Thicker Than Water. Lindy Cameron

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СКАЧАТЬ you tell her I rang then, please Simon."

      "Of course. I don't suppose I can help?" he asked hopefully.

      "Maybe," she replied. "Are the St Kilda Star and the North Star related?

      "Yes Kit. Both newspapers are owned by the same quartet of stinking capitalist bastards. They also own the Eastern Echo and the Westerly."

      "Thank you Simon."

      "My pleasure entirely. I believe." He hung up.

      "Bye then," Kit said, lifting the sun visor to take a squiz at the Nylex silo clock. "Two-fifteen and, and," she said, "come on, ah - twelve degrees. That explains the temperature."

      Fool! came the afterthought, as she crossed the Yarra Yarra by the negligible Hoddle Bridge and made a right turn onto Alexandra Avenue to follow the river's course beside the Royal Botanic Gardens. The Yarra wasn't looking its best this arvo, she noted, but then it really had nothing to reflect today but gloomy gloom and an overcast sky.

      Kit tried Erin's mobile number, just in case her friend was only unreachable when it came to Simon Veducci, but as the call went straight to voicemail she had no way of knowing whether that was the case, or not. She left a message asking Erin to call back.

      The Homicide Squad when it was in, worked out of the Police Complex on St Kilda Road, along with the Arson, Drug and Organised Crime squads. It took Kit such a ridiculously long time to travel the very few kilometres to its thereabouts opposite Melbourne Grammar, that the flying crows who'd set out at the same time had died of old age by the time she got there.

      She signed in, waited for her escort, took the lift to the ninth floor and stepped out into the familiar chaos of a busy squad room. Most of the Ds she passed on her way to Marek's office ignored her, one glared suspiciously and another hailed her warmly. She couldn't see Cathy Martin anywhere but she could see that Marek was pacing his office like a man with only two directions in life - back and forth - until he saw her; and that stopped him in his tracks.

      He beckoned her inside where, surprise-surprise, she found the not-really-missing Erin Carmody lounging on his overstuffed couch, drinking coffee.

      "I'd love one of them," she said to Marek, as she plopped herself down next to Erin and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Hi honey."

      "Hello cherub," Erin smiled.

      Marek handed Kit a coffee. "For the record, this is not a café. What are you doing here?"

      "I was just walking by," Kit frowned, "you're the one who invited me in."

      "Oh good, it's smart arse day," Marek huffed, collapsing into his own chair with an air of such resignation that it would have worried Kit, had she not seen this act a hundred times.

      "Really, I was just passing," she insisted, offering up one of her best no ulterior motive, butter-wouldn't-melt kind of smiles, knowing he wouldn't buy it - not even for a second.

      "What can I say, Jonno? Obviously I'm on a digging expedition. I was hoping to get some stuff from Detective Martin and I was looking for Erin."

      "What made you think she'd be here?" Marek asked.

      "If you're talking about Erin - I didn't; if you're talking about Cathy - she works here."

      "And what stuff could Martin possibly have for you?"

      "I don't know yet," Kit said thoughtfully.

      "Everything in this office is classified," Marek stated.

      "Since when?"

      "Since you walked in. I'm warning you right now Kitty, I do not want you out there finding any more dead bodies while you're not investigating the one you found yesterday."

      "You found another one?" Erin exclaimed.

      "Where have you been?" Kit frowned.

      "At home, on holiday, since Tuesday."

      "Simon the Mad said you'd gone incommunicado to a meeting."

      "That was last Friday," Erin rolled her eyes. "So, spill. What have I missed?"

      Kit took a breath to begin the lowdown, but...

      "Did you not hear me say this isn't a café?" Marek swivelled his chair, massaged his hand on his spiky-short hair, and let go a serious long-suffering sigh.

      Oh dear, Kit thought, there is something wrong. "How about you and I go somewhere for something," she suggested to Erin, as she stood up. "Unless you've only just got here, in which case I'll go and look for Cathy."

      "What? Why?" Erin frowned at Kit, then glanced at Marek and, by the looks of things, saw something there she didn't recognise. She reached up to make use of Kit's offered hand. "Let's go get cake. I only dropped in to invite Jon to dinner and I've done that."

      As she stood, Erin's soft black velvet skirt dropped in waves like, well, soft black velvet from her previously semi-revealed knee down to her well-turned ankles. This, combined with the flick of her wild red hair over her shoulder, produced an interesting - and never-before-seen-by-Kit - effect on Detective Inspector Jon Marek.

      Kit noticed that while his eyes softened in a smile, his chest expanded suddenly as if he'd been caught unawares by something truly worth noticing.

      Ooh, love stuff, Kit thought, pleased that two of her dearest friends had found it together.

      "Sorry guys," Marek apologised. "This just isn't the best time for socialising."

      "Or the right place either, Jon," Erin said. "We understand. Come O'Malley."

      Marek walked them to his door, lightly touching Erin in the small of her back as he ushered them out. He then caught hold of Kit's elbow, "Cathy is in interview room four, for the peace and quiet, if you really want to talk to her about any 'stuff' that isn't classified. My advice - which, of course, you won't take - is not to get caught up in this one, Kitty. Nothing the Rileys have done is worth you getting in their crosshairs."

      "Of that, I am aware," Kit smiled. "But thank you, Jonno."

      "The Rileys?" Erin whispered as she following Kit, closely.

      "Yeah, the Rileys," Kit said, stopping outside the interview room. "Erin honey, would you mind waiting out here. I'll fill you in, I promise, but I doubt the nice Detective in Charge of Dead Gerry will tell the private eye very much at all if she comes armed with a reporter."

      Erin scowled and pouted, but sat down on the bench seat opposite the closed door on which Kit was knocking. When it opened, Detective Senior Constable Cathy Martin, who didn't look quite surprised enough to see her, stepped back casually and waved her in.

      Kit noticed the phone on the desk. "He rang ahead."

      "He did," Cathy shrugged. "Have a seat and tell me how we can help each other."

      "We can?" Kit sat.

      "Play your cards right, O'Malley, and this could be the start of a beautiful relationship," Cathy said, trying not to laugh. "What do you СКАЧАТЬ