Dark And Dismal Nights

Rock Magnum eased his battered Holden through the alleyway and up to the poorly lit scenario that was unfolding before him through the teeming rain that rolled over full gutters and onto puddled roads and footpaths below. He cherished these nights when the crazies came out and crime was rife. These mucky Darlinghurst streets were his home, not the dismally squalid flat he was forced to keep to have an address. Mostly Rock slept at the station, although it was forbidden. He braked languidly, knowing the car would skid anyway, and halted up against a dumpster.

Opening the door he threw a coat over his shoulders in an ineffective attempt to stop the rain scudding into his old suit. The beat police moved aside so he could view the body with quiet respect. Early on, his name had been the butt of a few jokes, but two broken noses later, the jokes had stopped. Rock may have had a name he hated, but only he could hate it. He stared at the coroner leaning over the mutilated body of a middle-aged woman. This was not a simple domestic, easily solved crime and he began to pay more attention.

“She’s a piece of work, eh?’ muttered Doctor Perkins, the coroner’s assistant.

Rock nodded and leaned in to hear over the downpour that threatened to wash them all away.

‘She was killed about two hours ago and then dumped here. The ‘things’ were done to her at the murder scene, not here. Probably a large serrated knife and brass knuckles. I’ll know more when I get her back to the lab. I also know you’ll want to know tonight so meet me at the morgue sooner or later.’

Rock nodded again and Perkins wondered if the man could talk. The photographers had finished and the forensics were all over the scene. It was too wet and the killer had just dumped the body and ran. Still, they also had a job to do as well.

The coroner got up.

‘Ah, Mr Magnum. Poor Miss McAllister bit the dust.’ he proclaimed, getting up from the body to lock eyes with the detective. He had an expensive raincoat on, protecting an even more expensive suit. His old, dull face portrayed no emotions.

Magnum studied the towering man. A politician in the day and a coroner during the night. A bloke, who was excessively rich. The detective couldn’t recall his name. The detective was going to ask, but the coroner had already walked back to chat with the doctor.

Rock headed back to the car. He needed more than what he had to get going when he saw a familiar head poke up from the dumpster he’d parked next to. He saw Constable Keighley, plastic suited, rise from the debris with a purse in hand. He liked the look of her, even in the suit, and had already broken the department’s fraternisation rule with her. She smiled and gave the little laugh that attracted him to her initially.

‘Bit like the last restaurant you took me to in here, Detective.’

Ignoring her taunt he asked, ‘What have you got, Constable?’

‘Deceased person’s purse, sir.’ He knew the sir was sarcastic but again decided to ignore her. She was a piece of work and decided she might be a keeper. At least while for a while. He put on a plastic glove she provided him and flipped the now soaked and grotty purse.

A cheap plastic thing, the inside purse revealed an even cheaper life. Dorothy McAllister seemed to have nothing much more than a name and a few dollars. Even the video card had expired.

‘Look for a bag, Keighley. ‘There’s gotta be more than this.’

She was going to protest but then he probably didn’t like her that much and delved back into the putrescence that was Sydney’s waste. Not much in there but one thing stood out to the pair, a stub from the Shining Light Gentlemen’s Club.

Magnum thanked Keighley and told her to go home and have a shower and later to report back at his place.

‘No thanks, I’m goin’ home to watch the Home Shopping Channel. Far more interesting.

Half a chance, Rock thought to himself as he slid into his car. Time to head off to the Gentleman’s Club and find what the ticket stub offered in evidence. He shoved the car into street traffic, earning himself a finger from an irate P-plater, and cruised along.

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