"Thanks, Rabbit," Kit squeaked, aiming a questioning squint at her sidekicks. "But what makes you think I'm investigating anything?"
"D and B said you were after Scooter. I figured that, you know... Aren't you?"
"No," Kit fibbed. "It's the cops who want to talk to Scooter, not me. They need a witness statement like the one you gave. I said I'd help find her that's all."
"Rabbit reckons she'd be at work now," Brigit said.
"That's where she was supposed to be yesterday too." Kit turned to Rabbit. "Any ideas why Scooter didn't turn up for work, even though she left here to go there?"
Rabbit performed some serious-thinking callisthenics with her bottom lip. "Nope. She was pretty cactus, but."
But what, Kit wanted to ask; instead she said, "with a hangover, right?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't a hangover hangover, Kit. It was more your lubed-up, slip-sliding, long late night kind of hangover - if you catch my drift."
Kit narrowed her eyes. "I hate to appear dense, Rabbit, but your drift escaped me."
"Sex," Rabbit shrugged. "Lots of it."
"Oh. I didn't know she had a girlfriend," Kit admitted. Like you'd notice, O'Malley.
"It's all new pasho and fairy moans," Rabbit explained. "You know, ringing out for pizza coz they don't want to leave the hotel. But," she whispered, "it's also a hush-hush secret."
"Well, the secret's hush-hush anyway," Kit said, raising her eyebrows.
"And why is it?" Brigit the Curious asked.
No one, it seemed, was going to ask Rabbit to elaborate on the moaning fairies.
"Actually, it's not a secret," Rabbit stated. "I mean everybody - except you lot apparently - knows about it. But the girlfriend herself, by which I mean her identity," Rabbit squinted meaningfully, "is a huge secret." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, which apparently indicated the end of her statement until she eventually realised that everyone was expecting more detail. "Oh," she continued, "and the reason for the secret-sea would be because she's married. The other woman I mean, not Scooter."
"Scooter Farrell is having an affair with a married woman?" Brigie seemed impressed.
"I take it this woman is not out anywhere then."
"Kit," Rabbit shook her head dejectedly, "I don't even know who she is."
"That's some secret affair then," Del noted.
"It's a right bitch, lemme tell ya," Rabbit winked.
Kit ran her hands through her hair. This was all nicely juicy but not useful for anything except slaking Brigie's thirst for goss. She gave Del a time-to-leave nod and the Big R's arm a gentle farewell slap. "Gotta go Rabbit mate, but if you see Scooter, please tell her she has to call Detective Martin at the Homicide Squad. If that's too scary for her for any reason, then tell her to call me and I'll explain why she has to."
"Sure thing Kit. Have I got your number?"
Kit smiled. "I don't know Rabbit, have you?" She pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and extracted two of her business cards. "One for you and one for Scooter."
Kit was half way to her car before she checked that Del and Brigit had Scooter's address.
"Yes," Del nodded, "but we don't need it Kit. It really is the police who want to talk to Scooter, remember, not us."
"But we could interrogate her," Brigit suggested cheerily.
"About what?" Del asked.
"About who her married woman is."
"Why?"
"Because I want to know."
"And your reason?" Del asked Kit, as they all got into her RAV.
"I thought if she was local we could swing by on the way to wherever we're going and tell her to front up before the cops get suspicious about her for no valid reason."
"Where are we going?" Brigit asked.
Kit shrugged and looked at Del who said, "Scooter lives in Williamstown."
"Oh. Wrong direction. So we're not going there," Kit said, taking St Georges Road.
"Thank goodness," Del commented. "Because as charming as Williamstown is, it's not on the way to anywhere I want to go today."
As the place Del most wanted to go was back to work, Kit dropped her friends off at their office then tossed an imaginary coin to choose between going to see Erin Carmody at the St Kilda Star or Jon Marek at police HQ. The coin pointed out she'd get more of relevance by visiting Marek's office because that would increase the likelihood of bumping into the hopefully helpful Detective Cathy again. Also, seeing Erin in person for what she needed wasn't really necessary, except that actual visits to her office usually resulted in cake, which was always good. But not today, Josephine, she thought as she pulled up three cars back from the Punt Road intersection.
While waiting the usual two weeks for the left-turning drivers ahead of her on Swan Street to get their cars into go-forward mode, Kit jammed her phone's earpiece into her ear hole and called the St Kilda Star because, in person or not, she did need a favour. She had no idea whether it was possible, but hoped that Erin might be able to apply something in the right place to ensure that a certain northern-suburbs journo didn't end up in the Maribyrnong River wearing concrete runners because she was too intrepid for her own good.
The phone rang and rang and rang. Kit rotated her shoulders and growled, as a vaguely-felt hysteria, that nothing was happening anywhere, fuelled the impatience caused by her still waiting-waiting for the last car ahead of her to get a bloody move on. Ring. Ring.
"Oh and shit, shit!" she swore as she realised that now she wasn't going to St Kilda, she didn't even need to be in the no-choice but to turn left lane. "Life would be simpler, Katherine O'Malley, if you'd decide before you drive. Ah, finally!" She made the now unnecessary turn and headed south on Punt Road. Ring, ring...
"St Kilda Star, Simon Veducci speaking."
Oh no, not Mr Loopy.
"Hi Simon. This is Kit O'Malley. Remember me?"
"Do I?"
"Um, I don't know, Simon. Is Erin there?" she asked.
"In a word, no," said the guy she'd last seen crouching on top of the office storage shelves - out of reach of the nogglers and scary rats. Erin had suggested he take a long holiday, which he did, but from which he now seemed to have returned.
"Do you know where she is?"
"That's Kit the PI, yeah?"
"Yes Simon."
"Okay. I can tell you that Erin has gone to a meeting, and is incommunicado."
"Inco...really? Would you tell her I rang then, please Simon."
"Of course. I don't suppose I can help?" he asked hopefully.
"Maybe," she replied. "Are the St Kilda Star and the North Star related?
"Yes Kit. Both newspapers are owned by the same quartet of stinking capitalist bastards. They also own the Eastern Echo and the Westerly."
"Thank you Simon."
"My pleasure entirely. I believe." He hung up.
"Bye then," Kit said, lifting the sun visor to take a squiz at the Nylex silo clock. "Two-fifteen and, and," she said, "come on, ah - twelve degrees. That explains the temperature."
Fool! came the afterthought, as she crossed the Yarra Yarra by the negligible Hoddle Bridge and made a right turn onto Alexandra Avenue to follow the river's course beside the Royal Botanic Gardens. The Yarra wasn't looking