Open File by Peter Corris Read Free Book Online Page B

hash that got him kicked out of Bryce. Justin hated drugs, he was a real pain in the arse about it.’ She tapped her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and held it up. ‘He hated smoking and he didn’t drink, ever. I can’t believe he had anything to do with Pierre.’
    ‘Did you have anything to do with him, Sarah?’
    She stood up and went to the louvre windows to check on her mother. ‘Sure, I scored some grass off him a couple of times.’
    ‘I have to talk to him to find out what went on between him and Justin. It might help me to trace your brother, although it’s worrying. D’you know where I can find him?’
    She sat down. ‘Of course I do. He got caught supplying heroin to some kids. He’s in gaol.’
    I sat back and let that sink in while Sarah smoked and looked less cooperative.
    ‘I can understand why Pierre Fontaine’s name didn’t come up when you and Justin’s friends talked to the police,’ I said.
    She brushed that off with a wave of the cigarette hand. ‘Look, Just didn’t really have any friends. And I told you, the cops asked dumb questions. They didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on.’
    ‘How long after Justin went missing did Fontaine get caught?’
    Sarah finished her cigarette and gave some thoughtto her answer. ‘If you go to see Pierre you won’t tell him I talked about him, will you? I mean, he won’t be in gaol forever and he’s a bad dude.’
    ‘Did I tell you who told me about Fontaine? No. The same goes for you. Like I won’t tell your mother you smoke grass.’
    She laughed. ‘She knows, she just doesn’t want to know she knows. All right, let me think. The police got him about a year ago, so it was about a year after Just . . .’
    ‘Went missing.’
    She nodded.
    I stood. ‘Thanks, Sarah. You’ve been a big help.’
    She stood as well and looked surprised to find herself on her feet, being polite. ‘Have I? I haven’t heard that said before by anyone around here.’
    ‘Give your mother a break. She’s holding in a lot of grief and anger. People like her, conventional people, find all this sort of stuff very confusing.’
    ‘You’re not conventional, are you, Mr Hardy?’
    ‘I can’t afford to be.’
    ‘And I don’t want to be.’
    ‘One more thing—Justin went on a school excursion to Bangara near the end of the year and something there seemed to affect him. Does Bangara mean anything to you?’
    ‘Bangara? Yeah, that’s where some fucking Hampshire hero came from. Great-grandfather or something. He got killed in the First World War.’
    I thanked her again and asked her to thank her mother. She said she would and I believed her. She didn’t exactly escort me out, but she made more or less polite gestures along those lines. I gave her a goodbye nod in the passageand she smiled and raised a hand almost shyly, like a schoolgirl.
     
    I didn’t take any notes while talking to Sarah, not wanting to put her off, but I scribbled a few things down back in the car. Things to be done, and in this kind of investigation the more the better. I’d had enough of Pittwater and environs and was glad to be heading back to the city. I played some more Joni Mitchell but I was almost at the Spit Bridge before I realised that thinking about the Hampshire case had blotted out every word and note.
    I drove to Rose Bay, parked as close as I could to the apartments where Hampshire was staying and asked for him at the service desk. He was out, but at least he was still staying there. I left a message for him to ring me. Back in my office, I phoned Gunnarson.
    ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that the dragon lady regards you as competent.’
    ‘I’m thrilled. Did you get anywhere?’
    ‘I might have, but I’m going to need some help.’
    He sighed. ‘Why is there never any end to what you blokes want?’
    ‘We never sleep.’
    I told him in outline about Pierre Fontaine and his possible place in the scheme of things. He swore and condemned all people who