Read Online Challis - 05 - Blood Moon by Garry Disher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Garry Disher
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were good reasons why the
family next door owned a plasma TV and they didnt; or that actions had consequences.
I wonder how their minds work
sometimes, he said, as he and Cree returned to Waterloo and booked the
hungover duo.
Cree gave him a cryptic look and
smile. Exactly.
Stopping for coffee in the canteen
they saw Pam Murphy in the distance, sitting with other female officers. Cree
said over the steam from his cup, You ever noticed how this joints crawling
with women?
Not really.
How to get ahead in the Victoria
Police, Cree said, watching him. Grow a pair of tits.
Suspecting a trap, Tankard ignored
the remark. He knew he could be a bit of a dinosaur, but the women he worked
withhis old partner Murph, bosses like Ellen Destrytheyd earned some respect
over the years.
Maybe all Cree saw was the dinosaur?
Tank sighed. The day stretched miserably ahead. At least Im not scared of the
dark, he thought.
They were scarcely out of the
station, Cree driving again, when the dispatcher directed them to a disturbance
at the Benton Square shopping centre on the other side of the Peninsula.
Yeah, that makes sense, Cree said,
sending Waterloo cops to fight crime in Mornington. The Mornington boys are
sent to Waterloo, I suppose.
Tank continued to ignore him, but
the guy had a point. Police resources hadnt kept pace with change on the Peninsula.
The population levels had soared, but not police staffing levels or budgets.
The result was abysmal response times, with some minor crimes like burglaries
attended to days late or not at all, and no money to buy, maintain or upgrade
equipment. You couldnt even go to the supply room and expect to find a
ballpoint pen or a set of batteries for a crime scene camera. The twelve
detectives stationed at Rosebud and Mornington had the use of only two unmarked
cars between them, complicated by the fact that each shift employed four or
five detectives, each working his or her own caseload, or needing to attend
court. No wonder follow-up visits, surveillance and evidence-gathering
suffered. Tank, eyes closed, let the mild spring sunshine warm him through the
glass.
But Cree never shut up for long. Mickey
Mouse policing.
Tank opened his eyes. In profile,
Crees features were perfectly proportioned, probably heart-stopping to the
women. Not like the big city, right?
You said it.
Tank slumped gloomily against his
door, missing Pam Murphy. But it was early days. Maybe Crees larrikin grin
would grow on him. Maybe the guy would pull his finger out. Not that Tank
himself was the kind of copper to go above and beyond the call of duty, but at
ten minutes to knockoff yesterday afternoon Cree had refused to book a guy for
public drunkenness, saying the paperwork would eat into their leisure time.
Tank didnt want to get into the habit of letting his new partner take
shortcuts like that.
He directed Cree off the Peninsula
freeway and east toward Mount Martha, through farmland that was being gobbled
up by housing estates, all of the new houses breathing over each other, robbing
the air, breeding domestic misery and truancy. Like the kids who terrorised
shoppers at Benton Square. This wasnt the first time Tank had encountered
them. They roamed in packs and liked to surround drivers attempting to enter or
leave the carpark. Anyone who remonstrated was punched and abused or had their
headlights smashed.
Tank wound his window down as Cree
steered into the shopping centre. He could hear shouting. There, he said,
pointing.
A clump of people, some of them
shaking fists and pushing and shoving each other near a car that had stalled at
an awkward angle, one wheel up on the kerb outside the plate glass window of a
bakery. An elderly man sat on the kerb nearby, holding his head in his hands.
Cree braked sharply and piled out,
pushing through, sending bystanders reeling. Tank followed; he was a big man,
overweight, and getting in and out of the divisional van always slowed him
down. He elbowed his
family next door owned a plasma TV and they didnt; or that actions had consequences.
I wonder how their minds work
sometimes, he said, as he and Cree returned to Waterloo and booked the
hungover duo.
Cree gave him a cryptic look and
smile. Exactly.
Stopping for coffee in the canteen
they saw Pam Murphy in the distance, sitting with other female officers. Cree
said over the steam from his cup, You ever noticed how this joints crawling
with women?
Not really.
How to get ahead in the Victoria
Police, Cree said, watching him. Grow a pair of tits.
Suspecting a trap, Tankard ignored
the remark. He knew he could be a bit of a dinosaur, but the women he worked
withhis old partner Murph, bosses like Ellen Destrytheyd earned some respect
over the years.
Maybe all Cree saw was the dinosaur?
Tank sighed. The day stretched miserably ahead. At least Im not scared of the
dark, he thought.
They were scarcely out of the
station, Cree driving again, when the dispatcher directed them to a disturbance
at the Benton Square shopping centre on the other side of the Peninsula.
Yeah, that makes sense, Cree said,
sending Waterloo cops to fight crime in Mornington. The Mornington boys are
sent to Waterloo, I suppose.
Tank continued to ignore him, but
the guy had a point. Police resources hadnt kept pace with change on the Peninsula.
The population levels had soared, but not police staffing levels or budgets.
The result was abysmal response times, with some minor crimes like burglaries
attended to days late or not at all, and no money to buy, maintain or upgrade
equipment. You couldnt even go to the supply room and expect to find a
ballpoint pen or a set of batteries for a crime scene camera. The twelve
detectives stationed at Rosebud and Mornington had the use of only two unmarked
cars between them, complicated by the fact that each shift employed four or
five detectives, each working his or her own caseload, or needing to attend
court. No wonder follow-up visits, surveillance and evidence-gathering
suffered. Tank, eyes closed, let the mild spring sunshine warm him through the
glass.
But Cree never shut up for long. Mickey
Mouse policing.
Tank opened his eyes. In profile,
Crees features were perfectly proportioned, probably heart-stopping to the
women. Not like the big city, right?
You said it.
Tank slumped gloomily against his
door, missing Pam Murphy. But it was early days. Maybe Crees larrikin grin
would grow on him. Maybe the guy would pull his finger out. Not that Tank
himself was the kind of copper to go above and beyond the call of duty, but at
ten minutes to knockoff yesterday afternoon Cree had refused to book a guy for
public drunkenness, saying the paperwork would eat into their leisure time.
Tank didnt want to get into the habit of letting his new partner take
shortcuts like that.
He directed Cree off the Peninsula
freeway and east toward Mount Martha, through farmland that was being gobbled
up by housing estates, all of the new houses breathing over each other, robbing
the air, breeding domestic misery and truancy. Like the kids who terrorised
shoppers at Benton Square. This wasnt the first time Tank had encountered
them. They roamed in packs and liked to surround drivers attempting to enter or
leave the carpark. Anyone who remonstrated was punched and abused or had their
headlights smashed.
Tank wound his window down as Cree
steered into the shopping centre. He could hear shouting. There, he said,
pointing.
A clump of people, some of them
shaking fists and pushing and shoving each other near a car that had stalled at
an awkward angle, one wheel up on the kerb outside the plate glass window of a
bakery. An elderly man sat on the kerb nearby, holding his head in his hands.
Cree braked sharply and piled out,
pushing through, sending bystanders reeling. Tank followed; he was a big man,
overweight, and getting in and out of the divisional van always slowed him
down. He elbowed his
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