‘You’re Kevin Bailey’s son,’ James said, remembering the man who’d been the local cop when he was a kid.

‘Who wants to know?’ Constable Bailey said, looking back at his computer screen.

‘James Brandt.’

That made the gorgeous creature look up.

‘Daniel Brandt’s son,’ James said. ‘The younger one.’

‘Yeah?’ the officer said, not standing but lifting his arms over his head, planting his hands behind it, and spinning the chair around offering a view of his thoroughly fit form, from his thick arms to the tight waist of his uniform pants. He grinned. ‘Heard you were back in town.’

James nodded, eyes flicking to the clock. It was twenty past twelve.

‘You look like your dad,’ Constable Bailey said.

James nodded. ‘So do you.’

The young man smiled and nodded. Obviously, he knew the impact of his good looks.

‘What can we do for you, mate?’ he said.

In his rush, James hadn’t really worked that out. There might be a form for the state Coroner, and he knew he’d have to go over his father’s head to get it, but it was likely something only Tony’s next-of-kin could sign. That meant appealing to his uncle and aunt, but he’d need the facts to back him up if he was going to disturb a graveside funeral.

James would have to start with his bona fides.

‘I’m expecting a fax from the state archives,’ he said. ‘Just wondering if it’s here yet?’

Constable Bailey spun around in his chair and scanned the row of trays, smirked and shook his head. ‘Nope, nothing,’ he said.

James was about to ask for the number of the coroner’s information line when the constable was distracted by someone in the corridor behind his desk. Two men passed the doorway. One was a senior officer whose face James didn’t recognise. The other was Andy Jones.

‘Seeya, Mr Jones,’ Constable Bailey said.

‘You’d better start calling me Andy, son,’ Mr Jones muttered, and laughed.

James used the momentary distraction to disappear.

The cemetery was set against a low hill, just off the main road at the northern edge of Kippen. James was the last to arrive, so he parked on the verge between two pine trees and walked down the main driveway that ran into the mass of graves.

Everyone was gathering around the granite obelisk that marked the place where all the Brandts were buried. Yvonne was punishing the last of a cigarette. Her parents were talking with a woman in a white hat and cardigan so radiant they seemed like the source of the sunlight. She opened her arms to Doris and they embraced.

The minister was talking to James’s father at the end of the coffin, which had already been placed over the hole in the ground. An excavator stood amidst the memorials by the dunny and a sparse willow tree.