Dead Men Don't Order Flake Read Online Free PDF

the only one in need of something calming. We headed into my kitchen and I made us both a hot Milo.
    I sat down and rubbed my head. I’ll admit I was feeling pretty scungy.
    Dean touched my arm. ‘You OK, Mum? Look, sorry if I was a bit…oversensitive. It’s just, well, I’ve had it up to here with all these people suggesting I don’t know how to do my job.’
    ‘What people?’
    He sighed. ‘Only most of Muddy Soak.’
    It’s not something I enjoy facing up to, but it’s probably true Dean isn’t universally loved. I’m sure it’d make a difference if he’d just…relax a bit.
    ‘And now Sergeant bloody Paula Vandenberg…’
    ‘Who’s she? You got some support, at last?’ Dean’s had a hell of a load on his plate with two stations to run,singlehandedly. Victoria Police haven’t had much luck filling the gap at Hustle.
    ‘…She starts Monday week. She told me we’ll need to examine my priorities. Christ, I would look into a wider range of priorities if I had the time. You know how much I’ve got on. No one else seems to notice. Or care.’
    I made the required sympathetic noises, and then moved swiftly into pep-talk mode. A person might be slightly concussed and have a black eye forming, but she never truly gets a chance to forgo her parental responsibilities.
    ‘Well that’s terrific you’ve got this Paula, whatsit, Vandenberg, now. It’ll make all the difference. At last, an assistant.’
    He sipped his Milo. ‘She’s not an assistant. She’s my new boss.’ A doleful tone.
    ‘Oh.’ Well, that was good. Possibly. Although Dean’s used to running his own show. And lately I’d been starting to wonder, well, it’s a depressing thought, when you suspect your own son might be sexist. Just a touch, and only temporary, I hoped. How the hell he picked it up is a mystery: I might blame Piero for that one. He deserves a bit of blame.
    ‘It’ll be good to have someone else to share the load with you. And she’ll have useful ideas, probably. Smart new ideas.’
    He snorted. ‘She’s smart all right. On the bloody fast track.’
    I don’t know why Dean won’t shunt himself onto the fast track. He seems to want to spend his entire life crawling along in the slow and bimbly lane.
    ‘Probably means she won’t stay long. Do your best to get along with her. It’s always best to get on with potentialchief commissioners. Don’t be…’ A pompous puffed-up pile of self-importance was the phrase dangerously close to the speaking end of my tongue. ‘…discouraged.’
    We sipped our Milo in silence for a moment.
    ‘You know, there was this brown Fairlane…’ Possibly a long bow, but the investigative professional, even if unlicensed and not entirely qualified, knows the importance of considering all possibilities.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘It was behind me on the road.’
    ‘Behind you on the road. Right.’ He sighed. ‘Mum. You need to rest.’
    ‘I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me.’
    ‘And I don’t want you in danger.’
    No disagreement there.
    ‘So go to bed. And make sure you lock up properly this time. Victims of crime generally bring it on themselves.’
    Thanks a bunch, Dean.
    After he left, I locked and relocked my place. Stowed Gary’s money under a giant bag of peas in my freezer. Then I climbed into bed with the dropped phone. I wasn’t sleepy: I guess being broken into and bashed over the head can do that to you.
    I spent a couple of hours swiping finger patterns; still no success. I know, I know there’s a line of argument that says I should have handed that phone over to Dean. Vital evidence, important police investigation, blah blah. Thing is, there was every possibility the vital ‘irrelevant’ evidence would sit on Dean’s filing cabinet while he was busy rounding up alpacas.
    In my experience, it’s generally more efficient to sort things out yourself.

6
    At seven, I gave up trying to sleep, and got up. Took a look in my bathroom mirror: a top-quality black eye.