THE COP LOOKS LIKE he’s about to puke up his toasted cheese sandwich. ‘You really are a piece of shit,’ he says.
‘I hear you, but—’
‘I could arrest you right now. I don’t know why I’m not.’
She lets him simmer down a little. Then, ‘I thought I was going to be an artist.’
He can barely look at her. He looks inches away from pulling the whole thing down and taking her in.
Amy goes for it. ‘I thought the worst thing that could happen to me was I’d end up a wedding photographer. And then Colleen got her hooks in me.’
‘Who gives a fuck?’
‘You can still be a straight cop,’ she says. ‘You haven’t wrecked yourself yet, trust me. If you think this is dirty, you’re living in a dream world.’
‘For the last time, what do you want?’
‘I want the same thing you want. I want all of this to go away. You have a bloke in custody called Mike Nichols. It’s related to the murder of Jamie Leaver. From what I hear, the Joke is hot for him. He’s some political lackey who works for the minister.’
‘What minister?’
‘Your minister. Anyway, he didn’t kill Jamie. They’re fitting him up.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘He was snooping around and got in over his head. It’s something to do with the deputy commissioner.’
Some part of it lands, because Bruno takes a second. ‘You need to tell me everything you know, from the start. And I’m not agreeing to anything. I don’t work for Colleen. That’s finished. I’m not having a bar of it. Do what you like with the photo.’
‘I don’t care how we get it done.’
He studies her. ‘If there’s more, we should find a place to hole up. I’ve already been talking to you for too long out in the open.’
‘There’s more,’ she says.
Amy points him to her building. The flat is as it always is—a wreck—but seeing him take it in makes Amy hyperaware of the carnage. Bottles and empties on the floor. Junk, books, mail. Half a poster hung on the wall. A poisonous kitchen. Summer rot and mildew.
‘What?’ she says, looking right at him.
‘Can we open a window?’
It takes her five whole minutes to unjam the sliding door. It’s been that long.
Bruno plants himself out on the apartment’s small patio, facing in.
‘You want something to drink?’
‘I’ll stick to these,’ he says, lighting a smoke.
‘Don’t suppose I can bum one?’
He hands one over. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘What did you find at fifteen Pohlman Drive?’
‘Nothing much. Why did you send me there?’
Amy tells him the truth: she doesn’t know. ‘Colleen keeps her cards close to her chest, even with the help.’ The initial instructions were simple. Go to an address and run surveillance. Colleen didn’t need photos. They were a bonus. ‘I was testing out a new camera. After a week of sitting on the house and watching absolutely nothing happen, Colleen told me to deposit the photographs under the windscreen wipers of your car. That was the end of my part. I left town for a couple of days after that.’
‘Why me?’
‘Pete Reynolds told us you were in Missing Persons and that you were the sort of cop who’d follow it up. Colleen doesn’t trust anyone so she had me include the other photo. You’ve been on her radar for a minute.’
He nods. And?
‘I showed you mine,’ says Amy.
‘Remind me again, what am I going to come away with here?’
‘Your job.’
Bruno gives in. He describes how the O’Grady family is missing, presumed dead. Two parents and one son. He tells her there’s something going on with the family finances—emptied bank accounts, something shady about the bank. He says he’s witnessed the bank crew in action and that they’re wild dogs, killing and shooting without hesitation, but that there’s some sort of targeted planning as well. ‘I killed one of them. A local crim called Seth Blackwell. He was involved with the O’Grady kid, Samson, romantically, I think. It looks like Samson got himself mixed up with Blackwell and it might have gotten him and his parents killed. Your turn.’
‘Do you know a cop called Bill Webber?’
‘Sure. He’s all right. He’s in Robbers at the moment.’
‘He’s up to something. The talk is, he has internal police files he’s not supposed to have access to. I’ve been following him, and he’s been past Pohlman Drive a few times. He stops and looks at the place. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I think he’s someone you should look into.’
Bruno’s mouth drops open a little.
‘What is it?’ says Amy.
‘Maybe later. What else has Webber been doing? You said you followed him.’
‘There’s more, but … I can’t share it at the moment. I reckon you don’t want to know.’
‘Is he connected to the O’Gradys?’
‘I don’t know. At first, I thought he was working off those stolen files, but now I have no idea what he’s up to. Colleen has me on loan to some of the Licensing boys up in Brisbane. They’re circling Webber because of the files. There’s a pattern with the people he’s keeping an eye on.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘They’re all scumbags.’
‘I see,’ says Bruno. ‘Come in and talk to me on tape. I’ll look after you.’
‘That’s kind of you to say, but fuck no. What I need you to do is go check on Mike Nichols, then we can talk some more.’
‘Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’m not sure we’re entirely past the going down to the station part.’
‘Hang on a sec.’ Amy walks into the tiny second bedroom, the space she uses as an office. There’s a padlocked closet in there. She opens it, takes an envelope from a shelf, and gives it to Bruno. ‘That’s half of them. Consider it a down-payment.’
‘What is it?’ he says, but looks at the images of himself inside. He takes the negatives and holds them to the light. ‘Okay, deal. I want the rest when I’m done.’
‘I’m helping you. You’re helping me. That’s how it works.’
He folds the envelope in two. ‘Can I make an ask? If we’re going to scratch each other’s back, I want your photos of Pete Reynolds as well. The photos and the negatives. I think you probably know the ones I’m talking about.’
‘Well, there you go,’ Amy says. ‘Look at you. We could work up to that.’
‘Maybe I won’t go in today? Maybe this Mike Nichols guy doesn’t need checking on.’
‘Nah, I think you will, Bruno. I think you’re the sort of guy that might worry about an innocent bloke getting topped by Queensland police officers. I reckon you’d have trouble sleeping at night if that happened.’
‘I already have trouble sleeping at night. How do you sleep?’
‘I don’t. I just pass out intermittently.’
Bruno gets up to leave.
‘Believe it or not, I’m trying to do the right thing here,’ she says as he walks past.
He stops at the door. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve had enough,’ she says.
‘And you can see a way out of all this?’
‘No. There’s no way out of where I am. Not with this stuff.’
He waits.
‘There’s just through, Bruno. Just through.’