Mike Dixon

„I knew Charlie.‟ Kirstin smiled. „He dated me. That was
the term used in those days.‟
„You mean, you knew him well?‟
„Canberra was a very small place then. Everybody knew
everybody else. Charlie was my boss‟ son.‟
„What sort of person was he?‟
Kirstin‟s eyes glazed over. „Charming. Intelligent. Seduc-
tive. Irresponsible. He was the sort of man you could really
fall for.‟
Janet moved closer. „I know what you mean.‟
Humphrey felt acutely embarrassed.
„I had a small child …‟
Kirstin continued to relate aspects of her life Humphrey
hadn‟t even dreamed of. He shut his mind to the conversation
and hunted for something to do.
It was garbage night and he decided to put the wheelie
bins out. He left by the back door and trundled them into
the road. Then he went into the kitchen and taped length of
butcher‟s paper to the table. Finally, having raided Eliza-
beth‟s school bag for felt pens, he strode into the family
room.
„Right! Ladies! We‟re trained professionals. It‟s time to
start behaving in a professional manner.‟
They brought their drinks into the kitchen and watched
Humphrey sketch out a case diagram. He completed the
first of his sheets and taped it to the wall.
Janet scanned the list of names. Sue Lynne, Charles, David,
Doris, Tong Yee, Tim, Humphrey, Janet, Rodney, Ste-
ve, Harald … it wasn‟t much of a list.
„How about Rosie?‟ she said. „You know how David de-
scribed his visit to Doris‟ flat. He collected the suitcase and
Doris said the contents would teach Rosie a lesson and
Charlie was somehow involved.‟
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