Blood Guilt. Lindy Cameron

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      'He is one of those men, not unlike my husband as all this proves,' Celia sneered pushing the photos away from her, 'who cannot keep his mind above his belt. He and my husband used to spend a great deal of time together when Geoffrey and I were first married, before Gerald returned to Sydney to live. He is a crass and uncouth man. It was bad enough that he saw nothing wrong in propositioning most of my friends but when he tried it on my daughter I decided enough was enough. I told him what he could do with his disgusting intentions and made it quite clear to Geoffrey that his friend was never to cross our threshold again.'

      Celia was quite shaken by the memory and Kit had absolutely no idea what to say. What an arsehole was her immediate thought, but she doubted whether that particular choice of words was an appropriate response to a disclosure that had nothing to do with her case and was none of her business. Celia filled the awkward silence by changing the subject completely.

      'So, we carry on according to the schedule, Katherine. Unless you have any suggestions about how we should proceed.'

      'No, Celia. I think the way we are going is the most effective. Judging by the calendar of appointments for next week though I think we'll just get more of the same. Even his sprained is not, um, slowing him down.'

      'Well, of course not. He only uses his feet for walking on after all,' Celia snorted. 'He'd have to sprain the other thing to even consider taking time off from anything.'

      'Do you think it's worth carrying on?' Kit laughed.

      'Oh yes my dear,' Celia said adamantly. 'I'd like to know exactly what Geoffrey is up to while Douglas is still investigating his side of things. Another week at least, but that will probably be enough.' She rummaged amongst the pile of photographs for the black leather filofax she had placed on the table earlier. She opened it and after handing Kit an envelope began leafing through the pages.

      'Next week, next week,' she muttered. 'Ah. Friday is quite full and I have an appointment with Douglas at 9. Perhaps you could come at 10, in the evening.'

      'Er, yes, of course,' Kit said a little taken aback.

      'I realise it's a late hour, but Geoffrey will be dining out that evening. And as I said the rest of the day is a busy one. I do hope that I'm not completely ruining your social life, Katherine.'

      'No Celia, it's fine. My social life is rather dormant at the moment. Believe me there's nothing to ruin.'

      'Good. Then Friday 10 p.m. it is. The last appointment, unless of course you discover something completely new. In that case we shall review the situation. That cheque,' she said indicating the envelope Kit was still clutching in her hand, 'should cover your time for the week. If you make up an account of anything that's outstanding we can finish everything up nicely next week.'

      Kit nodded and reaching for her briefcase dropped the envelope in. Celia gathered up the photographs, carefully as if she might catch something from them, and stuffed them back into one of the large envelopes.

      'If you could hold these for me please Katherine, till such time as they're needed.' Celia said thrusting the package at Kit. 'I'd rather they were out of my sight.'

      'Should I bring them back next week?'

      Celia sighed deeply before struggling to her feet. 'What I would really like you to do is burn them. They make my stomach turn. But burning the evidence would not change what Geoffrey has done. Is doing. You'd better have them with you.'

      The weather, which simmered on the hot side of unbearable for the next seven days, was broken briefly by a violent wind storm on Wednesday that ripped roofs from houses in three suburbs and dribbled a cup full of rain on Mt Dandenong to the east. The city was like hell's kitchen, there were bush fires throughout north-east Victoria and some of the toughest water restrictions in years were in place throughout the state.

      It was Friday again, they seemed to be coming around with monotonous regularity rudely heralding yet another weekend alone, and Kit was on her way back to Celia's - for the last time.

      During 'Week Two', apart from finding out that the Yank, who'd been registered at the Regent Hotel under the name of David Watts, before departing for Sydney on Tuesday, was apparently a businessman on holiday, she had indeed only managed to uncover more of the same. Although she was heartily sick of following Geoffrey on his nightly forays, she was a little regretful that after tonight she'd have no reason to call on Celia.

      The fact that the last seven days had been all work and no play, all sultry weather and no sultry Sam made the smell of change in the thick air tonight feel distinctly ominous. It seemed that more than just her work for Celia was coming to an end. Sam had called from Sydney postponing yet another weekend in favour of a possible new job and after nearly a month of no contact Kit was beginning to lose the lust.

      She had spent most of the week, when she wasn't tailing the libidinous Geoffrey Robinson or working on her novel late at night, sitting in a cold bath with a bottle of bourbon and a good book or three trying to escape the heat and ignore the fact that her social life was more than dormant - it was virtually extinct. Telling Celia, of all people, about it was the closest she'd come to admitting, even to herself, that she was seriously lacking something serious.

      She had dragged herself to Marek's on Sunday to catch up with a few old friends from the force but the seemingly endless conversations over the coleslaw about children or new jacuzis had only made her depressed. After a few games of pool at Angie's, on one of Geoffrey's few nights at home, Kit finally had to acknowledge that the problem was not her social life - that had always been as active as she cared to make it.

      The problem was her life in general. Here she was at 32 years old with an almost perfect life, and no one to share it with. She was her own boss, doing a job she enjoyed which allowed plenty of time to devote to her writing. On that score she was better off than most people she knew but, on the other hand, most of those same people had someone with whom they could talk over their daily triumphs or failures.

      Despite the fact that it was usually her lovers that did the leaving, Kit had somehow earned a reputation as a heart breaker with a love 'em and leave attitude. It was almost totally unfounded and she knew that the smart-mouthed teasing of her best friend Delbridge had a lot to do with the myth gaining such wide attention. She didn't really mind; after all a notorious reputation was better than no reputation at all (who was she kidding?) but it did make it difficult to be taken seriously.

      Kit had never been into one-night stands; she'd rather read a book or watch a movie than indulge in sexual aerobics just for the sake of it. But it was six years since she'd been with anyone for longer than four or five months; and eight years since she'd been in love. Eight whole years, and she hadn't even come close.

      As the first huge dollops of rain struck the windscreen she decided it was time to give it all up and try celibacy. She and Sam were certainly going nowhere fast.

      She turned into Celia's driveway expecting it to be deserted as usual but was greeted by what looked like an emergency services convention. There was an ambulance, with lights flashing, two police cars and a Mercedes in front of the house, and a plumber's van parked on the lawn.

      'Oh shit, don't tell me she really has throttled him,' Kit said aloud, as she parked her car.

      CHAPTER SIX

      As Kit made a dash through the pelting rain towards the front door, a ruddy-faced man in overalls came barrelling out as if shot from a canon. He excused himself, while still on the run, and headed straight СКАЧАТЬ