27

Back in my car, I rummaged around in my handbag for something edible. An old Mintie. Well, it would have to do. I threw it in my mouth, then grabbed my phone and dialled.

‘Slick Café. How can I help you?’ A female voice at the other end of the phone line.

‘May I speak to Ms Jacinta Thomas?’ Bugger, the Mintie was stuck between my teeth. A pretty useless position for voice deepening, but maybe it would muffle my voice at least.

‘Who’s this?’ she said.

‘My name’s…Isssabel Allenby, from Allenby and…Co. I’m sorting out a number of outstanding legal mattersss relating to Ms Natalie Kellett’s tragic death.’ I tried adjusting the Mintie, aiming to sound less snake-like. ‘May I speak to Ms Thomas please?’

‘Speaking.’ The voice was a whisper.

‘Excellent. Now, Ms Thomas, I presume you received our letter?’

‘Err, no.’

‘Oh? Well, that is rather odd. Still, the postal service these days…Anyway, the fact of the matter is that there’s something Ms Kellett wanted you to have. Something… quite valuable.’ I crossed my fingers. Surely Natalie had been too young to think about a will?

‘What do you mean? Natalie died months ago.’

‘Unfortunately, we did experience a slight delay with granting probate. Still, everything is in order now.’

‘Well, none of this has got anything to do with me.’

I clicked my tongue. ‘I know this must be quite upsetting. At Allenby and Co. our aim is simply to do the right thing by the deceased, in this case, poor Natalie. I’m sure you would understand that. As her friend.’

‘I’m at work. I don’t have time for this.’

I suddenly started feeling a lot more sorry for telemarketers than I’d ever thought I would.

‘It’s completely up to you, of course. But it is a rather lovely sounding item.’

A pause. ‘What is it?’

‘Let me read it to you. I hereby leave to Jacinta Thomas my black maxi dress, the one I wore when I went with her to the Australia Day party at…oh dear, there’s a terrible smudge. Let me try it in a brighter light.’ I paused a moment. ‘No, still quite illegible, I’m afraid. Still, given that you were there with her, I’m sure you’d remember the occasion. Perhaps you can state the location for me… for the record?’

I rustled through a couple of old flyers from my handbag, in the hope that it sounded like I was in an office.

‘Are you for real?’

‘Of course. At Allenby and Co., we pride ourselves on the quality of our record-keeping.’

‘Well, maybe I should come to your office.’

‘I’m afraid we’re located in Collins Street in Melbourne. Probably not terribly convenient for you? I’m happy to resolve the matter on the telephone. If you can just state the location of that party…?’

‘Um, this is all very weird. Look, we’re about to close. I have to go.’ She hung up.

Bugger bugger bugger.

A few moments later, I was pulling up outside the Slick Café. I marched in over the black and white tiles, up to the counter. Jacinta had her dark pony-tailed head bent over a mass of till receipts spread out in front of her.

I leant in and put my arms on the counter.

‘We’re closed,’ she said without looking up.

‘I’ll wait.’ My voice was grim.

She looked at me then. Her eyes widened.

‘You bloody well listen to me, Jacinta. You know something about Natalie’s accident, don’t you?’

She glanced to the left, then to the right, like she was doing some strange eye exercises. Or searching for a lie she’d put down somewhere.

‘If not for Natalie, for your own sake. If she was murdered and you know something about it, you could be in terrible danger. You do realise that, don’t you?’

She looked down at the receipts, her lips trembling.

‘Tell me.’

‘It was Morris.’ Her voice was a whisper.

‘What? You mean Morris killed her?’

‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’

‘Jacinta, stop lying. Tell me.’

‘I don’t know where he was that night.’ Her voice was a wail. ‘Or the night you were burgled. All I know is that he asked me to tell the cops—your son, I mean—that he was with me the night of your break-in.’

‘Well, would he have had any reason for wanting Natalie dead?’

‘I don’t know, I tell you.’ Her face was red.

‘Do you know what the story was that Natalie was working on?’

‘No. Agh. I hate this. All of it.’ She scooped up the till receipts and flung them over me. Then sprinted out the door.