without a cause. Tables and umbrellas covered the sidewalks, waiters flitting between them. Large banners hovered over the street, welcoming everyone to St Kilda. A concert was underway on the foreshore, a past Australian Idol personality headlining. All of it infuriated me. Didn’t they realise what went on in this place? I wanted to blow my horn until they all moved along but had to sit patiently, wasting time.
Finally I pulled up outside the 7-Eleven, double-parked and waited for all the customers to leave before I walked in. Dallas Boyd had bought a recharge card for his mobile phone here at ten o’clock Thursday night, less than two hours before he was murdered. Yet we’d never found a phone on or near his body, and it still hadn’t turned up. It was a loose end that needed to be tied.
The shop attendant, a man of Pakistani descent, crouched over a cardboard box, stocking the fridge. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, showing him my badge. ‘I need to view your tapes for last Thursday, from about 9 p.m. onwards.’
‘This could make a problem,’ he said. ‘Police have already taken the disk.’
I thought about this; the only likely explanation was that Stello had come for it.
‘When?’
‘I am thinking late yesterday. I was not here.’
I cursed myself for neglecting to swing by the day before; instead, I’d gone for a swim.
‘Hang on. You said they came by to collect the disk?’
‘This is correct. The disk.’
‘So your system is digital. Not on tape,’ I said, looking up at the camera above the console.
‘Correct. No tape.’
‘Okay, so why is there a problem? Can’t you make me a copy?’
‘It will take a long time and I am the only person here,’ he said, looking around nervously. ‘I am thinking it is easier to get the copy from your colleague, yes?’
‘Sir, I really need you to copy me the disk. This is important, and I’m happy to pay you for a blank disk if that’s what you’re worried about.’
The man hesitated, then led me through to an office at the back of the store where a computer sat atop a desk cluttered with folders, boxes and empty takeaway containers.
‘I must be quick,’ he said, clicking on the computer screen. ‘Customers can steal as they please if I am not in the store.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘If you show me what to do, you can get back to stocking your fridge.’
‘No, I will do it myself,’ he said, typing a series of commands. An image of the shop appeared on the monitor, the date and time counting forward in the bottom right-hand corner. It was still cued up for 9 p.m. on the Thursday, probably saved from Stello’s copy.
‘It is Thursday, yes?’ he asked.
‘Yes, from nine onwards.’
‘I can only give you three hours per disk.’
‘Fine. Give me from nine-thirty onwards.’
The man went to work. The image disappeared and a measuring scale appeared on screen, showing the progress of the burning. A minute later the disk tray opened.
‘All finish,’ he said, handing me the DVD.
‘Can I watch it quickly?’ I asked. ‘You know, just to make sure it worked?’
‘I am promising you, it will work.’
‘I believe you, but it would be great if I could watch it here.’
Taking the disk, he put it in the tray and pointed the cursor arrow to a control box at the bottom of the screen. I recognised buttons similar to those on my DVD player at home.
‘Fast forward with this button,’ he said. ‘When you are finished, press stop and eject. I must be going back to the store.’
When he was gone, I pressed fast forward and watched dozens of customers walk in and out of the store as the clock counter skipped towards 10 p.m. A few minutes before ten, Dallas Boyd entered. I pressed play and the movement slowed to natural speed. The volume was muted and I tried to find a dial but couldn’t. Deciding it wasn’t necessary, I watched as Boyd moved around the store, from the fridge to the confectionery aisle, eventually stepping towards the counter. At this stage he asked for something, and the attendant turned and pulled out a recharge card. Meanwhile, Boyd quickly snatched a chocolate bar off the console and slid it in his pocket.
‘Cheeky little bugger,’ I said.
As the attendant handed Boyd the receipt and recharge card, a girl in a miniskirt entered the store and came into view. It was the girl I’d seen in the picture in Dallas Boyd’s bedroom, the hooker outside