511

“A beer?” asked Luigi.

“W-e-l-l  . . .  I should be getting home.  It’s late.”

“Just one?”

“Thanks.”

Luigi fetched three beers from the fridge.

By common consent, they didn’t mention the killer or how they met.

“How old’s your kid?” asked Luigi.

“Just under two years.  They grow up so quickly.”

“Yes.  They do.” Cody looked very sad as he said this, and Luigi remembered that he would be missing his own children.   What would happen to him and Cody?  Cody was a father, for fuck’s sake.  Philippa would fight Cody for custody.  Could he look after the other man’s children?  Would the courts allow it?  And then, even more disturbing and perplexing—would the pressure be so great that Cody would go back, not to his wife so much as to the life he had before?  The pretend-straight.  This fed into all his fears and the many “straight” guys who had fucked him and then moved on.  Guys who had considered themselves better than him merely because they were tops while he was a bottom, or because they were bi not gay.

Jerking his thoughts back to the present, he heard Cody say, “Yeah I have two.  One is three and the other just ten months.”

He could tell that Cody was also thinking about whether he would ever get to see his kids again.  Richard’s lawyers, thought Luigi to himself.  I must get Richard’s lawyers onto this.  He has a right to see his children.

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Chapter 25

Posted a new chapter of Majorca Flats here.

510

Victorian Police College

The name was a common one.   They went through six pages of photos before Cody suggested that the put in the name as well as “St Joseph’s”.  

“That’s him!” exclaimed Cody while they were scrolling through the results on the second page.  “I’m sure of it.”

A middle-aged man.  Slim.  Grey hair.  Quite ordinary-looking.  Smiling for the camera.

Colin pressed ‘print’.

“What do we do now?” asked Luigi.

“You do nothing.  He’s dangerous.  Only the police should approach him. “

“He’s dangerous to you too,” pointed out Cody.

“Yeah.  But we’re trained for it.  And it’s our job.   Mates . . . this man is a killer.  He’s already killed how many?  Five?  Six?”

“There are five murders attributed to the Mount Macedon killer.”

“That we know of,” said Colin grimly.  “Serial killers—well, so our instructor said—usually escalate their actions.   Either by doing it more often or by being more vicious each time.  Or both.  You escaped,” he said, turning to Cody, “so he must be very frustrated.  He may even now be picking a new victim.”  He was silent for a moment or two.  Then he said, “I’m going to make this official now.  I’m going to put in a report that you saw him and reported it to me and that I did some work and found him.  And none of us is going to mention that you two know his name, OK?”  He stared at them waiting for them to answer.

“Will the ‘tecs do something now?”

“They’ll hafta.  This is good evidence and a good lead.  They’ll probly contact you to get more details.”

“What shall I say?”

“Always stick as close as possible to the truth.  It’s easiest that way.”  His smile was cynical.

“Right,” answered Cody, his own expression equally wry.  “So, in other words, I saw him and phoned you and none of this happened.”

Colin nodded.

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509

“Well, it's a bit like him,” said Cody doubt fully.  “I can't really be 100% sure.  It's  not a very good photo, is it?”

“Maybe his picture is on Facebook,” suggested Luigi.

“Do you think he would put his picture on Facebook?  Wouldn't that make it too easy to find him?”

“How many of his victims have escaped?” asked Colin grimly.

“That's a point.  All right.   Let’s look.”

Colin typed in the name into Google.   There were tens of thousands of results.

“We’re going to have to scroll through all these results to find him,” he said.  “That’s police work for you.   Mostly boring.   That’s why we wear out our shoes.”

“You going to walk up and down while searching for the results?” 

“Metaphorically,” replied Colin.

“That’s a title for a novel:  The Metaphorical Policeman,” commented Cody.

“Let’s start looking,” replied Colin.  “I haven’t got all night.”

Pity, thought Luigi.

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508

Colin grunted.

 "What?" asked Luigi.

 "I've found him. Well, maybe.” He turned away from the computer to look directly at Cody.  “Now, look, mate,” he said seriously, ‘I'm going to ask you to look at him and see whether it is the bloke you saw, But the thing is, I'm putting my job at risk here so please, don't let me down. I'm not supposed to let you have confidential info."

"But, we could have found it ourselves on the internet. I mean, could have looked up the Joseph's website ourselves and we could have seen his pic on the web."

"Except that his pic isn't on their website is it?”

“We didn’t look.  But … prolly there isn’t even a website.”

“Exactly.  I did something different.  I looked where he worked. And the man who owns that Toyota works at St Joseph's . And there’s a picture.  But you know how it is with driver's licences. The pictures never seem to look like actual person"

“Richard always used to say that his driver’s licence photo made him look like a madam in a Hong Kong brothel.  Come to think of it, how would he know?”

“Richard?”

“Oh, he was a guy I lived with who died a few years ago.  Before.”

“Before?  . . . Oh, I get it.  Well, let’s look at the picture.”

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507

“But … if the owner of the Toyota works there and he is somehow connected then that’s him.”

“Yeah,” replied Colin.

“So does he work there?” 

“I could go and ask.  But that would let him know we were onto him.”

 “Do a search on the internet, then?”

“Have you done one?”

“Nah.  We don’t know his name.”

“W-e-l-l.”

“We promise not to look.  Let me launch Google and then Cody and I will go through to the kitchen and make you some tea.”

Colin sat down at the computer and began to type. 

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