Serpent Song. Toni Grant

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СКАЧАТЬ at the memory of his stunned face as she left him at the curb with a warning.

      “What! No way! You never mentioned it before.” His rumbling laughter caught the attention of the mothers’ group again.

      “Shut up Johnno. And you will never mention it again. It was frigging embarrassing. So, yeah I’ll come but I’ll sort out my own love life thanks very much.” Francesca played with the spoon, licking the cold froth from the handle.

      “Right. So now I know your type. You’ve expanded your repertoire. Potheads and arse-holes. Why don’t you hook up with one of my mates? They might not be as classy to look at as your latest and greatest, but they’re decent blokes. And they know how to treat a lady.”

      Francesca blushed as the whole café turned their attention to the unlikely pair and the topic of their conversation. She looked into her empty coffee cup, hiding bright red cheeks.

      “Thanks Johnno, you are really sweet and I love your mates, but you know me. I don’t mix business with pleasure. If it all fell to shit, well, it would be awkward. Besides, my taste in men is not THAT bad! I agree, in the past, I’ve made some bad choices.”

      She paused, sobering. “To be honest, lately I’ve been so wrapped up in work I haven’t had time for relationships. When you’re a cop … think of it from my perspective. Our profession doesn’t turn men on to me like the women turn on for you. Besides, I have my work cut out keeping all of your team in line!”

      She tried to sound light. The truth being every guy she ever met was invariably compared with Delarno. Forget the glass ceiling, no man could get close enough to her to bust through the Nicholas Delarno ceiling.

      “Let’s go,” the detective said abruptly, not wanting to get trapped in her head again. She pushed the chair back and stood before Johnno had a chance to respond. “The boss will be chaffing to talk about this morning’s call out. I bet the Minister’s been on the phone already. He’s a pain in the arse. I hate election years.”

      She switched her phone off silent to find five messages from the boss. She shoved it in Johnno’s face, emphasizing her point. He would have the same if not more. The boss rarely phoned her.

      “All right sister, let’s get rolling.” Little John stood, dwarfing her. His chair scraped loudly across the tiled floor. He got the hint… personal life off limits. Again.

      Francesca glanced guiltily at his hurt expression. “Thanks for looking out for me ol’ buddy. Hell, I dunno know where I’d be without ya, an’ all,” Francesca said, mimicking a wild western drawl that sounded more like goofy on the drink. She finished the display with an exaggerated wink and a dramatic fluttering of her long eyelashes.

      “Come on you dag. That’s the worst accent I’ve ever heard.” Johnno resisted the urge to flick her across the arse with the napkin as they headed out of the café into the sunny winters day.

      Chapter 6

      Two detectives entered the small rectangular room that had been divided into a glass-fronted office and six work stations. Inspector Goodwood raised his head from the stack of paperwork surrounding him.

      In the corner behind him a framed photograph of his grandchildren, a happy crowd of blonde-haired angels, beamed at him from their position on top of the four-drawer filing cabinet. Beside the photograph a wobbly clay construction glazed in ghastly mud-green was marked ‘Pa’.The top drawer was opened displaying a fanlike construction of papers shoved in all directions.

      One wall showcased his achievements with certificates and merits framed identically. At his overcrowded desk a trio of small flags poked in a stand. Australia, New Zealand and Fiji.

      Closely shaved and dressed immaculately, he met their noisy entrance with an intense gaze over the rim of his reading glasses. In his grasp and poised mid-air a Waterford pen indicated he was mid-way through a tick and flick process on the pile of briefing papers in front of him. Behind him a large window looked over yet another CBD building, his blinds angled so that the morning sun created shards of slivered light.

      “Detectives,” he greeted them, motioning for them to enter.

      “Good morning Sir,” Johnno began, launching into a summary of the morning call out and finishing with the comment. “Francesca seems to think the placement of the brand on the body could be significant.”

      “Oh?” He looked directly at the detective. “Why? Have you seen this before Francesca?”

      “No Sir. The number twenty-five is significant to the Chinese. But identification of any kind is not common practice. I believe a brand over the heart is more symbolic. In a weird way, I guess, romantic. Chi You is too clinical.”

      Goodwood nodded. “Well you are the expert where that group is concerned. Who do you suggest is behind it then?”

      “Branding is also used as an intimidation tactic between rivals and followers. So we thought we’d check recent mob activities,” Johnno answered.

      “Good. You think Italian or Middle Eastern?” the inspector enquired.

      “We’re not sure, Sir. Branding and burning flesh … I believe it’s more Italian. Old-school Italian,” Francesca responded.

      “Keep me informed. Who else do you need on the case? I want this sorted a.s.a.p. Fucking elections. Eight months can’t come soon enough. Francesca get me something on paper by 2pm so I can get it to legal.”

      Francesca shifted uncomfortably at the inspector’s penetrating gaze. “The Minister in all his wisdom has called a press conference for 3pm today. He wants to set up a task force.”

      “Yes Sir,” she responded.

      “I think a task force is a bit of a waste of time and resources at the moment, Sir.” Johnno’s response drew an arched eyebrow from the inspector. He continued, “We really have nothing but speculation to show that it is the beginning of anything much. If it turns out to be Middle Eastern mafia we can link up with the boys and their current operations. Francesca and I can handle the preliminary investigation at present.”

      Goodwood thought about it for a moment. “You have until the end of the day.”

      “Thank you, Sir.”

      “And another thing, keep your bloody phones switched on! You’re no good to me if I can’t talk to you and don’t give me that out-of-range bullshit.”

      “Yes, Sir,” they replied in unison.

      ~

      Francesca stretched her arms high, arched her tired back and shoulders and rested her hands behind her head. Shutting her eyes to the data tables swimming on the computer screen before her, her head momentarily relaxed forward to her chest. She knew the places and names like the back of her hand and still no connection to this morning’s murder.

      Johnno yawned loudly as his stomach let out a hungry growl.

      “My thoughts exactly,” she said, her eyes remaining shut. “I need food too.” The thought of a hot dinner had her salivate instantly. “Coming?”

      Her partner simply stood and grabbed his coat. “I know a great place,” he began, already СКАЧАТЬ