Intelligent? Hard to say, in both cases.
The kid was standing beside a car with P plates, looking proud. The car wasn’t new but it wasn’t a bomb- something Japanese and sporty, like a Honda Accord.
‘I bought him the car just before I had to go over to the States. I taught him to drive in the times he stayed with me.’
That memory seemed to put a dent in his stoical recital. He fished for his cigarettes but stopped himself.
‘You can smoke if it helps,’ I said. ‘This is going to be difficult and there’s a lot more you’re going to have to tell me-about the boy, about the marriage, your wife…’
‘Ex-wife.’
‘Right. Other family members here and people in America. Friends.’
‘This has nothing to do with me in America.’
‘How do you know he didn’t go over to take a look, didn’t like what he saw and took off for Alaska?’
‘He was all set to go to Duntroon, family tradition. What you’re saying’s absurd.’
‘Nothing’s absurd in a missing person case, Mr Hampshire. Nothing’s too good, nothing’s too bad. I’m guessing he had a passport, from when you stumped up for a trip to… Bali? He can ski, right? He could be in Aspen, giving lessons.’
Hampshire stared at me. ‘How could you know that?’
‘I told you I was guessing.’
‘It was Thailand, not Bali, but you’re right, I paid for Justin and Angela and Sarah to go.’
‘Sarah?’
‘My daughter, I think. She’s fifteen now.’
I added a note.
Hampshire ran a finger around the inside of his collar. Take off the silly fucking tie, I thought, but he didn’t. His colour rose and he didn’t look well. I got up and turned on a fan that moved the warm air around a little. I took a paper cup from the desk drawer, opened the bar fridge and poured him some cold water. He drank it down, undid the buttons on his jacket and leaned back in the chair.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the best of shape-overweight, blood pressure. The pace of business over there is horrific.’
‘I’ve seen the movies.’
‘Yeah. And you’re right again. Justin’s an expert skier, in fact he’s hell… I was going to say on two wheels, but that’s not it. He surfs, snowboards-the things he could do on a skateboard would freeze your blood.’
‘It freezes my blood to see them go over a gutter. It’s coming through to me that you had a lot of feeling for your son.’
‘I do. My God, I hadn’t meant to go into all this. I thought I could just… but somehow you’ve…’
He really opened up then and it became clear that he was a man under a considerable amount of stress. His business deal in the US had gone sour along with a relationship he’d entered into there. The divorce had punitive alimony provisions and he more or less admitted that he’d done a flit. I’d seen it before-marry or partner up on the rebound, get bounced and go back to where you started, or try to.
‘I got in touch with Angela when I arrived back. I thought… but she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want me to see Sarah. I should’ve known how much Justin’s disappearance had affected her but I didn’t. I’m not the most sensitive man in the world. That’s why I’m here now. If I can show that I’m doing something about Justin, however late, and if you can find him…’
‘I won’t kid you,’ I said. ‘Two years is a long gap. So much can happen.’
His mouth turned down. ‘Don’t I just know it.’
He was a strange mixture of cockiness and distress…self-esteem and self-reproach. But if I’d waited for a straightforward client I’d be sitting in my office bending and straightening paperclips for a long time. I got as much as I could from him-his ex-wife’s address and phone number, the location of Bryce Grammar, the name of the police officer who’d stayed in touch with Angela Hampshire through the active search time. I didn’t push for details about his experiences in America. Maybe later if it became necessary.
He signed a contract and gave me his contact details. He was living in a serviced apartment in Rose Bay. He wrote me a cheque. Doing that seemed to restore his confidence.
‘How will you proceed, Mr Hardy?’
First off I’ll deposit the cheque, I thought, but I said, ‘I’ll have to talk to the former Mrs Hampshire.’
‘Please do. At least she’ll know I’m doing something.’
‘Are you still in touch with her?’
‘Brief phone calls.’
‘What about Sarah?’
He shook his head.
‘How are you occupying yourself now?’
‘I have investments to manage, and legal matters to negotiate.’
‘This could be expensive.’
He sighed. ‘What isn’t?’
‘How did you hear about me?’
‘I read a newspaper report about a matter you were involved in. It was hardly flattering, but it mentioned your military service and your reputation for persistence.’
‘It didn’t say anything about how brainy and honest I am.’
Hampshire almost smiled. ‘I checked on that with a police acquaintance. He said that you liked to… take the piss.’
‘This is a difficult and serious matter, Mr Hampshire. I’ll give it serious attention.’
We shook hands and he left. I sat at the desk and made a closer examination of the photograph of young Hampshire. He was big, with a heaviness to his neck and shoulders that suggested he’d be bulky in later life. He didn’t look anything like his father but that didn’t mean much. My father was fair and on the small side. Justin looked healthy and untroubled, but a lot can be going on under the surface in an adolescent-family trouble, girl trouble, boy trouble. Maybe he didn’t want to go to Duntroon. Maybe he wanted to try out for NIDA or the Sydney Dance Company. Good set of shoulders on him, probably just right for skiing. I hoped I didn’t track him to some snowfield. I hate the cold.
The newspaper report Hampshire had mentioned was about a fraud involving counterfeiting and blackmail. I’d spent nearly six months on it-hunting people down, unravelling the connections. It had ended with me putting a man in hospital and almost being charged with assault. But the good outcome had overridden that. The bonus was useful, the publicity wasn’t. The headline on the page three item had been something like ‘Private Eye goes too far’, but it had caught Hampshire’s attention. The report was almost a year old, published when Hampshire, according to what he’d told me, was still in America. It wouldn’t have got a run in the New York Times, the LA Times or the San Francisco Chronicle. He must have been reading the Sydney Morning Herald. Despite his troubles, still calling Australia home.
2
I got to the bank in time to deposit the cheque. Funds were low so it’d be a help when it cleared. If it cleared. Clients imagine you can just drop everything and hop straight into the job they’ve given you, but it wasn’t like that. I had another matter on hand I had to see through and if young Hampshire had been missing for two years, another day before I got on his trail wasn’t going to make much difference.
There are quite a few cases on record of men faking death for one reason or another-to allow someone to claim insurance, to escape from financial troubles, like the British MP Stonehouse who turned up here after disappearing from an American beach, or out of a simple wish to start all over again. They’re still not sure about Lord Lucan and some of the smart money says he’s in Kenya without his moustache. I hope they catch him; a more useless human being I never heard of. But it’s very unusual for a woman to play this game, and that was the case I’d been working on for some time.
