been in that room and seen Alicia lying there in bed, dead eyes on the ceiling, bruises and blood on her face; impossible that she hadn’t sat up and thrown off the quilt, laughing at them for falling for the trick.
‘The quality matters more, Dad.’ Zoe was twenty-four but was often mistaken for younger. Linsey had told Carly that Zoe always made a point of telling the family when it happened. She speared a chunk of tuna with her fork. ‘People notice that.’
Her husband, Benjamin, said, ‘All I know is we’re almost out of letterheads and the business cards aren’t far behind.’ He wiped his mouth with a folded paper serviette and placed it on his plate like it was the last word.
Carly drained her cup and put it silently on the saucer. Behind her she could hear Linsey at the coffee machine. She wished they were at home, in bed, talking and holding each other. Something in her felt free when they were together. Here, now, she felt squeezed, compressed, shrunken.
Delancey leaned over and gave her a nudge. ‘And how are you, Miss Carly?’
‘Getting by.’ No way she was going to say a word to them about Alicia. ‘Can’t complain.’
Delancey glanced past her at Linsey. ‘Linz is looking good now that she’s lost a little weight, don’t you think?’
‘I think she’s always been fine.’ I am not your co-conspirator, and that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.
Delancey went on as if Carly hadn’t spoken. ‘If she’d just style her hair differently and put on a dab or two of make-up, she’d be beating off the boys with a stick.’ She focused back on Carly. ‘You must work with a lot of young men. Is there anyone decent you could set her up with?’
‘Nobody comes to mind.’ Carly pushed her cup away.
‘Forget decent then.’ Delancey smiled, showing her eyeteeth. ‘I’m kidding, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Carly said.
A police car tore past. It was the first one she’d seen since Alicia’s house. She felt like there should be hundreds of cops out there, swarming the streets, chasing the killer. She thought of John Morris and Dave Hibbins. Most of the murders she’d been involved in – attending the scene, testifying about it, following it in the papers later – had been done by someone close to the victim. In a few cases the killer was still there at the scene, sobbing bloodied over the body, or standing silently smoking a cigarette, or hanging dead themselves. What did she really know about John and Dave? They seemed nice enough, but people always said that, didn’t they? Neighbours were always on the news declaring some killer to have been such a lovely quiet guy. And John had something hard in him, a cold streak. But really, what cop didn’t?
She thought of Maxine Hardwick. She’d once known someone who’d worked at Parramatta, and when the news came out she’d wondered whether they were friends. Wondered what it would feel like to know someone who was murdered.
‘Seriously though,’ Delancey was saying, ‘if you do know of anybody. I hate to think of her growing old and alone.’
‘She’s twenty-eight,’ Carly said.
‘Exactly. By the time she finds someone, settles down and falls pregnant, she’s going to be well into her thirties.’
‘Younger pregnancies are so much better,’ Zoe put in. ‘I’m so glad I had Maya when I did.’
Two-year-old Maya was at daycare today. Carly knew her schedule because Linsey paid half the rent on her flat – owned by Bradaghan Property – in hours of childcare. Not that she considered it work.
‘Perhaps she’ll meet someone here,’ William said.
‘Not much chance of that.’ Zoe curled her lip and nodded towards the door where two men had entered, holding hands and carrying a toddler.
They all watched the family go to the counter.
‘It’s the kiddie I feel sorry for,’ Delancey whispered loudly.
Carly rubbed her pounding forehead.
‘Society is changing,’ William said, placing his knife and fork
Sax Rohmer
Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar
Vanessa Stone
Tony Park
David Estes
Elizabeth Lapthorne
haron Hamilton
Kalyan Ray
Doranna Durgin
George G. Gilman