35.

Lovelay’s house was a grand two-storey mock-Georgian with a matching mock-Georgian garage, its sweeping lawn adorned by a marble statue of a woman – mock-Grecian. The kind of taste-vacuum that bemused Kat. She used to stop on their evening walks to examine similar places, the air of a doctor trying to understand a patient’s benign but puzzling symptoms.

She’d be halfway to the Bay by now, probably caught up in a lively debate with her sisters. The entire family couldn’t spend ten minutes together without trying to fix the world’s wrongs. Car trips with them were like watching an un-captioned but engaging movie, usually with a healthy snack or two thrown in.

He knocked on Lovelay’s door. Waited. Knocked again, pressed the doorbell for good measure. Nothing. Damn: like hitting a blank wall right after the starter’s pistol.

OK, Delaney’s house was only a fifteen-, twenty-minute drive from here. Speak to the man’s wife, then try Lovelay again, break in if he had to. Caleb might not have Frankie’s lock-picking skills but he knew how to smash a window.

***

No one answered Delaney’s door.

Caleb peered through a gap in the living-room curtains. Scattered toys, old-style TV and lounge suite, a basket of unfolded washing. Nothing to be read from the scene, other than that a family with young children and modest spending habits lived here.

He tried the house opposite, a well-kept cottage with windows overlooking the Delaneys’. No answer. Shit bugger fuck. He turned to check out the neighbouring houses: lights off, no cars. Too tired to keep doing this; he was going to make mistakes. More mistakes. You needed a partner for this kind of sustained work – even better, an assistant. No trust involved, just someone to drive while you napped, and call ahead to make sure people were home. Not cleave you apart, leave you holding the shards.

A tap on his back.

He lurched forward, caught himself before he went headfirst off the porch. In the doorway, an elderly woman was looking at him. Even smaller than the nurse at the hospital, with snappable bones, tiny feet in what had to be kids’ shoes. ‘Goodness, you’re jumpy. You should take something for that.’ Vowels so plummy she could make jam.

‘Yeah. Do you know the Delaneys? I need to speak to a family member.’

‘And you are?’

‘Caleb. Caleb Zelic.’ He handed her a business card, the one giving his title as ‘security consultant’.

She studied it carefully. ‘Couldn’t you come up with a vaguer title?’

‘Sure. I’ve got one that just says “consultant”.’

A dry cough of a laugh. ‘I’m afraid you just missed them. They left for Noosa thirty minutes ago.’

‘Was that sudden?’

‘I believe so.’

An impromptu subtropical holiday. Because Delaney was scared? Or because he was trying to mend his marriage after sleeping with Quinn?

The woman was watching him with bright black eyes, apparently eager for his next question.

‘Do you know the family well?’

‘I suppose that depends on your definition of well. June and I often chat, but we don’t share our sexual exploits. I do hope you’re not going to spoil her holiday. She’s been so glum, but she was smiling away when she asked me to feed the cat. Do you think you could make that stop?’

He replayed her last sentence. ‘Make what stop?’

‘Your phone. It’s chirping in the most annoying manner.’

Shit, he’d forgotten to turn it off after checking the map. ‘Sorry, I don’t know how to turn the sound off. Why has June been down?’

Her eyes went to the business card. ‘What’s this all about?’

‘I’m following up a few things with Mr Delaney’s work.’

‘That’s a very dull way of saying you believe he was on the take.’

That was sharp; maybe she could be his assistant. Or he could be hers.

‘Would you be surprised if he was?’

‘Yes. He’s sulky but not sneaky. Then again, I’m no judge of character. I really don’t understand what June sees in the man, and she adores him.’

‘Has he spent an unusual amount of money lately?’

‘Apart from the holiday, you mean? I really couldn’t say.’ Her hand went to the door. ‘And I’ve probably slandered him enough. Best of luck with your consulting.’ A brisk smile, and she closed the door.

He headed for the car, checked his messages as he got in. Alberto’s daughter.

—Dad’s hurt. Someone beat him up