'Okay, man, you got it.'

When they were gone, I let go of Finetti, who collapsed on a wooden bench, gasping for breath. I pushed a pile of towels out of the way and sat on the bench opposite him. 'Why'd you do it?'

He wouldn't look up, and when he sniffed I wondered if he was trying not to cry. The job is like that sometimes. It takes away your armour, makes you weak and brittle.

'You and I both know how it went down,' I persisted. 'Sure, I was off the mark. I let the kid's age put me off. I let you you put me off. In the end I called it an accidental OD, like you wanted, but none of that gives you the right to st.i.tch me up.' put me off. In the end I called it an accidental OD, like you wanted, but none of that gives you the right to st.i.tch me up.'

'I know,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't f.u.c.k with me, Finetti. Why did you do it?'

'Because I knew they'd go me for neglecting duty of care,' he said, finally looking at me. 'Jesus, I took a statement from the kid just after Christmas. He told me his old man was gonna kill him and all I did was write a f.u.c.king report. Six weeks later he's dead with a needle hanging out his arm. Of course I wanted it to be accidental.'

I shook my head, unhappy with the explanation. 'That's not what I want to know. Why did you tell them I pressured you into agreeing it was accidental? You were the one pressuring me me. Why did you turn it around? Why did you tell them I covered it up?'

His mouth dropped open but no words came out. He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. 'I can't,' he finally said.

'What do you mean, you can't can't?'

I raised my fist, wanting to punch him. Violent charges of adrenaline pulsed through my system and my arms tensed, muscles stiff and rigid, like wet rope.

When Finetti finally looked up at me, fear glinted in his eyes and immediately I knew.

'Eckles, wasn't it?' I said.

He didn't answer, didn't have to.

'Eckles pressured you into making the allegation, didn't he?'

He covered his face. 'I had no choice. s.h.i.t, Freckles said to go along with it or I could take a holiday with you.'

It figured. The ingeniousness of the scam lay in its simplicity. By urging Finetti to say I'd pressured him into going along with an accidental ruling, Eckles effectively created a smokescreen and cleared himself of any wrongdoing. Even if the cover-up scenario wasn't believable, two cops apparently agreed the death wasn't suspicious. Eckles had no reason not to sign the incident report and so couldn't be held accountable for doing so. No matter which way it went, everyone would blame me.

Finetti stared up at the ceiling. 'I'm sorry, Rubes.'

'Sorry doesn't help me, Finetti. You put me in the ring and I wore a lot of punches up there. I need you to fix this.'

'I can't. I mean, I can't tangle with these guys like you can. There's nothing I can do now. ESD are running with it. I'm sorry.'

I slapped him. 'Not good enough. I f.u.c.ked up at the crime scene but I never covered anything up. That was your your move. So don't sit there saying you can't help me. Either you make good on this or I go out there and let your little dance with Eckles go public. Every cop in Melbourne will know your form.' move. So don't sit there saying you can't help me. Either you make good on this or I go out there and let your little dance with Eckles go public. Every cop in Melbourne will know your form.'

'What was I supposed to do, man? Freckles had the clamps on and I had to fold. You should go and speak to him him.'

'f.u.c.k that. I took a fall for you, pal. Now you owe me.'

I could see him doing the maths, weighing the options. It was a decision every one of us feared: either follow an unethical order or watch your own career go down the drain. Finetti had taken the easy way out to save his own skin and he'd been caught out. Whatever choice he made now would define him, not only as a cop but also as a man. The emotional strain of it was alive and crushing. It left his cheeks slick wet, his lower lip trembling. I could almost hear the blocks falling into place as he realised he didn't have a choice at all.

After a long moment he blew out his breath and let his head fall back against the locker. 'Okay, McCauley. You win. What do you want me to do?'

15.

THE WATER WAS MURKY, a mixture of green and brown. I could only see a few feet ahead, but the taste of salt and the rhythmic movements kept my mind off Eckles, Finetti and the ESD. Nice even strokes, a breath after every third. At the southern end, I turned and began the return leg. Today there were about twenty others with me, a steady stream of bodies gliding through the water. I knew people who swam every day, even in the winter. Brighton Beach Icebergs. Some were aged in their eighties, even older. As much as the exercise, I reckoned it was the isolation and mental escape of it all that was the real secret.

After fifteen laps, I climbed out and towelled off on the boardwalk. By the time I dressed it was past five and a crowd had gathered on the balcony looking over the baths. I contemplated heading up and ordering a beer, but needed to get home and feed Prince before meeting Ella at seven.

Taking Beach Road to the Esplanade, I drove with my window down. The sun sat high over the bay on the left, breeze flooding the car with warm and salty air. A dozen or so kite boarders skated across the gla.s.sy water beyond the marina. Diesel's 'Fifteen Feet of Snow' came on the radio and I turned up the volume to catch the end of the opening riffs, singing along with the lyrics. I once saw Diesel perform to a small crowd with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a voice that could literally tear your rib cage open. It was his raw energy and grunt that got me every time.

As the vocals faded, I killed the volume and rolled my shoulders, pleased I'd made the trip to the baths. The swimming had loosened my back and shoulder, though it hadn't cleared my head as much as I'd hoped. The events of the day and the details of the case floated through my mind as I pa.s.sed Luna Park and took Beaconsfield Parade towards home. Pulling into the car park beside my apartment block, I made a conscious effort to push it all away, to focus instead on Ella, my family and the night ahead.

The afternoon heat had left the apartment like a kiln. I turned the air conditioner on high, then dumped my towel and swim bag in the laundry. Prince heard the cupboard open and rushed to his food bowl. I topped it with a tuna sachet. By five thirty I'd showered and was dressed in a linen shirt, beige cargo shorts and leather sandals. At the mirror, for once I was pleased with what I saw. The afternoon sun had left my face tanned and the bags under my eyes almost unnoticeable. My skin had a healthy sheen, cleansed by a dose of salt water. I ran a comb through my hair, slapped on some cologne and decided to leave the day's stubble intact. After gathering my wallet and phone, I selected a bottle of wine from a box in the pantry and stowed it in a carry bag with the wrapped present. Now I was ready.

The Stokehouse Restaurant on St Kilda's Lower Esplanade is a Melbourne inst.i.tution. Situated on prime beachfront, there isn't a better place in the city for a drink on a sunny afternoon. Upstairs is pure sw.a.n.k. Tuxedos and business suits. Trendy meals at not-so-trendy prices. Downstairs is more my flavour, especially in the beachside courtyard, where the only barriers between you and the water are a walking track and a few metres of sand.

At the bar I nodded and smiled at Logan, who'd worked at the Stokehouse for as long as I could remember, as much a part of the atmosphere as the view. He was preparing a row of screwdrivers in tall tumblers. While I waited I picked up a copy of Inpress Inpress, a free newspaper promoting the Melbourne band scene. Wolfmother were on the front cover. After s.n.a.t.c.hing a Grammy Award from big American acts like Nine Inch Nails and Tool, the Sydney trio were still going gangbusters. They'd recently headlined the Big Day Out rock festival and were backing it up with a nationwide tour. Looking more closely, I realised the picture had been taken on a rooftop just across the Esplanade, the Palais Theatre and Luna Park in the background.

After serving the screwdrivers, Logan sidled over. 'Hey, big fella, put it here,' he said, holding his hand out across the bar. 'Can't stay away, can ya?'

'Not when the beer's cold and the sun's shining,' I replied, smiling and shaking his hand.

'Mate, the sun's shining too much this summer. Check that out.'

He pointed to a TV on the wall. The seven o'clock news had just started and the bushfires were the lead story yet again. On the screen, traffic on a highway was queued for miles as people fled another town under threat.

'I see it on TV and it doesn't seem real,' Logan said. 'It's like one of those American doomsday movies. Then I look outside and it's right there in front of us, in Melbourne Melbourne. Look!'

I followed his line of sight, out to the beach. Suspended behind a blanket of smoke, the sun was crimson red and looked like a ball of fire over the water. It happened only at certain times of the year, and only when it was stinking hot. I knew cops who called it the blood sunset. It was beautiful yet threatening at the same time, because you knew that as soon as the sun extinguished itself in the bay and darkness fell on the city, people would lose the plot. Fights in the pubs, rapes in the hostels, brawls outside the nightclubs and stabbings on the foresh.o.r.e were all par for the course when the heat was up. I looked back at Logan, who twisted his earring nervously.

'I'm telling you, man. Armageddon's coming. You better be ready.'

'Then you better get me a beer,' I said. 'A Heineken, nice and cold. And a gla.s.s of Chandon too.'

Logan raised his eyebrows. 'On a date, stud?'

'Ah, sort of. It's Ella, remember her?'

'No s.h.i.t. The The Ella?' Ella?'

I nodded. Many years ago I'd proposed to Ella in the restaurant upstairs, and during our marriage we'd come back every year to celebrate our anniversary.

'She's not here yet, but we've got my nephew's eighteenth birthday party tonight, so we're having a quick drink here before we go.'

Logan nodded approvingly and poured my beer. 'I'll keep the Chandon on ice until she arrives.'

I paid for the drinks and dropped a two-dollar coin in the tips jar. Outside in the courtyard I selected a table by the gra.s.s and watched the teams of kite boarders slice white wakes across the water. Further out, a lone windsurfer sped across the surface.

I sipped gratefully and thumbed through Inpress Inpress to the gigs section, looking for the listings at the Esplanade Hotel. The Espy, as we locals called it, was a musical icon. As the name suggested, it looked out over the walkway along the bay, with an almost uninterrupted view of the water. But it wasn't the view it was famous for, it was the music. For more than a hundred years the Espy had been regarded as one of the nation's premier live music venues. Everyone, from legends like Jimmy Barnes and John Farnham right through to more recent rockers like Paul Kelly and Jet, had performed there. In an average week the Espy played host to over fifty bands across three stages, and the best part was that a lot of it was free. I'd lost count of how many acts I'd seen there. to the gigs section, looking for the listings at the Esplanade Hotel. The Espy, as we locals called it, was a musical icon. As the name suggested, it looked out over the walkway along the bay, with an almost uninterrupted view of the water. But it wasn't the view it was famous for, it was the music. For more than a hundred years the Espy had been regarded as one of the nation's premier live music venues. Everyone, from legends like Jimmy Barnes and John Farnham right through to more recent rockers like Paul Kelly and Jet, had performed there. In an average week the Espy played host to over fifty bands across three stages, and the best part was that a lot of it was free. I'd lost count of how many acts I'd seen there.

But even more than that, the Espy was one of the last remaining places in St Kilda to resist the lure of developers and dance scene promoters, many of whom would chop off their arms to take over the venue and convert it into apartments or some freakshow of a nightclub. Even the Prince of Wales Hotel, just a block up the road and previously a similar venue to the Espy, was now known more for its sw.a.n.ky restaurant and disc jockeys than the rock bands that occasionally played there. Pubs like the Espy offered more than just entertainment; they were a modern-day David fighting an endless battle with the Goliath of inner-city progress.

I was writing down a couple of Wolfmother's tour dates when my mobile phone beeped. Looking down, I saw it was a text message from Ella: Sorry, won't be able to make it. Explain later. Xo Sorry, won't be able to make it. Explain later. Xo.

I was dialling her number when a hand tapped my shoulder. It was Ella, mobile phone in hand. She leant in to kiss my cheek.

'Sorry, just wanted to see your reaction.'

'What the ... ?' I cancelled the call. 'You're pranking me?'

She winked and I realised it was her off sense of humour. 'That's low, El.'

'How low?'

'Lower than a snake's a.r.s.e.'

She laughed and slid into a chair, summer dress riding high on her thighs, hair tied back, revealing a patch of pink around her neck and shoulders.

'Been sunbaking, have we? Hard day at the office?'

'Ever the detective,' she said, sliding on her sungla.s.ses. 'No, my b.l.o.o.d.y tram broke down so I had to walk three blocks. Got blisters to boot. That's why I'm late.'

'Want to go inside, out of the sun?'

'No, I want to smoke,' she replied, dragging her chair into the shade of a palm tree and nodding to the newspaper on the table. 'Checking the gig guide, huh? Who's playing?'

'Wolfmother,' I said. 'They're doing a night at the Espy next week.'

'The Espy? G.o.d, is that place still going? Thought they would've converted it into apartments or something by now.'

'Yeah, right. I think the locals would rather burn it down than see that happen. I'd b.l.o.o.d.y help them.'

She waved me off in indifference.

'Anyway, I'm on the members list,' I said. 'I can get tickets if you wanna come.'

'Why not something like Bennetts Lane?' she said. 'I hear Missy Higgins is doing a members set there. Now that's that's something I'd like to see something I'd like to see.'

'Fair enough,' I said. 'You get us tickets and I'll come, then you can come to Wolfmother.'

'Yeah, as if. Aren't you a bit old for Wolfmother?'

'Hey, who're you calling old? I'm not even forty yet. Can't a bloke my age still enjoy a decent gig? Besides, you could be my strapping young rock chick. What do you say?'

'Yeah, right.'

'Is that a yes?'

'I don't even really like Wolfmother. They're just a cheap imitation of Led Zeppelin.'

'I thought you liked liked Led Zeppelin.' Led Zeppelin.'

'I do.'

'Then you'll like this. Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even shout dinner beforehand. We can go to Leo's and grab a big plate of marinara, maybe a bottle of '

Ella raised her palms and started laughing. 'All right, I'll think about it. Can I just enjoy a drink here first?'

As if on cue, Logan appeared with the Chandon.

'Chandon, ma'am? On the house.'

'Ah, sure. Thank you!'

'My pleasure. You're always welcome here, Ella.'

'How do you know my name?' she asked, surprised.

'How could I ever forget?'

When Logan was gone she shot me a look of suspicion. 'Very clever, mister. What's the occasion?'

'Does there have to be one?'

'Well, no. It's just that ... I don't know.' She slid her sungla.s.ses down her nose. 'Are you trying to impress me?'

'Me?' I said, innocently.

'Well, I am impressed.' She took a sip, held her gla.s.s towards me. 'What a day, huh? Look at the sun. I've never seen anything like this before. Thank G.o.d we didn't get any more CFA brought in.'

'So the rest of the day was slower?'

'Well, let's see.' She counted fingers. 'Two cardiacs in one hour, before before I had lunch. A PFO during lunch, then a tradey fell off his ladder, broke both legs and fractured his skull brought in by chopper, no less.' I had lunch. A PFO during lunch, then a tradey fell off his ladder, broke both legs and fractured his skull brought in by chopper, no less.'

'What's a PFO?' I asked.

'p.i.s.sed and fell over.'

I laughed.