Shooting Star Read Online Free Page B

feel like a perv, no one more than sixteen in the place. Second time, a bloke come up to me, he’s about twenty. He says, I’m the manager, we’d be happier if you looked at CDs somewhere else. After that…’
    ‘How long’s this been going on?’ I said.
    ‘This term, that’s all.’
    ‘Every day?’
    ‘No.’ He was indignant. ‘Only on sport days. Tuesday and Thursday. It’d be six, seven times.’
    ‘Who talked you into it?’
    ‘They did, the girls.’
    ‘Both of them?’
    ‘Yeah. They worked on me. I gave in, I’m an idiot, what can I say?’
    ‘Who suggested it? Whose idea?’
    He shrugged, put up his big hands. ‘Jeez, I can’t remember. They talk all the time, they tease me, shave your head Dennis, no, he should grow his hair, Dennis, PE teacher said she thinks you’re a spunk, Dennis, how old were you when you did it the first time? They go on like that all the time. You wouldn’t think they were fifteen. Not like kids at all.’ He sighed. ‘I dunno who asked first.
    Really don’t know.’
    ‘The times you went in, they talk to anyone?’
    ‘Sure. There’s other kids from the school there.’
    ‘Girls?’
    ‘And boys. That’s what it’s about. Boys.’
    ‘That’s what what’s about?’
    ‘Goin there. The record place. Triple Zero.’
    ‘Triple Zero. That’s its name?’
    He nodded.
    ‘They went there to meet boys. Any boys in particular?’
    ‘Dunno. I said, only went in twice, didn’t really notice.’
    ‘But they were talking to boys.’
    ‘Well, yeah. In a group like, boys and girls.’
    ‘The time. How long were they in the store?’
    ‘Twenty, twenty-five minutes.’
    ‘You tell anyone you were doing this? Taking them to this place?’
    ‘No.’ Quick response. ‘Who would I tell?’
    I got up, put my hands in my pockets, looked at a pen-and-ink drawing on the wall above the writing desk: a cobbled street, shops on either side. Somewhere in Europe. It was signed A. Carson. In the glass, I could see Whitton. He was rubbing his jaw with his right hand, looking at the ceiling.
    I turned and walked around the library table, perched close to him so that he had to lean back and look up at me.
    ‘They’d kick your tyres a bit before you got a job like this,’ I said.
    ‘Cop in WA, that’s right?’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Quit to be a security man at Argyle. Diamond mine pay better?’
    ‘Lots, yeah.’
    ‘And then the Hanleys. Big move. Perth to Melbourne.’
    ‘Married a Melbourne girl, she wanted to come back. Kept on about the green grass, all that. Never stopped.’ He shrugged. ‘What can you do?’
    ‘How long in that job?’
    ‘Hanleys? Nine years. Done all the driver courses, done one in England. Brands Hatch. Hanleys sent me. Ten days. Blokes from all over, America, Italy, you name it. Then Mr Clive Hanley died. Mrs Hanley wanted me to go to Sydney with her, she went to live in Sydney. Couldn’t go, the wife wouldn’t go, her family’s all here.’
    ‘England. So you know all the stuff. Unpredictable routes, evasive actions, emergency drills, that sort of thing.’
    A slight blush crept up from his collar, tinged his jowls. ‘Yeah, all that.’
    ‘Put it into practice, driving the girls?’
    ‘Sure, yeah.’
    ‘So you’d never take the same route from the school to Armadale? Use different cars?’
    He hesitated. ‘That’s right.’
    I didn’t say anything, sat with my fingers on the table, still, expressionless, looking over his right shoulder.
    ‘Not worth much if they know where you’re going,’ he said. ‘All that stuff.’
    I didn’t comment. ‘Know about the other Carson kidnapping?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Think about it before you gave in to the girls?’
    He sat forward, shoulders hunched, eyes on the table. ‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘Jesus, not enough.’
    ‘So you told no one.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And you’re not involved in any way?’
    ‘Christ, no.’
    ‘Mr Whitton,’ I said softly, ‘you’re pretty much finished