St Kilda Blues (Charlie Berlin #3)(85)

Berlin called out after him. ‘There were three milk bottles in the bathroom. Did you move them?’

The landlord stopped. ‘Milk bottles?

‘Three of them. They were empty, clean.’

‘Jesus, what do you want with milk bottles? I chucked them in the sink in the kitchen.’

‘Thanks. Do you want to leave a number we can call when we finish?’

‘I’ll just wait outside if it’s all the same to you. Derek owed that rent so I own everything he left behind. I wanna make 100 per cent sure nothing gets bloody nicked.’

Roberts stopped the man with a hand on his chest. ‘I think your sixty seconds are up, sunshine, so why don’t you take a nice long walk. Maybe go down to the Esplanade and see if you can find yourself a short pier. We’ll close the door behind us when we get done, I promise. Scout’s honour.’

The landlord finally got the message. Berlin saw him keeping his chin up and his eyes fixed on Roberts as he moved past him, working hard on giving the impression he was leaving because he chose to, not because he had to.

‘This is a bit of a turn-up, Bob, considering last time we met you were in handcuffs.’

‘I told you she’d be apples, Charlie. Friends in high places, like I said.’

‘Rebecca telephoned you, right? Said where I was going.’

‘That’s right. Bit of a surprise hearing from her but we both know she’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay. She’s a good one, Charlie, you should keep her.’

Would Sunshine stick by Bob through whatever was coming? Berlin wondered. ‘Come and take a squiz in the bathroom, Bob. Let’s see if I’m right about what I’m thinking.’

The landlord had already cleaned all of Derek’s things out of the bathroom and the windows on either side of the mirrored medicine cabinet were wide open. There was a hard-bristled broom, a tin of Bon Ami scouring powder and a bottle of White King bleach sitting in the filthy bathtub. Roberts stood in the doorway and whistled.

‘Christ, what a pigsty. I reckon a bloke would be dirtier getting out of that tub than he was getting in. Bloody landlord is going to need something stronger than bleach.’

Berlin leaned over the tub, trying not to brush against anything. ‘I should have put two and two together a lot earlier with the stains in the bathtub and those empty milk bottles.’

‘Slow down a bit, I’m not following.’

‘When we first met Tim back at the studio he told us Derek was a thief, remember? That stain in the tub, by the plughole, that’s the sort of mark you get if you pour developing chemicals down a drain or wash prints in your bath. I reckon Derek was pinching developer and stop bath and fixer from the studio for a home darkroom.’

‘But we didn’t find a home darkroom anywhere here.’

‘Maybe that’s because we just didn’t look hard enough.’





FORTY-ONE


They walked back into the living room and Berlin looked in the direction of the steamer trunk under the window.

‘Tell me what you see, Bob.’

Roberts followed Berlin’s gaze in the direction of the trunk and the window. After a moment he smiled. ‘Brown stains on the matting round the trunk, similar to the ones in the bathtub.’

‘That’s right.’ Berlin walked across the room and ran his hand over the window frame. ‘Notice anything here?’

Roberts joined him and leaned in close to the window.

‘I can see a lot of little holes. Like from drawing pins.’

‘Exactly. Now, let’s have a look inside this trunk, shall we?’

The trunk was locked so Roberts got a knife from the kitchen. The blade bent but eventually the lock gave and they lifted the lid. Inside the trunk there was a layer of 12-inch records then some photography magazines. Next was a piece of neatly folded, heavy black fabric, which Berlin pulled out and shook open. A couple of brass drawing pins tumbled out and fell back into the trunk. He stood up and held the fabric over the living room window frame. It was a nice fit, covering the entire frame. He tossed the fabric over to the couch. Next he found a stainless steel 35 mm film developing tank, three plastic developing trays and an orange light globe. Underneath it all was a smallish, rectangular fibreboard suitcase covered in a brown plastic material embossed to make it look like crocodile skin.

Berlin set the case down on the floor and opened it. Inside was a short, chromed column, a white light bulb with a screw-in base, a number of grey-painted metal pieces and a length of electrical cord with a three-pin power plug on one end.

Roberts got down on his knees next to Berlin. ‘What the hell is that, Charlie?’

‘It’s a Russian portable photographic enlarger, a Zenit. Breaks down into a dozen pieces and fits inside the case all nice and neat, as you can see. Derek pins that black material over the window frame, waits till it’s dark outside and then he can develop film safely. And when he sticks that orange bulb into his ceiling light socket he can make prints to his heart’s content with no one being any the wiser.’

On the bottom of the trunk were two orange 8x10 inch Agfa photographic paper boxes. The first box contained unexposed photographic paper in heavy black lightproof paper and the second held the pictures. Berlin could hear Roberts’ shallow breathing over his shoulder as they looked through the photographs.