‘Hey.’ Manolis met his gaze. ‘Look, I’m not sure what you expect me to say here. I don’t know what you’ve been through but I reckon, at a guess, I’m not like the people here in town. In the city, we don’t give two shits what you do outside work. We don’t care if you like men or women or both or neither. All we care about is that you’re a good cop and do your job.’

Sparrow’s pupils flicked from side to side, his breath heavy, his chest heaving.

‘Is that clear?’ Manolis asked, calm tone.

The young man didn’t move. Then, after a few seconds, his breathing steadied and his eyelids half-closed.

‘Constable, I asked you, is that clear?’

Sparrow looked away. He swallowed hard and exhaled lightly. ‘Yair.’

‘Good. Now, a few questions so I can make the most of my afternoon…’

‘Shoot.’

Manolis leant against a weathered old post holding up an asbestos verandah. Sparrow slumped on a park bench, the wooden slats either coming loose or missing altogether. He lit a smoke to calm himself, his nerves surely razor-wired. Manolis wanted to do the same but fought the urge.

‘Okay. Who are the persons of interest, the main suspects, who was close to Molly? Come on, you know this town.’

Sparrow’s eyes remained fixed on a small patch of dirt behind Manolis. His limp cigarette turned to ash in his lips. ‘Er,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that one.’

‘Do you know of anyone behaving differently recently, either just before Molly’s death or since?’

‘Nope.’

‘Is there any CCTV footage anywhere in town?’

Sparrow chuckled at the mere suggestion.

‘Where’s this bloke she slapped in the pub?’

‘Joe? Again, get back to you.’

Manolis exhaled his frustration. ‘How was the detention centre last night, any trouble?’

‘Dunno.’

‘I thought you said you were going there last night?’

‘Yair. Didn’t.’

‘Where’s Fyfe?’

‘No idea.’

There was a long pause as Manolis gathered his thoughts and Sparrow inhaled his tar. Finally Manolis said, ‘Okay, this conversation is over. But tomorrow morning, nine o’clock, I want to see you, Kerr and effing Fyfe at the station for a briefing. You tell them. Enjoy your drink.’

Sparrow stood abruptly. ‘Thank God. Dyin’ of thirst…’

He flicked his butt at Manolis’s feet, narrowly missing his leather shoes, and disappeared inside the top pub. Manolis felt a cold blast of air conditioning as the door slammed in his face.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12