Blood on the Rocks Chapter 9

Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 9

There was not a Hairy Lollybush to be found at the crime scene. Frank photographed the area before they left.

‘Mr Daniels said there are a few at his sister’s place, out on Koramba Road,’ said Mac. ‘She’s at work, but he says just head in the front gate and down past the house to the creek.’

The Hairy Lollybush stood out, with a beautiful white flower and rich red fruit, most of which was rotting underfoot. Frank took a few samples of each, as well as some bark, and photographed the tree.

‘It’s all online, as well,’ said Mac.

‘Everything’s online,’ replied Frank, with a small chuckle. ‘But this shows that it’s also local to here.’

He snapped a few of the creek and surrounding bush; Mac nodded.

On the way back to the station they drove to café not far off the freeway at Moonee. Frank was bemused to see that there were as many dog patrons as humans.

‘You like dogs?’ Frank asked Mac, as they waited for their take aways.

‘’Course: dogs are cool – they can tell if a person is OK. We have a schnoodle.’

She said schnoodle with a straight face, so Frank choked back the chuckle which had been his automatic response, while wondering who ‘we’ comprised. A schnoodle sounded like the kind of dog a couple might own. What kind of person would someone like Mac be attracted to? Not tall, geeky colleagues who couldn’t swim, he supposed. She’d be more likely to favour the muscled surfer type, or a sporty guy, he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by Mac’s voice.

‘And you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Do…you…have…a…dog?’ she asked, painstakingly slowly.

‘Oh, sorry. No. Love ‘em but no time for a dog and I don’t know how good I’d be at looking after one. But I like blue heelers, if I had to choose. Great dogs. Dad had blue heelers.’

He realised Mac was laughing. At him?

‘You remind me of my brother,’ she said.

Any response he may have made was cut short by the arrival of their coffees, but brother was good, he thought: it implied some acceptance and was so much better than Mac’s original ‘we don’t need you here.’

‘Your brother have a dog?’ Frank asked, as he fired up the car and reversed out of the car space.

‘Wouldn’t know,’ Mac replied. ‘Haven’t spoken to him for years.’

They parked at the front of the station and entered via the brightly coloured waiting room; it was empty except for Rhonda behind the glass partition. She beckoned Frank over.

‘Sorry detective, it’s a bit tricky talking if you’re not close to the glass,’ she said, pushing a report file under the glass partition to him.

‘Covid protection?’ Frank asked, making small-talk as much as anything. He knew how important people like Rhonda were to the police team. They saw so much of life coming through the front door of the station, before whoever it was put on their best face for the cops.

‘Well, yes, it is, but it was installed well before covid. We had a gentleman try to force his way into the station not long ago – jumped the counter.’

‘I’m sure Mac would have dealt with him quickly,’ replied Frank, with a smile and nod to his partner; she looked away.

‘Well,’ said Rhonda, ‘I’m sure she would have, but it was her first day on the job. I was just showing her the ropes when it happened. Shocking. He had a knife.’

Suddenly Mac’s reaction to his antics on the first day gained perspective, reminding Frank again that it was crucial to get the full picture on anyone before judging them. Frank felt ashamed of himself.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sorry Mac.’

She nodded to him and gestured for Rhonda to buzz her in. Frank moved to follow her.

‘Just a moment, Detective,’ said Rhonda. She tapped a well-manicured nail on the file she had placed between them. ‘This is for you, from the boss.’

Something about her tone made him stop and look twice.

‘An assault report?’

She nodded.

‘Related to the Turnbull case?’

Rhonda grimaced. ‘Couldn’t say, love,’ she replied. ‘Maybe best if you call Mike about it.’

Frank followed Mac into the muster room, passing her the file as he moved straight to Mike Henderson’s office. It was empty.

Mac’s phone rang.

‘Yes boss,’ she said. ‘Yes, he has the file.’ She passed it back to Frank. ‘Yeah, but…’

The tiny voice emanating from Mac’s mobile grew louder. Frank recognised it as the station chief; he didn’t sound happy.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Mac. She passed her mobile to Frank, not meeting his eye. Frank’s conversation with Mike Henderson was short, but not sweet. When he’d been given his orders he ended the call and passed the mobile back to Mac. They stood in silence.

‘I’m sure he has a good reason,’ said Mac.

‘Sure. You’d better introduce me to the detective taking over the case,’ said Frank. ‘So I can hand over and get on with this assault case.’

Mac snorted. ‘This guy?’ she said, holding up the report sheet. ‘He’s a nut job. This is his fourth complaint about his neighbour this month.’

Frank sighed. ‘Maybe. Look, nothing we can do about it. Who’s got the Turnbull job now? Did Henderson tell you?’

‘Sy Khan. Detective Khan. But he’s not in today.’

‘Oh…OK. Look, can you brief him?’ asked Frank. ‘I’ll get this done as fast as possible and get back.’

Mac nodded.
‘Mac, Detective Khan has this case now, but before he’s actually on the job – tomorrow, right?’ Mac nodded. ‘Push hard to find Freak, yeah? It’s no coincidence that we can’t. Is there anyone who might have a clue about his whereabouts? Girlfriend, parents, mates…boyfriend…’

‘His folks are dead. No girlfriend that I know of – Freak was a serious player, safety in numbers was his way, from what I saw. But mates? Freak had business associates…’

‘Who were?’

‘Dodgy. Dead dodgy. In Sydney. The boss had tabs on him but reckoned that as long whatever it was stayed in Sydney it wasn’t his business.’

Frank shook his head: the short-sightedness of this attitude was a bonus to any fool pushing the boundaries of legality. Sydney… it wasn’t so far away that it couldn’t affect this coastal paradise.

Sydney…

‘Mac, get access to his house – I reckon there’s due cause – for all we know he’s had the same treatment as his brother. And look at flights, travel. Find his car. What’d he drive, do you know?’

‘A Porsche,’ Mac replied, rolling her eyes.

‘Well where is it? Where the hell is Freak?’

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