BRUNO CAN BARELY KEEP his eyes open on the ride home to the coast. Pete Reynolds is back behind the wheel, chain-smoking from his second pack for the day. They’re both talked out.
After the airport, the two of them spent the afternoon pushing shit uphill. They worked out of the Brisbane office, checking records up there and following wafer-thin hunches. They called extended O’Grady family and friends in the city. They reached out and kept reaching out, and found nothing, all the way down. To cap it off, the crime scene bloodwork from the O’Grady house came in and, to Bruno’s eyes, at least, it was a confirmation: the blood type found at the scene was a suitable match for Phillip, Samson or Marion.
They’re dead.
And now Bruno has found himself partnered with crooked Pete Reynolds on a triple homicide with no leads.
‘You awake?’ grunts Reynolds in the car.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Back at the shed, with Customs, something happened.’
The interior of the car goes stone still.
‘Go on,’ says Bruno.
‘You went to the bathroom after we were done with the videos, and I took them back to that bloke who worked there. He told me to talk to Sorensen.’
‘About what?’
‘Didn’t say. Just, you need to talk to Sorensen.’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means what you think it means. The deputy commissioner is watching, meaning there are cops involved in this somewhere. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Phillip O’Grady was a magistrate, so we’re already in the mix a little. It might be a PR thing. I thought you should know.’
‘Thanks. What do we do about it?’
‘I’ve got some people I can talk to, just to make sure we’re not about to blow ourselves up.’
‘Okay.’
Silence in the car for a minute. The dark highway in the headlights.
‘Can I ask you something?’ says Bruno.
Reynolds looks over. ‘Probably not.’
‘How’d you end up in this mess?’
‘Come off it.’
‘No, I’m serious.’
‘What’s your worst secret, Bruno?’
‘Pass.’
‘There you go.’ Reynolds pushes the cigarette lighter into the dash. ‘You reckon O’Grady’s wife knew he was a closet case? I’ve seen plenty, but those videos were really something.’
‘He wouldn’t be the first bloke like that who’s married with kids.’
‘You married?’
Bruno almost laughs. ‘No. Not me, mate. You?’
‘No. Came close once or twice, but …’
The cigarette lighter pops. Reynolds grabs it, dabs the red-hot coil to a fresh smoke. After a few seconds, he notices Bruno waiting for the rest of the story and waves it off. ‘It was a long time ago,’ he says. ‘Before all this.’
At home, Bruno scoops the cat up from his front stair and carries it inside. This is their father’s nameless cat. Bruno likes the thing, but the cat isn’t too fond of him in return.
‘Jeez, what happened to you?’ calls a familiar voice. His brother Danny stands across the room in a pair of blue undies. He has a frying pan full of sausages in one hand and a plastic spatula in the other.
It takes Bruno a few seconds to clock it: the bank robbery, his head, the bandages. ‘Just some shit at work. I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look fine. The news said there was another hold-up on the Strip. Was that—’
‘I was there.’
‘You better sit down.’
Danny fetches him a beer and fixes the rest of dinner.
The kid’s a lousy cook, but the food helps. The beer helps more.
After dinner, Bruno lies down and falls asleep within seconds.
He wakes in the dark living room, drags himself off the couch and drinks from the kitchen tap. Touching his side, Bruno realises his gun is missing. Panicking, he paces back to the couch, finding it between two cushions. Must’ve unlatched the holster in his sleep. What the hell? He takes the gun to his room and puts it in the safe in the closet. Before he closes the door, he rests a hand on the weapon, reassuring himself it’s there.
Reminding and promising himself.
Then Bruno takes off his shirt and looks out the bedroom window. The yard light is on for some reason and it takes a moment to spot Danny out there, sitting on a folding chair with the cat in his lap.
Bruno takes himself down. ‘What time is it?’
‘Late, I think,’ says Danny.
‘You all right?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’
There’s another camp chair leaning against the Hills hoist. Bruno snaps it open and sits.
Danny says, ‘I can’t get over your head. You could’ve died, right?’
‘You could’ve died driving home this afternoon. It’s nothing.’
‘Jeez, you’re a fuckhead sometimes. No offence.’
‘None taken, and you should be nicer to me. I almost died today.’
‘Why did you sign on for this?’
‘For what? The police?’ Bruno thinks on it. ‘I just wanted a proper job. I worked at the Food Barn, remember?’
‘That’s right. Jeez, how’d I forget that?’
‘It was a long time ago. You thinking about a career change?’
‘I am, actually. I don’t want to piss away the money Dad left us. We talked a bit about it before he died, you know.’
‘What did he say?’
Their father never approved of Bruno’s line of work. As a first-generation immigrant, he didn’t trust the police.
‘Dad told me I should go to uni.’
‘To do what?’
‘Business.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘I know, I know. But it might be okay.’
‘You reckon? It doesn’t sound like you. You’ve gotta live your life, mate. I think Dad would’ve wanted you to be happy, first and foremost.’
‘I seem to remember him wanting us to be rich and married, first and foremost.’
‘That’s true.’
‘And now look at us,’ Danny says, laughing.
‘Could be worse.’
It hits him then. Bruno feels it down in the marrow of his bones. Jokes aside, he could be dead right now. Almost was. An inch to the left and whatever grazed his head would have put him in the morgue. And then what? He eats the emotion. There’s no point sharing it. Instead, Bruno says, ‘I’m looking for this missing family at work and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s taking me into some shady places.’
‘You gonna find them?’
‘No. I think they’re dead.’
‘So, you’ve gotta catch the people who did it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I thought you were out of Homicide.’
‘I am. But no one seems too fussed that I’m working on this.’
‘Sounds pretty shit to me,’ says Danny. ‘Maybe you oughta come to business school as well. We can dorm together.’
‘Christ, can you imagine?’
‘It wouldn’t be so bad.’
The cat plops off Danny’s lap. The two brothers watch the thing tentatively sniff around the unmown lawn.
Danny says, ‘I think our sister is right, mate. I think it’s time we started cleaning out Dad’s place. I think we need to get on with it.’
‘Oh God, not this.’
‘Sorry. I promised her I’d say something.’ Danny gets up. ‘Okay, I’m going back to bed.’ He wanders across the yard and places one foot on the rear stair. ‘You know …’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nah, go on.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. I don’t care what they fucking said.’
‘I know,’ says Bruno, pushing out a long breath. ‘I know.’
Danny waits a few seconds, then starts up the stairs. At the top, he says, ‘Come on. It’ll be morning soon.’