South Wales public service to the limit. After an initial few minutes of idle greetings and small talk which stretched Robards’ patience to breaking point, Sourav confirmed what Robards had deduced in the few moments it had taken him to review his record, Harvey Petersham was a serial deadbeat.
“However, I think it unlikely he would be into anything serious though. He is mostly small time you know,” Sourav said in a thick nothern Indian accent.
“You’re probably right Sourav but I need to speak with him anyway. So where can I find him?”
“As far as I know, he lives out at Manly and works at a takeaway shop on the Steyn.”
Robards cursed under his breath, already dreading the minimum forty minute drive that lay ahead of him. He took down the addresses for Petersham’s home and work, did his best to muster a thank you to Sourav and hung up. He tried to look on the bright side in that he had actually found Sourav at work and he had been mildly helpful on this occasion.
Despite skirting the worst of the inner city traffic by taking Lane Cove Road and Lane Cove Motorway in succession, it still took Robards almost an hour to get out to Manly because as soon as he hit Military Road the traffic slowed to a near crawl. He arrived at Manly annoyed and frustrated and drove to the boarding house that Harvey Petersham had told his probation officer he was living at. It was a rundown weatherboard house probably around eighty years old and was badly in need of a paint job. Its owner had assiduously identified a need in the market and partitioned off the house into ten tiny bed-sitter apartments which were rented for the princely sum of one hundred and ten dollars each a week to men who for one reason or another could afford nothing better.
The grass was long and unkempt and pamphlets, newspapers and beer bottles littered the front lawn. Robards looked at the house with distaste and gave a cursory thought of sympathy to the neighbours. He took a deep breath in preparation and made his way inside the front door which was ajar. Upon entry, he was physically assaulted by the stale smell of unwashed men, cigarettes and musty carpet. To his left was a large communal living room which was crammed full of mismatched lounge chairs in such poor condition they looked like they had been salvaged from the dump. A couple of dregs of society were watching a morning news program on a small battered television and either didn’t notice his presence or ignored it.
“Harvey? Harvey Petersham?” Robards called to them.
“Number eight up the stairs,” replied one of the men without removing his eyes from the television.
Robards made his way up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor, found unit eight and proceeded to bang on the door for two whole minutes. There was no response. He put his weight against the door and found that it had a surprisingly solid feel to it. He sighed theatrically and decided he’d have to give Petersham’s work address a try. One of the men who had been watching television was now sitting on the front doorstep having a smoke. He was small and wiry and despite it being only twelve degrees outside he was shirtless. Robards noted the tattoos that covered most of his torso.
“Do you know where I can find Harvey Petersham?” The old man interrupted his smoke and looked disdainfully up at Robards.
“I ain’t seen him in weeks pig.”
Robards smiled tightly and put aside any thoughts he had of attempting to teach the old bastard some much needed manners. His day was just getting better and better. Robards had an intense dislike for this part of policing, having to chase down deadbeat losers who wouldn’t tell you anything once you caught up with them anyway. And when they did tell you something it was either a lie or of little consequence. He was tempted to call off the search and head back to the station, but knew that Nelson would probably insist that he come out again tomorrow and search for Harvey Petersham if he returned to headquarters empty handed.
He worked his way down through the streets to the Steyne which girdled the crescent shaped Manly foreshore. Although it was only ten in the morning there were already hundreds of long-socked tourists looking for their next photo opportunity, thousands of squawking seagulls crapping on the pavement and looking for their next chip and a handful of young people spending their sickie on the famous beach. Petersham had told his case officer that he worked several shifts a week at his uncle’s takeaway shop. Robards thought it would be a convenient location for Pethersham to ply his trade to the profusion of backpackers, tourists and anyone else in the area that was in need of a little chemical pick-me-up.
He scanned the shopfronts and picked out the takeaway shop amongst all the others. He had noticed the prices on their outdoor billboards and wondered why anyone would pay near on twenty bucks for the privilege of eating few greasy chips and a piece of fish likely to be imported from some muddy Vietnamese creek. As Robards approached the shop from the south, his presence was noted by a man sitting at an outside table studying a form guide for Randwick races later in the day. Their eyes met and both instantly recognised each other as a natural enemy. Petersham took a brief moment to look around, searching the street in the other direction for more enemies. When he saw none, he leapt up out of his chair like a startled rabbit, knocking chairs and a table over and tripping himself up in the process. He got up and took off at a run in the opposite direction from which Robards was approaching. Robards took after him, moving with surprising speed and grace for a heavily built man. Petersham kicked off his thongs as he ran, in a frantic search for more speed, his skinny brown legs flailing in all directions. It was of little use however, as two strong hands latched onto the back of his shirt and propelled him forcefully to the ground. Petersham did an unplanned forward roll and came to rest on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky above. Robards stood over him enormously, a man-made eclipse of the sun.
“Harvey Petersham?” he growled through his teeth.
Petersham tried to think of something smart or tough to say but his alcohol and drug abused mind refused to cooperate to any great degree.
“Yeah. What do you want? I ain’t done nothing.”
“Then why’d you run?”
Petersham picked himself up off the ground, surprised and thankful that all the parts of his body were as they should be and still seemed to work reasonably well.
“I just don’t like cops ok? Especially when they want to talk to me. I’d rather just sail under their radar you know. Nuthin’ personal. What’s all this about anyway?”
“It’s about your good friend Craig Thoms.” Robards noticed that Petersham’s eyes narrowed perceptibly at the mention of the name.
“What about him?”
“Well for starters, did you threaten him when he said he wouldn’t be supplying you anymore?”
Harvey thought for a moment and smiled through a mouth with a couple of missing teeth and a couple well on the way out. He was a walking talking advertisement for a national dental health program.
“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t do nothing like that. He’s pulling your leg if that’s what he said.”
Robards rolled his eyes and thought of a drink he’d once had at a party, a Harvey Wallbanger. Although he didn’t like it much at the time, the thought of banging Harvey into a wall greatly appealed to him, however when he looked around he saw a host of potential camera bearing witnesses looking in their direction.
“Craig Thoms said he’s been selling you drugs that he’s been stealing from the hospital he works at.”
“Drugs? I ain’t into no drugs. That would be a violation of my probation you know.” Petersham was beginning to feel more confident. He started to wonder why he bothered to run at all seeing that he’d never been particularly fast.
“Yeah I’m sure it would be. How about last Friday night. Where were you then?”
“Dunno. I can barely remember what I did this morning let alone last week.”
Robards had just about had enough and he closed in on Petersham menacingly.
“Just answer the fucking question or so help me I’m going to mess you up and I don’t care who is watching,” he growled through clenched teeth.
Petersham’s eyes went wide with genuine fear and he took an involuntary step backwards. “Ok, ok, let me think. Last Friday night? Last Friday night? Ah, that’s it, no wonder I can’t remember it. I spent most of last week visiting some friends in Newcastle. Unfortunately I had a bit too much to drink on the Friday and made a bit of a spectacle of myself. The local boys in blue picked me up and dragged me off to the lockup to sober up. They didn’t let me out until the next mornin.”
“You’d better not be bullshitting me because I won’t be happy if I have to drive all the way out here to talk to you again.”
“I’m telling the truth. Go check with them. I been picked up there a few times before. Talk to Sergeant
