On Monday morning, when Adam is calmer (and sober), Dad contacts Detective Pūriri, who comes out to the house with Wendy Gordon. Dad talks privately to the police officers, sending Adam upstairs to email the school office to explain his absence from his morning classes. Adam suspects everyone else will think he’s still out of it after Friday night’s bender. When Adam comes downstairs, Dad is putting on his jacket.
‘Detective Pūriri has a few questions for you, son. I’ll expect you to answer him as honestly and fully as you can. When you’re done here, get yourself off to school, okay?’
Adam mumbles something which could be taken for assent. Just because Dad paid for Adam’s boot camp online doesn’t mean Adam’s forgiven him. It’s fair to say, Adam isn’t too happy with his old man right now.
‘Right then, I’m off to the yard. I’ll talk to you this afternoon, Brian. Have a good day, Adam. See you tonight.’
Adam doesn’t answer. He’s acting like a dickhead, but he doesn’t care. Detective Pūriri places a large hand on Adam’s shoulder, leading him into the kitchen.
‘Adam, I want you to know that this is quite routine,’ Pūriri says. ‘It’s common for new information to come out later when people have had time to think. And it’s important for us to follow up on that information. You need to know that by talking to us you’re not going to get your dad into any trouble, but you could be helping us to find your mum.’
Adam nods. They sit down at the kitchen table. Pushing aside the debris from a cuppa that Dad made earlier, Constable Gordon sits alongside Adam. She opens the interrogation softly.
‘So, tell us how you’re doing, Adam. Are you holding up okay?’ Adam picks up an unused spoon, fiddling with it.
‘Yeah, okay I guess.’
‘It’s a tough time for you both.’
‘I suppose.’ Adam keeps his eyes on the spoon.
‘Do you have someone you can talk to?’
‘My mates. And I’ve been having some sessions with Mrs Paine, the counsellor at school.’ He stares at the spoon. Eventually, his eyes glazing, the spoon clones itself, turning into three. When Adam puts it down, it merges back into one.
Wendy Gordon smiles. ‘Well, that’s something. Talking helps.’
‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t mention the little snoozes on Mrs Paine’s couch.
‘What about your dad?’
Adam frowns. ‘He’s got someone else to talk to, hasn’t he? What does he need to talk to me for?’
‘Did you and your dad talk much before?’
‘Not so much. A bit. Mostly about sport.’ Suddenly, Adam realises that anything important he discussed with Mum: what NCEA subjects to take, would some extra French tuition help, if it was time to book himself in for a ‘flu jab, did girls really think tattoos are sexy...
Detective Pūriri seems to read Adam’s thoughts. He nods understandingly.
‘Do you mind going over again what happened on the night she went missing, Adam?’
Jeepers! Adam could recount this stuff in his sleep. He’s gone over and over it so many times now. He starts reciting.
‘Mum left around five-thirty to get some milk for a pudding. She said she was going to walk. It’s not that far to the shops. The end of the road.’
‘Did she seem upset in any way?’ Pūriri’s voice rumbles like a faraway train.
‘She’d just given me a lecture about me not knuckling down and doing my homework.’
‘So she might have been a bit tense?’
‘Not really. She was just having a go, you know, it was her way of motivating me, the usual mother nagging.’
‘Okay.’ Pūriri nods. ‘Anything else? Did she seem distracted?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Tearful, perhaps?’
‘Like she had her period?’ Adam asks.
Pūriri shrugs. ‘If you like.’
‘No, she hasn’t been like that for ages.’
‘So she’s sometimes tearful?’
‘Well, yeah. She has endometriosis. She’s always had it. It used to make her a bit moody. And she’s in her forties. Maybe she hit menopause or something.’ Wendy Gordon holds her notebook up in front of her face. Pūriri leans across the table and places his hand on Adam’s forearm. ‘Please think carefully, Adam. Your mother’s state of mind leading up to her disappearance could be very important.’
‘She did say that she felt like a walk. “To blow away the cobwebs.” That’s what she said.’
‘What do you think she meant by that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adam says, feeling exasperated, ‘that she needed some fresh air?’
‘Is it an expression she used a lot?’ Wendy Gordon asks.
‘Not particularly.’
‘What does that expression mean to you, Adam?’
‘Blow away the cobwebs? I don’t know. Maybe she wanted a change of scene?’
‘What sort of change of scene?’ Pushing now.
‘How should I know?’ Adam’s tone is belligerent. Pūriri catches his partner’s eye and shakes his head. It’s a tiny movement. Constable Gordon stops asking questions. She flips through the pages of her notebook, pretending to look for something.
Pūriri says gently, ‘Was there anything in your mother’s behaviour that makes you think she might have discovered something about your father’s relationship with his secretary?’
Frustrated, Adam shakes his head.
‘No! She was going out to get some fucking milk. That’s all.’
There’s a silence. They’ve hit a dead end. Wendy Gordon taps the end of her pencil on the back of the pad. Pūriri switches to old ground.
‘Can you tell me again what your mother was wearing?’ Half the country could tell him, Adam thinks, but he rattles off what Mum was wearing anyway.
‘Blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a dark green polar fleece. I didn’t see if she took a jacket.’
‘Any jewellery?’
‘Just a watch.’
‘What about a wedding band?’
Adam thinks hard. ‘I don’t know. She usually only took it off to do the gardening. I haven’t seen it around the house, so I guess she must’ve been wearing it.’
‘And you’re sure she took her wallet?’
‘I told you before. I didn’t see her leave, but the wallet isn’t in her handbag and she would’ve needed change for the milk. There isn’t any change in the usual places either. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been looking in Dad’s closet...’
‘So how much money do you think she might’ve had on her, Adam?’
Adam shrugs. ‘Not that much. Not enough to start a new life.’