No. That doesn’t tell them anything. Don’t worry about that.

Both women were watching him. Shit.

‘I just want to sleep,’ he said. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you again, Frankie.’

‘I’m glad you agree to keep seeing me,’ she said swiftly. She smiled as she walked out the door.

‘Well? Anything you can tell us, Forest?’ said De Corrado without any preamble.

Zeus didn’t like her tone. He growled softly.

‘Shoosh, you,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Forest frankly. ‘Please, I’m so tired. Can I sleep now?’

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘but I’m not happy about it.’

She foraged in a cupboard and found a broom, sweeping up the milky glass shards.

‘Forest, I’m on your side, you know.’

He put his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, I just . . .’

‘Oh, don’t do that. Stop, Forest. I’m not pushing you for answers, I just want to do everything I can to help you. Throw me a bone, kid. What am I supposed to do with you?’

He climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over him. ‘How about let me sleep?’

She sighed. ‘Okay, kid. I’m sorry. I just . . .’ She wanted to say something, but she stopped herself.

‘Say it,’ said Forest.

‘Was Davey involved?’ she asked.

Davey? That was an angle he hadn’t expected.

For a moment he forgot himself.

‘Why would you say that?’ he asked, sitting back up.

‘Because he hasn’t been seen since this morning.’

Something lurched underneath him and De Corrado caught him before he slipped off the bed. Zeus began to bark.

You missed something! he thought, shaking her off. Why has Davey gone missing?

‘I need to sleep,’ he said loudly, pulling the covers up to his neck and putting the pillow over his head. ‘Thank you for your hard work today, detective! I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight!’

CHAPTER 9

AHAB

It was early evening and Ahab stood behind the bar of The Mermaid’s Darling, pulling a pint of stout for Ned. There were few things like the heady smell of ale, the gleam of a Tasmanian oak finish, a fireplace burning in the corner against the chill of the Black Wind. In the beer garden, strung with lights, twenty-somethings were out in the ringing wind, drunk as skunks.

‘Big day,’ said Ned.

‘Too right,’ said Ahab, handing him the pint.

‘Forest Dempsey. Can’t believe it.’ He slammed the glass onto the bench. ‘Black Wind, too. Almost enough to make me believe in your sirens’ curse.’

Ahab grunted. He walked up and down the bar, serving both locals and tourists, and, as it turned out, the odd journalist. He engaged the latter in polite conversation, underscored by a slight tone of menace. They soon backed off. Ahab had that effect on people.