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I am an innocent bystander. I don’t know how or when this will end. Let me tell you how it began.

When you are on duty far offshore, you weave fine dreams. On leave, I would visit Julia and Ava in Brisbane, travel to Thailand or Spain and discover the new job. That visit would be the first in the ten years since I enlisted. We had kept in touch. I expected great things, happy times. 

Early in the evening, her house was dark and empty. Two documents greeted me, a note and a will. The note from Paul, Julia’s friend and lawyer, simply stated that Julia died months ago. Not how or where. I was stunned. That cannot be. Julia was young and healthy. People live into the nineties these days. I went over to Paul’s house immediately, but the neighbour insisted angrily that there was no such person, never was.  We were dinner guests at Paul’s from time to time.

Hope against hope, I opened all the rooms at home, the basement and the garage. Nobody, Nothing. I walked on and on, yelling and sobbing.  

Morning. I made an appointment with Hills, a premier law firm. I needed advice. The will was genuine because it had the hallmarks of registration. To execute the will, a death notice from the coroner is necessary. In this case of suspicious death or disappearance, call the police. 

How to grieve? No funeral, service or candles now. I sat in church. Father Mike came next to me. The Psalms, old but beautiful, might suit I thought. He suggested The Stations of the Cross: spend some time at each one, thanking God for the good things Julia did.  I did that.

When Julia first met me at the airport, when she brought me home after being stabbed at school, when we went boot scootin together, when she counseled me about the job interview, when we walked Ava …

Detective Inspector and Detective Sergeant interviewed me at home. Walked them through the house and cars. Gave them the spare keys in case they needed to return.

Describe Julia. Tall, slim, blonde, hazel eyes, no visible tattoos or scars. I gave a DNA swab. Had she ear piercing or painted nails? I don’t know. Health issues? Never mentioned.

Had Julia had suffered a sudden fatal illness, then she would have died in hospital just like other folk without any mystery. So, she didn’t. That leaves misadventure.

Her Occupation. Manager of a group of five hotels, the Liverpool Hotel Company. One is the Fox and Hounds in Clovelly; we gave dinner concerts there once.  Maybe her employees know something. 

Her Friends. Apart from Paul and I, only Sally, her Yoga teacher, 10 am Thursday morning every week. Her business card may be on Julia's desk. Sally is short and chunky, with big bubbly hair. Laughing, they enjoyed their lessons.  

Her Places. Apart from home and work, Paddington on Sundays for breakfast and shopping.

Describe Paul. Paul Mitchell is about average height, slim with greying hair and piercing blue eyes. He would be about ten years older than Julia, say seventies.  

Anything to Add? My fingerprints will be everywhere because I lived here for four years as a university student. The password to Julia’s computer was under the keyboard; she was afraid of forgetting it. Oh, there is a sister Rose, but she and Julia never got on. Rose and her family never, ever answer mail or phone calls. His brother James vanished long ago. Said he was going to work in England.

Also? An address and phone number list please, best you’ve got. And an Identikit sketch for both.  

Plans? After you're all clear, two weeks to clean the house and garden, then rent it if possible.  Then two weeks' holiday and return to Perth.  I expect the police will find Paul and Sally and visit the Fox and Hounds.  May God go with us.

Bio

A man’s a man wrote Berthold Brecht. That says it for Peter Wright, now writer.

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