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about. Meanwhile, in and around Perth, there were at least four murders, a handful of rapes and half a dozen violent home invasions ahead in the forensics queue. He pointed this out to the faces in front of him and told them not to hold their breath. Jim Buckley smiled benevolently and promised he wouldn’t. Cato felt the need to explain himself.
    ‘This might just seem like a lump of rotting meat to some people...’ – as expected, Buckley held his gaze; he wasn’t the backing-down type – ‘but he is somebody’s son, or brother, or even father. And I’d like to think that, if he belonged to me, somebody would do their job and find out what happened to him.’
    Buckley winked and mimed applause. Cato, point made,signalled it was time to move on.
    Young Greg Fisher was like a puppy, almost widdling himself with excitement. His first murder, Cato surmised. Greg reported on the two jobs he’d been following up yesterday. There were three missing-person reports within the Great Southern and South-East Coastal districts over the last two weeks. None of them matched. The first, a thirteen year old girl from Albany, had returned home the next day having proved some point to her parents. Tess grimaced at that one. The second, a thirty-six year old farm labourer from nearby Jerdacuttup, had looked promising but he had been located by Kalgoorlie police three days later when they arrested him for disturbing the peace in a Hay Street knocking shop. He reckoned he hadn’t got his money’s worth. Finally, a seventy-three year old woman with Alzheimer’s had gone walkabout the previous Saturday and been found the next morning under Esperance jetty, sleeping dangerously close to Sammy the Sea Lion.
    ‘So we’re no closer to finding out who Flipper is,’ concluded Greg.
    Tess looked daggers at him. ‘Don’t forget to pop over to the town hall and pick up those room dividers when we finish here, okay Greg?’
    Cato pushed on.
    ‘Let’s widen the trawl through the mispers. Get the whole state, no time limit. Meanwhile what about the tides and weather, anything there?’
    Greg was looking pleased with himself. ‘The prevailing conditions around here are south-westerlies. Anything dropped in the ocean would tend to travel eastwards. But for the last four days it’s been easterlies. As the body ended up that side of the groyne we can assume it was dropped in somewhere east of here in the last few days. The Sea Rescue guys have a chart on the wall over there.’
    They all got up and gathered around it. Greg continued, rapt at being the centre of attention.
    ‘It was mainly strong easterlies in the late mornings up to midarvo and then it moved around to the south and west by late arvo and evening. Dropping right off to practically nothing overnight.Averaging fifteen to twenty knots at the height.’
    All of which meant very little to Cato. ‘Where do you think the body went into the water?’
    ‘After talking with Sea Rescue I’d say anywhere between Mason Bay and Starvation Bay.’ Fisher pointed to dots on the map. ‘Starvo’s about forty kilometres from here, Mason’s maybe halfway? There’s a boat ramp at Starvo and easy beach access at Mason but my bet is Starvo.’
    He looked over to Tess for approval. She nodded agreement. Cato was duly impressed. Not being a boatie or a local, he didn’t know any better anyway.
    ‘Good work, Greg. Can you follow up any unusual activity in those spots over the last week – any strangers, any boats going out at unusual times, stuff like that? We also need to check known shipping and other boat traffic. Our friend could have been dumped by a passing tanker or trawler for all we know. Let me know how you go.’
    Greg beamed and reached for the phone.
    Buckley and Tess both looked expectantly at Cato.
    ‘We don’t know much but let’s look at what we do know,’ said Cato.
    ‘Dead,’ shrugged Buckley.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Cato.
    ‘No head,’ mused Tess.
    Cato nodded.