Read Online Forbidden Fruit by Ilsa Evans - Free Book Online

scotch. A few long moments passed and then she sent me a challenging look. But something else shifted behind, a shadow of knowledge, huddling protectively. My eyes widened. ‘You know who it is.’
    She folded her arms and looked away, towards the laneway. After a moment her eyebrows rose. ‘Nell Forrest Close? Really?’
    Petra had followed her gaze. She started laughing. ‘Oh my god.’
    ‘I’m not sure I think that’s a good idea,’ continued Yen. ‘With your propensity for getting into trouble, do you really need to draw attention to your whereabouts?’
    Petra was still laughing. ‘It sounds like a stalker alert. Take precautions, Nell Forrest Close.’
    ‘Deb’s taking care of it,’ I said shortly. ‘It’ll be changed soon. Now – who is she?’
    ‘No idea.’
    I leant forward, trying to force eye contact. ‘You know. I know you know.’
    ‘No, you think you know that I know.’ She rose, plucking her bag from the table. ‘And as fascinating as a discussion about your knowledge always is, unfortunately I shall have to forgo the remainder. I am going home.’
    ‘But Yen –’
    ‘Goodbye.’
    I watched her slim, straight-backed figure wind its way through the tables and out onto the footpath. As soon as she rounded the corner back towards Renaissance and her car, I turned to Petra. ‘She knows.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘This is not looking good.’
    Petra drew in a deep breath and then let it out, her shoulders dropping. ‘He has to be involved. There’re too many coincidences otherwise. Do you think she’ll call him?’
    I thought of Darcy, now settled with a new partner and a new child, and what I would do under the circumstances. ‘Yes.’
    The bread ball bounced onto our table and rolled to a stop by my wine. It was now a mottled grey colour. One of the young tradies rushed over to retrieve it, very apologetically. His pants hung from snake hips, with jellybean patterned boxers puckering above.  
    ‘I don’t really remember him,’ said Petra, as soon as the young guy had left. ‘But I wouldn’t have thought …’
    ‘Me neither.’
    The sun was now directly behind the new street sign, with Nell Forrest Close framed by claret rays. We remained silent, each lost in memories that were born mainly from black-and-white photographs of forty-odd years ago. Sitting on his lap, riding high on his shoulders, secure in the knowledge he was simply there. Until one day he wasn’t.
    *
    Despite Grace June Rae’s assurances, the police investigation showed no signs of removing itself from my backyard. The blue canvas was still securely in place, the side fence was still missing, and there were still two police cars parked on the spare land beside my property. Along with a lone Channel Seven news van, complete with mini satellite dish mounted on the roof.
    Charlotte, however, was now on the decking, looking none the worse for her ordeal. I positioned her by the sliding door and ignored Gusto’s forlorn face on the other side of the glass. For the time being the backyard was out of bounds for him, with Quinn having to take him out the front on a lead every few hours for ablutions. I watered the apple tree, standing back to admire the effect. Matt Carstairs, Scarlet’s fiancé, came wandering over, his police pistol bumping against his hip.
    ‘Hey, Nell. Dreadful business, isn’t it?’
    I nodded. ‘I heard there was a press conference this afternoon?’
    ‘Yeah. They’re hoping someone will ID her based on the information we’ve got.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Young, blonde female. Mid to late twenties. Yellow handbag. Black boots.’ He held a hand to his knee. ‘This high.’
    ‘Wasn’t there some form of identification in her handbag?’
    ‘Nah. It had a magazine and some make-up. Oh yeah, there was a change purse thing but it just had money and some receipts. Hang on …’ His ruddy skin visibly paled. ‘I don’t think they’ve released that information yet. Can you forget I told