“So this is her, huh?” I said. The white dog didn’t come to me, which I thought was odd, given the doggy smile about her lips. But as I crouched, hands out, in greeting, she took a couple of steps forward and I noticed the limp. The right front paw. The one that had been broken when she arrived at the RSPCA in Yagoona. I pretended the limp was a shock. “Oh dear. What’s that all about?”

“Yeah, she’s had it since we got her,” Al said. “These fucking rescue dogs, mate. You never know what you’re getting. It’s a lucky dip.”

“Is it permanent?”

“Aw, look, I wouldn’t spend the money finding out, you know what I mean?” He gestured to the dog. “When we got her, the RSPCA said she had recently recovered from a break. Needed rehab. Told us how, and all. I tried to tell her, Renni, my girlfriend at the time. Tried to talk her out of it. A rescue dog with a medical problem? You fuckin’ serious? But no, no, no. She wanted her own dog. Had to be a tragedy, something she could feel good about.”

“Right,” I said. I smoothed the white dog’s cheek and neck. She wagged her tail.

“I breed the collies, you see,” Al continued. “Those beautiful, intelligent things you saw back there at the car. The pups are two K each. When I was with Renni, we had seven bitches and seven sires and we were two weeks off having a new litter of six or more. Nope, wasn’t enough for her! Can you believe it?”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

“She wanted something special. Heaven help me. She goes and brings back this bag of problems.” Al gestured to the dog. “Jay-sus. Honestly. Women.”

“Yup.”

“So anyway, tell us more about the crime, mate.” Al slapped my chest. “You said on the phone it was an abduction? Down in Sydney, was it?”

“Look, it’s not something I can really go that deep into.”

“Right.”

“It’s a complex investigation.”

“Uh-huh.” Al nodded vigorously, looked back at the animal at our feet. She was sitting looking up at me, the cupped ears swiveling, listening, failing to understand. “Nah, I get it. I get it, mate. Look, I’m happy to help. Anything you want to know about her, I’ll tell you. There’s not much to say, really. She’s a piece of shit mongrel with a gimpy leg. When my girlfriend left, she didn’t even take it with her. Thing doesn’t even catch a ball. Were you gonna take pictures of her, or…? You never really said on the phone what you wanted.”