She nodded, then pulled something from her pocket. A printout of an image pulled from a video file on thick photo-quality paper. The IGA security camera had filmed it, judging by the A-frame advertising leg ham and plum pudding.
‘You recognise this man?’
‘This is Dave?’
Her face almost relaxed into an actual expression. ‘It’s the man we’re calling Dave, put it that way.’
Excellent. Maybe she’d give him a copy. Charlie was right; the guy didn’t look like an off-the-grid opal miner. For starters, he’d had a haircut by a professional in the recent past and his beard looked like it had been manscaped. His face wasn’t quite square on to wherever the camera had been, but his hair was salt-and-pepper dark and his shirt was a casual, short-sleeved cotton number you’d be more likely to wear lawn bowling than down a mine shaft.
‘Is that a necklace?’ Hux said, peering in to examine the V of chest visible above the shirt.
‘You’re observant. Yes, the techies have had a closer look and they think it’s some sort of heavy-link gold chain. So, do you recognise him or not?’
TYSON: Flashy gold chain? Drug dealer for sure. Or rap artist. Case practically closed.
He wished. ‘I don’t recognise him. Have you managed to place him anywhere other than here?’
‘We’re not disclosing facts of the case.’
‘Anything turn up in the search out at Corley? Like signs of a mining lease being worked? Or tyre tracks?’ There’d been no rain and not much breeze, either, since last week. Of course, his helicopter and the police helicopter would have blitzed any signs near that rock cairn this whole story seemed to revolve around.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘No comment. Your dog’s missing a leg.’
It was Hux’s turn to narrow his eyes. ‘Looks like you’re observant, too.’
‘Don’t get cute, Mr Huxtable.’
He almost said something dumb, but shut his mouth in time. Acting Senior Constable Clifford didn’t look like she’d brought her sense of humour with her today—if she had one at all—and he needed her onside. And to be reassured, one hundred per cent, that whatever Dave’s agenda had been, Yindi Creek Chopper Charters was in no way involved.
‘Your sister is married to Mr Cocker, correct?’
‘That’s right. One of them.’ No need to wonder how she knew; this was Yindi Creek. ‘And he was a family friend long before that.’ Backstory she didn’t need, but it helped paint a picture: the Huxtables all loved Charlie; Charlie was the best of blokes. Unless of course she thought he and Charlie werebothinvolved in something nefarious. Pity they were out here—he’d have liked to make a few notes on his whiteboard.
‘I’m curious. Is there any particular reason why you were flying over my crime scene on Tuesday?’
Hmm. Her tone didn’t sound curious. ‘Um, I flew a charter. I’m not sure when it was booked—Phaedra will have the details—but I can’t imagine the booking has anything suss about it.’
TYSON: Objection, your honour. Whatever the witness ‘imagines’ is irrelevant.
Yeah, stick with the facts, Hux.
‘A palaeontologist up from the Natural History Museum in Brisbane booked the charter,’ he added. ‘She’s looking for an old dinosaur dig site with the help of two longtime residents of the district, Ethel and Dot Cracknell. You might have come across them. The dig was on their property, Corley Station, but they couldn’t recall where, exactly, since it was a few years back and they’ve been living in town since the station got too much for them. We flew to the homestead first, then down to the southern boundary and commenced a search using landmarks. We didn’t know you guys were there because we were flying low to the south of the jump-up, and I hadn’t heard any radio traffic. We had decided to fly over it and continue our search further west when we ran into your team. Our interest in the site had nothing to do with it being where Dave was supposed to be collected; we were there because we wanted to have a walk around, looking for evidence of old excavation works.’
She wrote something in her notebook.
‘It was a total coincidence,’ he added. ‘You can check my flight log.’
‘Like the flight log you could have accessed from Mr Cocker’s flight on Sunday morning in the two-seater helicopter?’
He blinked. ‘Are you accusingmeof something, constable?’
She was shorter than he was, but not by much, and whereas he was a sloucher by habit, Acting Senior Constable Petra Clifford looked like she’d been born with a steel rod fused to her spine. She’d not put sunnies on when they came outside and she narrowed her eyes at him again in a cop stare that looked well practised.
If he’d had a notebook of his own on him he’d have been tempted to scribble down a few notes. His character, Lana, could learn a thing or two from Acting Senior Constable Clifford.
TYSON: Lana’s perfect just the way she is, mate. Even when she’s trying to make me believe she doesn’t care whether I live or die.
Hux shushed the voice in his head. Phaedra might have been right about needing a lawyer, so this was no time to get distracted.