LITMIR.BIZ

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that marked the arrival of Celia and Geoffrey. Odd was an understatement. Geoffrey swung along on his crutches, his ears making him look like a businesslike radar dish in a soft grey suit, while Celia and her hair rolled in like a beach ball in a flurry of flame-red silk. 'I think another drink is definitely in order.'

      Julie, who it seemed was also all alone 'so to speak', followed Kit to the bar like a good little general dogsbody. As they stood waiting for the barman to open a fresh bottle of champagne, an elegant hand with fingers ringed in gold brushed Kit's arm as its owner reached for the ashtray on the bar. There was a throaty 'excuse me' as the woman took a very deliberate look at Kit, gave Julie a cursory nod and then interrupted one of the men beside her to disagree with some point he was trying to make about promotional schedules.

      Kit recognised her as the grey-eyed woman from Geoffrey 's outing to the Japanese restaurant on Monday night. At such close quarters, however, the angular face revealed a certain calculated fierceness that Kit had not noticed then. Her general demeanour almost shouted 'approach with caution', and her not unattractive features were made almost severe by a bun that pulled her brown hair back so tightly it looked painful. The deep voice however had an unforgettable tone and the intensity of the woman's gaze had quite surprised Kit.

      'Who was that?' she asked Julie when they got out of earshot.

      'You mean Miss Enigma? That's Adele Armstrong, Mr Robinson's secretary.'

      'Miss Enigma?' Kit said, taking a long look, over Julie's shoulder, at yet another player in Geoffrey's little theatre of surprises. Kit watched intrigued as the woman revelled in the power of holding three men at bay with an oh so subtle barrage of contradictory body language. Yes. No. Yes. No. No chance fellas, thought Kit.

      'Yeah, Miss Enigma or the Dragon Lady. She is not generally well-liked. Not that she gives anyone the chance. She is just so superior. She thinks that because her boss is one of the bosses that it makes her more important than the rest of us. We're all expected to call her Ms Armstrong, can you believe it. Mostly we call her Miss H and M; you know, high and mighty. After all it doesn't matter who she makes coffee for, she's still only a secretary.'

      Kit guessed that Julie's venom was born of envy not dislike. Adele Armstrong was quite obviously a manipulator, someone who always knew exactly what she was doing and what she wanted or, more to the point, what she had to do to score the extra points. Kit knew the type. She was important because she made sure she was. Someone like Julie would always have a Ms Armstrong above her because she saw the importance in the position rather than the power in the person.

      'How long has she worked for Mr Robinson?' Kit asked, trying to drag her attention back to the scowling Julie.

      'Only about two years. She didn't even go up through the ranks like most of the other secretarial staff at OHP. She came right on in from nowhere and sat at Mr Robinson's right hand, so to speak. God look at her now. All those men hanging off her every word. She's not even attractive or anything.'

      'I think she's quite striking,' Kit said.

      Julie looked at Kit as if she'd just arrived from Planet 10. 'You think so? It's probably the air of masculinity that surrounds her that makes you think that. Most of the women at work think she's actually a transvestite,' she said in all seriousness.

      'Really?' said Kit with astonishment, for there was nothing at all masculine about Adele Armstrong. Standing at the bar, Kit had practically been bowled over by the almost tactile look that Adele had cast over her. From head to foot it had been fleeting, penetrating, overtly sexual and unmistakably female.

      'Mind you,' said Julie leaning close and dropping her voice to a whisper, 'most of the men, at least those who've tried to crack on to her, say she's a...you know, a lesbian.'

      Kit looked suitably surprised while she tried not to laugh. Oh dear, you poor thing, she thought. Julie could obviously accept the notion that Adele Armstrong was a man in drag more easily than the possibility that she was a woman who chose to love women. Julie had rolled the 'L' word round her mouth as if trying out a new swear word on her best friend at primary school.

      She was still nodding at Kit, with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look as if this was her most valuable piece of gossip, when the cavalry arrived in the form of Del, two strange men and a whole bottle of icy cold champers.

      'That was great fun,' said Del as she sloshed port into a couple of glasses while Kit made coffee.

      'Yeah, well he's not usually that quick. I was sitting outside that place till 2 a.m. on Tuesday.'

      'Do you suppose the guy in that other car was watching us or the house?' Del asked.

      'What guy?' Kit set the mugs down on the coffee table and threw herself on the couch.

      'The guy in the car down the street.'

      'Why didn't you say something at the time?'

      'What, and wake you from your beauty sleep? Besides you're the detective, I thought you'd noticed him.'

      'When did he turn up?' Kit asked.

      'He was there already.'

      'He probably just lives there then. In his car I mean. Could you see what he looked like?'

      'Interested are we?'

      'Of course I'm bloody interested Del,' Kit snapped. Her friend had the most annoying habit of playing games with useful bits of information. She was at her most exasperating when she prefaced juicy gossip with 'you'll never guess who'.

      'OK. No, I couldn't see what he looked like, even through the telephoto, it was too dark. I can tell you that he's a chain smoker with a moustache and possibly a beard. That much I could see every time he struck a match. And I did take a photo of the car for you.'

      'Thank you Dr Watson,' Kit said with a grin. She reached over with the port bottle and refilled Del's glass. 'The thing I can't figure is the part Ian Dalkeith plays in all of this, whatever this is.'

      'Maybe your Mr Robinson is investing in Dalkeith's property development.'

      'Maybe. But if it's above board why would he be dodging questions about it? It's more likely tied up in that little salon of sin.'

      'So perhaps that's all there is to it. A couple of wealthy guys with a mutual interest in sex with anything on two legs set up their own private whore house. What else would you expect from all that male bonding at The Patrician Club. That was Ian Dalkeith with Robinson in the lobby of that house tonight and they were obviously providing that Yank with a bit of local culture. So where's the mystery?'

      'Who is that American, though?'

      'I don't know darling. You seem to have more questions about this case than your client does. I'd like to remind you, before you lose any sleep over this randy band of men, that Celia hired you just to follow her husband, not to solve every mystery in town.'

      'Ah, but I do love a mystery Del. I can't help myself. I have to develop that last film, do you want to stick around?'

      'Sure, why not. I doubt that Brigie will be waiting up for me.' Del followed Kit down the short hallway that opened off the landing that surrounded her sunken lounge room. Kit had turned the smallest of her apartment's three bedrooms into a darkroom. Her friend Angie, who was particularly handy with a monkey wrench, had done a bit of creative plumbing on the pipes in the adjacent bathroom so the new darkroom would have running water.

      'A photographer you ain't,' Kit said an hour later as she collected the prints from where she'd pegged them to a piece of string hung across her open lounge window.

      'But thank you for your time and assistance,' Del said snidely. 'I warned you I was only used to a totally automatic camera.'

      Kit dropped the prints on the coffee table beside the orderly piles of photos she and Del had been selecting to present to Celia the next day. She sat down next to Del and gave her an apologetic grin. 'OK, let's see what we've got.'

      She extracted some of the prints and put them to one side then sorted the remainder into chronological

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