She was surprised when the young one turned around again and said, ‘Sorry for being short. It hasn’t been a great night.’

‘You can say that again,’ his friend said. He slurped at his beer. There were beer suds in his thick moustache he didn’t bother wiping.

‘You asked us a question––’ the smaller one said.

‘And you were rude pricks about it,’ Jack said.

He smiled. ‘You reckon we could ask one in return?’

Jack arched his eyebrows again. His one expression of disdain.

‘You wouldn’t know where we could find the Cahill residence, would you?’

Jack answered before Sharon could. ‘Why?’

‘We’re old friends of his. From Melbourne.’

‘Shouldn’t you have the address already then, you’re old friends?’ Jack said. ‘Or their number? Call them up. There’s a phone in here.’

‘We kind’ve want it to be a surprise.’

‘At bloody eleven?’ Jack said.

‘Jack . . .’ Sharon said.

The larger one said, ‘You know where they are or not?’

Sharon finally found her voice. A number of the locals were listening now. ‘We can’t be giving out information like that.’

‘It’s not information. Just a friendly question.’

‘We’re the police.’

The two men smiled at this. Jack extended a hand. ‘I’m Jack.’

Neither man moved to grip it. The younger one said, ‘You’re not in uniform. What are you doing here then?’

‘We had a party,’ Sharon said.

‘A party?’

‘For Easter.’

The older one snorted into his beer, sending more suds onto his moustache. ‘You cops have an Easter party? Does one of you dress up in ears and all that?’

‘Piss off,’ Jack said.

‘Was it you, princess?’

‘Piss off, I said.’

‘You telling me to piss off?’

‘With the bloody ears comment, is all. Take it easy, mate,’ he added as the larger one stood up. The other man raised his hand and motioned for the bigger one to sit back down, then turned to face them again.

‘So. We’d like to know where the Cahills live.’

‘Well, we can’t tell you,’ Jack said.

Sharon said, ‘Why do you really want to know?’

‘Just want to visit with them a bit.’

She knew why they wanted to visit. Something had clearly gone wrong at the drop-off. To avoid Jack learning too much she said, in as pleasant a tone as she could muster, ‘I could maybe drive you out there but I need to know you have a good reason to be visiting.’

‘These are not answers to my question,’ said the younger man.

Jack looked surly, his bottom lip up, like a scolded child. She prayed the liquid courage in him didn’t make him huffy, puff his chest up.

She took a moment before she said, ‘I need mine answered before I allow you to go visit them. We don’t know you from a bar of soap.’

‘Allow?’ the big one said. He stood up again, his hands clenched by his sides. ‘I’ve had enough of this. It’s been a bastard day and you’re just adding to it. I bloody told you, Martin, didn’t I?’ He grinned at Sharon. ‘Town full of little bitches. I told you.’