them while this gets sorted out. The police are going to have to investigate Ireland, you know that. But this is the best protection you could get.’
She nodded. ‘I don’t know. It sounds all right, I guess. I like Paddo, and I wouldn’t have to go to that crappy school. I’ll be sixteen soon, anyway.’
‘There’ll be a lot to sort out, Sarah. But you’ll be safe with some people you’ll like if I can swing it. I’m sure I can get your father’s support when he’s properly informed.’
She stubbed the cigarette out. ‘I don’t care about him. Fuck him if he doesn’t agree. At least she stayed around, even though she was lying through her teeth every day. But he just buggered off.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘You have to remember that I’m still working for him and looking for Justin. So there’s a couple of things I need to ask you before we move on. Did Justin know about your mother and Ireland?’
She dropped her head. ‘Yeah. I mean, just before he went away and was acting so strange I got pissed off with him and told him everything I knew.’
‘How did he take it?’
She sniffed back more tears and shook her head. ‘I dunno. Bad, I guess. He was usually sort of quiet, you know. But he started yelling and carrying on. I heard Angela on the phone later making an appointment for him with Dr Van Der Harr.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘This dopey shrink Angela made us go to after Dad left. She said we needed support after such a… traumatic desertion. She should’ve said after having two such pricks as parents. Some support-he groped me a couple of times.’
This was something new. I was sure no such name had come up in the police file on Justin’s disappearance. There were questions to ask about that, when the time was right.
‘Can you get me that address for Ronny?’
‘Oh, sure. You won’t let them heavy him too much, will you?’
I shook my head. So much trust -waves of guilt running through me. I reminded myself that she could be acting. If she was, she was good.
I gave her a pen and a card and she scribbled on the back of it.
‘You’re sure this cop and his wife are okay?’
‘They’re great, but I doubt they’d want you smoking grass while you’re playing pool in their house.’
‘They’ve got a pool table? That’s…’
‘Don’t say it.’
She gave me a full candle-power fifteen-year-old smile. ‘That’s neat.’
13
Then it got tricky. I asked Sarah to pack a few things. Cafarella, having given us an extra ten minutes, came in and I told her that the information Sarah had given me could put her in danger.
‘Well, we can take care of that,’ she said.
‘No you can’t. She doesn’t trust you. I don’t mean you personally, but the police in general. I’m sorry but I’m going over your head. I’m calling Deputy Commissioner Frank Parker to help me make some arrangements. All I can tell you is that a very important figure is involved-not a policeman, but someone with a lot of influence in that area.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I can allow that.’
‘You have to. There’ll be something in this for you and for Watson if you do as I say. If you don’t it could all get very messy.’
‘Jesus, you’re a slippery bastard. Are you threatening us with your commissioner mate?’
‘No.’
‘Sounds like it. He’s in Internal Affairs, isn’t he?’
‘That’s one of his hats.’
I went into the kitchen to the wall phone and rang Frank. It took a while to get him and Cafarella fretted, unsure how to handle it. You couldn’t blame her. She sneered at the cigarette butts but didn’t do anything else. To keep her happy I handed her the card Sarah had written on and mouthed ‘Ronny’ as I hung on the line.
‘Frank? Cliff. I’ve got a situation here that’s going to need your most delicate and diplomatic touch.’
Cafarella listened as I outlined things to Frank-no names, no pack drill at this point, but I made it clear there was a high-profile suspect for the murder of Angela Pettigrew. I said that the source of the information was a minor who was fearful and that I was hoping he and Hilde would provide her with a place to stay while events unfolded.
Cafarella took this in sceptically, tapping the card against her fingernails. It wasn’t as bizarre as it must have sounded to her. Frank and Hilde had a big, three storey terrace in Paddington they’d hoped to fill with children. So far, after twelve years of marriage, they had just one-Peter, my anti-godson, all of us being non-believers. Hilde had a strong maternal instinct that one child, much as she loved him, didn’t satisfy. She took in strays and was happier for it. Which meant that Frank was happier.
It was all a bit like the old radio program ‘Two-Way Turf Talk’. Frank agreed to contact Watson to put him in the picture, assure him that his investigation wouldn’t be compromised, and to get him to contact Hampshire to reach me about the arrangement for Sarah. I spoke her name just as she emerged with a bulging overnight bag. Luckily, Cafarella had put the card away. Sarah gave her a hostile look and turned to me.
‘What’s happening?’
‘It’s coming together,’ I said with the mouthpiece covered, then I said, ‘Thanks, Frank,’ and hung up.
Cafarella hated it. She was out of the loop, would probably have trouble with Watson. If she revealed to Sarah that I’d taped her, we could be in for a lot of conflicted shit. The phone rang and it was Watson asking for Cafarella. I handed her the phone and stepped away. I could almost hear him shouting on the line and Cafarella’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone. She said, ‘Yes, sir,’ several times before hanging up.
Her lean jaw tightened. ‘I’m in the shit.’
‘It’ll work out.’
Sarah plonked her bag down and drifted over to the window to look at the yard. ‘We used to have a dog,’ she said, ‘but it died. I think he ran it over.’
Cafarella looked enquiringly at me but I shook my head. The phone rang again and it was Hampshire. He said he’d spoken to Parker and Watson and agreed to the arrangements for Sarah. He seemed dispirited, indifferent. I guess he had a lot on his mind. I got his new number.
I went to the toilet and removed the recorder. The doorbell rang and Cafarella answered it. ‘Time to go,’ she said.
‘I’m not going with you,’ Sarah said.
‘Nobody asked you to. Mr Hardy’s taking you to where you’re going to be staying and then Mr Hardy will be part of a high-level meeting that I don’t know a bloody thing about. Does that satisfy you?’
Cafarella was a tall, imposing woman, and for all her teenage pizzazz, Sarah wasn’t up to coping with her anger. She didn’t reply. We trooped through the house. Sarah led the way down the steps and I handed the recorder to Cafarella. It was my second peace offering but she didn’t thank me and I was pretty sure she never would.
Maintaining reasonable accord with the police is difficult in my business at the best of times, but I tried not to create outright enemies. As things stood, Watson and Cafarella were shaping up as just that.
I drove Sarah to Paddington. She was quiet, didn’t smoke and seemed to be thinking about what lay in store for her. No wonder-mother dead, brother gone, father uninterested and powerful forces possibly arrayed against her. She relaxed a bit when we got over the bridge.
‘Where do you live, Mr Hardy?’
‘Call me Cliff. Glebe.’
‘Cool. Why do you drive this old car, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I like it and when my clients see it they feel more inclined to pay my fees.’
