Death at the Belvedere by Sue Williams

Author:Sue Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2022-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Brad called in that evening, his first set of teaching rounds done and dusted. It’s always good to see him but I wasn’t keen to chat, I must admit.

‘You OK, Mum? What have you been up to?’ Brad made me a cuppa and brought it to the table for me.

‘Oh you know, same old.’ Best not to worry him. Or provide the judge with anything else to hold against him.

‘It’s just…you seem quiet.’

‘Bit tired. But all good.’ I gave him a smile.

‘You’re not injured?’ He peered at me.

‘No, no.’ I rubbed my head, still a bit sore since the Batman bag-snatch, but coming good, definitely.

He didn’t look convinced.

‘Any chance you could mind the shop, Brad? I’m going away, just be a day or two,’ I said.

‘Where?’

‘It’s…Ernie’s cousin…she isn’t too well. Not sure if I told you—fact is, she’s having a couple of problems with her uterus.’

‘OK, OK,’ Brad said quickly, pushing back his dark hair. ‘I’ve gotta go. I told Madison I’d be there by eight…’ He put his mug in the sink with a clatter and raced out the door.

You’d imagine, wouldn’t you, that a young fella with a baby on the way might take a passing interest in a uterus. Still, I wasn’t about to look a gift women’s-health-aversion in the mouth.

A pre-dawn start for the trek to Melbourne—this time, I took the car. It didn’t seem the moment for openness and transparency with Dean—the less he knew, the less he’d be in trouble for at his hearing. Before I left, I grabbed my old voice recorder—a gift from Edna, way back—and stuffed it in my handbag.

A long drive in which I worked at convincing myself that Mick Lansett wasn’t either a murderer or a drug dealer. There was some chance of that, surely?

‘Let’s meet to discuss,’ he’d said. ‘Can you come to Dr Dax, in Genetics Lane?’ He paused. ‘Off Royal Parade—by Melbourne Uni.’

The address was encouraging—it didn’t sound like the kind of spot you’d expect a drug lord to do business. Maybe he really was involved in a biotech start-up.

It was almost ten by the time I’d navigated my way around Carlton and found a park—under a thirty-minute limit sign—that didn’t cost a fortune. I hoped the chat would be a quick one.

I hurried towards the uni and wove my way across the campus. Maze-like laneways among lovely stone buildings, well-watered lawns, more bike racks than I’d ever seen in my life. A sign that said You can breathe easy. Our campus is smoke free. There was a freezing wind-tunnel effect between the buildings; I pulled my coat closer, and suddenly got that feeling, the one that makes you think someone’s watching you. I glanced over my shoulder. A young bloke stubbing out his cigarette on the smoke-free sign; a couple of dozen other people, none taking any particular interest in me.

Get a grip, Cass, you’re just tired and anxious.

Finally, I was standing outside a modern multistorey building on Royal Parade. I pulled out the slip of paper from my bag and checked the address.

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