‘These threats come how?’
‘Emails, letters, cards, phone calls.’
He handed me the other photograph. It showed a young woman sitting in a chair smiling shyly at the camera. She had curly, cropped hair, a pug nose and slightly droopy eyes. She wore a blouse and a skirt that covered her knees. Forrest cleared his throat.
‘Jane isn’t beautiful, as you can see, but that doesn’t matter to me. She’s wonderful and I love her, but because I look the way I do. . shit, I hate saying this.’
‘She feels she’s not good enough for you while you feel you’re not good enough for her.’
He had large, expressive blue eyes like Mel Gibson and he opened them wide. ‘That’s it exactly. I can’t bear the thought of losing her or of any harm coming to her because of me.’
‘Tell me about the threats to Jane.’
‘They’re kind of veiled, I suppose you’d call it. Nothing like “I’ll throw acid in her face” or like that. But she says how people can have accidents, how they can contract diseases by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She says she knows people who can arrange things and how Sydney is such a dangerous city.’
‘Nothing direct?’
‘No.’
‘And you believe she’s capable of carrying out these threats?’
‘That’s the trouble, I don’t know. But I can’t afford to take the risk. I’m embarrassed about all this. The only person I’ve been able to talk to about it was my dad. Can you help me?’
2
It didn’t feel like such a big deal. It was a reversal of the usual stalker scenario, but what could I expect? It was the twenty-first century and we had climate change, an unwinnable war supported by both sides of politics, a minority government and a female prime minister. Change was everywhere.
Bobby said he’d been back to Miranda’s flat but she wasn’t there. He felt too angry to reply to her emails or phone calls because he was worried she might record him saying something he shouldn’t. He mentioned his bad temper. He wanted me to find Miranda and talk to her. Persuade her that the course she was following would only get her into serious trouble.