She reached for her beer, swallowed heartily, and wiped her mouth with her hand. Inside, Lozza smiled. Mitzi was salt of the earth. A longtime local who took no crap and never minced her words. “Stinks if you ask me. I reckon those Cresswell-Smiths are crooks, and so is half the council plus the mayor if they’re buying into a dodge brothers report.”
“Do you know the couple at all?”
“I know they’re intent on destroying Agnes Basin.” She finished her beer, plonked her empty glass on the counter, and pointed for a refill. “Word is it’s Ellie’s daddy’s money that’s being used to fund the project, and she basically doesn’t know what in the hell her husband is doing with it.”
“I reckon the missus is not altogether there,” said Sue, making a drinking motion with her hand. “Boozer and drug addict is the word around town.”
Lozza frowned, and her curiosity was piqued.
The barkeep set two containers of hot food to go on the counter in front of Lozza. “Did you say Ellie Cresswell-Smith?” he asked.
“Yep,” said Mitzi.
“I was wondering who she was. Someone left a package here for her yesterday,” said the barkeep. “Some bikie with a bald head and ink down the side of his neck.”
“A package? Here?” said Lozza. She was solidly hooked now because she and Gregg had spent the past few weeks helping out on Strike Force Tinto, a law enforcement operation that had zeroed in on an arm of an outlaw motorcycle gang that had run a drug operation out of a town to the north.
“Yeah. This dude came in asking for ‘Ellie’—said he had a delivery for her. But Rabz hadn’t left any instructions about a delivery, so the guy asked if he could just leave it here with me for Ellie to pick up.”
“And did she pick it up?” asked Lozza.
“Nah, it’s in the office,” said the barman. “Package has her name on it. Figured I’d leave it for Rabz to deal with when she got back.”
Lozza paid for her order and took her leave.
Outside, the bats had started bickering like old witches in the tree—it was getting dark. Orange poop collecting on the sidewalk stuck under her flip-flops. As she neared her RAV4, she heard voices. A male and a female. Arguing. Their tone was low but angry, the kind of sound that invites one to listen closer. Lozza stilled. Listened. The woman raised her voice. “No,” she commanded. “Get out of here! Stop. Leave me alone!”
Lozza moved forward fast. Beneath a tree along a fence, she saw a man grab a woman’s arm. The woman jerked herself free. With shock Lozza recognized her.
“Willow?” she called out. “Everything okay?”
The man stepped back hurriedly into the deeper shadows. He was bald, his pate shiny. Black T-shirt, black jeans. Biker boots. In his left hand he held some kind of carry bag.
Lozza strode up to them carrying her takeout boxes. “Hoi! Mate! Step away from her. Now.”
“She . . . she’s police,” Willow said loudly. “You better listen to her, mate.”
The man shot a glance at Lozza wearing her sarong and flip-flops, her takeout boxes in hand. His features were obscured by the gloomy light. A bat flitted through the air. The man spun around, slung the bag across his body, and stalked toward the beat-up dirt bike parked near Lozza’s RAV4. He straddled the bike in one smooth motion and kicked it to life. The streetlight caught a tattoo down the side of his neck. The man gave full throttle and roared down the street, popping a wheelie before disappearing around the corner. A kangaroo bounded in his wake and went crashing into bushes.
Lozza went up to Willow. “Are you okay?”
She was shaking. “What an asshole.” Her voice came out quavery. “Thank you,” she said.
“Who is he? What did he want?”
“I have no bloody idea who he is. He came out of nowhere, accosted me as I walked past. Said he wanted to buy me a drink and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He tried to grab me, and that’s when you arrived.” She rubbed her upper arm where the man had touched her. “Good timing—thanks, Lozz.”
Lozza hesitated. “You headed to the Puggo? You going to be okay?”
As she spoke, Gregg appeared from the shadows and came down the street. “What’s going on?” he said.
“Some arsehat accosted Willow,” said Lozza.
“Are you okay?” Gregg touched Willow’s arm. An intimate gesture. Lozza felt her jaw tighten. Of course Gregg was interested in Willow. She was