'How do you know Honey didn't set you up?' Scotty was sprawled full-length along one of Jill's chocolate leather sofas, his huge bare feet hanging over the edge, soles pointing towards the ocean.
Jill made a noise of impatience. 'Why would she?' she said. 'No, Scott, it was just the wrong place, wrong time. I could tell by their faces that they were just as shocked to see me as I was to see them.'
She was lying on the matching sofa, her feet pointed towards her kitchen. It was a damp Thursday afternoon; a warm drizzle rendered the Maroubra sands wet concrete.
'What's Honey's real name anyway?' Scotty wiped orange fingers on his board shorts, dropping his empty Twisties packet on top of the Mars Bar wrapper on the coffee table. Jill had to look away to stop herself getting up to clean the mess.
'She was born Matthew Hudson. Had a full sex change when she was eighteen, changed her name to Honey Delaney. She's now twenty-seven. Minor possession charges, solicitation, one assault charge.'
'Assault?'
'Yeah, a trick didn't pay. She put him in hospital. Broken jaw, fractured eye socket.'
'Nice friends you have. Now she can add two broken ribs to her list.'
Jill shifted, and winced with the movement. 'I told you I think I was just unlucky running into them. I saw the dealer recognise me.'
Scotty yawned and stretched, then propped himself up on his elbow, face serious. 'What are we gonna do about these arseholes anyway? I know you said you don't want to go after them, but we can't just leave it like this.'
He had been furious when Jill had told him that morning what had happened at the club. He was on his feet and half out the door to find the offenders, and she'd had to beg him to stop. How would she explain to the squad where she'd been and what she'd been doing there? She didn't want the inspector knowing she was out at night with Honey Delaney, and she didn't want Elvis to find out about any of it. Not that he probably didn't know already. She didn't believe Elvis's brother was the only member of his family connected to the bike crew.
Jill grimaced as she forced herself to sit up. Her ribs were taped. The doctor had told her there was little else they could do. She was not to run, ride or exercise, and he'd given her the week off. But it was time to work.
'So what's for lunch?' Scotty rubbed his stomach. He blocked the cushion she threw at his head. Although Scotty had tried to put it off, Jill had insisted they travel out to talk to Detectives Richard Harris and John Jardine about the Rocla and Manzi murders. An hour later saw them bumper to bumper in traffic on Anzac Parade.
Harris and Jardine were plain-clothed detectives at Central police station. They'd written up the deaths of these men, and Jill had called them to let them know she and Scotty were coming out to talk. Jardine sounded as pleased as Scotty was about the meeting. He and Harris drank with Elvis. Jill had had to hold Scotty back at a work function one night when the three of them, pissed, had eyeballed each other across the room.
Scotty was scowling behind the wheel. Jill sat straight in her seat for once, her face white. She'd taken one of the tablets the doctor had given her for pain, and she felt muffled, dull. Scotty didn't seem in the mood to talk either, so Jill closed her eyes, relaxed into the seat a little. She slept.
Back in the basement. The little girl with white eyes was screaming again. The one with the big hands was burning her. When Jill had been kidnapped, and the pain and the fear had become unbearable, part of her had somehow shut off, or maybe separated. Suddenly it was like there were two girls in the basement – the white-eyed girl who took the pain, and a secret, hidden girl, who watched in muffled silence.
In the car with Scotty, Jill moaned in her sleep, trying to swim up through the waves of the drug, to wake up, break the nightmare, get out of the basement. Her thoughts were syrupy, her head too heavy. She couldn't rupture the dream. Resignedly, she looked around the basement. The perspective seemed different. She wasn't watching from the ceiling this time. For the first time she thought she could see the big one's face.
If I just move closer, she thought, get closer to the little girl.
Don't look at what he's doing, don't look down there.
His face. I think I can see his face.
Red eyes burned into her own. Jill stared into the horned face of the devil. She screamed.
Scotty pulled over on Cleveland Street. 'You okay?' He was smoothing her hair. She pushed him away and almost threw up with the pain.
'Sorry,' she croaked, her head in her hands. 'Nightmare.'
'No kidding,' he said, immobile behind the wheel.
'Why are we stopped?' she asked.
'I should take you home, Jill. You shouldn't be working today.'
Her tongue was furry. Even with all the drugs, her head still ached.
'I'm fine. Let's go,' she looked at Scotty. 'I just need another coffee.' The meeting with Harris and Jardine had been brief. Scotty, perhaps realising that Jill was not up to coping with aggression, led the conversation with the two detectives in a cordial manner. There was little discussed about the murdered men that Scotty and Jill did not already know. When the meeting finished, they left their car parked under the station and walked the couple of blocks down to Chinatown for lunch. Jill took it slowly, but she found the walk cleared her head a little.
They took a seat at an outdoor table in a small restaurant. The shopfronts provided some shade. The mall was full of office workers, locals and tourists.
Jill started summarising the case as soon as they sat down. She put her spiral bound notebook on the small table between them.
'Right. Let's run through the names we've got connected to these guys.' Scotty poured them each a green tea from the pot their waitress had brought over. He took a sip. 'Okay. Manzi was bashed to death by a claw hammer in the company of Jamaal Mahmoud.'
'And Mahmoud works for Alejandro Sebastian, who's been selling kids for at least ten years, and is number one on our hit list so far.' Jill circled his name in the notepad.
'According to Honey.' Scotty drank more tea.
'What's your point?'
'Well, you're putting a lot of faith in her version of events,' Scotty replied casually, his sunglasses reflecting back the red of a Chinese New Year flag hanging in a doorway next to their table.
Jill fidgeted with a menu. It was true that Honey had not always been completely straight up with her.
'Look,' she said finally. 'Sebastian's a squirrel. And I guarantee we're going to find he knows both these men.'
'So let's go talk to him,' Scotty was still looking at the menu. 'What do you reckon about Peking Duck?'
'I'm not really hungry.'
Jill felt irritated talking about food; the bitter medicinal paste of the painkillers still coated her tongue.
Their waitress stood a few paces from their table, smilingly trying to tempt others into the restaurant. Scotty cleared his throat, trying to catch her eye. She ran over to their table when he moved to get up from the tiny outdoor table. He ordered steamed pork dumplings, the duck, and deep-fried ice cream for both of them. Jill asked the waitress to swap her dessert for a ginger ale.
'I don't think we should talk to him yet,' said Jill broodingly, again bent over the notebook.
'Huh?' Scotty was chewing his coaster, watching the woman and two kids at the next table enjoying a huge spread of food.
'It's impossible working with you at lunchtime,' Jill gave a short laugh. 'I hope they hurry up with the food.'
'Yeah, me too,' said Scotty earnestly.
Jill smiled, and tried again.
'Scott.' Maybe using his real name would catch his attention, she thought. 'I reckon we should leave Mr Sebastian for now. He's clever and very guarded. I don't want him closing up shop before we can get anything on him.'
'Yeah. Okay.' Scotty tore his eyes away from the next table and studied the notebook. 'So what about Bobby Anglia? Known associate of Dennis Rocla. Rocla lived with him when his wife kicked him out. He's doing eighteen months at Long Bay.'
'Yeah? I'll set it up.' Jill already had her mobile out; if she hurried she could organise a trip to the prison that afternoon.