Open File by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online

have free time while they were down there? I suppose you were looking at a farm or something.’
    ‘Vineyards, actually. Yes, they had the best part of an hour to look around the town. The idea being to see if the agricultural history was reflected in the architecture. It usually is, in one way or another.’
    ‘I see. I’ve got one more question—is there a war memorial at Bangara?’
    His pale, washed-out eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘I have no idea.’
    I went back to the registrar’s area and Belinda gave me the original of Justin’s mother’s note and a warm smile.
    ‘A terrible thing,’ she said.
    ‘Yes. Did you know him?’
    ‘Of course. I know them all, more or less.’
    ‘One thing puzzles me, Mrs . . . ?’
    The smile again. ‘Belinda.’
    ‘Belinda. I don’t hear any mention of friends. Kids at school, they usually pal up, don’t they? With one or two others? Did Justin?’
    She glanced back at McKenzie-Brown’s door, looking troubled. ‘I’m not sure I should . . .’
    ‘As I said to the teachers, nothing I learn is for public consumption—ever!’
    ‘Justin was what they call a loner, but I did notice that he spent some time with Pierre Fontaine. He was an exchange student from France.’
    ‘Where is he now, d’you know?’
    ‘I don’t know. Please don’t ask me any more questions.’
    Belinda had reached the end of her string of indiscretion. She swivelled around in her chair and began typing as though she had the manuscript of
War and Peace
to finish before she went home and was only halfway through.
     
    I left the school with a few things to think about. I didn’t remember seeing the name Pierre Fontaine among those the police had talked to initially. In fact only a couple of students had been interviewed and they were sports team mates, confirming Belinda’s judgement—a loner. I really needed to talk to someone of the relevant generation. I didn’t have high hopes of Ronny. Sarah seemed the most potentially useful but I didn’t have much optimism there either.
    I found a phone and called Angela Pettigrew.
    ‘Have you learned anything?’ were her first words.
    ‘I’m getting a fuller picture. I really need to talk to Sarah.’
    ‘To Sarah? Why?’
    ‘I gave a lift to the youngster who was there with her yesterday.’
    ‘Why on earth did you do that?’
    ‘It was raining. Sorry, what I mean, is I’ll get information any way I can. He told me about something Justin said to Sarah. I’d like to talk to her about it. And there’s another—’
    ‘Wait!’
    I hung on to the phone and heard voices loud and soft, near and far, as well as music. Then Ms Pettigrew came back on the line.
    ‘She’s taken the day off. Not for the first time. She says she’ll talk to you but only in person. Really, I don’t know. Is it so important?’
    ‘It could be.’
    ‘Where are you now?’
    I told her and she said I should come back to the house. That didn’t sound like the best of ideas and I said so. She had the answer.
    ‘The dragon mother will absent herself. She’ll be in the garden. It needs work.’
    A lot of things around that place needed work but the arrangement sounded okay. I stopped at a liquor store and bought a can of draft Guinness. A chop in every glass. A kilometre short of the house I opened the can, carefully let it foam into a paper cup and drank it down. Ah, the gift of we Irish to the human race.

5
    The rain had gone and the steps up to the house had dried out, but the water had caused crumbling in some places and a few of the bricks looked ready to head south. Angela was facing some serious maintenance problems. She opened the door to me, ushered me in without speaking, knocked on Sarah’s door as we went past and continued through to the sunroom. She was wearing jeans, rubber boots and a faded denim shirt. She picked up a straw hat and a can of insect repellent from a table near the door to the wooden steps leading down to the garden.
    ‘She