‘A minor celeb, sir. She hosted a children’s programme broadcast a couple of years ago. I suppose before this happened she was on her way into oblivion.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been told that your papers are making a big thing of this murder. Couple of them have sent people here already. We’ve given ’em what we’ve got, and that’s not a great deal, so they’ll soon be bored and bugger off home. They don’t know you’re here. We’ve got our own nannies, so you won’t have to take care of them.’
‘Thank you for that, sir,’ Harry said, and he meant it. The thought of panting Norwegian journalists looking over his shoulder was not a welcome one.
‘OK, Holy, I’ll be honest with you and tell you how the land lies. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms by my governor that councillors in Sydney would like to see this case cleared up as soon as possible. As usual, it’s all about politics and dosh.’
‘Dosh?’
‘Well, we reckon unemployment in Sydney will rise to over ten per cent this year, and the town needs every cent we can get from the tourists. We’ve got the Olympic Games just round the corner, in 2000, and tourism from Scandinavia’s on the up. Murder, especially one which hasn’t been cleared up, isn’t a good advert for the town, so we’re doing what we can. We have a team of four detectives on the case plus high-priority access to the force’s resources – all the computers, forensic staff, lab people. And so on.’
McCormack pulled out a sheet of paper which he studied with a frown.
‘In fact, you should be working with Watkins, but since you specifically asked for Kensington, I see no reason to refuse your request.’
‘Sir, to my knowledge I haven’t—’
‘Kensington’s a good man. There are not many Indigenous officers who have come up through the ranks like him.’
‘No?’
McCormack shrugged. ‘That’s just the way it is. Well, Holy, if there’s anything else, you know where I hang out. Any questions?’
‘Er, just a formality, sir. I was wondering whether sir was the right mode of address to a superior officer in this country, or whether it was a little too . . .’
‘Formal? Stiff? Yes, I guess it probably is. But I like it. It reminds me that I am in fact the boss of this outfit.’ McCormack burst out laughing and concluded the meeting with a bone-crunching handshake.
‘January’s the tourist season in Australia,’ Andrew explained as they lurched forward in the traffic around Circular Quay.
‘Everyone comes to see the Sydney Opera House and go on boat trips round the harbour and admire the women on Bondi Beach. Shame you’ve got to work.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. I break out in a cold sweat around tourist traps.’
They emerged onto New South Head Road where the Toyota sped eastwards to Watson’s Bay.
‘The East Side of Sydney’s not exactly like the East End of London,’ Andrew explained as they passed one fashionable house after another. ‘This district’s called Double Bay. We call it Double Pay.’
‘Where did Inger Holter live?’
‘She lived with her boyfriend in Newtown for a while before they split up and she moved to a little one-room flat in Glebe.’
‘Boyfriend?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘He’s Australian, a computer engineer and met her when she came here on holiday two years ago. He’s got an alibi for the night of the murder and is not exactly the prototype of a murderer. But you never know, do you?’
They parked below Gap Park, one of Sydney’s many green lungs. Steep stone steps led up to the windblown park that lay high above Watson’s Bay to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the east. The heat hit them when they opened the car doors. Andrew put on a big pair of shades, which made Harry think of a laid-back porn king. For some reason his Australian colleague was wearing a tight suit today, and Harry thought the broad-shouldered black man looked a bit comical as he rolled and pitched up the path in front of him to the viewpoint.
Harry looked around. To the west he saw the city centre with the Harbour Bridge, to the north the beach and yachts in Watson’s Bay and, further in the distance, verdant Manly, the suburb on the northern side of the bay. To the east the horizon curved in a spectrum of various shades of blue. The cliffs plunged down in front of them, and way below the ocean breakers ended their long voyage in a thunderous crescendo among the rocks.
Harry felt a bead of sweat running down between his shoulder blades. This heat was giving him goose pimples.
‘You can see the Pacific Ocean from here, Harry. Next stop New Zealand, after about twelve hundred wet miles,’ Andrew said, spitting a thick gobbet off the edge of the cliff. They followed it down for a while until the wind dispersed it.