‘It’s a hotel room, sir. Girl in her twenties killed in her room at the pub here in town. Chloe Lutz is her name.’
‘And who’s been inside that hotel room?’
‘Ah, well, I’ve got four patrollies from Wisemans Ferry station assisting me. They’re my staff. And we’ve been sent a snapper—uh, a photographer—from Sydney. She got here ahead of you, so I let her in to do her thing.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ I held my head. ‘Dodge, get the photographer out of there until I’ve done my walk-through. Geteveryoneout of there. Have the four patrollies been in the room?’
‘No, sir, they’ve been in the hall, but—’
‘Get everyone out of the fucking building, Dodge. For fuck’s sake!’
‘You’ve got it, sir. I’m sorry, sir.’
‘Don’t be sorry; do your job and establish a cordon. Have you got the names of the paramedics?’
‘The ones who took the body away, you mean?’
‘The body’s gone?’
‘Uh, yes. It’s—’
‘Why is the fucking body gone?’
‘If you’ll give me a second to explain.’ Dodge drew a strangled breath. ‘It wasn’t immediately clear to the paramedics on scene how long Ms Lutz had been deceased. The body was limp, and the heating was cranked in the room, so she was warm and she appeared to have been, uh, just recently injured. There was a decision made to get her out of there and continue CPR on the off chance she might be helped.’
‘Jeeez.’
‘The deceased is now at the local medical centre, until we’re instructed by you to transport her Sydney for forensic testing. I’vegot the staff from the pub trying to drum up a list of names of everyone who was here last night.’
‘What? Everyone who was where?’
‘The hotel rooms are above a pub. It’s looking to me like someone’s followed the victim to her room from the crowd downstairs, maybe went berserk when she wouldn’t let him in.’
‘Listen to me carefully, Dodge. Because I’m only going to say this once.’
‘Okay?’
‘I need your half-baked theories about what happened during this homicide like I need to contract a flesh-eating disease of the eyeballs,’ I said. ‘Offer me another one and we’re going to have serious problems.’
‘Got it, sir.’
I hung up. Bridie had climbed back into the car so quietly I hadn’t noticed. She was sitting there beside me with my wallet in her lap and her eyes just slightly too wide. I could feel the pulse in my neck ticking like a bomb.
‘I’ve ordered.’ She held the wallet up, eyes on the dashboard. ‘I didn’t know what card to use, though.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ I took the wallet from her, pulled out my Visa. She tucked her lips in, nodded, did a little shuffle in her seat like she was trying to decide whether to get back out of the car or not.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘Bridie.’
‘Yeah?’
‘When I’m at work …’ I struggled, my pulse slowing, sweat beading at my brow. ‘I’m … I’m a complete fucking arsehole, okay? To everyone. It … it doesn’t matter who they are or whether they’re doing a good job or not. It’s just how I operate.’
‘The Prick Switch.’ She nodded.
‘Huh?’
‘Mum calls it your Prick Switch.’ Bridie’s eyes darted to mine and then away, quick as a flash. ‘Like, you sort of … flip the switch on and become a total prick. She said you do it because it keeps people away from you.’
