Chapter 28

Deirdre stood up. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder at the locked front door of the Flemington Police Station – the police radio crackled. She stepped away from the Watchousekeeper’s desk and looked up at the loudspeaker for the radio that was located above the front counter. It was Kelly...

“Flemington three-oh-three...?”

Kelly and Susie were clearing Plessey Lane.

“Nothing happening here VKC...”

The young brunette policewoman looked back at the Female Cells.

From where she stood, she could see through the open doorway – Lady Rhonda ‘The Cunt’ Hamilton-Baillieu now standing at the cell door,

“Flemington three-oh-three returning to the office for now...”

“Roger that...”

Deirdre smiled to herself. Kelly Maree O’Rourke sounded a little flustered...?

And, Deirdre Elaine McKinley knew only too well, the proximity of Plessey Lane to the ‘Fantasia’ Massage Parlour – continuing to gaze at ‘The Cunt’ in silent contemplation, the Watchousekeeper still wondered about a connection between Rhonda Baillieu and Rebecca ‘Becky’ Campbell...?

Alone with her own thoughts, ‘The Cunt’ intently stared back at ‘Probationary’ Constable Deirdre ‘Dash’ McKinley – she knew, even if the twenty-one year old brunette did not, that she was innocent. That was the irony of the situation. Sara Garde-Wilson had failed to secure her release. And, there was an overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence against her. Nonetheless, ‘The Cunt’ had not done what the ‘Criminal Investigation Branch’ had alleged, but she could do little to prove it. Toorak Socialite or not, she had very little money – the passing of her late aristocratic husband, Sir Richard Hamilton-Baillieu, had left her with little money. And, it had been Lady Rhonda Hamilton-Baillieu’s financial problems that had driven her into the bed of Alphonse ‘The Scorpion’ Marabito. She was neither proud nor ashamed of what she’d done. ‘The Cunt’ had not had a choice in the matter,

“Constable McKinley...?” she called. Her voice was soft. Calm. Almost relaxed.

“I don’t suppose, I could ask a favour of you, Constable McKinley?” Rhonda continued,

“Lady Rhonda...?” queried Deirdre – she lingered a little longer in the small Watchousekeeper’s Office,

“It’s been a long day, and I could rather do with something to drink?” responded the aristocrat. She looked nothing like a ‘Drug Dealer’ to ‘Probationary’ Constable Deirdre ‘Dash’ McKinley. A crisp white blouse. Dark ‘pencil line’ skirt and matching stockings. Barefoot. And, she’d not been found with any cocaine in her possession – Lady Rhonda Hamilton-Baillieu appeared rather incongruous behind bars.

A wealthy businesswoman. A thirty year old blonde. Rebecca ‘Becky’ Campbell too, had never quite looked like a ‘Madam’ should – like ‘The Cunt’ in the Female Cells, ‘Mistress Rebecca’ looked more like a successful businesswoman than a ‘Pimp’ or prostitute. But, there was something in Rhonda’s tone. A look in her eye that caught Deirdre’s attention. Desperation...? Humiliation...? Innocence?

Policewomen were still something of a novelty. There were few police ‘cunts’ working ‘General Duties’ like Deirdre – Lady Rhonda Hamilton-Baillieu had rarely ever had to deal with those policewomen who worked in a ‘Women Police’ Division, and had only occasionally, had dealings with female Detectives...

“A coffee...?” Deirdre suggested. Rhonda nodded.

Deirdre tugged at the collar of her uniform shirt,

“Though I really could do with something stronger, if you know what I mean, Constable McKinley?”

“You are in custody, Lady Rhonda – this isn’t the ‘Sheraton Hotel’...?” Deirdre replied, walking from the Watchousekeeper’s Office – the aristocratic smiled, saying nothing until ‘Probationary’ Constable Deirdre ‘Dash’ McKinley joined her at the cell door,

“You can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?”

“N-No...” responded the brunette policewoman.

Deirdre took a hold of the steel bars of the cell door that separated her from ‘The Cunt’...

“I guess not, Lady Rhonda...” she added, glancing back into the Watchousekeeper’s Office,

“The girls are on their way back in – they may have a coffee for you?”

Deirdre Elaine McKinley was certain her colleagues would bring her a coffee from ‘The Paragon’ Café,

“So then, Constable McKinley?”

“Deirdre...” the policewoman corrected.

‘The Cunt’ reached through the bars of the cell door...

“If I’m not very much mistaken,” continued ‘The Cunt’ in a whisper, “I think you’re bi-sexual, Deirdre?”

The policewoman opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. The police radio cracked again,

“You like ‘pussy’ huh...?” queried Rhonda.

Deirdre nodded without speaking – around her neck, she wore a silver necklace with a diamond pendant. Tucked beneath the collar of her short-sleeved policewoman’s uniform shirt, she also wore a lanyard about her neck, to which her Victoria Police ID was attached. But, it was the ‘rose’ tattoo on the brunette policewoman’s upper left arm that had caught Lady Rhonda Hamilton-Baillieu’s attention,

“Like what you see, Deirdre?”

‘Probationary’ Constable Kelly O’Rourke had the same tattoo.

Barely visible.

So did both ‘Probationary’ Constable Susie Raynor and both Rebecca ‘Becky’ Campbell and Sandra ‘The Countess’ Murdoch...

“What are you saying, Lady Rhonda...?” wondered Deirdre finally. Rhonda paused a moment or two,

“I rarely ever sleep alone, Constable McKinley?”

“Really...?”

‘The Cunt’ ran a fingertip over the nametag attached to the front of the policewoman’s uniform shirt,

“As I said before, Constable McKinley – you can’t really blame a girl for trying, now can you, Deirdre?”

Kelly hesitated. She had zipped up her uniform jacket after the kiss with ‘Mistress Rebecca’ but hadn’t bothered to button her uniform shirt beneath – waiting for Susie, she stood in the rear doorway of the Flemington Police Station. There was no sign of Sergeant Tess Gallagher. The small ‘Women Police’ Office on the far side of the car park appeared deserted. Not that Kelly was too worried. ‘The Black Widow’ had been working earlier, and the less she saw of Senior Sergeant Monica Draper, the better, as far as Kelly Maree O’Rourke was concerned. Susie joined her. She too had merely zipped up her uniform jacket, concealing her dishevelled and unbuttoned policewoman’s shirt after the kiss with the notorious ‘Madam’ earlier. They had no coffee. Both policewomen had all but forgotten about ‘The Paragon’ Café with what had happened with Rebecca ‘Becky’ Campbell in Plessey Lane,

“Keep trying...?” Deirdre suggested –she stepped back from the cell door to greet Kelly and Susie...

“It’s best you behave yourself this evening, Lady Rhonda?” the brunette policewoman added.

Rhonda shrugged. Pausing, Deirdre studied the Toorak Socialite,

“I don’t know why, but I think you’re innocent...?”

Lady Rhonda Hamilton-Baillieu let slip a gasp...

“Is that what’s worrying you, Lady Rhonda...?”

“Deirdre...” greeted Susie – slipping passed Kelly, she entered the building. Kelly followed,

“Seems, we forgot something?”

“Coffee...?” Deirdre reminded the older blonde – Kelly closed the rear door and locked it securely,

Stunned by the brunette’s admission, ‘The Cunt’ said nothing – she no longer cared about a coffee,

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid – I forgot all about calling past ‘The Paragon’ Café for coffee, Kelly...?”