CHAPTER NINETEEN
Travis sits in the car outside of Ahn’s place. Watches her walk up the stairs. She had been seriously in love with Billy. He knew that for certain, but she was one tough broad he thought, and smiled to himself at the word he used to describe her. Broad. Like a tough chick from a fifties noir film. But that was her. Hard as a cat’s head.
He went through his phone, found Olsen’s number and rang him leaving his number hidden.
‘Olsen.’
‘This is Travis Whyte.’
‘Go on.’
‘You find Perry?’
‘Not my job, Mr Whyte. Your information has been passed on to the Melbourne boys. They’ll find Perry if he’s there.’
‘Find, Perry, find the killer.’
‘You keep fucken saying that. Why don’t you find her or him? I hear you’re good at finding people, albeit a little late with young Billy.’
