess was right. Chloe Monkhurst looked to be about twenty-if she hadn’t decided to live tidily by now it was unlikely she ever would. She’d been wearing jeans and a tank top and there were similar items of clothing spread over the bed, the chest of drawers and lying on the floor. Shoes, too, and jackets. There was a snowstorm of used tissues and layers of magazines and CDs-some in their cases, some not.
A small table by the bed held a TV set with a DVD player and the discs were stacked beside it, like the CDs, in and out of their cases. No books. Would someone who lived in such chaos keep a diary? Hard to say.
We stood in the doorway. Monkhurst shook his head. ‘Rather you than me.’
‘What does she do?’
‘Search me.’
‘You must have some idea.’
‘She sleeps and eats here, some of the time.’
I searched the room. I found condoms and roaches, unidentifiable pills and cards for a variety of businesses- body waxers, eyelash tinters, body piercers and a tanning studio. Under the bed was a Sargasso Sea of tights, socks, more tissues and underwear. There was no diary, but tucked in among the CD cases I found a brochure for the Newtown School of Acting.
YOU CAN ACT
LET US BRING OUT THE
CATE BLANCHETT amp;
HUGH JACKMAN IN YOU
The brochure advertised different kinds of classes for different levels, times and the qualifications of some of the teachers-their roles and brief notices on their performances. Jason Clement wasn’t listed. The address was Angel Street, Newtown.
I took the brochure out to where Monkhurst was sitting with another can. I was thinking of taking him with me but he was too drunk.
‘I want to ring her,’ I said. ‘What’s her number?’
‘Dunno. It’s on my phone.’
‘Ring her.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’
He fumbled the phone from his pocket, peered at it and slowly punched in the numbers. He held it to his ear and shook his head.
‘Disconnected.’
‘What sort of car does she drive?’
‘Volkswagen Beetle.’
‘Colour?’
‘Red.’
‘Rego?’
‘YZE something. Why d’ you. .’
‘I might be able to talk some sense into her.’
He laughed. ‘Forget it. She spotted you for what you are. Nothing but fucking trouble. Should’ve spotted it myself. Take your money and piss off.’
I put one of my cards on top of the notes. ‘If she comes back or gets in touch tell her to ring me.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘I don’t want to cause her any trouble. I just want to know who killed Bobby Forrest.’
‘And then do what?’
‘I don’t know. It could’ve been an accident. It needs talking about.’
He blinked, drunk but trying to get a grip on things.
‘I reckon you’re telling the truth.’
‘That’s right. If she’s in with Jason Clement and he killed Forrest, I’m her best chance.’
21
Angel Street wasn’t far from the office I used to have in Newtown. I’d handed it over to Hank Bachelor when I lost my licence. He still had it and I called in there before going to the acting school. It always pays to know what’s going on in the precinct you’re working in. As to the specific place you’re heading for, it’s useful to ask, as the cops do-anything known? Hank would have some idea.
He was there working on a piece of electronic equipment I’d never heard of designed to do something I didn’t understand.
‘Angel Street acting joint,’ Hank said. ‘Yeah, I know it. Struggling, I’d say. It’s in an old warehouse, small one. Rent’d be high though and maintenance low. A couple of well-known actors have done stints there as teachers in its better days.’
‘Any trouble?’
‘There was something a while back. To do with firearms, I think, but I forget the details. And there was some sort of protest from parents about them trying to recruit directly from the Newtown Performing Arts High School in King Street. Fizzled out. What’s your business there, Cliff?’
‘Looking for a woman.’
He grinned. ‘That’s what Megan says you should be doing.’
‘Is she still on about that?’
‘Yeah, but I guess that’s not what you have in mind. Do you need backup?’
‘No, but I’ll call you if I do.’
Angel Street is a block away from the main drag. It bends in the middle and part of it is blocked off to control the traffic flow. There’s a playground-cum-park on one corner and on a couple of other corners there are houses that were once shops. Gentrification has gone a fair way but there are still some old houses in poor repair and buildings like the one the acting school occupied that have seen much better days. It was brick, two-storeyed, and
