Grant looked up in disbelief. ‘No chance.’
‘You can pick them up at the station tomorrow.’
‘It’s over five kilometres to my place,’ Grant protested, cradling them in his palm.
‘Tough. Enjoy your walk,’ Falk said, plucking the keys from his paw and pocketing them. ‘Now bugger off.’
He turned his attention to Sullivan and Whitlam, who were being inexpertly tended by McMurdo and Raco.
‘You want to tell us what happened, Jamie?’ Falk asked.
Sullivan stared at the floor out of his one good eye.
‘Like he said. Misunderstanding.’
‘I don’t mean tonight.’
There was no reply. Falk let the silence stretch out.
‘This is only going to get worse the further you let yourself sink.’
Nothing.
‘Right,’ Falk said. He was clammy, wet from the shower, and had had enough. ‘Be at the station at ten tomorrow. We need to talk to you anyway. And fair warning, mate, I would have a good hard think overnight about where you were that day.’
Sullivan’s features crumpled. He looked like he was about to cry. Falk exchanged a look with Raco.
‘I’ll drive you home, Jamie,’ Raco said. ‘Come on, let’s get you up.’
Sullivan let himself be helped out of the bar. He didn’t look at anyone. Finally Falk turned to Whitlam, who looked embarrassed behind his cloth in the corner.
‘I think the bleeding’s stopped,’ Whitlam said, gingerly testing his nose.
‘Let’s see.’ Falk peered at it and tried to recall his first aid training. ‘Well, as long as it’s not school photo day any time soon, you’ll probably survive.’
‘Cheers.’
‘We don’t need to get you down to the station tomorrow as well, do we?’
‘Not me, guv.’ Whitlam held up his hands. ‘I’m an innocent bystander. I was coming out of the toilets and they barrelled into me. Didn’t even see it coming. I lost my balance and whacked my face on a chair.’
‘All right,’ Falk said, helping Whitlam up. The man was a little unsteady. ‘I’m not sure you should drive, though.’
‘I’m on my bike.’
‘Motor?’
‘Jesus. I’m a schoolteacher. Pedal.’
‘Right. Come on.’
It was tight but they squeezed the bike in the boot of Falk’s car with some twisting of the handlebars. They drove mostly in silence through the deserted streets.
‘Any luck with the CCTV?’ Whitlam said finally, coughing as he tried to breathe through his nose.
‘We’re still working through it,’ Falk said. ‘Thanks for your help with that.’
‘No worries.’ His swollen face was a distorted reflection as he stared out of the window at the emptiness. ‘Jesus, I hope this is all over soon. This place is like a nightmare.’
