of silence went by, then a shadow moved beneath the door.
‘How do I know youse are even cops?’ asked a different voice. A female voice.
I held my badge up to the eyepiece and eventually the door opened. Tammy was shorter than I recalled and seemed thinner than in the picture in Dallas’s flat, the remnants of last night’s make-up smudged across a face that had probably endured more years than birthdays.
As she hugged a satin dressing gown close to her chest, I noticed sores on her wrist and a large bruise around her neck, as though somebody had strangled her. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark roots replacing bleached blonde. Still, she was an attractive girl and could remain so if she took care of herself. But I knew she wouldn’t.
‘So ya got some news on Dall?’ she said, her voice coarse and shaky.
‘I’d like to ask you some questions first,’ I said. ‘Is that okay?’
She shrugged. ‘Ask away. Maybe then you can answer some for me.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like how he overdosed even though he wasn’t usin’.’
Novak turned away. ‘Right.’
‘What?’ Tammy said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. ‘Think I’m making it up? Think all of us are junkies, don’t ya?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ said Novak.
‘Then what, ya think he knocked himself?’
Tammy glared at him, angry. I shot him a look also, annoyed he’d jumped into the conversation.
‘Perhaps I need to introduce Will Novak,’ I said. ‘He’s not actually a detective. He’s a social worker.’
Tammy’s eyes grew wide with recognition. ‘You’re from the hostel down on Carlisle Street,’ she said. ‘Dall told me about you. Said you were helping him.’
Novak nodded. ‘He was one of my clients. Lived at the centre for about two years. I helped him overcome many of his problems, including heroin. Even helped him get his apartment.’
‘Then you’d know he wasn’t a junkie.’
‘Just because he’d been clean for some time doesn’t mean he didn’t relapse and start using again.’
Tammy made to snap at him again, then turned away. She brushed a hand over her eyes.
‘We’re investigating all possibilities,’ I said. ‘When was the last time you saw Dallas?’
‘The day he died,’ she said, still facing away. ‘He spotted for me, then we went down to Lambs for a souvlaki.’
I opened my daybook, wrote Tammy and Fitzroy Street at the top of a fresh page. I wanted to ask for her surname and other details but that would have to wait.
‘Okay, where else?’
She turned to face me, revealing a line of mascara streaked down her cheek like a scar. ‘Like I said, we got chips and a souvlaki, then we went to the 7-Eleven. He needed a recharge card for his phone.’
I wrote this down and asked what happened next.
‘Ah, we hung out a while,’ she said, her eyes dropping. ‘Then we went down the beach for a walk.’
I looked over at Novak, who nodded. He’d seen it too. A lie.
‘You went to score, didn’t you?’ Novak said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘It’s all right. We’re not interested in that. We just want to know what happened, who you saw. Who you spoke to.’
Tammy sniffed, stared at the ground. Her legs appeared to be shaking under the dressing gown and I wondered whether it was grief or if she was hanging out.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We scored some gear and went down to McDonald’s to meet Fletch.’
‘Who’s Fletch?’ I asked.
Tammy nodded to the door. The guy inside.
‘Your boyfriend?’
‘No way! Like I said, me and Dallas had been together since last year. Fletch just lives here, spots for me sometimes when I’m on the block.’
The man in the green Valiant I’d seen the other day. I wrote the name in my daybook.
‘Tell me about that bruise around your neck,’ I said.
Her hand shot up to her neck and covered the bruise protectively. ‘What do you care?’
‘I care because I’m a policeman.’
‘Are you trying to be a smart arse?’ she scoffed.
‘Sort of. I care because I like to know what goes on around here,’ I said, pulling my cigarettes out of my pocket and offering one to Tammy. The last thing I felt like was a smoke but they were often the best way to break the ice. Novak took one too and we all lit up.
‘You didn’t grow up around here, did you, Tammy?’
‘No,’ she said, giving me a curious look.
‘Where did you come from? Is Tammy even your real name?’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘A lot, actually. See, I’m not sure if Dallas or Fletch in