Mal watched the man, who he now knew as Bill Peters, help the platinum-blonde get out of his car. Mal's instincts had certainly led him in the right direction and Bill Peters had turned out to be a real find.

The man's profession joined a few more dots in the Patrick Murphy contract. Yes, everything was becoming a lot clearer. The picture was almost complete. Mal smiled as he took a photo of Bill Peters and the blonde. It wouldn't be too much longer and Malcolm Armstrong would be able to hammer the very last nail into Sergeant Patrick Murphy's coffin. He looked forwarded to it, a lot.

An image of his estranged wife flashed across his mind. Sex had been one of his other pleasures. He balanced sex with Trish in one hand and the thrill of eradicating one of life's vermin in his other. Both were orgasmic but, which one did he find the most fulfilling? Which fired shot was more gratifying? He chuckled. Obviously, it had to be the elimination. If it wasn't, Trish would still be with him. Mal felt his masculinity stir. It had been quite a while since he'd had sex.

He started the car and headed for the inner city and Hadley's Bar. The place was rocking and filled with every category humanity could come up with, trans, drug addicts, non-genders, gamblers and, the wealthy; young and old, all looking for one sort of fix or another. Mal made his way through the crowd towards the bar.

The high pitch squeal of a woman met his ears as he moved past one of the shadowed booths. She was straddled across the lap of a biker and was moving slowly up and down. The man put his large hands on her hips and made her move faster. Holy fuck. Mal shook his head and continued towards the bar. He realised why this place suited the likes of Patrick Murphy.

Glancing back over his shoulder he took another peek at the couple. Another man had slipped into the booth beside them. She had her head back panting hard. The biker had obviously finished because he was removing her hands from his shoulders and shifting them onto his neighbours. That man grinned and was hurriedly undoing his fly. Mal wondered if he should slip in beside the man and wait for a turn. He smirked at the thought of being third. Would he want to be third? Christ the way he was feeling at the moment he wouldn't give a shit if he was ninth.

As he leant back against the bar with his glass of ice-cold coke a young woman sidled in beside him. She looked up at him and smiled. Mal could tell she was off her face but there was something familiar about her.

"You wanna fuck me, mister?" she said as she staggered and grabbed the front of his pants.

Mal whispered a silent thanks to the Blessed Mary. Was this his lucky day or what? He said, "How much?"

"Depends what you want." Her brow crinkled as she lifted her hand from his trousers and swept it across her forehead. "But I don't like rough stuff. That's not for me."

"Hey. Not my style either."

"Yeah, and I only do one at a time." She unbalanced as she tapped his chest. "So, it's just you and me. Okay?"

"Okay." Mal frowned, she looked really familiar. He asked, "How old are you?"

The girl grinned and twirled her blonde hair. "I'll be any age you want me to be. I've got a school uniform back at my flat if that's what you're into."

"Ah... fuck off!" Mal exclaimed as he yanked his head back. "That's not what I meant. Shit. I'm not into baby fluff so you better be older than twenty-five."

"All right. I'm twenty-five," she said with a sly grinned.

"How old are you, honey? Really?"

"Twenty-two." She pulled out her driver's licence as she swayed again. "Are you a cop?"

Mal shook his head and jeered, "No, baby." He looked at the girl's date of birth. She wasn't lying. Could he do a girl who was just a few years older than his daughter? Nope. Wasn't going to happen. He said, "Were you here last week?" Mal looked at her licence again and added, "Amaryllis. Were you here last Saturday?"

"I coulda been."

"Did you leave here with two men and go to a flat in Mount Gravatt?" Mal pushed.

"I thought you said you weren't a cop." She tapped his nose as if he was a naughty little boy.

"I'm not."

"So why all the questions?"

"A friend wants to know," he said with a grin. "So did you?"

"Maybe. Bastards. I told them I wasn't into that shit."

Mal pulled out a hundred dollar note. "How about I buy you a drink and you tell me all about them."

"Shit. Is that how you get off?"

"Yeah, honey." Mal chuckled. "I get off on information."

I wonder what Mal is really investigating.

Photo - agephotostock