Leo Penfold looked a lot like a younger version of his father. Tall and thin, the only heavy thing about him was his eyelids, which drooped slightly over large brown eyes. The effect made him appear sad.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked as they entered the shop.
Kate had never been inside a scrapbooking shop and until Janine Penfold told them that’s where they’d find Leo, she had no idea such a thing existed. As far as she was concerned, scrapbooking meant sticking newspaper clippings into an oversized book of plain paper. This was a whole new world. Photos attached to large, patterned papers embellished with ribbons and writing, were displayed in transparent sleeves pinned to the walls. Kate had to admit the effect was impressive, and that a lot of work was involved. A customer with two baskets already full of items headed down another aisle.
‘We’re looking for Leo Penfold,’ Oliver said, showing his badge.
‘That’s me.’ The man behind the counter rubbed his hands on a dark green apron of the kind hardware shop assistants often wear. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Kate Farrer and this is Detective Constable Oliver Parke. We’d like to ask you some questions about your father, if you don’t mind.’ Kate leafed through a book with a wooden cover containing embellished pictures. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to for something no bigger than a notebook.
‘They’re one of our newest lines and that’s all we’ve got left. The small albums are great presents and stocking fillers.’
That made sense, Kate thought, and closed the tiny scrapbook. ‘About your father.’
‘I barely know him. Haven’t seen him for years,’ he said, stacking square sheets of coloured cardboard on the counter.
‘Can we ask why?’
‘It’s no secret. He left us for that rich bitch and her kids. End of story.’ He lowered his voice and gestured for the customer who had finished shopping to come to the register. ‘Why? Has something happened to him?’
‘No, but his stepdaughter Candice is missing.’
‘Hardly a surprise, having that witch for a mother,’ he said, scanning the customer’s purchases. ‘That’ll be $86.50, thanks.’
From what Kate could tell, for a few coloured textas, sticky tape and pieces of paper, the amount was exorbitant.
Oliver muttered, ‘This a multi-billion dollar industry in the US alone. Most of the businesses are run by women – housewives and mothers with a passion for scrapbooking. They even have these enormous conventions. Impressive, don’t you think?’
Kate stared at her partner, stunned by his admiration for something she would never understand. They waited as the customer signed the sales receipt then disappeared further inside the shop to browse again.
‘Not a cheap hobby.’ Oliver flipped through a magazine on a stand.
‘Scrapbooking’s addictive, and all our materials are guaranteed acid and lignin free. They’re the best money can buy,’ Leo said.
Kate failed to see the significance and raised her eyebrows.
‘That means they’re archival quality and won’t damage the photos or fade.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Thankfully, our regulars keep us in business.’
Oliver shifted from foot to foot. He suddenly seemed more uncomfortable than Kate felt. ‘Did your father ever treat you inappropriately?’ He almost blurted out the words once the customer was well out of earshot.
‘You mean like walking out on us? Sure, he paid for things, but he broke Mum’s heart.’ Leo pointed to a display on the wall that featured a grey-haired woman looking wistfully to the side of the camera. ‘That’s Mum, not long before she passed on. She wanted us to know how much she loved us. That’s how she got involved in scrapbooking, so we decided to honour her memory with this place.’
Oliver lowered his voice. ‘Did your father ever physically abuse you?’
The son leant forward. ‘I don’t know what this has to do with his spoilt brats, but he wouldn’t have dirtied his hands by touching us. When he walked out, he didn’t ever want to see us again.’ He glanced back at the image of his late mother. ‘Now tell me that’s treating your children appropriately.’
A young woman came out from a back room with a box of papers she deposited on a work table in the middle of the store. She smiled and wiped her hands on a green apron, identical to Leo’s. ‘Everything okay?’
Kate nodded and said they just needed to ask Leo a couple more questions.
‘I’m the co-owner, Madeleine Penfold. Is there a problem?’
‘One of the ugly stepsisters is in hiding and these police officers are asking about the sperm donor they call our father.’
Madeleine Penfold’s smile faded quickly. ‘Leo, could you please grab the other two boxes so we can set up the new display?’
Her brother seemed more than happy to oblige.
‘Sorry, Leo’s the oldest so he bore the brunt of Mum’s bitterness. Some of it rubbed off.’
Kate walked towards the shop entrance, out of Leo’s earshot, and Madeleine followed. Oliver studied items hanging from a stand.
‘You’ve never heard your father’s version of what happened or why he gave up custody?’
‘I assume there are two sides, but out of respect for Mum, we never initiated contact. Our other brother lives up north and, as far as we know, feels the same. Please understand, this is painful for all of us. I’m sorry if one of the girls ran away, but I have nothing more to say about our father. None of us does. He made his choice a long time ago when he left.’
Kate thanked her and opened the door, which jingled and made Oliver look up. Based on one brief meeting with two of Penfold’s biological children, they had not done or said anything to suggest they had been abused. It was possible that the mother really had lied about the sexual abuse and Penfold may have spent all his energies on his adopted family to compensate for the loss of his own.