LITMIR.BIZ

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too, in a way. The daughter, now what's her name...?'

      'Elizabeth,' Kit said.

       'Yes, Elizabeth, she virtually ran away at the first opportunity. It obviously hurt Chel but I suspect the problem lay with the girl's relationship with the step-father not with Chel herself. At least I inferred that much.'

      'So what happened to Carl?'

       'He was killed in a car accident. Such a tragedy. Chel loved him so much I would have thought she'd have stayed in widow's weeds till her turn came. But I suppose some people just can't take being on their own. Though god knows why she married that Robinson fellow. Katherine, I have to go now. I can hear Connie hoo-hooing up the side path and I'm not nearly ready to go.'

      'OK Mum. Thanks for all the goss. Give me a ring when you get home and try not to lose the farm on the roulette table. I love you.'

      'Love you too, Katherine,' Lillian said before the line went dead.

      Kit picked up the file on Geoffrey Robinson again and stared long and hard at the photo of the man who was giving Chel Everton such a hard time. Bastard! Kit was developing quite a soft spot for her new client.

      'Been to see the bank manager have we?'

      'Jesus Del! You frightened the life out of me,' Kit said bending to pick up the scattered contents of the file that had taken flight when she'd leapt to her feet. 'And what, pray tell, has the bank manager to do with anything?'

      'Your gorgeous legs have come out of hiding, sweetheart. The only time a sensible woman wears a skirt these days is to get money that's not already hers from a stingy man in a bad suit who behaves as if the cash comes from his own private superannuation fund.'

      'Very funny. I've been working, unlike some people I know.'

      'Well, that's one way of making sure you can pay the rent next week,' said Del bending over the sink to splash cold water on her tanned face and long, long neck. She undid another couple of buttons on her lavender blouse and leant her statuesque body into the breeze from the air-conditioner.

      Despite the fact that much of Del Fielding's daily banter consisted of smart one-liners, this handsome, grey-haired woman was one of Kit's best friends. She often wondered why, seeing the most insulting wisecracks were usually aimed in her direction. But Del was smiling now so Kit stopped wondering, as usual, and pulled a face instead.

      They had been firm friends since the day, 12 years ago, when Kit and her partner Marek had been called to a disturbance outside Aurora Press. Del was standing in the doorway, all six foot of her with arms folded, hurling abuse at three drunken yobbos who'd decided that a window belonging to a bunch of feminists was a really appropriate place to take a piss. They had also been accosting every female passerby, whether they had business at Aurora or not. Kit was still a uniformed cop then but that hadn't deterred one of the offenders from taking a swing at her as she tried to book him for indecent behaviour. Del had caught hold of Kit before she hit the ground and later, after a second divisional van had taken the three drunks away, Del had treated Kit's cut lip while Marek took the necessary statements.

      'Where's Brigit?' Kit asked.

      'Hanging round the knicker department of Dimmey's. There's another sale on and our Brigie does so love a bargain,' Del said rubbing her hands together. 'I swear I don't know what the woman does with all that underwear.'

      'Are you two going to Angie's tonight?' Kit asked.

      'Probably. It is Friday after all. Will you be joining us or is sultry Sam still in town?'

      'No and yes. We're going out for dinner.'

      'That should be exciting,' Del said flatly. 'I don't know what you see in that air-head.'

      'There seems to be a lot of things you don't know today Ms Fielding,' Kit snarled. 'I'll thank you to keep your uncharitable remarks to yourself.'

      'Oh, excuse me! I'm sorry for living in hope that one day you'll take up with someone who's at least half as smart as you are.'

      'I don't want to hear this Del,' Kit said picking up her shoes.

      'Of course not, sweetheart.'

      'And don't be patronising. Just because it's been centuries since you were in lust.'

      Del shook her head slowly as she watched Kit stuff several manilla folders and the shoes into her briefcase. 'That remark couldn't be further from the truth,' she said with a smile. 'It does, however, show how little you know about long term, meaningful relationships, Katherine. With you it's only ever lust, which may be exciting, orgasmic, weight-reducing and the best way to spend a spare hour or two, but it is also superficial, empty and above all transitory.'

      'Thank you for the analysis, Dr Freud,' Kit said, one hand on her hip in a gesture of standing her ground. That was impossible to do for too long under that know-it-all gaze, and she really hated it when Del was having one of her 'it's time to get serious and settle down Kit' days. Unable to think of a clever parting shot, she shrugged her shoulders, grabbed her briefcase and opening the office door said 'My love life, Delbridge, is none of your business.'

      'Sure. Until next week when you don't have one and are in desperate need of company,' Del called after her.

      'That's what friends are for,' Kit said closing the door behind her. She took the stairs two at a time and dumped her brief case on the small landing at the top while she unlocked the door to her apartment. As she stepped inside she heard a faint rustling sound above her and, expecting a surprise attack, quickly removed her pantihose before ascending the five steps from the inside landing. She was right. She only made it half way past the sitting room before a deranged black commando launched itself from behind the begonia and grabbed hold of her leg.

      'Let go, you lunatic!' she shouted as she tried to walk Quasimodo-like into the kitchen with The Cat clinging tenaciously to her right ankle. When she bent to pick it up it darted manically off in several directions at once before leaping onto the kitchen bench to sit demurely as if butter wouldn't melt in its mouth.

      'I heard you this time, you feral feline. You're getting careless Thistle,' Kit said leaning in for the customary head-butt hello.

      She turned the kettle on, threw some coffee into a mug and stared absently at the collage of photographs on the wall. There was a polaroid shot of herself sprawled on the couch with the Cat from Hell perched on her shoulder. It was only the two bright satanic eyes that distinguished the tiny black ball of fur from the shoulder-length curls of Kit's worst-ever haircut. The Cat was a lot bigger and Kit's hair a lot shorter now than when that shot was taken about the same time, two years ago, as the one of her brother Michael above it. He was poised in front of one of his cosmic landscapes waiting for a reaction from Lillian who looked like she was suffering severe indigestion. Amongst the collection there was also Detective Sergeant Jon Marek peering over the top of a Phantom comic; Nick and Phil grinning lasciviously at each other at last year's Christmas party; Genevieve looking totally ravishing outside a cafe in Firenze; and Del, at Angie's, mouth open as usual, haranguing someone else for a change, while Brigit overflowed a bar stool in the background.

      Kit had never been able to figure out why Del was so disdainful of her personal relationships. That wasn't entirely true; of course she'd figured it out. She was just reluctant to acknowledge there was a certain amount of truth in what her friend was saying. It really riled Kit that it had reached the stage where the moment she met someone new she realised she was also anticipating Del's reaction. There would always be some unsolicited remark about her choice of partner, and when the affair didn't work out it would undoubtedly be because of Kit's cavalier attitude towards any sort of commitment. Though why Del would want Kit to commit herself to someone she'd called an air-head, or worse, was something Kit couldn't fathom, but that was Del.

      Kit placed the coffee on her desk and was about to turn on her computer to tackle chapter five of her novel, when she noticed the light flashing on the answering machine. There was a message from her mother about going to Adelaide, a reminder from Marek about a barbecue on Sunday and then the dulcet tones of Sam Hellier.

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