Blood Sunset

by Unknown

  ‘If that’s what you call it.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing. He knew the risks. We all do.’

  I wanted to ask whether he thought the death was accidental and what the word on the street was, but I had the sense that it didn’t matter. The street had killed Dallas Boyd no matter which way you saw it.

  ‘Okay, so where the hell is everyone?’

  He broke away from me then and yelled ‘Talbot Reserve’ over his shoulder as he scurried around the corner. There was no point going after him. I went back to my car and drove down to Barkly Street, turned left and stopped when I saw the crime scene tape and a squadron of police cars barricading Talbot Reserve.

  21

  TWO NEWS HELICOPTERS hovered above the park like vultures and numerous journos had already gathered. Parked across the street, I counted six police cars and fifteen cops. All eyes were on the mouth of a narrow alley at the rear of the park where a crew of crime scene examiners were taking photographs of something behind a large blue tarpaulin. I angled for a better look and saw another tarpaulin stretched above the pack, tied from one tree to another, blocking any chance of helicopter footage. I recognised most of the cops at the scene, including the district response inspector and three detectives from the Homicide Squad. Further down the street was the familiar white van, waiting for the body.

  I bit my lower lip. Was it Dallas Boyd’s girlfriend in there? Wishing I had a police radio, I thought about ringing the watch-house to ask what was happening but then I saw Cassie speaking to a crime scene examiner. I typed a text message asking her to call, then saw her check her phone, excuse herself and step aside.

  ‘Don’t look over,’ I said when she rang. ‘I’m parked across the road.’

  She looked over.

  ‘I said don’t look!’

  ‘Bollocks, Rubes. No one can hear. What’re you doing?’

  ‘Driving past. Saw the cars. What’s going on?’

  ‘Ah, this is a bad one. Looks like some kind of shitfight gone really wrong.’

  ‘Is it Tammy?’ I asked.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The girl, is her name Tammy?’

  ‘Nah, his name’s Justin Quinn. About sixteen. Know him?’

  I scanned my memory for the names I’d crossed over the past few days but drew a blank. A sense of relief settled on me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Stabbing?’

  ‘Sort of. Somebody slit his throat. The pathologist says the guy cut him so deep it almost severed his spinal cord.’

  Instinctively I touched my throat, feeling guilty for having been relieved. I was glad to be in the car, not over there.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I said.

  ‘Sure.’ She attempted a smile but even from this distance I could see she wasn’t good. ‘Humans are the worst animals, you know?’

  I nodded. ‘You don’t look so flash.’

  ‘The heat’s killing me, ’scuse the pun. Call me a sook, but I don’t know how much more I can hack. Did you see the blood sunset last night?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Probably be another one tonight,’ she said. ‘Everyone’s going troppo, know what I mean?’

  She was right. The city was losing it.

  ‘How’s it looking with witnesses?’ I asked.

  ‘Same old story. Plenty of people around but nobody saw a thing.’ Cassie ran a hand through her hair. ‘Strange thing is, the pathologist thinks the kid’s been dead since late last night, but it wasn’t called in until this morning when two hookers tripped over the body. I questioned them and I don’t think they saw anything.’

  That explained the absence of hookers and junkies on the street. They were probably either being interviewed back at the station or were holed up somewhere, scared shitless.

  ‘Maybe this time they’re telling the truth,’ I said.

  ‘Well, whoever did this was quick and quiet.’

  ‘And vicious. What about motive?’

  ‘We’re thinking drug related; a rip-off or payback. Kid’s wallet was emptied, pockets turned out. Known meth-head and the hookers said he sold dodgy gear every other day. Not exactly a protected species.’

  Her explanation made sense, but there were gaps. I wished I had a picture of the boy; anything to rule out a link with Dallas Boyd.

  ‘Look, I gotta go,’ she said, blocking an ear against the noise of the helicopters. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Mark down at the foreshore.’

  ‘Finetti?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s on foot patrol for the festival. Wants to talk to me – about you no less. What’s the story, Rubes?’

  This concerned me. What did Finetti have to say to Cassie? We’d made a deal but it hadn’t included anyone else.

  ‘There’s no story. Just stay out of whatever Finetti’s got planned. This is between him and me, not you.’

  ‘What kind of shit is that, McCauley? You really piss me off sometimes. It’s all right for you to expect everyone to be open and transparent, but when the shoe’s on the other foot it’s a different story. What the hell’s going on with you and Mark?’

  ‘Look, I’ll tell you when the time’s –’ I stopped when I saw Ben Eckles pull up across the road in an unmarked sedan, blocking her from my view.

  ‘Now I’ve really gotta go,’ Cassie said, her tone flat and tired. ‘Here’s the boss.’

  I punched Will Novak’s number into my mobile phone. I needed to find Tammy, and Novak would know where to start. The phone nearly rang out before he answered.

  ‘Afternoon, Will. Rubens McCauley here,’ I said. ‘Did I wake you up?’

  ‘Very funny. Nah, I was outside with a client when I heard the phone ringing and had to run inside. What’s up?’

  ‘I need to find Dallas Boyd’s girlfriend.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  ‘Her name’s Tammy, I think. Blonde, maybe eighteen years old. Cute but rough, if you get my drift. She works the stroll, maybe up on Barkly.’

  ‘So go up to Barkly,’ he said. ‘She’ll definitely be working today. The festival’s in full swing – there’ll be thousands of perverts instead of hundreds.’

  ‘She’s not working today. Nobody is.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he said.

  ‘Well, that’s why I’m calling. I need an address.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I need her address. Surely you know where she lives.’

  ‘Well, actually I don’t. She’s not a client of mine.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Novak breathed out heavily into the phone. ‘Look, I don’t know where she lives.’

  ‘I think you’re going to want to know what’s going on. And it’s not something I want to discuss on the phone.’

  Novak hesitated before replying. ‘Ah, sure, give me about five minutes.’

  I drove to the hostel, double-parked and waited a few minutes before Novak came out. He was dressed in a pair of sandals, board shorts and a pink polo shirt, a day’s worth of stubble surrounding his neatly trimmed goatee.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he said.

  ‘If you can get me an address for Dallas Boyd’s girlfriend, I’ll fill you in.’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know where she lives.’

  I pointed at the hostel. ‘Ask your clients. Someone will know.’

  Novak nodded uneasily and hurried off. I wound the window up and turned on the air conditioner. A tram rolled by, full of passengers on their way to the festival. I wondered how many had seen the crime scene at Talbot Reserve. What a welcome party.

  A few minutes later Novak appeared with a Post-it note in his hand. ‘Got an address,’ he said when I wound down the window. ‘Not as easy as you might think though. Whatever’s going on around here has them all spooked. I had to bullshit one of the kids about Tammy and tell him I had a cheque for her. You wanna fill me in?’

  I told him to jump in and waited for a tram to ease forward, then made a U-turn. Before we reached the Barkly Street i
ntersection I explained that despite some initial dead ends the investigation was moving quickly and that there were a number of important leads, Tammy being one of them.

  ‘Hold up a second,’ Novak said. ‘Last I heard you were still trying to confirm that Dall was actually murdered. I take it you’ve done that and this is now officially a homicide investigation. Is that the case?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Dall’s stepfather? Did you speak to him?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s clean.’

  ‘What! That sicko beat the living shit out of Dall for almost ten years. He even threatened to –’

  ‘I know,’ I cut in. ‘I didn’t say he wasn’t a scumbag. I just said he didn’t kill Dallas.’

  Novak appeared to consider this while we waited to turn off Carlisle Street.

  ‘So where am I going?’ I asked. ‘What’s the address?’

  ‘Three-sixty Barkly. Three blocks up. We could’ve walked.’

  ‘Not in this heat. Besides, I don’t think you wanna walk past this,’ I said, turning the car and driving slowly by the crime scene.

  ‘My God, is that what I think it is?’ Novak asked.

  ‘Yeah, somebody was killed last night.’

  ‘A lot of my clients frequent that park. Do you know what happened?’

  I nodded. ‘Stabbing.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Can’t tell you that, Will. You’ll have to wait until an official identification’s been made.’

  ‘What kind of shit is that? Here I am, on a Sunday, helping you get close to a witness. Don’t tell me to wait. You know how I feel about my clients. Losing Dall was bad enough. If there’s another one I have to bury, I wanna know about it,’ he said.

  I pulled up outside the apartment block Tammy lived in and looked at Novak. There was only one right way to do this. ‘Will, if I tell you the victim’s name, it didn’t come from me, okay?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It was a boy named Justin Quinn,’ I said, watching for any sign of recognition.

  His eyes narrowed in thought. Then he shook his head. ‘I don’t know him. Not one of mine, thank God.’

  I stared over at the apartment building. It was of the same era as Dallas Boyd’s, made of grey besser block with a faded mission brown trim and an internal staircase. Unlike Boyd’s building, the name of this one had fallen off. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake in telling Novak the name of the victim. I thanked him for his help and asked him to wait in the car. But he shook his head.

  ‘You know what this means?’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s no way Tammy’s going to talk to you now. She’s new, so she’ll be too scared. She’ll just clam up.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘I need to come with you, help you explain things to her.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘I am. She’ll trust me. She definitely won’t trust you.’

  ‘Will, this is a police investigation. You’re not a cop. You can’t be involved.’

  ‘Ah, hello.’ Novak waved the Post-it note. ‘I already am involved.’

  ‘Not like this you’re not. I can’t have you questioning a potential witness.’

  ‘Fair enough, but she won’t talk to you unless I’m there to ease her anxiety.’

  I swiped at sweat on my forehead and stared at Novak, realising he was probably right.

  ‘Hey, be my guest,’ he said calmly. ‘You go up there and see how far you get. My guess is she won’t even answer the door.’

  I hesitated. This wasn’t my usual approach. I was old school and I respected the old-school code of mutual understanding between police and crooks. Most of the hookers upheld the code, but if Tammy was young and new to the game she wouldn’t know the rules. And she definitely wouldn’t trust me.

  ‘All right, but you leave it to me to do the questioning. Got it?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  We crossed the street to the apartment building. As we climbed the internal staircase to the second floor I heard a baby crying and wondered how many other hookers lived in the complex and how many had children living with them.

  ‘This is it,’ said Novak, reading from the note in his hand.

  I knocked, waited. Nothing. Knocking again, I remembered the security guard at the commission housing estate telling me I was too early, that these people were nocturnal.

  Novak went to speak but I cut him off. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I don’t care if she’s asleep. I’ll keep knocking until somebody answers.’

  ‘I was going to say I’ve got her mobile number,’ said Novak. ‘The kid I bullshitted, he gave it to me as well as the address.’

  He handed me the note. I dialled the number and heard it ring inside. The first time it rang out. On the second try, footsteps followed. Novak smiled as I hung up and knocked again.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ shouted a male voice. ‘Who the fuck is it?’

  I looked at Novak. ‘Who’s that?’

  He shrugged, leaving me to speak through the door.

  ‘Police! I need to speak to Tammy.’

  ‘She’s asleep. Come back later.’

  I almost laughed. The nerve of these people. ‘No, mate, that’s not how it works. Wake her up.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, and don’t worry about trying to clean up the mess inside either. We’re not going to come in. I just want to talk to her.’

  ‘Fuckin’ bullshit. How do I know you’re not here to arrest her or somethin’?’

  Novak stepped forward. ‘We have some information about Dallas Boyd, but we need to confirm this with Tammy. We’re not interested in seeing what you’ve got inside. We just need to talk to her.’

  A moment of silence went by, then a shadow moved beneath the door.

  ‘How do I know youse are even cops?’ asked a different voice. A female voice.

  I held my badge up to the eyepiece and eventually the door opened. Tammy was shorter than I recalled and seemed thinner than in the picture in Dallas’s flat, the remnants of last night’s make-up smudged across a face that had probably endured more years than birthdays.

  As she hugged a satin dressing gown close to her chest, I noticed sores on her wrist and a large bruise around her neck, as though somebody had strangled her. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark roots replacing bleached blonde. Still, she was an attractive girl and could remain so if she took care of herself. But I knew she wouldn’t.

  ‘So ya got some news on Dall?’ she said, her voice coarse and shaky.

  ‘I’d like to ask you some questions first,’ I said. ‘Is that okay?’

  She shrugged. ‘Ask away. Maybe then you can answer some for me.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like how he overdosed even though he wasn’t usin’.’

  Novak turned away. ‘Right.’

  ‘What?’ Tammy said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. ‘Think I’m making it up? Think all of us are junkies, don’t ya?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ said Novak.

  ‘Then what, ya think he knocked himself?’

  Tammy glared at him, angry. I shot him a look also, annoyed he’d jumped into the conversation.

  ‘Perhaps I need to introduce Will Novak,’ I said. ‘He’s not actually a detective. He’s a social worker.’

  Tammy’s eyes grew wide with recognition. ‘You’re from the hostel down on Carlisle Street,’ she said. ‘Dall told me about you. Said you were helping him.’

  Novak nodded. ‘He was one of my clients. Lived at the centre for about two years. I helped him overcome many of his problems, including heroin. Even helped him get his apartment.’

  ‘Then you’d know he wasn’t a junkie.’

  ‘Just because he’d been clean for some time doesn’t mean he didn’t relapse and start using again.’

  Tammy made to snap at him again, then turned away. She brushed a han
d over her eyes.

  ‘We’re investigating all possibilities,’ I said. ‘When was the last time you saw Dallas?’

  ‘The day he died,’ she said, still facing away. ‘He spotted for me, then we went down to Lambs for a souvlaki.’

  I opened my daybook, wrote Tammy and Fitzroy Street at the top of a fresh page. I wanted to ask for her surname and other details but that would have to wait.

  ‘Okay, where else?’

  She turned to face me, revealing a line of mascara streaked down her cheek like a scar. ‘Like I said, we got chips and a souvlaki, then we went to the 7-Eleven. He needed a recharge card for his phone.’

  I wrote this down and asked what happened next.

  ‘Ah, we hung out a while,’ she said, her eyes dropping. ‘Then we went down the beach for a walk.’

  I looked over at Novak, who nodded. He’d seen it too. A lie.

  ‘You went to score, didn’t you?’ Novak said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘It’s all right. We’re not interested in that. We just want to know what happened, who you saw. Who you spoke to.’

  Tammy sniffed, stared at the ground. Her legs appeared to be shaking under the dressing gown and I wondered whether it was grief or if she was hanging out.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We scored some gear and went down to McDonald’s to meet Fletch.’

  ‘Who’s Fletch?’ I asked.

  Tammy nodded to the door. The guy inside.

  ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘No way! Like I said, me and Dallas had been together since last year. Fletch just lives here, spots for me sometimes when I’m on the block.’

  The man in the green Valiant I’d seen the other day. I wrote the name in my daybook.

  ‘Tell me about that bruise around your neck,’ I said.

  Her hand shot up to her neck and covered the bruise protectively. ‘What do you care?’

  ‘I care because I’m a policeman.’

  ‘Are you trying to be a smart arse?’ she scoffed.

  ‘Sort of. I care because I like to know what goes on around here,’ I said, pulling my cigarettes out of my pocket and offering one to Tammy. The last thing I felt like was a smoke but they were often the best way to break the ice. Novak took one too and we all lit up.