"Would someone explain why this pronouncement has got the little man's jocks all twisted," Angie requested. "What's the Rilycan?"
"The Riley clan," Kit enunciated. "You know, Angie: one of Melbourne's biggest, wealthiest, meanest, most notorious, um, dangerous-"
Marek held up both hands, "...bad, bad, very bad-"
"...families," Kit continued. "It's headed by the sixty-something matriarch Marjorie Riley - aka Queen Marj or Queenie."
"Nah-uh, Queenie's in her seventies now, Kit," Marek corrected.
"Oh, I suppose she would be by now," Kit said thoughtfully.
"The Riley family business goes way back, to Melbourne's boom years in the 1920s," Marek explained to Angie.
Unnecessarily, Kit thought, because her friend looked shocked rather than uninformed.
"But it was in the Depression and the war years that they really made it big. They grew rich on misery, or rather on helping folks escape the misery with gambling, opium dens, brothels, smuggling."
"Opium dens?" Angie exclaimed.
"Yeah. These days it's brothels, coke and protection rackets. They've always maintained a host of legitimate businesses so they can insist, regularly, that having underworld connections does not make them criminals. But the Rileys are the Melbourne underworld; every serious bad guy in town is connected through them. Their decades-long adversarial relationship with us has almost become a game with it's own rules of engagement and-"
"Stop!" Angie's voice was verging on the hysterical. "Are you saying I have a dead gangster in my bar?"
"Kind of," Kit acknowledged.
"Bloody hell!" was Parker's reaction from the dance room.
"That's a fucking understatement!" Angie declared. "Please, someone - anyone - tell me what a dead gangster is doing in my bar."
"I think that would be my question," Parker said, returning to the fray.
"Well don't look at me, Sunshine," Angie snarled at him. "You are the homicide detective; go detect something." She turned back to Marek and Kit. "Do you think you could get him out of here now, or soon?"
"Who? Chucky?" Kit smiled.
Parker's objection was overtaken by Angie's. "No goddamnit, the dead dude. Get him out before, before... I don't know, before the other gangsters find out he's here. Dead and here."
"How about it, Ruth?" Marek asked.
"Who's in charge here?" Parker demanded. "Ah," he said a bare second later, when it obviously occurred to him that it probably wasn't him - outranked as he was by Jon Marek, acting Head of the Homicide Squad; and by Dr Ruth Hudson FP, whose judgement alone could decide when the body was removed.
"Ruth?" Marek repeated.
She shrugged. "I'm finished; the autopsy is scheduled; the video and photos, as far as I know, have all been done; my team are finishing up; and I think Cathy is waiting for you."
"Or me," Parker said softly.
"Why don't you go find out then," Marek prompted. He waited until Parker was out of earshot before smacking himself on the wrist. "I wish I could control myself."
"Why?" Kit asked. "He doesn't."
"True." Marek turned to Angie. "Dr Hudson will arrange for the guvvy undertakers to remove the body asap. I'm afraid you will have to remain closed until Parker's crew is satisfied that the scene is secure. I'll get one of the other officers to take statements from your mates so they can all leave. Make sure you give some kind of contact info for the nickname who had to go to work, so that Cathy can do a follow up with her. Okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Jonno," Angie said. "How long will I have to keep the doors shut?"
Marek shrugged. "Unless there's anything suss, probably only until tomorrow. We'll see."
"I'd like to take your statement now, Ms Nichols."
Aaghh! Chucky III - the Nightmare Continues, Kit thought.
"You're kidding," Angie snapped at Parker. "So far I've stated the facts, as I know them, to the local cop who came first; then to the local CIB detectives, then to their Inspector. This was followed by a quite detailed statement to your Senior Detective Martin, then to Detective Inspector Marek - congratulations on the promotion by the way, Jonno - and now you want to hear the same thing again. Can't any of you read what the one before you wrote down? Don't you think this is overkill?"
"Compared to what? The deceased over there?" Parker queried, still trying to make some kind of point despite his passing look of horror at the disclosure that his prime suspect was on familiar terms with his boss.
"Lighten up, Charlie," Marek suggested. "She's right. If you need more information, Angie will be happy to oblige - later. Let's you and I go find out what else we need to find out now."
Kit watched them saunter back to the crime scene where Parker stopped in the wide open doorway of The Red, unaware they hadn't walked far enough away...
"I don't want to seem out of order, Jon," he said, "but I really think it's inappropriate that you talk to me like that in front of... well, in front of anyone."
"Yeah, you're right; I'm sorry, Charlie," Marek apologised. "But, mate, you get what you give." Marek brushed his hand back and forth through his snowy-white hair.
Uh-oh, Kit thought.
"What does that mean, Marek?" Parker asked.
Oh goody, Kit amended. You asked for it, Chucky.
"It means that you bring every kind of grief possible on yourself, mate. You're an A-Grade wanker, Charlie, and you have to learn some manners or people will continue to treat you the same way you treat them - badly and rudely."
"But I'm a cop."
Marek shook his head in astonishment. "Chuck, that response is so stupid and irrelevant that I'm at a loss for... You've lost me. I will say this though: leave your prejudices at home and do not hassle or insult these women in any way, because I will hear about it; and while you are in charge of your crew, Senior Detective Martin is in charge of this investigation. You weren't here to decide, so I made her lead investigator. Any problems with that?"
"None, Boss. It was her turn anyway."
"Good," Marek ushered Parker into The Red. "Now, why were you late?"
"Tell me," Angie whispered to Kit, "why didn't you shoot that moron on behalf of the entire police force all those years ago?"
"I'm not altogether sure now," Kit replied thoughtfully.
"It was an oversight on your part, I believe."
"There's no doubt about that," Kit agreed. "Who was the Carrie thing over there with Rabbit et al?"
"She's a newby. A brand new not-quite-sure newby, I gather. Her name's Carrie McDermid. She was here last night, for the first time; and came back today with Sal and Booty."
"What's with the tape recorder?"
"Dunno. You want me to find out?"
"Yeah, but later. I don't want to make a big deal about it, in case SuperChuck notices."
CHAPTER TWO
"It was so gross though, Booty."
"Yeah, Sal. But it was us who found it. We're like the key witnesses. How cool is that?"
"Not."
"Sal's right, Booty," Kit noted. "There's nothing cool about finding that dead guy. What's more you're only a witness to the finding of it - so you're not really a key anything."
"Spoil our fun, why don't you," Booty grumbled. "Just coz you've seen it all before."
"That's