“Don’t mention it.” Through the open window of the Honda, Amelia gave him a last look. “What are you going to do now? Smash everyone’s face in?
“It’s not worth it.” Osborne touched Amelia’s hand. It felt warm and soft and feminine. “See you later,” he said.
Leaving the girl who had saved his life, he walked toward the hotel. Kieren waved at him through the open windows of the bar, but he didn’t reply.
His mind still hazy, he went up to his room, and found the overnight case at the foot of the bed. He opened it, sniffed a little cocaine to counteract the effects of the codeine, drank two large glasses of water, and went back down downstairs.
Out on the street, human beings were behaving as if life was normal. It felt strange to be among them. Shading his eyes from the sun, he went around to the side of the building. The Chevrolet was still parked there. He threw the parking ticket in the gutter and his overnight case on the seat.
There was a smell of grass and cold tobacco in the driver’s compartment. He drove with windows open toward the expressway, his head full of mirages.
Onehunga Road, a succession of small jerry-built houses. According to the employment record from the Phoenix, Will Tagaloa lived at Number 124, slap-bang in the middle of South Auckland, the most deprived area of the city. There were three brothers, Will, Jesse, and Stephen Tagaloa, who still lived with their father, Mike. None had a criminal record.
On the litter-strewn sidewalk, the smell of fried food hung in the humid summer air. Osborne parked the Chevrolet outside Number 124 and sniffed another line, just to keep going.
Mike Tagaloa worked nights as a packer at the refrigeration plant in Henderson. An old Ford station wagon was parked in the shade of a raw-boned peach tree. Osborne rang twice before a sleepy voice told him to wait on the front steps. Mike Tagaloa opened the door, wearing a Nike T-shirt and faded jeans. He had a beer belly and hands strong enough to break stones, and he clearly hated being woken during his afternoon nap.
“What are you?” he grunted, making a threatening gesture. “A cop? If you want me to talk about the boys, you can get out right now!”
Osborne had already gained an impression of the atmosphere in the house. “Yes, I am looking for your sons,” he said. “Will in particular. Where is he?”
“No idea.”
“Is that right?”
“Haven’t seen any of them in weeks.”
“Don’t they live here anymore?”
“I told you, I haven’t seen them in weeks!”
“There’s no point spitting in my face. Where are they?”
“How should I know where they are? Check the bars, you may find them there.” Wearily, he dropped his double chin over his grimy T-shirt.
“What about Will?” Osborne insisted from the doorway. “He’s been off work since last weekend. Hasn’t he been to see you?”
Mike Tagaloa let out a booming laugh. “Will, off work? That’s a good one! I never saw him do a day’s work in his life, so he should know about taking time off!”
Since he’d turned eighteen, his eldest son had been doing exactly as he liked—just like his father. Inevitably, the other two had ended up imitating him.
“Will’s working in a club on K Road called the Phoenix,” Osborne said.
“First I heard of it!”
Ghosts. He was running after ghosts.
“How about the others?” he went on. “Jesse and Stephen. How old are they?”
“Eighteen and seventeen.”
“Still at school?”
“They left school a long time ago.”
“Do they work?”
“Well,” he said, fatalistically, “a bit of casual work every now and again but they spend more time in bars than down the employment agency.”
For all his show of grumpiness, Mike Tagaloa seemed a little overtaken by events.
“You mean to tell me you don’t see your sons anymore and don’t know where they are?”
“That’s right.”
“What about their mother?”
“That bitch left me the three kids and ran off with a bastard who—”
“OK,” Osborne cut in. “Any idea where the boys are living?”
“In a squat, I assume. Anyway, they’re adults now, they can do what they like.”
That didn’t explain why they had all dropped out of sight at the same time, or why Will had given this address when he didn’t live here anymore.
“How do the three of them get along?” Osborne asked.
