Ghost Child by Caroline Overington Read Free Book Online

down, Lisa. Let’s see if we can find out what’s happened here.’
    I was wondering how to approach the subject of the man in the schoolyard. There didn’t seem much point saying, ‘Look, I don’t believe this, Lisa,’ because then she’djust clam up, and anyway, that’s not the way to approach an investigation. Our rule is: assume nothing.
    She said, ‘I wanna know what’chve got. I wanna know what you’re doin’ here , when that man is out there . I wanna know why you aren’t out findin’ ’im, and stickin’ ’im in jail and throwin’ away the bloody key.’
    I pulled myself into my professional stance: clipboard in front of me, pen in my hand. I said, ‘Lisa, you’ve said that Jacob and … is it Harley? … you’ve said that Jacob and Harley went out to the shops at around 5 p.m. to get cigarettes …’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘I have to ask you, is that unusual? Jacob’s how old? Five? Does he go to the shops by himself quite often?’
    She said, ‘He’s just started goin’.’
    I said, ‘Okay. Can I ask you: how much money did he have?’
    She had a temper, that woman. Sharply, she said, ‘I’ve told ya all this. I gave ’em some change, outta the jar. We needed fags. What I wanna know is what you’re doin’ about the man what done this.’
    She’d moved out from behind the bench in the kitchen and was sitting with Peter, on the arm of his Jason recliner, flicking a Bic lighter with her thumb.
    ‘You’re obviously upset,’ I said, twisting my body to face her again. ‘I understand that. But what we need are a few more details so we can get this investigation properly underway.’
    Peter took the Alpine Lights and began fiddling with the packet, trying to work a cigarette loose.
    ‘Can you not pinch my packet?’ said Lisa.
    ‘You gone and smoked all mine,’ he said.
    I tried to focus their minds.
    ‘Let’s see if we can go over it again,’ I said. ‘Let’s see if there’s anything I’ve missed, anything I can do, to get this man under arrest.’
    Lisa sighed, a great, melodramatic sigh, like this was the most boring thing she’d had to do in a while. She said, ‘I told ya. Peter gave ’em some money. I said to ’em, “Get some Alpine Lights, and you can get some lollies with the change what’s left.” They left here at five o’clock. I know it because they were watching Happy Days and it was just finished.’
    ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘And … Peter? Do we have a surname for you, Peter?’
    ‘Tabone,’ he said.
    ‘Okay, right, Peter Tabone. You were here, too? Do you actually live here?’
    ‘I been here a month.’
    ‘Six weeks,’ said Lisa.
    ‘Jacob’s not your son?’
    Lisa snorted.
    I said, ‘Are you the father of any of these children?’ I didn’t mean to put the emphasis on ‘any’ but it came out that way.
    ‘Nope,’ said Peter.
    ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ said Lisa.
    I said, ‘Whose children are they?’
    It’s a dangerous question, that one. You don’t want the mum to think that you regard her as a town bike, or a welfare mum, or anything like that. I was still thinking that Peter likely had something to do with the bashing, and I was determined to keep Lisa on side, so I said, ‘Where’s the kids’ dad? Did he do a runner? Shoot through?’
    She dragged back on her cigarette and, breathless now, she said, ‘Yeah, they shot through.’
    She paused then, waiting for the smoke to clear her nose, and said, ‘They all shoot through, don’t they? They want the fun, but not the responsibility, right? They want to get in the sack, naturally, but not deal with the consequences.’
    I said, ‘What age is your oldest, Lisa?’
    ‘Lauren’s six,’ she said. ‘I had her at twenty and her father, arsehole that he is, wasn’t even around on the day she was born.’
    Peter put a hand on Lisa’s naked ankle, a gesture I understood to mean: ‘Yeah, but I’m here, aren’t I? I’m actually a good guy, so don’t shop me.’
    I said, ‘And