"And he has no financial interest in this business?" Kit queried, but only for verification.
"If you mean did he have a financial stake in our bar then no, most-absolutely not," Angie stated. "If you mean did he have an interest in wanting to have a financial interest in the bar then, difficult as it is, you'll have to ask him because - never having met Gerry Anders or ever spoken to him - I wouldn't have a clue what he had an interest in. And now that he's quite dead, I'm not ever likely to find out. Nor do I care to."
"I gather you really didn't know him then," Brigit noted.
"What about anyone on his behalf?" Kit asked.
"Who on his behalf what?" Angie almost snapped. "Sorry Katy."
Kit waved Angie's impatient tone away. "Has anyone shown any interest in acquiring or investing in or offering to develop either The Terpsichore, the building or the land it's on?"
"In a word, no," Angie stated. "And if they did or had, you know I'd tell them where to go, especially if they contained too much testosterone without the required dose of queerness."
"Well," Kit shrugged, "that brings us back to the primo question: why was the body of Gerry Anders left in The Red?"
"And why was it drained of blood," Brigie said spookily.
"It's my bet the exsanguination," Kit rolled the word out of her mouth, "was done to increase the impact of a dead and naked man being found in a women's bar."
"But," Del raised a finger, "did whoever left him even know it was a women's bar? Could they have just chosen 'a place' where they knew he'd be found sooner rather than later?"
"Maybe," Kit shrugged.
"But you don't think so," Angie said.
"Nope. I think there is a connection, somewhere, between Gerry Anders and The Terpsichore. It may not be obvious or direct; and it may not have any meaning, other than as a stunt to enhance the murderous deed itself. It may be an inconsequential link, an insignificant connection between Anders and his killer, or the killer and this bar-"
"Whatever it is, it certainly results in some big words," Brigit commented.
Kit narrowed her eyes. "I'm thinking aloud Brigie; I often use big words when I think."
"Well, I reckon we could find this mysterious missing link a lot sooner than the cops," Del proposed, in an unlike-her gung-ho tone.
"Especially if the cops are being led around by Chucky Parker," Kit agreed, vaguely, because she was also thinking, rather more loudly: uh-oh!
She gazed at her friends and wondered how the hell she was going to head this one off at the pass. As helpful, resourceful and clear-thinking as her friends always were, forming a posse under these seriously-overshadowed circumstances would be totally not a sensible course of action.
Get them involved O'Malley, she thought, but with harmless sidetracks.
"Detective Martin seems okay, though," Angie was saying.
"You mean Five of Nine." Brigie waggled her eyebrows.
"Do I? Why?" Angie asked.
Brigie gargled a woo-hoo. "Five of Nine - you know, like Seven of Nine on Voyager, only Detective Cathy is not quite so sculpted with enhanced boobs and itty-bitty waist. And she's probably not as tall as Seven, but she does look like her. Don't you think, Kit?"
"Do we know what she's talking about?" Angie asked.
"Star Trek," Kit explained. "But, can we stick to this plot, please - whatever it is."
"Of course," Brigie nodded. "Plot stick away, Kit."
"Thanks. We need to find out if anyone that we know has any idea why the mortal remains of Gerry Anders were left here and not, for instance, in his own nightclub. We need to do this quietly and with care. We must consider who we ask things of, and to whom we tell any of the things that we know, or find out."
"By we, you do mean just the four of us," Del clarified.
"Yes," Kit nodded. "We four, with strict boundaries, should do our best to find out who, if anyone, knows what. And Angie, you need to hire me officially so I can act on your behalf."
"Righto, Katy, you're hired," Angie nodded. "Do I need to sign anything?"
"Yeah, but later; and only because a certain Detective Chucky Fix-You-Up is in charge of the murder investigation. Speaking of which, you must all remember that I am not, correction we are not - and I repeat - not investigating the murder of Gerry Anders. All we're trying to do is find a connection between Mr Anders, the live businessman, and this," Kit waved at the bar, "one of his last resting places."
"What do you mean by boundaries?" Brigit asked.
"She means," Del injected, "we can talk to other patrons and people we know and we can talk to each other, but we don't talk to the press including McThing, and we do not talk to any member of the Riley family. Right?"
"Right. Or any other crooks or crims or mobsters or strange people," Kit added. "Because of who Anders was, we are inadvertently dealing with some very bad people. We do not want to deal with them directly, and we certainly don't want them to know who we are, that we are interested in them, or that we care."
"What about Julia?" Angie asked.
Kit ran her hand through her hair. "Keep her informed and ask her to keep her ears open, but I suggest that she and the other owners keep a low and, if possible, silent profile."
"Especially Gwen and her woo-woo friends," Del added.
"What about Alex?" Brigit asked.
Kit sighed. They'd be calling on Rabbit and the Scooter gang to act as the Terpsichore Irregulars if she wasn't careful. Ooh, don't forget about Scooter.
"Alex is not due to leave Sydney until Sunday," she said. "Even then she may have to go straight to Adelaide. But, if there are no objections, I think we need her on the team anyway. At the very least Angie may need a lawyer."
Angie pulled a sour face. "You think so?"
"Sorry honey," Kit nodded, "but yes, I think so."
"Alex would also make a proper famous five," Brigit stated - way too seriously. Before anyone could groan, which they all got around to in a flash, she threw her palms up. "Hey, I'm just trying to lighten the mood here. I mean, it's not like we knew the dead guy. We are simply caught up in someone else's shit here and sure, while some of it is bound to stick on us, we do not have to lose our senses of humour."
Del stroked Brigit's shoulder. "I love this woman," she admitted. "No idea why; but I do."
"Ohh," Kit sighed. "Cathy says she's not been able to find Karen Farrell."
"I heard her say that," Del said. "What does she want Scooter for?"
"She was here when I opened up yesterday, but had to go to work," Angie explained.
"She didn't get there," Kit said. "Do you know where she works?"
"An old folks home in Brunswick, since her school closed down." Angie said. "I told the cops that, and Rabbit told them where Scooter lives. I wonder where she is?"
"Was Scooter Farrell acting suspiciously?" Brigit queried, in a vaguely Sherlockian tone.
"No more than usual," Angie laughed. "They'd all been on the piss something chronic on Wednesday night apparently, so Scooter was not a well girl. It's not surprising she couldn't cope with the oldies after finding a dead man with the hangover she had."
"That then is the first thing on the agenda," Kit announced, turning to Del and Brigit. "Can you two find out where