Chapter Fifty-nine

Downstairs, they passed a shop selling everything from haircuts to boys’ adventure books, food smokers, solar eskies and uber cool clothing. There was no polyester in sight. The café was large and the lunch crowd were in. No polyester here either, instead there was an abundance of beads, bangles and the ever-present linen. Part-poodle dogs of various sizes lay bored beside bare and sandalled feet.

Jack noticed the sea breeze had finally put in an appearance, so it was cool enough to sit at an outdoor table. Kombucha arrived for Caitlin. His own pacific ale was made by Stone & Wood, a brewery so close Jack reckoned they could have plumbed in a direct line to the café rather than deliver the beer in barrels.

Jack looked at Caitlin across the table. Apart from the usual family and work suspects, he couldn’t remember ever spending so much time with another person. He was enjoying her company, if not the circumstances that had brought them together. He raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’

‘Sláinte,’ replied Caitlin. ‘That’s Irish.’

‘Do you speak Irish?’

‘No.’

Jack took a sip of cold beer. ‘I thought Irish was just a form of English, with more swear words.’

‘Feck off.’ Caitlin’s phone beeped and she read the incoming message. ‘Zoe’s on her way. She’s something to show us.’

As they waited for their food, Caitlin opened the laptop and booted it into TAILS. She started guessing passwords.

Jack interrupted her. ‘Ricky worked out it’s twenty-eight characters long. And your father was so security conscious he never would have written it down, would he?’

She shook her head.

‘Nobody can remember a string of twenty-eight random characters. So it must be a long phrase or a group of memorable words.’

‘But he told me “heroine”.’

‘I reckon it’s a clue, not the password. It’ll be a sentence, or a song title or the names of all the streets he ever lived in joined together.’

Jack’s phone rang and he took the call.

‘It’s Begley. What do you want?’

‘How are the petunias?’

‘What?’

‘Anderson told me you were on gardening leave. I didn’t know you had a green thumb?’

‘Listen, Harris, if you rang just to get on my tits, I’m getting enough of that here already. The bloody assistant commissioner sent me home and, after just two days, my wife wants me to go back to work.’

‘I was hoping you could check a police file for us. It might have something to do with the case.’

‘What part of gardening leave do you not understand? Not only do I have orders not to have anything to do with the investigation of Patrick O’Shaughnessy’s murder, I’ve been sent home, “just in case I feel any temptation to get involved”.’

‘In that case, I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with Patrick’s murder.’

There were a few seconds of silence. ‘Go on.’

‘George Ferris was the Northern Rivers mayor in 1987. He was seen entering the water for a swim, but never reappeared, presumed drowned.’

‘And what makes that suspicious?’

‘The timing. We think there was council corruption at the time and that some people may have profited from his disappearance. Patrick may have been on to it.’

Begley took a while to answer. ‘I’ll see what I can do. But it won’t be until I can get back into the station.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Hey, don’t get bloody tickets on yourself. I’m not doing this for you, I just fucking hate petunias.’ The call went dead.

A vegetable platter and lamb kebabs arrived. The food was so good the conversation all but ceased. Halfway through, Caitlin bumped her glass and spilled kombucha onto the remaining kebabs. Yet another clumsy spill. They looked at each other, but said nothing.

Jack finished his beer, then tapped the memory stick on the table. ‘I think we’ve got this, Caitlin. What are some of your father’s favourite things? Holiday destinations, food, music?’

She tapped her fingers on the table as she thought. ‘He loved Bowie, and his favourite album was Heroes.’ She looked up at Jack excitedly. My clue was “heroine”. That’s just like Dad, he wouldn’t want it to be too obvious. Could it be the song lyrics?’

‘I suppose so. Easy to remember.’

Caitlin started counting on her fingers as she sang a song in her head. Her excitement turned to disappointment. ‘Only twenty-six.’

Jack said, ‘What if you swap “heroines” for “heroes”?’

Her eyes lit up and she started bouncing in her chair with excitement. She reopened the laptop.

Jack dared to hope at last. He moved his chair beside her. The TAILS boot sequence seemed to take forever. When the password dialogue box popped up, Caitlin smiled at Jack, then, using one finger to ensure she didn’t make a mistake, typed: ‘Wecanbeheroinesjustforoneday’.

They watched eagerly as the ants chased each other around the circle. Seconds ticked by and the ants kept circling. Just when Jack thought the program must have locked up, the computer beeped and a message box appeared: ‘Incorrect password’.

‘Fuck,’ said Caitlin loudly. Heads turned in their direction. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ She slammed the laptop closed, ripped out the memory stick and threw it onto the table where it bounced onto one of the plates and buried itself in mint sauce.