wrapped around his left bicep, a syringe protruded from the crook of his arm and a trickle of dried blood ran down to his wrist. His head sagged, eyes closed, mouth loose and drooping. Strands of brown hair hung from beneath a red baseball cap.
Finetti checked his pulse and said, ‘Nada! Cold as leftovers, too. Probably checked out sometime last night.’
I squatted beside Finetti and peered under the boy’s cap. The pale face jolted me with the memory of my best mate from high school, Tommy Jackson, who’d gone the same way. The similarity in build and facial structure were remarkable. At the age of eighteen, Jacko had left our childhood town of Benalla and moved to Melbourne, after which I’d never seen him again.
I stepped back from the body and breathed out long and low. It had been almost twenty years since Jacko’s death and I didn’t want to think about it now.
‘What’s the matter?’ Finetti asked. ‘You know him?’
‘No.’
‘Then what?’
‘Never mind.’
He gave me a questioning look, then said, ‘Mate, if you want to sit this one out, that’s no biggie. Maybe you should take the statement and let Kim work the body?’
I rolled my left shoulder and tried to loosen muscles and ligaments that gripped my joints like an octopus. A familiar metallic taste washed around my mouth.
‘Want me to get Kim?’ he prodded.
‘I said never mind.’
Finetti rested the clipboard on his knee. ‘Don’t get defensive, Rubes. I’m just saying I understand. You’ve only been back on deck a month and this is your first stiff.’
‘Since I’ve been back,’ I corrected. ‘Not my first.’
Finetti raised his palms. ‘All right, fine. What now?’
‘Tell me what you see.’
‘Expensive runners, for a start. Seiko watch, probably stolen. New jeans and T-shirt too. Ditto for that.’ Finetti lifted the boy’s T-shirt and patted the front pockets of his jeans. ‘Feels like a wallet in here. Let me get it out, see who he is.’
‘Careful,’ I said. ‘Watch for needles. Better double up.’
He pulled on a second pair of gloves and gingerly removed a canvas wallet, handing it to me. The contents, or lack of, reflected the boy’s adolescence. No driver’s licence. No credit cards. Only a debit card.
‘Dallas James Boyd,’ I read out. ‘There’s a Medicare card in here too. Same name.’
‘A Medicare card of his own?’ Finetti repeated. ‘Clearly didn’t live with his parents.’
I emptied the remaining contents, counted out a few dollars in coins, unfolded a piece of paper and held it under the torch beam. It was a receipt from the 7-Eleven on Fitzroy Street.
‘Looks like he bought a twenty-dollar mobile phone recharge card,’ I said. ‘Dated yesterday, er, last night, 10 p.m. Make a note to confirm it matches his mobile phone.’
I also found a business card behind the debit card for a youth worker named Will Novak. I knew Novak, he ran a hostel up on Carlisle Street and had been in St Kilda for as long as I could remember. The kid must have been a client.
I handed the wallet back to Finetti, who placed it in an evidence bag before checking the other pocket.
‘Beer bottle lid,’ he said, turning it in his hands. ‘Amstel, boutique beer, not the sort you’d expect a teenage junkie to drink.’
I shrugged, unsure what to make of it, if anything, and told Finetti to document the item and bag it. Next I studied the boy’s arm and the belt around his bicep, dictating my observations and taking photographs.
‘Deceased doesn’t appear to have any recent track marks. There’s a leather belt around his arm, makeshift tourniquet. Needle is a Terumo brand, normally associated with injecting drug use. It appears new.’
Shining the torch around the base of the body, I found a wrapper for the syringe alongside a spoon and cigarette lighter. I asked Finetti to chart the location of each item in his notes then shone the torch around the area. Squatting down again, I checked inside the boy’s mouth and looked under his T-shirt but still couldn’t find what I was looking for.
‘Where’s the lid?’ I said.
‘Lid?’
I pointed to the wrapper next to the body. ‘This syringe is brand new, so where’s the orange lid?’
Finetti swept his torch from side to side, but couldn’t find it either. ‘Could be anywhere, maybe it’s under the body. Let’s take a look.’
He set his torch down and gripped the boy under his armpits, ready to hoist him up, but I put a hand on his wrist before he had the chance.