Thicker Than Water. Lindy Cameron

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СКАЧАТЬ of the other officers to take statements from your mates so they can all leave. Make sure you give some kind of contact info for the nickname who had to go to work, so that Cathy can do a follow up with her. Okay?"

      "Yeah. Thanks, Jonno," Angie said. "How long will I have to keep the doors shut?"

      Marek shrugged. "Unless there's anything suss, probably only until tomorrow. We'll see."

      "I'd like to take your statement now, Ms Nichols."

      Aaghh! Chucky III - the Nightmare Continues, Kit thought.

      "You're kidding," Angie snapped at Parker. "So far I've stated the facts, as I know them, to the local cop who came first; then to the local CIB detectives, then to their Inspector. This was followed by a quite detailed statement to your Senior Detective Martin, then to Detective Inspector Marek - congratulations on the promotion by the way, Jonno - and now you want to hear the same thing again. Can't any of you read what the one before you wrote down? Don't you think this is overkill?"

      "Compared to what? The deceased over there?" Parker queried, still trying to make some kind of point despite his passing look of horror at the disclosure that his prime suspect was on familiar terms with his boss.

      "Lighten up, Charlie," Marek suggested. "She's right. If you need more information, Angie will be happy to oblige - later. Let's you and I go find out what else we need to find out now."

      Kit watched them saunter back to the crime scene where Parker stopped in the wide open doorway of The Red, unaware they hadn't walked far enough away...

      "I don't want to seem out of order, Jon," he said, "but I really think it's inappropriate that you talk to me like that in front of... well, in front of anyone."

      "Yeah, you're right; I'm sorry, Charlie," Marek apologised. "But, mate, you get what you give." Marek brushed his hand back and forth through his snowy-white hair.

      Uh-oh, Kit thought.

      "What does that mean, Marek?" Parker asked.

      Oh goody, Kit amended. You asked for it, Chucky.

      "It means that you bring every kind of grief possible on yourself, mate. You're an A-Grade wanker, Charlie, and you have to learn some manners or people will continue to treat you the same way you treat them - badly and rudely."

      "But I'm a cop."

      Marek shook his head in astonishment. "Chuck, that response is so stupid and irrelevant that I'm at a loss for... You've lost me. I will say this though: leave your prejudices at home and do not hassle or insult these women in any way, because I will hear about it; and while you are in charge of your crew, Senior Detective Martin is in charge of this investigation. You weren't here to decide, so I made her lead investigator. Any problems with that?"

      "None, Boss. It was her turn anyway."

      "Good," Marek ushered Parker into The Red. "Now, why were you late?"

      "Tell me," Angie whispered to Kit, "why didn't you shoot that moron on behalf of the entire police force all those years ago?"

      "I'm not altogether sure now," Kit replied thoughtfully.

      "It was an oversight on your part, I believe."

      "There's no doubt about that," Kit agreed. "Who was the Carrie thing over there with Rabbit et al?"

      "She's a newby. A brand new not-quite-sure newby, I gather. Her name's Carrie McDermid. She was here last night, for the first time; and came back today with Sal and Booty."

      "What's with the tape recorder?"

      "Dunno. You want me to find out?"

      "Yeah, but later. I don't want to make a big deal about it, in case SuperChuck notices."

      CHAPTER TWO

      "It was so gross though, Booty."

      "Yeah, Sal. But it was us who found it. We're like the key witnesses. How cool is that?"

      "Not."

      "Sal's right, Booty," Kit noted. "There's nothing cool about finding that dead guy. What's more you're only a witness to the finding of it - so you're not really a key anything."

      "Spoil our fun, why don't you," Booty grumbled. "Just coz you've seen it all before."

      "That's how she knows it's not cool," Sal pointed out. "You can stop here, thanks Kit."

      Kit, who'd offered to drop Sal and Booty in Gertrude Street on her way home, pulled her car in behind a parked courier van to let them out - with silent relief. Usually intrigued by other people's response to unrelated to them real-life murder, Kit wished she'd forgone the previous ten minutes with the blow-by-blow repeat-queen of Fitzroy.

      While Kit fully understood the macabre fascination embodied in finding a body, and knew it would give everyone involved at Angie's something to talk about for a long time, she was glad she recognised more of herself in Sal's reaction to the experience. Neither of them were revelling in the gruesome attention to detail that came with Booty's fifth recounting of their shared close encounter of the end kind.

      But, unusual as it was, Kit wasn't going to hazard a guess as to why Sal was not as enthralled as Booty, because even her own lack of thrall had nothing to do with the latter's 'been there, done that, tick it off' diagnosis. Kit simply didn't dwell on it because she knew it wasn't good for her; but Sal only knew why Sal wasn't beside herself with interest.

      Actually, Kit didn't know either woman well enough to be sure how honest their reactions were. Sal Armstrong might in truth be seething with curiosity but too polite to show it, or too worried about how she might come across; while Mary 'Booty' Jones could be in such a state of shock that all she could do was babble.

      One thing Sal and Booty did have in common was that neither had arrived at the moment when the body became a person. The realisation that 'it' had been a 'him', with a life, was still to come; although, as they waved goodbye, Kit realised there was a chance that for them the two things might never connect. The dead guy they'd found might forever remain 'the body' - to keep it inanimate and away from them, to keep violent death at bay.

      To Kit however, Gerry Anders - the body and the man - had to be one, and more than just a homicide victim. She could pretend, all she liked, to laugh Death right in his ugly old kisser, but if she suddenly found herself inured to the death of him, of Anders, then she'd have to question not only her reality but her purpose. Recognising the dead was the only way she could fight the consequences of the bad things in the world that kept nudging against her place in it.

      Jeez, O'Malley! What's with the psychobabble? she wondered, turning left into Nicholson. Get a grip. You know that as far as you're concerned, shit just happens; and that from now on Sal and Booty's dinner-table yarns will begin 'we found him, you know, that dead gangster'.

      Yeah, she argued. But that will only apply to the other Gerry Anders, the one they're about to discover through the media when the newspapers and TV run this story into a marathon.

      Kit shuddered. Oh, and are they going to have a rave with this. It'll be the biggest beat-up of the year featuring СКАЧАТЬ