The Cross

Prologue

Prologue

Friday, 1 October, 1948

9.25 pm

Kings Cross – SydneyA darkness enveloped the city by the harbour. The city nightscape was only cracked by yellow streetlights and vehicle headlights.

The sky was starless. The air warm and still. The evening storm had slowly moved out to sea.

Passing motor cars hurriedly wound through the metropolis. Scores of people mingled on a busy street footpath. Some chatted and laughed as they watched the city traffic drive by.

There was a palatable buzz around the city as the lemmings stepped out to a Friday night’s entertainment in the Cross.

The Ritz-Savoy was a grand old hotel uptown at the Cross. A large old neon sign, attached to its outside, shone like the breaking sun on an overcast day. The hotel stood in a district abundant with glitzy lights and fast action as cashed-up crowds looked for a good time. The stately Ritz-Savoy postured its grandeur on a lively street corner block. The hotel rose four-storeys high with each of its windows enclosed by an intricately designed wrought-iron balcony. Its roofline was framed to look like a crown.

Inside the Ritz-Savoy, Big Willy Maddox reclined lazily in a hotel armchair. He sat adjacent to the front foyer doors and faced the reception desk. Willy chewed gum as he read the latest Phantom comic book. He wore a sports jacket, expensive slacks and black leather tie-up shoes. The shoes were immaculately polished to a high-gloss sheen. It was a habit he’d acquired during his time in the army. His suits were all hand-made now and he took up a lot of cloth. Willy liked to keep his sandy hair just like a landing deck of an aircraft carrier, short back ‘n’ sides and flat on top. He was big – just like an aircraft carrier.

Willy looked at the wall clock above the reception desk. He scratched his head for a moment and thought. He knew he had Trixie in room 112. She had another twenty minutes. Lotta was in room 324 – she had forty, and Kitty had just now hooked up with a young, half-drunken sod.

Willy looked back at the wall clock.

It was nine-thirty.

Cherry Pie hadn’t shown herself yet.

It had been well over an hour.

Willy’s task was to keep an eye on the Girls. His job was to check out who picked them up and how long they were upstairs, and – more importantly ­– to make sure all the money was collected. If things ever got ugly and a customer didn’t pay, or if goods were damaged, he had instructions to bring the customer into line – physically. Willy had worked this routine for the past few weeks.

He also held the narcotics.

Willy peered up to the wall clock again and came to a decision. He gradually rose from his armchair, grabbed his hat and lumbered towards the staircase at the back of the reception desk. Thunder rumbled softly in the background as he ascended the stairs.

Willy made it up to the second landing and slowly looked at the door numbers. He found room 215. He stopped in front of it and listened, but heard no sound.

He knocked on the door and opened it. The room was cast in shadows. It felt heavy, gloomy. The window facing the street let in intermitted flashes of light from the neon sign outside.

“Cherry, you know it’s—” It was all he got out.

Flash.

Willy heard a sobbing noise.

He scanned to his right until his gaze stopped at the window. He looked down beneath it and saw a crouching figure – a naked figure.

Flash.

The man sat on the floor, shaking his hunkered head and rocking backwards and forwards, mumbling to himself, “No…no…no…” He turned to Willy with glazed eyes.

Flash.

Willy took a step towards the man, then stopped and looked across the room towards the bed. There he saw a sight that made him stagger back on his heels.

Flash.

There was a motionless body spread-eagled across the bed, face-up.

Flash.

It was Cherry Pie.

Her head hung over the bed edge. There were dark smudges around the top of her neck. Even in this light Willy could see Cherry’s face was blue. The rest of her body was as white as snow. Her eyes were wide open and bulged from their sockets.

One thought overwhelmed Willy’s mind as he struggled to comprehend the scene in front of him.

She was dead.

Flash.