Dead Again

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

He hadn’t wanted anything more to do with the other three. But they needed him and the kid as lookouts and promised there was money in it for everyone. At least a few hundred. And they needed food, painkillers, other stuff. But it boiled down to the fact that he was too scared to say no to the others.

So he stood out the front and the kid took the rear. Watching out for trouble, while the others went into the building.

His stomach played up as time went on. It seemed to be taking forever, and he hated hearing things smash inside and loud laughter like they were having a ball wrecking things.

He went inside to check if they were nearly done, and they’d trashed the place. Same as they’d done to their latest squat – it used to be someone’s home; now it was a rubbish tip. And someone cared about this place too; it was their business, their lifeblood.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He tried to tidy up some of the broken glass and Stevo smacked him away. Told him to go back outside. Pull his head in.

He did, reminding himself that he’d have money for what the kid needed. And when he heard a cheer go up, he figured they’d found a lot more than they’d expected.

But back at the squat, he and the kid got twenty bucks each. Like that was going to go far. The others reckoned they’d only found a hundred bucks and split it equally, but he didn’t believe it. He didn’t trust them. And he didn’t like what they’d done.

Georgie’s foot and shoulder blades rested against the wall as she pulled on a cigarette. She flipped her left wrist and snorted. Even eight months on, she occasionally fell into right-side dominant habits of expecting her watch to be on her left.

She revolved her left hand and examined the palm, an action she generally avoided. But today she wanted to look at the angry seam from heel to the index finger and watch the nerves quiver. If she f****d up this assignment and couldn’t find the story Sheridan wanted, she’d take one thing away from it already. Compared with some people’s lot, her attack in March and injuries were nothing.

Georgie lowered her hand and snuck another glance at the little girl who also waited at the library. In profile, she was a pretty redheaded pre-schooler who dimpled as she giggled at whatever her mum just said. But when she turned to gaze at Georgie, the other side of her face was fire-scarred. And yet she smiled brightly.

As Georgie opened her mouth to converse with the mum-and-daughter pair, Kelly’s friend from the info centre—Clive—arrived with a hearty greeting and unlocked the door. Apparently, he was the Bullock librarian.

‘Are you moping again?’ Constable Scott Hart slapped Franklin’s shoulder en route to his desk.

Franklin’s face heated, but he ignored the jibe. Then he heard their other mate, Mick Sprague, snigger and couldn’t help taking the bait. ‘Shut up, Slam.’

The bastard laughed harder.

The front door squealed. As Harty was prepping for a court attendance and Slam was about to go off shift, Franklin rose.

Harty just wouldn’t let it go. ‘So Georgie Harvey’s not the one.’

Franklin threw a balled-up scrap of paper at the back of his neck. The other two kept carrying on as he sauntered down the cramped hallway. He tossed over his shoulder, ‘Shut up.’

He rounded the corner, caught a glimpse of a blue monkey suit and remembered that Constable-fast-track-wanker-Wells had finally fast-tracked his way back to Melbourne, with his replacement due today.

Franklin said, ‘G’day, mate.’ Then he viewed the newcomer properly. s**t. ‘Ah, sorry, g’day, ah, pal, buddy.’ Rattled, his face heated again.

The female officer grinned and held out a hand. ‘Sam Tesorino, probationary constable. I’m starting my on-the-job training here today?’

‘John Franklin, senior connie.’

They shook.

Sam stared up at him, and he clocked her at about five-foot-one. Her uniform was so new that the blue and white chequered band on her cap glowed, reflecting a bright smile and big, round brown eyes.

First post after graduating; she seemed so young and far too pretty and small to be a real cop. She made him feel big and awkward and very old-school.

‘So, that’s our grand station, Sam.’ Franklin gestured the newbie to a seat at the lunchroom table. ‘Tea, coffee? How do you take it?’

Sam jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll do it, sir.’

‘Sit. You’ll get enough practice.’ He waved her down.

‘Oh, if you’re sure? Coffee, white with none, please.’

While he prepared their coffees, Franklin saw her squirm on the seat and pluck at the laminate table edge. Her dark blue sleeves dropped halfway over her hands. They were tiny hands and it was hard to imagine them wielding a pistol or baton. She’d definitely stand out in their crew of tall, broad, blokey-blokes.

Once he sat opposite, she turned the full force of her smile on him again.

‘You’re somewhat of a hero at the academy, sir.’

‘Drop the sir. We keep it relaxed among ourselves unless the big knobs are down or you’re in trouble. Call me Franklin.’

‘Okay.’ Sam drew out the word, showing doubt. ‘Well, our firearms instructor is an old friend of yours?’

‘Old Divola? Is he still scaring the crap out of you recruits?’

‘Yeah.’ She made it two syllables, a definite yes.

‘He’s a good bloke underneath.’ Franklin smiled. They’d shared some good times.

Sam said, ‘We had worse than him. Anyway, he told us all about your recent stalker and multiple-murder cases?’

Wide eyes and question marks at the end of her statements. Franklin saw he’d have to knock the awe out of her and more confidence in or she’d be easy prey on the street.

‘You saved three lives –’

He cut her off. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear, Sam. Just doing my job.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so, sir, ah, Franklin. You earned a Valour Award.’

Uncomfortable, he replied, ‘Me, Harty, the rest of the crew, the sarge—and you—same circumstances, I’m sure we’d all do the same thing.’

The sharp scrape of his chair leg signalled an end to the discussion. ‘Right, let’s see what happened overnight.’

Most of the families had dispersed after kids’ story time, although the redhead and her mum lingered in the children’s book area. When Georgie rose, she was immediately pushed back to the chair from behind.

‘Leave the little one alone.’ The librarian, Clive, dropped onto the adjacent seat. ‘She and her mum have had enough to bear.’

Georgie’s ears burned in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. Then she considered his body language. He had more to say. She itched for the voice recorder in her bag but held still.

‘So, Georgie Harvey, from some fancy-dancy magazine. My chum Kelly from across the road told me you’re here to pick off our scabs.’

A turned-down mouth didn’t mask the crow’s feet creasing with dry humour.

Even so, Georgie’s stomach clenched. She fixed him with an intense look. ‘I’m not here to hurt anyone or set back their healing.’

Wide-gazed, Clive said, ‘But surely you realise that an outsider looking in, asking questions, dredging up the past, could well have that effect?’

Flustered, Georgie had no answer. She thought about Kelly’s comments yesterday. ‘I get that you feel you’re being hung out on the clothesline for public entertainment. I promise you that I’m going to manage this sensitively and write a feature that’ll do your community proud.’

Clive scratched the stubble above his lip.

‘I believe that you believe that. But I have a terrible feeling that your best intentions will play out wrong.’

Dread banded Georgie’s chest.

What if he’s right?

He touched his upper lip again. ‘Even so, you’re here, you’ve a story to write.’ He quit rubbing. With the same finger, he tapped his cheek and nodded in time.

‘You won’t be writing this, though.’ He dropped into his story-teller voice on low volume. ‘Mum over there,’ he inclined his head, ‘was at a weekend work conference. Dad, the girl and her older twin brothers were home when the fire-front ripped through. Those two are the only survivors of that family. And God knows how many times the little one has nearly died since. Mum will never forgive herself for letting down the family, though truth be told, what could she have done if she’d been home? You’d understand, she’d fight like a fox to shield her one remaining child from any more pain than what she’s been through and what she’ll go through yet with that scarring?’

Georgie blinked.

Clive took it as agreement.

‘If you promise to leave the little one and her mum in peace, I’ll be your guinea pig. Fire away.’