St Kilda Blues (Charlie Berlin #3)(84)
‘Nineteen.’ He ticked off the second last box. ‘Maybe she scared him off.’
‘She didn’t think so. Pretty girl like her gets the hard word put on her by experts and a lot of blokes don’t give up short of a knee to the tender bits. And with so many girls on the pill these days, men seem to think they must all be dying for it and any bloke is in with a chance. Ready, Charlie? Flash.’
‘Number twenty, Rebecca. That should be the end of it, right?’
He waited with the black card covering the camera lens till she made her way back to the camera and closed the shutter. She slid the protective plastic dark slide cover carefully into place and took the film holder from the camera.
‘I should have this back from the lab by lunchtime tomorrow. Hopefully I didn’t do anything stupid. Can you find us some light?’
‘I’m still not sure I follow.’
She turned to where he was standing. ‘Follow what?’
‘What Lauren was saying about Derek, about when they went out. What she told you.’
‘Sorry. What she said was she had this weird feeling that Derek was doing it, the aggressive pashing on, the groping, mostly for show. Like he was trying to prove something to her but underneath it all his heart wasn’t really in it. Does that make sense?’
‘Not really but then nothing about any of this makes a lot of sense.’
He found the light switch and started to help her pack up. She handed him the flashgun with its shiny silver reflector.
‘Unscrew that last bulb, would you, Charlie?’ She tossed him the old tea towel. ‘Use this, it might still be too hot to handle.’ Berlin recognised the tea towel as one of the many she used in her darkroom by the brownish chemical stains. He had just started to unscrew the bulb, feeling its residual heat through the fabric, when he stopped.
‘Jesus, I’m an idiot.’
Rebecca’s voice came from in the middle of the cathedral, where she was gathering up the used flashbulbs. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I said I’m an idiot.’ He finished unscrewing the bulb and held up the tea towel. ‘It was there right in front of me and I didn’t see it. Will you be able to get the gear packed and out to the car by yourself? Sorry to leave you in the lurch but I have to go.’
FORTY
There were several taxis waiting at the rank outside Flinders Street Station. Berlin slid into the front seat of the first in line.
‘St Kilda, Burnett Street and I’m in a hurry, so just do a U-turn.’
The driver looked at his passenger. ‘Fair go, mate, what about the cops?’
‘Don’t worry about it, I am the cops, so just get on with it.’
When Berlin reached the flat the front door was open and there was a pile of Derek’s belongings out on the landing, including the TV and stereo. He walked inside and bumped into a man coming out of the bedroom. The man had a bundle of clothes in his arms and he looked at Berlin over the top of the pile.
‘Who the f*ck are you? The place is let anyway.’
‘I’m the copper in charge of investigating a murder that took place on these premises and to me it looks like you’re removing evidence.’
The man was about fifty with falling hair, bad teeth and a five 0’clock shadow. He was wearing khaki King Gee overalls over a plaid shirt and a pair of battered, elastic-sided riding boots.
‘That’s bullshit. I own this building and no bugger said nothing about a murder, they said Derek killed himself He could have blown up the whole street, leaving the gas on like that, the stupid idiot. And if you’re a cop you should be able to tell me who’s going to pay me back the cost of putting in that new front door and lock.’
‘You probably got off lightly – I’ll bet you don’t carry insurance on this rat hole of a place. Or maybe you do and you’re sorry Derek didn’t blow it up.’
‘I’m not here to be insulted, even by a copper, and I’m busy. I have to get the place cleaned out. I’ve got a new tenant moving in tomorrow.’
Derek’s posters had been torn down and the water damage on the walls was more visible than before, making the place seem even more squalid.
‘I guess you’ll be up all night painting and recarpeting this palace.’
‘Very funny. You get what you pay for and if people want freshly painted walls I’ve got no objections to them having a bash themselves. Now, can you get out of my way? That TV and stereo will disappear off the landing quick smart if I don’t keep an eye on them. Derek owed me close to a month’s rent so they’re mine to sell.’
‘I guess you get what you pay for in the way of tenants too. But as I said, this is the scene of a crime so you’re going to have to buzz off until I finish.’
‘Why should I?’
The answer came from behind Berlin, a voice over his shoulder. ‘Because a broken nose isn’t going to improve that ugly mug of yours but I reckon I can arrange one for you in the next sixty seconds.’
Bob Roberts was leaning against the front door with a cigarette in his left hand. It might have been his tone of voice, the languid pose or the scar on his face, but something made the landlord decide to take Roberts at his word. He dropped the bundle of clothes on the floor. Berlin heard the word ‘arseholes’ muttered as he fronted Roberts in the doorway.