12

PHUONG CHECKED her watch. ‘Ten to three,’ she said.

‘You say that like I should write it down. We are off-piste now, Phuong. This is the unauthorised missing-persons patrol.’

She resettled herself in the seat. ‘Silver spray-paint — how d’you get that off a car? Soap and water?’

‘More chemicals,’ I said. ‘WD-40?’

‘That’s a lubricant. I’ll probably need a solvent. Acetone, maybe.’ She opened her handbag, took out a folded A4 sheet. ‘Take this. The VicPol media release on the arrest of Isaac Mortimer. There’s some handy details.’

Handy details? I shoved it in my back pocket. ‘The real mystery is why Leo didn’t win an Oscar for Blood Diamond.’

She rubbed the window, creating a smeary circle. ‘Why should he?’

‘The Afrikaans accent, it’s unbelievable. And his Krio is fantastic.’

She looked at me.

‘Krio — the language of Sierra Leone. I looked it up.’

‘Why are we here again?’

‘Popular transaction point. We wait for a while, inconspicuous as possible, and see who shows, get a feel for the place. I might know some of them.’

She nodded. ‘And offer some inducement, cash for info?’

‘Probably. I haven’t thought that far ahead. That’s usually how these things work. There’s an exchange. Like Danny Archer — he’s trading weapons and he has to negotiate with the rebel leader, Commander Zero. Diamonds for grenade launchers.’

She observed me for a short time. ‘Are we talking movies or are you making a point?’

‘Commander Zero gives him bad diamonds.’

‘Stella, I’m not giving you bad diamonds.’

‘But you are being … economical with the truth.’

She looked out the window and sighed.

‘Shit, it must be bad,’ I said.

‘Shut up, it’s not bad. Okay. It is. Bruce was on a stakeout, a few weeks ago. I joined him for a few hours. Brought him something to eat.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Whose idea was that?’

‘We’d never see each other otherwise. Anyway, we were watching this house.’

‘Whose house?’

‘Peck’s. I’m helping with the recording set up. Bruce wants audio — informant’s wired.’

‘This Jeff Vanderhoek guy that Brophy knew?’

She nodded.

‘That’s brave,’ I said. I wondered if Jeff had had a choice.

‘He goes in, the audio’s good. There’s some mindless talking. Then they mentioned Bruce. Just once. It didn’t seem significant to me, it was such an oblique reference — someone saw him at a sports bar. They were badmouthing him. “Oh, Copeland, that bloke’s a prick,” like that.’ She pulled her hair back and took a hair-tie from her wrist and then looped it around into a ponytail. ‘So much for him being in conspiracy with them.’

‘Exactly. Nothing illegal about going to the pub. And?’

‘And then Bruce goes, “By the way, can you erase that?”’

I blinked, not sure I’d heard her correctly.

‘I know,’ Phuong said quietly.

‘That’s —’

‘I know. I was shocked. Bruce is by the book.’

‘What did you do?’

‘All we had was innocuous gossip. There was nothing useful in it.’ She shrugged. ‘I deleted the whole thing. We got back to St Kilda Road and he said the equipment was faulty.’

‘You deleted the recording?’

‘It’s not that bad.’

I held the bridge of my nose. ‘They’ll be able to recover it.’

‘No, I wiped it, it’s gone.’ She paused. ‘Well, not gone. First, I made a copy, then I deleted everything.’ She looked at me.

‘To cover your arse?’

‘For my own … interest.’ Phuong’s cryptic expression gave nothing away. I wished I could do that, suppress all outward signs of thought and feeling. Instead, I was cursed with a face like an open book — and not a normal book, one of those kid’s pop-up books with moving parts. Since I could read nothing from her face, I’d have to come right out and ask her if — in her heart of hearts — she believed Bruce was squeaky. But not now. ‘Can I hear it?’

‘No way,’ she said, and turned her gaze towards the dark car park.

She’d changed since she started seeing Copeland. The old Phuong would never have gatecrashed a stakeout, or deleted a recording. Were personalities really that plastic? If so, I could do with a change. Not a minor adjustment either — I’d have a full reconstruction, my whole personality.

‘We’ve known each other for a long time.’

‘No,’ she said.

‘You can trust me.’

‘No.’

‘Phuong. You know who left the bullet, don’t you? And who vandalised your car.’

‘Hello,’ she said, pointing to the street in front of us. I looked into the gloom. Out of the mist emerged a group of kids: a girl and two boys. The boys — one tall, one short, both thin — were trying to kick each other, sideways, kung fu–style. They appeared to be without a care, none of that jumpy, desperate vibe addicts have. They weren’t junkies yet.

They dressed alike in many layers of shabby windcheaters, loose jeans, runners that looked expensive. They entered the car park, and I lowered my window.

The girl was singing ‘Turning Tables’. Adele did it better, though I admired the attempt. There were some tough notes in that song. But the boys were apparently against it.

‘What’s that shit?’ the short one demanded. He turned, and his face caught the light. My boy Cory. ‘Hey Razz, check it. Yo!’

He made some beatbox beats and rapper-style hand moves, singing some song about wiping the blood off his Nikes. Australian hip-hop style.

The taller boy — Razz, evidently — laughed. He pointed to the alleyway that ran behind the funeral parlour. ‘Look out.’

Phuong and I followed the finger. A girl with long hair walked under the street light, about fifteen, give or take. She pulled the zip of her jacket up and down.

Razz waved his hand. ‘Yo, Alma.’

The girl beside Cory giggled.

Razz readjusted his pants down to his hips. ‘S’up,’ he shouted again to Alma.

‘Over here.’ Alma moved near a tree in the shadows. Razz ambled across the car park.

I lowered the window all the way, but we had no chance of hearing them from here. I turned my attention back to Cory. The other girl was circling him, grinning.

‘I like your shoelaces. They have dogs on them.’

‘Mighty Bulldogs,’ he said.

She came up close.

He held a foot up for her to see. She peered at it. He stepped closer to her.

‘Eww.’ She screamed and backed away.

Phuong sat up. ‘Oh, no.’

I scanned the foggy surrounds and spotted a man, walking along Donald Street. Copeland. He crossed the road and entered the car park. I looked to see if the boy, Razz, had seen him. A deal was in progress with Alma, the girl with the long hair. She was holding her bag open for him to see the contents. Razz was leaning over it.

‘Cop!’ Cory yelled.

Razz grabbed the bag. Alma snatched it back, and ran down the alley. Razz, Cory, and the girl scattered in all directions.

Phuong jumped out of the car and ran towards Bruce. I got out and zipped up my jacket. I gave them time for a long embrace then dawdled over to join them. He looked unkempt and had let his beard grow. If he’d been holding a cup, I might have thrown in some change.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Phuong said.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

He glared at me. ‘I’m twiddling my thumbs in that cabin, while Isaac Mortimer is enjoying the free air, and cunts are bullshitting to the commission.’

‘I understand you’re frustrated, but you can’t —’

‘But if I get Mortimer to come in —’

‘You can’t. You’re under suspicion. You have to live like a choir boy.’

‘I know what I’m doing. And I’m careful. Anyway, I can’t sit around while —’

‘I’ll find Mortimer.’

‘You told me she didn’t want to get involved,’ he said to Phuong.

‘She changed her mind,’ Phuong said, with a grateful nod in my direction. ‘Earlier tonight.’

‘Why?’ He glared at me as if trying to fathom my motives. I glared back at him, and then he caught on. He turned suddenly to Phuong. ‘What happened?’

She didn’t answer, so I replied, ‘She’s received threats. And they spray-painted her car.’

‘Who? Did you see them?’

‘Looked like a big bloke to me. Could be a cop.’

He took Phuong by the shoulders. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Of course.’ She played unconcerned. ‘Probably just kids.’

‘Would kids write DOG?’ I asked Copeland. ‘Or is that more the kind of thing cops say?’

He folded his arms. I got another look-over for my trouble.

‘This is getting out of hand. When you blokes turn, you really go nuts, don’t you? Seems like every cop in the department is either crooked or being silenced.’

‘I’m handling it.’ His lip curled. ‘I know these people, and I’ll handle it.’

‘Doing a great job so far. Meanwhile, coming to Footscray tonight shows spectacular judgement on your part. Why would you come to a known drug-dealing area?’

‘These kids’ll know Mortimer.’

‘Maybe.’ I looked around. ‘But they’re gone now.’

‘Without Mortimer’s testimony, I’m finished.’

‘Cops don’t do well in jail,’ Phuong added quietly.

There she was again, defending him. Phuong sniffed. I wasn’t moved. ‘Gotta say, I’m starting to regret this already.’

‘But Stella —’

‘When you locate him,’ Bruce was saying. ‘Don’t do anything. Don’t talk to him. Don’t call your local police. All you do is tell me where he is. Right? You let me handle it. I’ll take it from there.’

Phuong put her arm through his. ‘I’m going with Bruce,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay with him, at his dad’s.’

‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Go to Western Port and stay there. I’ll get in touch when I find Mortimer.’

Copeland grunted.

‘You’re welcome,’ I said pointedly as I walked away.

‘Stella, wait.’ Phuong caught up with me. ‘The tape. I’ll send it to you.’