by Unknown
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling awkwardly, ‘but Dad doesn’t like Wolfmother. He likes, I don’t know, stuff like . . . God, I don’t even know what he likes.’
‘Exactly.’
After Chloe had stuffed the envelope away there was a moment of silence. She probably wanted to take her boyfriend but that wasn’t the deal.
‘Look, I don’t have a daughter,’ I said. ‘If I did, I’d want one just like you.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I would. And you know what? I’d want her to take me out from time to time. It wouldn’t matter where we went. I’d just want to spend some time with her. I know your dad feels the same way about you.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so. So take him out and have a good time.’
When we reached the service station I gave her my mobile number and she keyed it into her phone.
‘If ever anything goes wrong for you when you’re out with your friends, call me,’ I said. ‘Anything at all, okay?’
‘Thank you.’
I tugged Hooch’s lead and said, ‘I’ll be walking him a bit from now on. Might need a buddy. Interested?’
‘Sure. What about Ella? Hear you’re getting back together?’
‘Yeah, we’ll see.’
She got in the car, started the engine and wound down the window. ‘Thanks again.’
‘We never had this conversation, Chloe.’
‘What conversation?’
She smiled cheekily, winked at me and drove out of the forecourt.
38
ST KILDA FELT DIFFERENT that Saturday, everything still. Traffic on the Esplanade was light, the beach near empty. Even Luna Park was unusually silent. No music, no screams. After months of almost relentless heat there was a crisp breeze in the air, reminding me that everything came to an end.
Hooch tugged at the lead, pulling me towards the water. Already I knew he would grow into a powerful dog, and a sense of pride filled my gait as we crossed the grassy foreshore together. Funny how life dealt its cards, I mused. Working the Dallas Boyd case had been a lesson in irony. Through the loss of life came the saving of life, and the clarification of my own. Hooch was the perfect reminder of this. I no longer had certainty in my career, but I didn’t mind.
When that call came through over the radio and I found Dallas Boyd’s body in the loading bay at the rear of Café Vit, everything changed. I’d been back on deck only a month and thought I was ready for anything, but I was wrong. The case had cost me dearly. I’d fallen out with my boss, made vital mistakes in the investigation, and for the second time in my career I’d almost lost my life. But seeing Ella in hospital was the final straw. From then on the direction of my life would change forever.
To get what you want, you have to know what you want. Think carefully about what you want, for knowing what you want is often harder than getting it. As I guided Hooch around to the Stokehouse courtyard, I finally understood my mother’s wisdom.
‘Easy boy,’ I said, tying Hooch to a palm tree and heading inside.
As usual, Logan was there, loading a dishwasher and wiping down the bar. He smiled as I approached, then noticed the bandage on my neck. ‘Hey big fella, I heard you copped a bit of a flogging. Didn’t think I’d see you for a while.’
‘It’s been a big week,’ I said. ‘And I’m rooted.’
‘You look it, man. Maybe you need a break.’
‘Yeah, but give me a beer first.’
Logan filled a pot and handed it over, nodding quickly, no payment needed. My hand trembled as I lifted the glass to my lips and I had to rest it back on the bar.
While Logan served some other customers, I watched a television news report about the web of paedophiles netted over the past few days. The sound was muted but it wasn’t hard to read what was happening. Will Novak had been charged with murder and was on remand. Together with his cooperation, the laptop had provided enough evidence to arrest the priest, Miles Jorgensen, along with several other staff at Back Outside, all members of The Holy Brethren. Perhaps more significantly, a senior bureaucrat from the health minister’s office had also been implicated. No charges had been laid as yet, but the bureaucrat’s face had been all over the news and the wheels were in motion to bring him down for receiving kickbacks after advising the minister to approve the joint-funding package to Back Outside and CARS the previous year. In response to this, as well as the revelations about the physical abuse Dallas Boyd had suffered, the state government had promised a full-scale inquiry into the Child Protection system in Victoria. To top it off, Vincent Rowe had been charged with molestation and Rachel Boyd was in foster care, out of harm’s way. For now, at least.
It wasn’t an ideal outcome but one I thought Dallas would still have been proud of. Perhaps I would’ve been pleased too had I not been so badly duped by Novak. It was a betrayal of trust I didn’t think I’d ever recover from.
‘Cool change is finally coming,’ Logan said, leaning on the bar, watching the horizon. ‘They say it might even snow on the Alps tonight, help put all the fires out. Can you imagine that, snow in February?’
‘A miracle,’ I said. ‘It’s probably all that could’ve done it.’
He gestured towards the water in the bay, which was sloshing in chaotic swirls as a cold southerly swept in. Clouds gathered in the distance, thunder rumbling somewhere beyond. There would be no more blood sunsets for a while, hopefully not for the rest of the year. Autumn and winter were on the way, and the city was ready for it.
‘People say it’s ugly when it’s like that,’ Logan said. ‘But I like it. It’s mysterious and brooding at the same time. The water actually looks dangerous, like the mask has been removed.’
I’d never thought about it like that before, but I had to agree.
‘Supposed to be meeting Ella again,’ I said. ‘Reckon you could make her a drink?’
‘Sure, the usual?’
‘Nah, probably just a soda to start with, then we’ll see what she –’ I stopped when I saw her walking along the path towards the courtyard. ‘Here she comes.’
Logan made the drink and slid it across the bar but didn’t offer me one.
‘You don’t need another glass just yet,’ he said with a wink. ‘Yours is still half full.’
‘Thanks. You’re a good man, Logan,’ I said.
I carried the drinks out to Ella, who peeled off her sunglasses and kissed me gently on the cheek.
‘How’re the stitches?’ she asked, eyeing my neck.
‘Itchy.’
‘Jenny said you had to have them redone.’
I nodded and a long silence followed. I’d figured it would be awkward like this until she knew I was serious about my decision. She’d said she didn’t blame me for what had happened, but I suspected she was just being polite. What she’d really meant was that our relationship would remain in limbo until I could prove I was ready for a change. That wasn’t a problem any more. I knew exactly what I wanted.
Sipping my beer, I slid a copy of the Police Gazette across the table, open to the job opportunities section, where I’d highlighted a position on offer at headquarters.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘There’s a job going at Prisoner Movements. I’ve put in for it.’
She looked at me, unsure what I was telling her.
‘It’s a desk job,’ I said. ‘All I’d have to do is keep records on the prisoners and liaise with government and the brass. No street action.’
‘So no more investigations?’
‘Maybe a bit of assistance to the Prison Squad, but no hands-on work.’
She read the page again, as if it could confirm or dispute my answer.
‘So you’re leaving St Kilda?’
‘If I get the job.’
‘What if you don’t?’
‘Then I’m still done, Ella. I’ll stay on carer’s leave for as long as I can. Either way, I’m out. Finished. I’m not going back to St Kilda.’
&n
bsp; ‘But . . .’ She put the page down and stared out over the bay, the wind blowing strands of hair across her face. I followed her line of sight and saw an ocean liner coming into port.
‘Are you doing this for me?’ she asked.
‘No. For us.’
Hooch startled me by barking from behind the palm tree. When no one responded Ella lowered her voice and asked if I knew whose dog it was.
‘Ah, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about,’ I said. I explained how Hooch fitted into the case, how Sparks had been murdered and how the dog would most likely be destroyed if he didn’t find a home. I ended the story with my visit to the animal shelter and my decision to adopt him. I didn’t tell her about my talk with Chloe or my phone call to Dad because I figured – or at least hoped – there would be time for that later.
‘He’s still a puppy,’ I said, not sensing support. ‘And now I’ve got time to train him, get him socialised.’
‘What about Prince?’
‘It’s not Prince I’m worried about. Lots of people own dogs and cats.’
‘Well, what about your apartment? It’s barely big enough for you.’
I nodded. ‘That’s the only issue. I mean, I’ve got the beach and the park nearby, but it’s not the same. Dogs need space, a piece of dirt to call their own.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’ll just have to make do, see how it goes. If it doesn’t work out, at least I’ve tried.’
Ella stared at Hooch for a long moment. A cold wind blew leaves about in mini whirlwinds. Specks of rain dotted the path. The water in the bay was now a deep charcoal and looked like a giant pool of oil sloshing about. People scurried for shelter as the cool change rolled in. St Kilda’s mask had finally been lifted and the blood sunset extinguished, but Ella made no attempt to move.
Nor did Hooch. He sat at the base of the palm tree, head bowed, eyes on the ground, sensing her judgement. Finally she smiled at me and said, ‘Who says we have to live in an apartment?’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Blood Sunset is the culmination of a lot of hard work and commitment from many people, without whom publication would not have been possible.
Firstly, to Louise Thurtell, Clara Finlay, Nicola O’Shea and the whole crew at Allen & Unwin, you are true professionals and I thank you for your support and enthusiasm throughout the development of this book.
To the judges and sponsors of The Australian/Vogel Award, my sincere thanks for your support of emerging writers.
To Vikki Petraitis, true-crime writer and bona fide expert on paedophiles and forensic procedure, I am very grateful for your mentoring during the early stages of writing. Likewise, thanks to Dr Shelley Robertson at the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine, for your advice and the guided tour of the institute.
To Meera Govil at the Eltham Bookshop: you show real interest in all the writers you meet, and we appreciate it.
To Joel Becker, Mary Napier and the team at the Victorian Writers Centre: keep up the great work.
To the handful of close friends who read the manuscript in its early stages and provided valuable feedback, I hope you enjoy the finished product!
To my immediate and extended family, your support is invaluable.
To all the readers who have written to me or spoken to me at festivals, thanks for your comments and praise. I hope you like Blood Sunset as much as Head Shot.
And finally, to my editor in chief, Liz, you are the first and last words on every page.
