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getting in and getting out – 4

10.45 P.M. North Sydney Police Station.

Dixon sat quietly on a steel bench in the armour glass holding cell, looking at the smears of blue ink that covered his shaking fingers. He had not been offered a cloth after the fingerprinting.
Two large pellets of blood dropped from his nose and onto the lapel of plaid jacket he was wearing. One of his eyes was blackened and two of his teeth had been knocked loose.

On the other side of the glass Senior Sargent Winter sat on his desk talking with the two detectives who had picked up Dixon earlier that night.

‘ We’ll have to let him go. ‘ One of them said.
‘ How’s that? ‘
‘ Nothing on him, he was just walking out the door when we collared him.’
Winter tossed a file onto the desk.
‘ What about all the gear stashed in a bag behind the fire door? ‘ He asked.
‘ Cheap Chinese shit, not worth two-bob. Silly fucker even grabbed a couple of biros.’
Winter walked away from his desk and looked out a window.
‘ The woman who saw him in her office! The one who called it in.’
The detective flipped through his notebook. ‘ She said she saw him by the lifts so can’t even get him on trespass. ‘

‘ What about fingerprints on the bag? ‘

The detective laughed. ‘ Sure, you want to feed him for a week while we wait for a result? ‘

‘ We’ll have to let him go. The couple of smacks you got in is it. ‘

 Winter left the squad room and slammed the door. An hour later Mick was back on the street, looking for another opening.

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