‘Greets us with a fully loaded shottie if ever we come within sight of her place.’

‘Really…?’

Sparrow snorted a laugh. ‘Ha. Well maybe not every time, but she’s definitely done it a few times. So, we’d just sooner not risk it. Plus it’s now after twelve, which means Ida will already be drunk. She’s up with the sparrows and into the gin by morning tea. Best time to get to her is before noon. In fact, that’s the only time to get to Ida.’

‘Tomorrow, then.’

‘Sure. Kate can take you. She likes Kate. Won’t shoot Kate.’

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

‘LET’S GO to the pub. My shout.’

Sparrow had started walking to his car before he’d even finished his sentence. Creature of habit, thought Manolis. Or a fully committed drunk. Either way, not much of a working day for a fulltime police officer, though Manolis knew cops in the city who did even less and drank even more.

He was a step behind Sparrow as they crossed the oval. The constable was walking with determination and faster than he had all morning, as if he planned to start the car and drive away with or without his superior officer. Not that rank appeared to concern him.

‘I’ll give it a miss,’ said Manolis.

Sparrow stopped in his tracks, then turned and glared at Manolis as if mortally wounded. For a second, Manolis prepared to defend against a flying fist. To refuse someone’s shout in Cobb was downright criminal. But then Sparrow’s eyes softened and he turned away.

‘Suit yerself,’ he said simply, and continued to his car.

Manolis looked to the sky, felt the sun scalding his exposed body. Endowed with Mediterranean genes, his skin was inherently olive in colour and had only ripened over time, becoming darker and more etched with wrinkles. His swarthy appearance meant he was often mistaken as Middle Eastern, which elicited all manner of insults. But he still burned, and it didn’t take long beneath the harsh antipodean sun.

He caught up with Sparrow as he engaged gear and began reversing. ‘Can you at least give me a lift back to the station?’

Sparrow glanced over Manolis’s shoulder. ‘You don’t wanna hang round here no more? You know, scope the scene?’

‘Think I got all I need.’

A pause. ‘Take you as far as the pub. Hop in.’

The town was reluctantly coming to life, and Manolis reasoned it was probably due to the opening of liquor licensing hours. Groups of men were walking around, led by their livers. Eyeing Sparrow crookedly, Manolis hoped that any road-bound wildlife had already sought shade from the noonday heat.

‘I met Constable Kerr last night,’ Manolis said. ‘At the barbecue.’

‘What’d she say?’

‘Not much. She reckons the killer is an outsider, not a local. Or maybe someone passing through town, which means they’ll be long gone.’

‘Prob’ly, dunno.’