CHAPTER 31

Seb’s car hovered in traffic outside Police Headquarters in the centre of Parramatta. He hadn’t been to Sydney for years and didn’t miss it one bit.

He opened his door. ‘See ya.’

‘Text me when you’re done,’ said Barb, as she awkwardly raised her bottom over the gearstick to get to the driver’s seat.

Inside, police hurried in every direction. It was like looking in those fun park mirrors. Everyone dressed the same as him, but differently shaped.

He got through security, and into a lift with five other police. As they disembarked at various floors, he caught glimpses of lines of cop-filled desks. The police was a bureaucracy like any other. He supposed all the behind-the-scenes stuff must be somehow necessary for him and others to do the actual policing, but it was hard to imagine what exactly they spent their days doing.

He asked directions to Perkins’ office and ended up sitting outside a modest, glass-fronted office one in from the window. Inside, a slim man in an open-necked white shirt, sleeves rolled up, was on the phone. The window office next door was much larger, with frosted glass so no one could see in. Probably the inspector’s.

At precisely half past ten, the door to the smaller office opened.

‘Sebastian? Paul Perkins.’ He extended his hand, smiling. ‘Come in.’

Perkins was thin-faced with friendly eyes. He had a long straight nose and thinning, sandy hair, partially compensated for by a moustache. They sat either side of his spotless desk.

‘Let me bring it up,’ he said, tapping his laptop. ‘Bloody I.T. One of the inspector’s priorities, thank God. Okay. I’ve spoken to the inspector whose responsibility it is to meet with potential informers, like Karen Kemp. His view is that, given Ms Kemp’s death, her safety is obviously no longer an issue, and as Homicide have concluded her death was not related to the fact that she offered us information, the inspector has decided to release some information to you because, I quote, “This sort of proactive policing should be encouraged.”’

Seb felt a warm glow.

‘That information is the following.’ Perkins seemed to be enjoying the bureaucratic preciseness of it. ‘One. Karen Kemp did come here and offer to give information. In return she wanted a letter from us saying she had provided valuable information, which she could use in her upcoming court matters. Two. The information she offered did not relate to Bullford Point. She was offering to identify someone who may have been involved with organised crime in Sydney. Three. The information she offered turned out to be of no value.’

‘Why not, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘I don’t think the inspector would mind me saying. Karen said she dropped her criminal boyfriend at a park, where he said he was meeting a, quote’ – he peered at his computer screen – ‘“big wheel”. She was curious and parked where she could see her boyfriend sitting on a bench. A man joined him, started talking, while Karen’s boyfriend took notes. After a few minutes the man walked away, past her car, and she said she recognised him, but didn’t know where from. Her description was pretty generic: male, late middle-age, brown hair, glasses. You know the type of thing.’

Seb did. People were terrible at describing people. They could recognise the whole package, but were usually unable to break it down into specific components. ‘I’d know him if I saw him’ was often as good as it got.

‘Karen looked at literally hundreds of photos, but no cigar. Very frustrating. So there it is. Or isn’t. In fact, we have no independent evidence Karen actually saw anyone meet her boyfriend. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. People make up all sorts of things to try and stay out of jail.’

‘I’m just curious,’ began Seb. ‘When Homicide started investigating Karen’s murder, should they have known about this? Because I’ve seen the Homicide file and there’s nothing in it to suggest they did.’

‘Interesting point. When someone offers to provide information to us, we open a file, but we keep the information tight. In the past, only the person opening the file, and others they specifically allow access to, would know any details. However, the inspector wants us to get better at sharing information. One of his initiatives is that now, if someone dies and Homicide opens a file on them, if that person is one of our informants, Homicide are automatically notified that we also hold a file, and upon request they can see it.’

‘So Homicide should have known you had a file on Karen?’

Perkins raised an index finger. ‘Not so fast. When it became clear that Karen wasn’t going to be able to help us, her file was closed. Closing a file is a systems thing. I’m not sure exactly how long it takes, but if her file was closed before Homicide opened their file, Homicide wouldn’t have been automatically notified. Make sense?’

‘I think so. Nothing in the Homicide file just means your file had already been shut. ‘

‘Exactly. No conspiracy.’

Perkins stood, and Seb followed his lead.

‘It’s good you came in, and good you care about your community. Proactive policing. The inspector is impressed. As I understand it, Karen’s murder was solved and her killer is himself dead, so hopefully your neck of the woods will quieten down. These events can really rock a community.’ He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Seb. ‘You obviously take a proactive role in keeping your community safe, and that’s exactly the sort of policing the inspector wants us to encourage and promote. If you discover anything else you think we might be interested in about this matter, or organised crime, or anything else, get in touch anytime. Doesn’t matter if it seems trivial. It’s often the little things that lead to big things.’