Must move the Land Rover, sitting royally in the garage.
Where did she keep the spare car keys? In the desk maybe. I emptied the contents of the top drawer. Receipts folder. Julia bought two pinball machines: she thought they would be fun and a good investment. The AMEX chit is on the receipt. As I shuffled the papers, a bright blue bank card slid out. Unused. When the bank renews your credit card, it always sends two. Now we have her bank card and AMEX card number. Have they been used lately? Might track her killer. Passed that on to the police.
Checked her computer, looking for a folder like My Stuff. No.
The garage holds boxes of Julia’s clothes for the Salvation Army to collect. The Army is slow, very slow to collect. Sadly, I took her jewellery to donate. If I left it at home, Julia’s ghost would be right there, smiling at me. I couldn’t take that. The Op Shop ladies however decided, no, I knew, I was a thief. Insulted, I brought the jewellery back home. Boxed it.
Months later. Hi James, Detective Inspector here. We have news of a kind for you. Oh.
A young woman has been found dead with Julia’s bank card in her purse. But she is not Julia. Her DNA and description do not match. We will follow that lead. And about the car keys. A locksmith will provide new keys if you can prove you are the owner with your motor registration card. Will keep you posted.
I washed and polished the Rover; Julia seldom bothered. It was like old, scuffed but loved sneakers. It’s a kind of memento. Julia didn’t keep photos.
Later.
Dante counted nine levels in the Inferno. Hell has moved on since then. Casualty at Royal Prince George Hospital. Waves of my first casualties meet too few blasé staffers, amid trolleys, deliveries, announcements and alarms. Take a seat and wait, love is the standard medicine. Cleaners notice a man slumped over, dead. Paul Mitchel, Julia’s friend and lawyer, was severely beaten. In his briefcase, police found this story.
Julia and I took the PowderFinger concert together. Afterwards, we stopped for a nightcap. I dropped Julia near an ATM but had to drive on. When I got to the ATM, no Julia but lots of blood on the pavement. Robbery and stabbing it was. I asked passersby but they kept mum. That night, a big guy came to my door, saying pay up if you want her. He must have followed me. I asked how I knew if she was still alive. He punched me and beat me. And again.
I feared the worst: she was dead. I left a note and will for James. Moved to get away. May God have mercy on us.
Bio
A man’s a man wrote Berthold Brecht. That says it for Peter Wright, now writer.