I didn’t respond. Offenders turning accusations against them into accusations against cops are a dime a dozen. I pulled out the magazine next.

‘No comment.’

Then came the polaroids.

For a moment, Jack looked scared. His voice lost its edge. ‘No comment.’

‘Do you have anything to say regarding these items we seized under the warrant to search your premises?’

Jack shook his head.

I suspended the interview.

Back at my desk, I finalised the report. The wine Jack offered me had been sent off for testing and I had no doubt what the results would show. I photographed the polaroids and loaded them onto my computer so I could add them to the documentation. On the big screen, I studied the images for clues as to who the women might be, making notes on a couple of tattoos I could discern. One of the victims had what looked like a hummingbird. Another had a Ruth Bader Ginsburg tattoo.

I rang a CIB colleague, Pete Mars, in Bellanook, the next town down the coast. Pete had been working their two cases, both with chloral hydrate in the victims’ tox screens, for a couple of weeks now. He was excited by our find.

‘Bloody hell, that’s great,’ he said. ‘First sign of the drug in any of the searches so far. It’s been a puzzler.’

‘The bottle we found looks old,’ I said, picking up the plastic evidence bag by the corner and examining it. ‘And, Pete, we also found polaroids,’ I said.

There was a deep breath on the other end of the line. ‘Can you ID anyone?’

‘No faces are visible.’

Pete and I made arrangements to meet at the court hearing, so he could see Jack for himself.

As I put down the phone, my senior sergeant, Bill Wheeler, came into the CIB office. He’d clearly had a full night’s sleep and looked crisp in his neatly pressed uniform.

‘Good work last night, Pollard,’ he said. ‘You reckon he’s our guy?’

‘He fits the bill, boss,’ I said. ‘General description matches. Resemblance to the identikit from the last victim. Same MO. There was residue in the wine. If the tests confirm chloral hydrate, it will be just like the others. We turned over his place and found an old prescription bottle of the stuff from back when it was legal.’

Wheeler nodded, then looked at me, face grim. ‘I’ve just come from checking the prisoner before his court appearance. Reckons you assaulted him, not the other way around.’

I stared at Wheeler. I’d only been in Deception Bay for two months, and in that time he had pretty much ignored me. He was one of those guys who was animated and jovial in the company of men, but taciturn and bored in the company of women. Being a cop, I knew the type well.