As they eased themselves from their plane seats in Melbourne, Jake gathered that it wasn’t a question Constable Patrick Murphy had ever contemplated. Their conversation during the hour-long flight had revealed that not only did Murphy spend little time thinking about his work, as a rule he spent as little time in thought as possible. His inner world revolved around beer and parties. This was his first trip to Melbourne in a professional capacity. In fact, this was his first trip to Melbourne full stop. He had never before left Tasmania’s shores.

Jake was shocked. ‘Never?’

‘Parents never wanted me to go to the mainland.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s just … you know.’

‘No, I really don’t.’

‘No one’s supposed to … I mean … Well, parents worry if their kids go to the mainland that they won’t come back.’

‘Why?’

Murphy paused to tug at one ear. ‘I guess almost everyone who went there for school or work never came back. I couldn’t see the point of going myself. Except maybe to sample the nightlife.’

Jake smiled. ‘More options than what’s on offer in Dunton, that’s for sure.’

Two hours of airports, traffic jams and exclamations of wonder from Murphy later, they stood on the footpath in front of Matilda’s two-storey, double-brick St Kilda apartment block. The peeling art deco paintwork and bright-pink courtyard furniture lent the building a bohemian air.

‘What number?’ Murphy asked, twitching as several drivers on the road behind him blasted their horns.

‘Four oh two,’ Jake said and moved to open the front gate.

‘Jake!’

Jake and Murphy both turned as a lean, besuited man strode toward them from a café two doors down the street.

Shit. Pete. What the hell was he doing here?

He thrust his arm forward to shake hands with Murphy, forcing Jake to introduce them. ‘Pete, this is Constable Patrick Murphy from my new station in Dunton.’

Pete’s hazel eyes curled up at the edges. ‘Good to meet you,’ he said to Murphy. Then to Jake, ‘I saw the notice you were in town for an interview. Thought I’d come see if you need anything?’

What I need is for you to fuck off right now. ‘Pete’s in forensics,’ Jake said aloud to Murphy.

‘It’s not that kind of interview,’ Murphy said.

The constable appeared put out by Pete’s presence too. ‘Listen, we’re running late,’ Jake said. ‘We need to head upstairs now, but maybe we can talk later?’

Pete smiled. ‘I’ve got the afternoon off. I’ll wait in the Whittington for you to finish. Come join me when you’re ready.’

A lifetime of experience told Jake that refusing would only compel Pete to push harder. ‘Sure.’

Jake opened the front gate of the apartment complex.

*