‘Right,’ I said.
‘Patsy’s a genius.’ Dodge gave a satisfied sigh. ‘I’m very proud of her.’
We looked at the stairwell.
‘How’d you go, anyway?’ Dodge said eventually. ‘At the lab?’
I tried to open my mouth. It seemed glued shut.
‘Evan?’
‘No match,’ I said.
‘Ah, nuts. And was there a notebook in the handbag, in the end?’
Not really knowing why, just having the all-body sense that I needed to stop the motion of the investigation until I could catch up, I shook my head.
‘Zero from two.’ Dodge blew out air. ‘What about the traffic cam data?’
‘Uh, yes. I … I have them on my laptop.’
‘Great.’ Dodge pointed to the fold-out table beneath the marquee. ‘I’ve gotta go syphon my python. You get set up. I’ll be right back.’
I let my backpack slump onto the fold-out table. Watched Dodge march off across the empty beer garden towards the pub’s bathrooms. Through the gap between the pub’s two main buildings, I could see the crowd out the front of the pub was growing. It was an odd set-up. Cops at the back. Locals at the front. I guessed that had been Russell’s plan, for the townspeople to be in view of us, talking about us, passing around their theories and rumours, a swirling pit of speculation. A few were standing in the gap now, arms folded, watching me. I had known cops who would encourage this sort of thing: a curious crowding in at the edges of tragedy. Yes, it was voyeuristic. But once one person put down their shame and bent to their curiosity, everyone tended to follow suit, and a few inconspicuous officers placed within that crowd could sometimes pick up useful whispers.
I opened my laptop, navigated to the list of vehicles that had come in and out of Redbelly the previous evening. I exported the list into a word document. It appeared in a table. I glanced towards the pub, watching a peacock traversing the gravel path between the buildings, giving the people a wide berth, heading for an awning at the back. As I watched, the bird crouched and then leapt up, landing with a clatter on the corrugated iron.
Dodge appeared between the buildings, drying his hands on his trousers and heading towards me. I selected the row of the table that contained the Uber driver’s vehicle. The one that had almost certainly carried my son into Redbelly the night before. I deleted the row from the list.
A hand fell on my shoulder. I yelped in surprise.
‘Coffee-coffee-coffee-coffee-coffee!’ Knowles chanted. ‘Can I make you one, sir?’
‘Urgh, Jesus. Yes.’ I rubbed my eyes hard. ‘You trying to give a guy a heart attack, Constable Knowles?’
‘Apologies.’ Knowles reached past me to grab the sugar canister. ‘Anything good on the traffic cams?’
‘Dunno yet.’ I watched Dodge as he arrived at the table and looked at the list. ‘We’ll have to match these vehicles up with the punters at the pub.’
‘That’s Branchy.’ Dodge pointed at a vehicle in the list. A white Mitsubishi ute. He stood looking at the list, taking a coffee from Knowles as he finished making it. I felt a strange dread that Dodge could tell somehow that a line was missing from the table. ‘That’s all I recognise off the top of my head.’
‘Hey, where’s Grumpy Smurf right now?’ Knowles asked.
Dodge nearly spat out the coffee he was drinking. ‘Just mind yourself there, Knowlesy. Detective Inspector Powder is Senior Sergeant Powder here’s brother. And both are your superiors.’
‘He’s a “Powder” as well?’ Knowles’s eyes widened. He turned to me. ‘The detective?’
‘Yes, Knowles.’
‘Oh my god. I’ve been hearing it all day as “Fowler”!’ Knowles clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Christ. Lucky I didn’t say it to his face. Huh! How about that, then? Powder and Powder, a crime-fighting super team. You work with your brother often, do you, Sarge?’
‘Apologies on Knowlesy’s behalf, Evan.’ Dodge sighed. ‘Too much coffee makes him even chattier than me.’
As though he’d been summoned, Russell’s Mustang came rumbling around the corner of the pub and pulled up in the hotel guest parking. He climbed out, and Bridie drove on. I watched the car disappear into the night with a deep longing to talk to my niece, something that hadn’t struck me this hard in years. There was also a flicker of jealousy about Russell’s beautiful, intelligent, apparently well-behaved daughter and my sullen, weird, girl-shootingson. I was so focused on the pain that Russell’s arrival and greeting to Dodge and Knowles was indistinct, like distant thunder. The appearance, then, of a young woman at the table escaped me completely. When I came to my senses I was standing beside my brother and he was snapping his fingers in front of my nose. I couldn’t remember if I’d been invited by Russell to speak with the girl or if I’d just inserted myself.
‘Wake up, dopey.’
‘Sorry.’ I slapped my cheeks.
