From our conversation with Ralph at the Royal we knew Jack had gone there to see Merv. ‘Did Merv have any family?’ I asked.

‘There’s a sister in Melbourne,’ said Carmel, getting up out of her chair. ‘I have her number in my teledex.’

Back in the car, Wozza drove while I flipped through my notes. ‘So we have Merv and Jack, clearly connected, at the Royal in the afternoon—and Meg in the same pub that evening.’

‘We just need to find out how these two facts are connected,’ said Wozza.

So many questions. Blokes like Merv drank for hours. He could’ve still been at the pub when Meg and her friends got there. He could’ve seen what happened. Why would Jack Barratt head straight over to Merv’s after he was bailed? What was the connection between the two? I shared these thoughts with Wozza. He had a few of his own.

‘Where do you know her from?’ he asked, tilting his head back in the direction of Carmel Millard’s house.

I sighed. ‘Weirdest thing. Remember Brett Millard, the murder-suicide guy? Carmel is Brett’s mother.’

‘Small world,’ said Wozza, shaking his head, but he didn’t look surprised. Connections like that were common in country towns. Scratch the surface and everyone is linked.

I looked at him. ‘It’s crazy,’ I said, ‘but ever since the case has come on to my radar, I’ve been remembering things. Like, Brett’s dad was a violent bastard.’

‘Like father, like son? Is that what you’re saying?’

I considered this through the filter of my memories of a kind, funny boy with a dash of the devil in him. Shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

The Royal was a short walk and an even shorter drive from Merv’s place, and Wozza pulled the car up out the front.

It was time to talk to the bartender. Again.

Ralph Murphy was in the same place behind the bar as if he hadn’t moved since our visit the day before.

‘G’day, Ralphie,’ said Wozza.

‘Long time, no see,’ said Ralph.

‘Do you remember Merv Evans being in here Thursday night?’ Wozza asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s blokes like him that put publicans’ kids through school.’

Ripping the bandaid off, Wozza said, ‘I hope your kids are all through school, because Merv’s met his Maker.’

‘Bloody hell!’ said Ralph, tossing the remains of a glass of lemonade in the sink and pouring himself a beer. ‘Jeez. What happened to him?’

‘Dunno yet,’ said Wozza. ‘Too early to tell.’

On a hunch, I asked Ralph once more about his encounter with Jack on Thursday afternoon.

‘Nah, after I told him to leave, I didn’t seem him again. But he had been looking for Merv.’

‘Were they mates?’ asked Wozza.