‘Hello, I think you’ve got yourself a live one!’ Lunny’s eyes shone.
He helped Franklin land a fat carp that would have been terrific on the barbecue if it weren’t for the river grubber’s muddy flavour. However, they’d had a good fishing day and bagged a brown trout and redfin between them, both of legal size, and headed for the station house.
They reached Howlong Road.
‘Pull off here. Let’s check the Pentecoste place,’ Franklin directed.
Although he grumbled about stone chips and dust, Lunny did as instructed. Franklin could’ve walked faster. At Abergeldie, there was no sign of Mick and Roger, and the off-duty policemen entered the homestead as Hart and Franklin had a day earlier.
After prowling through, Franklin dropped onto a kitchen chair. He drummed his fingertips while the sarge
