7
Back in the motel room. I take my bag out of the wardrobe and drop it on the bed. I pull out the bin liner with the t-shirt in and head out to an industrial steel bin down the side of the motel. I chuck the bag inside the bin and return to the room. As I throw the rest of my clothes out on the bed, I find a pair of jeans with mud stains on the knees, a white t-shirt with engine grease down the front and a pair of work boots I don't recognise. The grips are caked in dry mud and dead stems of grass. I sniff the boots. A faint whiff of cow dung.
I drop the boots on the floor and search the room for clues. I come up empty, so after scrubbing the numbers off my wrist, I cross the street to the bar.
Al is still on duty, polishing a glass. "What'll it be?" he asks.
“Information," I say. "Th
