Abacus

head out to have a look,” Randall said with hands on hips.
    “Sounds good. If it is the crime scene, we will call you others in if required,” Jesse said, heading out the door.
    Walking from the room , Leanne turned to Georgie G. “Do you reckon Jesse really had the shits then?”
    “I think so,” Georgie said. “We’ve all put in long hours, which eventually gets to you, and it is probably worse if you are at the helm.”
    As Randall walked towards his office, he thought about Jesse’s response to a simple joke. Perhaps the pressure of this job was taking its toll on him and wearing his patience just a little. Life was tough at the top sometimes.
    * * *
    As they drove along King Street, Newtown, Randall looked in each coffee shop that lined both sides of the road. All of them appeared to be quite full and doing good trade. Each café seemed to cater for different clientele. There were the cafes that welcomed backpackers with the offer of free internet service. Then there were the cafes that catered for the animal lovers with customers and their pooches enjoying each other’s company. There were the arty-type cafes, which embraced those who he referred to as the “ferals” who in his view were in desperate need of a good wash and haircut, and finally, the ones that welcomed the average middle-class families.
    As they turned off Austr alia Street, they zigzagged through a number of very narrow roads, which could only accommodate one-way traffic. In these streets, the streetscape consisted of mainly single and double-storey terrace buildings built in the late eighteen hundreds to early nineteen hundreds. These terraces generally shared a common wall and only had very small front yards. Finally, Hobbs turned into King Street. In comparison to the streets in which they had just travelled, King Street was more heavily populated, as the entire street consisted of older style unit blocks.
    Number twelve King Street was an old three-storey walk-up building made of old dark blue Sydney brick. The entry had an art deco feel to it, with a circular brick design above the entranceway. The unit blocks either side of number twelve were roughly the same vintage and condition.
    Reaching the third floor, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody blared down the hall. The closer they walked to unit sixteen, the more obvious it was that the music was coming from that unit. Upon reaching the door, Randall knocked and instinctively pushed his thumb over the door peephole.
    Hobbs looked at him and whispered, “Boss , this bloke’s on our side.”
    “Oh yeah,” Randall said , removing his thumb and feeling a little embarrassed. “Force of habit. We see more baddies than goodies.”
    Eventually the music was turned down and the doo r answered by a tall, thin, redheaded young man. He looked nothing like the young man Randall had expected. Jesse flicked open his wallet, revealing his police badge. “Hi, I’m Detective James, this is Detective Sergeant Randall and Hobbs, and you would be Cole?” Jesse asked, extending his right hand and shaking Cole’s.
    “Sure am.”
    “Like your music, Cole,” Randall interrupted. “I’m a bit of a fan of Freddy too, died way too early, don’t you reckon?”
    “Sure did, but his music lives on,” said Cole , looking a little more at ease.
    “Anyway , Cole,” Jesse said, getting back to business. “We just need permission to look around in the form of a signature in my notebook, and if you could just write your mobile number down underneath, I can ring you when we are finished.” Jesse removed a notebook from his inner jacket pocket, held it up against the wall, and wrote in it. Finally, after he’d finished writing, he handed the book to Cole. “Just have a read of what I wrote, and if you agree, sign underneath, then put your mobile number.” Jesse gave his pen a last shake to get the ink flowing, and handed it to him.
    As Cole read the entry, Randall deliberately removed a crisp hund red dollar note from his wallet and held it out for him to see. He knew that most students were strapped for cash and the note would help to hurry things along. As Cole read the entry, he had a quick glance up at the note, signed the notebook and handed it back. Randall slapped the note into his hand. “Well, thanks for your help with this, Cole. You go and have a good night. We won’t make a mess and we will ring you as soon as we are finished.”
    Cole disappeared back into the unit, turned the music