thorough. And the horse wasn’t obliging,” I said nodding at Sombre Vol.
Hunt grunted. The heat had purpled his face. He didn’t get out of air-conditioning much these days either. “This is Detective Inspector Indira Chance. She’s been waiting to talk to you. Both of you go downtown with her now.”
I looked at the middle aged woman in khaki. She was a biggish frame with a slight paunch and wrinkled brown arms. Her expression was sharp and lively other than the panda patches under her eyes.
“Ms Jackson and Mr Sixkiller. Get in the van.”
The order was accompanied by a decisive head jerk.
I headed through the Interchange first, handing Benny’s reins to Leecey. Our heavily-inked stable hand looked pissed off and tired. Her upper lip was swollen.
“You going with the cops?” she asked.
“Yeah. You OK?”
She licked her lip. “Yeah, nothing I’m not used to.”
“You want me to go to Hunt about it?”
“Nah, just leave it. Hell, I wasn’t even here when the murder happened. What’s all the heat about? We’ve had dead bodies in the park before.”
I loosened Benny’s saddle while Leecey slipped the bridle off. The trough was full of oat-sprinkled hay and the horse buried her head in it. “Heart attacks and stuff, yeah, but not a murder after close. You heard I got attacked in my apartment last night?”
“Shit!” she said, eyes widening. “No wonder Totes is acting like he’s been skinned. Wouldn’t speak to me when I got back from the station. Said he had to get the sat feed up.”
I frowned. “Sat’s still not right?”
She shrugged then winced at the movement. I knew then that they’d body punched her in places the bruises wouldn’t show.
Anger towards Indira Chance boiled up in me. What had the DI let happen on her watch? Or what had she turned a blind eye to?
Caro told me that reporting channels at Aus-Police had changed and watchdogs had been set up to stamp out the more heavy-handed interrogation techniques. Obviously no one had told Detective Chance. She looked old-school to me and proud of it.
“You should see a doctor?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been there before, Virgin. No big deal.”
But it was a big deal– to me anyways. I’d got Leecey this job on account of her being the ex-girlfriend of my irresponsible younger brother, Johnnie. Hunt hadn’t wanted to hire her because of her police record. I’d talked him into it and I took it personally that Leecey was being victimised because of her criminal history and her appearance.
It was probably stupid getting wound up about that right now when I was the one about to be grilled over two murders. That’s where my sense of disconnection came in. I didn’t care so much about my predicament, but I did care about Leecey. She did a good job with the horses and she was clean of illegal substances – at work at least. Why couldn’t they just let her alone?
“They asked me a lot about you though. Be careful, Virgin. That Detective Chance has got a giant bug up her arse. She’s gunning.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And you lay low. They’ll probably watch you while the investigations on. Keep away from Johnnie.” Warning her off my little brother was part of my daily salutation, but today I really meant it.
“You mean, no going to DreamWorks?”
DreamWorks was Junkie Central – a precinct further west of the Quarter. “Yeah. That’s just what I mean.”
“I won’t. And you should go easy on the cowboy. Anyone who can make peace with Sombre Vol has gotta be someways decent.”
I scowled. “Why? What’s Totes been saying?”
“Nothing much. Just that you’re super-fucking-pissed-off that Marshall Sixkiller’s here.”
I punched her in the arm. She winced again and this time I didn’t feel bad for her.
“There’s something wrapped in a cloth in my saddle bag. Can you drop it in my letter box at Cloisters on your way home. Carefully. I don’t want it damaged.”
She glanced around.