5.30 AM
First Squawk.
‘Go away, Clara. We were up half the night, remember? I only just got back to bed.’
6.30 AM
‘Mumble mumble mumble – I thought I told you to go away – mumble mumble mumble.’
7.30 AM
‘Is it even a school day? Really? No, I’m not getting up. Stop biting my ear and go away.’
‘Mumble mumble – what’s the time? What? I’m going to be late for school! Why didn’t you wake me up?’
9.30 AM
Olive wouldn’t take me to school with her today. So I walk into town instead, keen to see how Constable Dad is going with his part of the investigations.
When I get to the police station, he’s on the phone.
‘Did you get the photos I sent? Of the tyre tracks? What do you reckon?’ He grabs his notebook and starts writing. ‘Mm-hm. Mm-hm. That’s what I thought. Ties in with the description. Late-model Isuzu? … Yeah, I think so … Yeah … Yeah. Can you send me a list of registrations?’
I flap up onto his desk, hoping to hear the other side of the conversation. (There is no one inside the phone. Olive has explained it to me.)
‘Hello, Clara,’ whispers Constable Dad. ‘What? No, not you, Maz. I was just talking to – uh – someone who came into the office … Yes, thanks for that. I owe you one.’ And he puts down the phone.
I know what happens next. Constable Dad will receive a list of everyone in the state who has a white (or whitish) late-model Isuzu. He will cross out most of them because:
(a) they are ninety-nine years old and can’t get out of their chair without help
(b) they are overseas
(c) they are in jail
(d) they are dead.
This will leave a shortlist of no more than ten people. It will quickly be revealed that seven of them have an unbreakable alibi for last night.
Which leaves three. (One of them will be Jubilee Crystal Simpson.)
Constable Dad will pick up his police hat, jam it on his head with a grim expression, and set out to question those three people.
The criminal will be the least likely one. (Jubilee Crystal Simpson – I could have told him that days ago.)
Or the criminal will turn out to be none of those three, and Constable Dad will have to go back to his original list. After some careful enquiries, he will discover that one of the dead people is not really dead (Jubilee Crystal Simpson).
So I’m perched on the desk, waiting for Constable Dad to receive the list.
Instead, he makes another phone call. ‘Josh? You know those stock thefts you had last year? I just want to check the description of the vehicle … Right … Okay … Definitely sounds like the same one … Yeah, I’m still chasing background on a couple of them … Rightio … Yeah, I’ll let you know.’
Excellent! Now he will have two lists, and can crosscheck them (and find that Jubilee Crystal Simpson is on both).
But he doesn’t. The lists don’t arrive, which is completely wrong. In Death in the City, they never take more than a few minutes.
I settle down on the corner of the desk to wait.
11.30 AM
Waiting.
2.00 PM
Still waiting.
3.30 PM
The lists have not yet arrived. What is wrong with these people? Don’t they know how a proper police department is supposed to work?
I complain to Olive.
‘These things take time,’ she says.
No they don’t. I have watched every episode of Death in the City, even the one where the villain was disguised as a giant rooster (which I found very upsetting). I know that the lists always arrive a few minutes after Inspector Garcia asks for them.
Maybe Constable Dad didn’t ask the right way.