Who Killed Jimbo Jameson? Read Free Page A

Chris commiserated with me about my cancelled holiday, which was the most sympathy I’d received all day.
    Constable Jack placed my coffee and biscotti in front of me and Chris’s eyes lit up as he made room for another stool for him.
    â€œSo who’s your friend, Maddie? And where did he come from?”
    Chris didn’t wait for me to answer and turned to Constable Jack. “Oh, so you’re the hottiewho was with Maddie at the hotel? Brett definitely told me about you. What’s your name?”
    â€œChris, this is Jack. He’s learning the ropes from me while Marco is in Rome.” I tried to sound casual, but why, oh why, did I have to mention “ropes” in front of Chris?
    â€œWell, if anyone knows all about ropes it’s Maddie. You know, she’s really into knots. And whips. And chains, if you’re really lucky. You’ll beg for less.” He laughed. I cringed.
    Jack nodded. “I’ll remember that, Chris. But you know, I might be able to teach her a thing or two that I learned in the Boy Scouts.” He grinned at me and winked. “Always be prepared and all that. Dib dib dib.”
    Chris was delighted. “Oh, do come and tell Doctor Chris all about it.” He patted his thigh and winked.
    â€œThanks for the invitation, Chris, but my heart belongs to Maddie,” countered Constable Jack, and my heart leapt. Looks, a hot bod, brains and repartee: Constable Jack, you are just too perfect.
    Chris laughed. “Yet another knockback. I’m devastated, but remember – when she breaks your heart, I’ll be here to sew it back together again.”
    My attention was diverted to more immediate matters. Coffee. I began to feel better at the first sip. As I swallowed the rich fluid every cell in my body whispered “Oh, thank you.” The biscotti were a great idea, and my headache retreated with every heartbeat. I squinted into the sun and shook my head carefully.
    â€œStay away from this one, Chris. I saw him first.” Did I really say that?
    â€œWell, if you’re going to be like that, I’d better go.” With another wink and a big smacking air kiss, he stood and strode down the road towards the hospital.
    â€œNice guy. One of your conquests?” Constable Jack asked. I smiled, knocked back the last of the macchiato, and stood up. “Come on, big boy. Let’s go get the widow and show her the sights of Glebe. Once she has identified him we can go home.”
    And I could unpack my suitcase. I mentally scratched out all my beautiful plans: feeding the wild dolphins at Monkey Mia, cocktails at sunset at Pinctada Resort. Sleeping in. Massages. Bubble baths. I could even have turned off my phone and been completely uncontactable. Which is what I should have done the day before. Oh bugger.
    Jack hit the lights and siren to get us through the Friday afternoon traffic and I called the carservice department and yet again they broke my heart. One more week without a car. I couldn’t remember what the latest disaster involved, but it was expensive and my car needed a new part and it had to come out from Italy. I have a horrible suspicion that it would have been cheaper for me to fly to Milan, pick up the offending part, and bring it back myself. Perhaps that’s what Phil was going to do.

chapter three.
    The Jameson family home on the beach at Camp Cove was behind a high sandstone wall and decorative iron gates. Tall palm trees were silhouetted against the early sunset light and the afternoon breeze wafted the aroma of a barbeque that must have been close by. I realised that breakfast had been a very long time ago. We pushed through the reporters and photographers and hit the gate buzzer.
    The gates slid open and the door to the house was opened by a tall, leggy brunette with a short helmet of impossibly shiny silky hair, luminous skin, white teeth, red lips, brown, almost black eyes and a loud voice with an accent I