“There certainly is a lot of stuff there,” I said when we had it all separated. Steph picked a folder up and handed it to me.
“Probably a good place to start?” she said, and I saw it was all the visitor logs that included Lightman’s for the past 20 years. She needed two hands to lift it due its size, at least 5 inches thick. I opened it and discovered page after page of logs, bearing the names of prisoners and visitors.
“Do you have a pen and some scrap paper I can write on? To take notes. You know, keep track of stuff” Steph nodded, opened a drawer in a desk that sat against the far wall and took out a writing pad. She took a pen from the desktop then handed them to me. I took the folder and sat in one of the chairs, removing the paperwork and began working my way through the stack. Steph opened a folder marked “Officer’s Logs” and sat opposite to me at the table. Our investigation had officially begun.
Chapter 4: The Trail Begins
1.
By the time we were too tired to continue, the sun was already breaking over the far horizon, its rays of bright sunshine creeping between the drawn curtains. I had managed to compile a significant list of people that were of interest, two in particular. One was the reporter that Lightman had already told us about. The other was a man called Clancy Higgins.
“Clancy Higgins? Isn’t he the school janitor?” Steph had asked as I read the name to her.
“Unless there is another Clancy Higgins around. And get this. Clancy visited Lightman once a month, every third Saturday, never missing a single time in over 17 years. And then, three years ago he stopped. Just like that.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he stop visiting? And why was he visiting him in the first place? Were they related?”
“It doesn’t say. But if I can predict the future, and on this note I think I can with some confidence, I think we’ll probably be visiting Mr. Higgins pretty soon.” I showed her the list of dates when he had been to the prison and she read them with interest, handing it back to me once finished perusing both sides.
“Think I’ll make a pot of strong coffee. You up for a visit to a Mr. Higgins?”
“Definitely. What about Judith?”
“Mrs. Wong is not only my lovely neighbour, she’s also Jude’s nanny. And my cleaner when I need one. And she wakes up every morning before the sun comes up to do her Tai Chi in her back yard.” She went to the window and pulled the curtains apart. “See?” I walked over and saw that the window overlooked her own backyard as well as a clear view over the timber fence and into the adjoining plot. There was a small Asian lady doing some poses on what looked like a tiled surface. She moved gracefully from one position to another as Steph excused herself. I kept looking out the window and saw Steph pop her head over the fence and talk to the woman. She stopped, listened, then nodded vigorously. Steph came back in and went to her room to dress while I went to the kitchen and took care of the coffee situation; hot, black, strong and lots of it.
2.
We were on the road ten minutes later. Mrs. Wong had agreed to sit and keep an eye on Judith, still sound asleep while going about some light cleaning duties. She seemed undeterred with the time of day, smiling throughout the requests Steph had made of her. We were headed back to the primary school, sure that Clancy Higgins would already be busy preparing for the day ahead.
Rather than park in the school car park, Steph parked down a side street, adjacent to the school oval. She pointed Clancy out to me, a man busy scurrying from one rubbish bin to another, pushing a cart before him that resembled a small dump master. He would stop next to a rubbish bin, lift it out of a metal holder, then tip its contents into the trolley. He moved slowly and looked to be walking with a slight limp.
“Know anything about him?” I asked Steph as we walked in through a small side gate. She shook her head.
“Nothing except that he’s the janitor here.”
We could hear singing as we neared him, the man not hearing our approach until we were almost upon him. When he finally did realize our presence, he almost jumped at the sight of us.
“Clancy Higgins?” Steph asked him and he nodded hesitatingly. He answered with a slow, somewhat laboured voice, as if he found it difficult to speak.
“Yes. That’s my name.” For a moment he just stood there, eyeing us off. He offered us his hand, remembered that he was wearing gloves and removed one, then re-offered us a handshake which we both returned. He also seemed to talk with a slight impairment, but the main feature that stood out was one of his eyes appearing blind. It was milky white, the eyeball looking tired and worn out, a large cataract covering almost the entire surface. If he decided to wear an eyepatch with the rest of his natural features, I figured he would have looked exactly like a pirate.
“Clancy, I’m Constable Connor. Do you think we could talk with you for a minute?” He turned his head to her, paused and stared for a moment,
