‘I’ll be right with this, Stevie,’ Tash’s voice caught. ‘Take the wine and glasses into the lounge. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Stevie pointed a finger at Terry as she passed. ‘You behave now,’ she warned. ‘If I ever hear you talking to your sister like that again, you’ll have to answer to me, right?’

Terry’s rage had burnt itself out. He nodded his submission, looked sheepishly at Stevie then dropped to his knees to help Tash with the track.

Stevie left them to make up in private. In the lounge she put the bottle and glasses on a small table and sank into Tash’s circular cane chair. Her heart went out to her friend—she’d always thought that as a single mother she’d had it tough.

At the academy, Tash had had few friends. People were put off by her brash, I-can-do-anything-any-man-can-do attitude; it was Stevie who’d been the popular party girl. How times had changed, she reflected as she folded herself deeper into the huge cane chair. Not many parties these days, thank God. Her idea of a good night now involved curling up on the sofa with Monty watching a movie from her vintage collection.

Tash was one of the few who’d stuck around after she’d had Izzy. She’d turn up on the doorstep with a bottle of brandy, pour Stevie a stiff one and take the screaming baby out for walks that would sometimes last hours. When Stevie and Izzy both had gastro, Tash was there with the mop and bucket, and when Stevie was having problems with her ex, Tash had given her a key to her house.

The tables had turned when Tash’s parents were killed and she’d been the one left caring for Terry. Stevie had been there for her when she could, though she’d always wished she could have done more.

Tash came out of the kitchen with her characteristic self-satisfied smile. Peace and order reigned once more. She reached for the wine and poured a generous amount into each fat bellied glass. They clinked.

‘I can see that it’s more than a fixed Scalextrics that’s got you excited,’ Stevie said. ‘Go on. You first.’

Tash made herself comfortable in the chair opposite. ‘Did Clarissa tell you my photographer news?’ she asked.

‘That a dodgy photographer’s been using the Internet cafe? Yeah, she did—tell me more.’

‘The staff at the cafe described a regular client who says he’s a photographer,’ Tash explained. ‘His session times correspond closely to the times the porn photos were upped.’

‘Did you get a physical description?’

‘Better than that, we have a name—Julian Holdsworth.’

‘Might be an alias.’ Despite her cautious response, Stevie found herself leaning as far forward as the cane chair would allow her. This was the closest lead they’d had so far.

‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that a professional photographer should need the services of an Internet cafe? You’d think he’d have all the necessary high-tech computer equipment himself,’ she mused aloud.

‘It is weird. That’s what I thought too, but the woman at the cafe said he complained of having a recurring virus,’ Tash said. ‘That’s what made her remember him. She said she’s never known anyone have such bad luck with computers. She’ll contact us the moment he comes in again. Meanwhile, I’ve given a couple of the team the task of tracking him down.’

Stevie lit a cigarette, took a drag and queried the likelihood of a man giving out his real name and profession when uploading porn on the Internet, especially one who had gone to such lengths to hide his Internet ID.

Tash shrugged. ‘It’s a start. He could be overconfident—many a clever villain’s downfall.’

‘True,’ Stevie conceded, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to the stupidity of criminals. Let us never overestimate them.’ She took a good swig of her wine. It was time she got Mason’s assault allegations out of the way. Here goes nothing.

‘I, err, had a meeting with Dolly today.’

‘Yeah, I know, we had to cancel our lunch date.’

‘Robert Mason put in a complaint about you.’

Tash casually blew smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Bullshit, I hardly touched him. You know that.’

‘Dolly wanted me to give you a bollocking for it.’

Tash shrugged. ‘Bollocking accepted. I suppose he mentioned the water pistol too?’

‘Afraid so.’

Tash laughed. ‘Now there’s a story.’ She explained how she’d secreted the water pistol out of the armoury from under the nose of the uniformed sergeant who’d been too busy inspecting her cleavage to see what she was doing with her hands. Tash told the story without guile, as if she had no idea of its implications. When she finished, though, she did take a moment to narrow her eyes and stare at Stevie through a smoky veil.

‘You going to tell Dolly that?’ she asked.

Stevie hesitated. ‘No.’

‘Good.’ Tash blew away the cloud. ‘I can take a few black marks against my name, but stealing from the armoury might be pushing it.’

Stevie took a sip of her wine and thought about the best approach. Straightforward honesty, she decided. ‘I don’t think you realise how close you got to the edge with that stunt, Tash. Kusak was killed with an automatic pistol. Monty had the guns in the armoury checked because of a notion he had that you might have snitched one when you took the water pistol.’

Tash paled. ‘Jesus, shit. How the hell did he know about that?’

‘He’s mates with Sergeant Jenkins in the armoury.’

‘Fuck, I should have guessed.’

‘It’s okay, that’s been cleared up, the guns in the armoury have been tested and they’re all clean.’ She hesitated. ‘But there’s still the question of where you went after you’d seen Mrs Kusak.’ She held Tash’s eyes unwaveringly in her own and softened her voice. ‘Tash, Monty and I both know she told you where Kusak was hiding out. And I know you didn’t go straight home after you saw Mrs Kusak, because I called around and you weren’t here. Where did you go?’

Tash’s fingers dug into the sides of her chair and she stared back at Stevie with disbelief. ‘What are you saying? You’re saying you think I killed Miro Kusak?’

‘No, no, of course I’m not. I’m warning you, that’s all. Lucky for both of us Monty seems to have dropped the subject. But if it does rear its ugly head again, I think you should be ready to give an explanation of your movements that night.’

‘He’s jealous.’

‘What?’

‘Monty’s jealous of our friendship, he’s trying to shaft me.’

Stevie shook her head. ‘I really don’t think so.’

‘He thinks I’m trying to steal you away from him.’

‘Don’t talk crap.’ Her reaction was automatic, but Stevie had to admit to herself this was an angle she hadn’t contemplated. Might this be a plausible explanation for Monty’s recent moody behaviour? It did seem to coincide with her transfer to the Cyber Predator Team and her close working proximity with Tash.

Tash cursed Monty’s name as she picked up her bag and rummaged through it. She removed a crumpled receipt and all but threw it at Stevie.

‘Tash, it’s not me that needs convincing. I just wanted you to be prepared in case any more questions were asked...’

‘Read it,’ Tash said.

Stevie glanced down at the hurled ball of paper, unfolded it and smoothed down the creases. It was a receipt from a pharmacy for a purchase at six o’clock on the evening of Kusak’s death.

‘That’s my local chemist where I stopped to get my migraine medication. I left Mrs K’s at about five thirty and if you stick to the speed limit it takes about thirty-five minutes to get back to Inglewood from Mundaring—satisfied?’

‘So where were you at six thirty when I called in here?’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Tash exclaimed. ‘After the chemist I stopped at a friend’s house. I took my migraine medication there and then zonked out, I wasn’t safe to drive.’ She held up a finger to stop Stevie from asking the next question. ‘And don’t bother asking for a name because you won’t get one.’