Free Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence by Garry Disher Page A

sound stage and food stalls that denoted the annual
spring show in Waterloo. Pam didnt know what theyd do there, but did know
theyd do more than merely gawk or spend any money theyd stolen or cadged. It
wasnt in their nature to give to the community but to take. That was
the Jarrett way, and there were plenty of takings at the Waterloo Show.

    They had the Show sussed out within
five minutes. The eleven-year-old said, You like it up the arse? to a young
woman pushing a pram. The nine-year-old snatched a purse. The twins pushed and
shoved an old geezer who went red and breathless and an ambulance was called.
They grabbed a fistful of Have You Seen Katie? leaflets from Donna
Blasko and dumped them in a rubbish bin. On flowed the estate kids,
untouchable, undetectable until the last moment, which was when their victims
recognised that distinctive estate/Jarrett look, something quick and soulless.

    Where you from? they demanded at
one point.

    Four kids visiting from Cranbourne,
thirty minutes away. Outsider kids. The Jarretts knew all of the local kids.

    Nowhere, the Cranbourne kids said.

    Gotta be from somewhere.

    Over there, said one of the
Cranbourne kids, meaning a few hundred metres up the road.

    Liar.

    They crowded the outsiders, poked
and jabbed. Wallets were taken. A knife was pulled, flashed once, leaving a
ribbon of blood. Miraculously, an opening appeared. The Cranbourne kids ran for
their lives. Whooping, the estate kids chased them, herded them, out of the
showgrounds and back up High Street.

    Save us! cried the visitors.

    Get out, said the local
shopkeepers, recognising the pursuers.

    Youths hospitalised, said the next
edition of the local paper.

    * * * *

    While
that was going on, Alysha Jarrett climbed over the fence at the rear of Neville
Clodes house, trampling the onion weed as it lay limp and dying, and knocked
on his back door. When it opened she stood there wordlessly, looking at but not
seeing the doorsill or his bare feet, the left foot with its birthmark like the
remnant of a wine-red sock, the nails hooked and yellow.

    Dont remember inviting you, he
said, smirking.

    She said nothing. He made room for
her and she passed him, into the house. She breathed shallowly. He never aired
the place, but that wasnt uncommon in Alyshas experience. She came from
people who kept their doors and windows closed and abhorred the sun. She could
detect cigarettes, alcohol and semen. She knew those smells.

    Cant keep away, can you? he said.
She was thirteen and would soon be too old.

    She shrugged. She never talked,
never looked him in the face. Never looked at him anywhere if she could help
it. She never used her own hands and mouth on him but pretended they belonged
to someone else. Everything switched off when she came here. In fact she was
never entirely switched on when she was away from here. She floated. She was
unmoored. Her body had nothing to do with her.

    Here you go, he said afterwards,
giving her twenty dollars. Sometimes it was smokes, lollies, a bottle of sweet
sherry. At the back door he sniffed, holding a tissue to his nostrils; he often
got a nosebleed from the strain of labouring away at her body. Giving her what
he called a cuddle, he peered out into his yard like a nervy mouse. The coast
is clear, he said, giving her bottom a pat. Hed washed her in the spa. She
felt damp here and there. Alysha floated away with her $20, which she later
spent on pills and went further away in her head.

    * * * *

    Meanwhile
Tank had the morning off. Hed been slotted for a grid search of Myers Reserve
later in the day, followed by night patrol, so the morning was his one chance
to take delivery of his Mazda. He went by train, getting off one station past
Frankston, where the road that ran parallel to the tracks was used-car heaven,
yards stretching in either direction, plastic flags snapping joyously in the
breeze from the Bay. He set out on foot for Prestige Autos.

    It was good to be decisive. Last
weekend