Bleeding Hearts by Lindy Cameron

Author:Lindy Cameron [Cameron, Lindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781932859164
Amazon: B00CXRL5SO
Goodreads: 19153204
Publisher: Clan Destine Press
Published: 2014-11-12T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kit pulled up outside Erin Carmody's beachfront hacienda in Elwood and tooted her car horn. In truth, Erin's place was more like a 'beach-smell bungalow' but it was definitely in Elwood, and it would have had a great view of the beach if it wasn't for all the things in the way - like the road and the thickety vegetation. Kit assumed the latter had been planted, or left, as a sensible environmental-type precaution to prevent the beach itself from being blown by a westerly away from the water's edge and into people's front gardens.

The many suburbs along the Esplanade, Marine Parade and Beach Road - the variously named route down the east side of Port Phillip Bay - featured some of the most sought-after pieces of real estate in Melbourne. Especially those houses from which you could view the bay and which had double-glazing to block out the constant traffic noise. Kit supposed, though, that if you couldn't actually see the sea, the next best thing would be to live in walking distance of it. And a hundred yards or so was not too much of a hike.

"I'm here, I'm ready, fill me in," Erin exclaimed flinging open the passenger door, and throwing herself in beside Kit. She was wearing jeans, something Kit had never seen her in before, and a startling crushed velvet coat-thing of black and green.

Kit turned and leant back against her own door as she watched Erin flailing around with her shoulder bag, her long and very wild auburn hair, her seat belt buckle and, by all appearances, her entire morning so far.

"Calm down woman," Kit suggested. "What's with you?"

Erin looked staggered. "You ring - in the middle of my three cat cat-worming session, I might add - to tell me you can let me in on your investigation if I'm ready half an hour ago. Meanwhile, and concurrently, I'm still in my nightie, Lady Godiva has pissed off out the gate and up the back lane, my mother rings to beg me to go to Mass with her tomorrow even though she knows I'm a born-again-and-again pagan, AND I've got the absolute worst PMT ever. My hormones are chucking hissy-fits all over my mind and body."

"Dong Quai," Kit said.

"What?"

"Dong Quai. It's a herbal thing for menstrual gremlins." Kit checked her mirrors, then executed a U-turn to head back the way she'd come, past Shelley, Thackeray, Dickens and Wordsworth streets. "It's Angelica sinensis or some such. The liquid version tastes like shit, but you can get it in tablets. Who's Lady Godiva?" Kit asked, trying to remember which dead English writer also provided access to Willow Street. Aha! she thought, a right into Shakespeare, and then double back.

"Angelica some such indeed?" Erin said, as if she was impressed. "Diva's my whiddle-pooppet."

"A poo pet?" Kit laughed. "What in Darwin's name is a little poo-pet."

"Wh-iddle, O'Malley," Erin enunciated, trying not to smile. "As you can hear, I know how to pronounce my double-ewes and my ells."

"So,

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