“You had your policeman’s look.” He glanced in the driving mirror and in the lights of a passing car saw her turn her young, beautiful face into a stiff mask. Crumbs, he thought, is that how my kids sometimes see me? A policeman’s face, whatever that was? But he wasn’t game to ask her.
They reached home, the Federation house in north Randwick with its gables and turn-of-the-century solidness. By the time he had put the Commodore away, Claire was in the bathroom on her way to bed and Lisa was in the kitchen preparing tea and toast. Tom and Maureen, the other children, were staying the night with Lisa’s parents at Vaucluse.
Malone sipped his tea. “Where did they get that wine we had tonight? Was it left over from the marriage at Cana?”
“You didn’t have to drink it.” Lisa spread some of her homemade marmalade on toast.
There was nothing else except watered-down orange juice. “No wonder the Vatican is so rich. Who picks up Tom and Maureen tomorrow? You or me?”
“You. I’m baking cakes all day, for the freezer. It’s Tom’s birthday next Saturday or had you forgotten?”
“No.” But he had. He stood up, stretched his arms high. “Look, I can raise my hand!”
“A miracle. What a pity an auctioneer isn’t here to see it.” She raised her face and he leaned down and kissed her “Why can’t all wives love their husbands like I love mine?”
“Meaning who?”
“Meaning Olive. But who could love Will anyway?”
An hour later they were sound asleep in the queen-sized bed, their limbs entwined like those of loving octopi, when the phone rang. Malone switched on the bedside lamp. His first thought was that it was Jan or Elisabeth Pretorious calling to say that something had happened to Maureen or Tom. He could forget birthdays but he could never forget how protective he was of his children.
“Who else is on call?”
“You and Russ. There’ve been three other homicides today and tonight, everyone else is out on those. I can round up Andy Graham, but he’s not on call this weekend—”
“Never mind, I’ll take it. Leave Russ alone.”
He rolled reluctantly out of bed, looked over his shoulder at Lisa, now wide awake. She said, “Why can’t people keep their murders between Monday and Friday?”
He leaned across and kissed her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep this space vacant.”
******
Enjoy these Jon Cleary’s novels, as both Ebooks and Audiobooks!
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Scobie Malone Series
Dragons at the Party
Babylon South
Murder Song
Pride’s Harvest
Dark Summer
Bleak Spring
Autumn Maze
Winter Chill
Five-Ring Circus
Dilemma
The Bear Pit
The Easy Sin
Standalone Novels
The City of Fading Light
Spearfield’s Daughter
The Faraway Drums