Chapter 5: She had not won a fan

Elisabeth surprised him. 'You're right. But,' she said as he breathed with the realisation that she had just been pushing a few points to their limits. 'But I'd like to know absolutely all there is to know, about them all: backgrounds, friends, education, if they've ever been in trouble. Russell and Greg Waite's daily existence at Redland Downs and how chummy they were. Whether Lisa Moody is what she seems to be. We're going to fill in the gaps for Russell. It might help him to remember.'

'Maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he's better off not knowing. How many times have you gone to bed wishing you wouldn't remember when you woke?'

Elisabeth's chill fixed him. 'We're not romping through the Elysian Fields here. I think Russell might prefer his memories.' His unconcealed flare of anger should have withered her but she continued as though it was nothing. 'And I also want to know everything about the three Stavros sons.'

That defeated him. 'What have they got to do with it?'

'Probably nothing. I just want a complete picture. I want to know why they act as they do and why they've said what they've said.'

'Maybe because it's the truth.'

Elisabeth dipped her head. 'Maybe, but I don't like surprises. I like to know.'

'You don't want much. There's only two weeks left.'

'Get as much help as you need,' Elisabeth said, opening her wallet and withdrawing enough to cover the meal. She stood, and said, 'I'm counting on you.'

She had not won a fan.

Not that she gave it any thought as she retraced her steps to the office where she acknowledged the greetings of other late stayers, people who were strangers still. Closeted, she stared at the pile of papers.

Much, much later, when it became a chore to breathe in air that had become hot and hard because the air conditioning was not set to function after hours, she lifted her mind from the words and opened the blinds to stare out at the night. Heavy-headed from reading she glanced at her watch. Past midnight. Reluctantly she turned back to her desk and drew a deliberate breath deep into her lungs. She needed sleep.

Locking her office she took the exit to the outside world. Alone she walked down from the two-storied building's side entrance and out on to London Circuit.

The air was still with no hint of coolness except for false draughts as cars blared by. In among the shops there were some restaurants open still with youngsters mooching about. Canberra's percentage of homeless youth was high.

At home she showered to clear her head, made herself a large weak tea and sat on a stool at the kitchen bar sipping it. When she went to bed it was to lie on her back and stare at the shadows. Around five she woke to a lightening sky and resumed staring at the ceiling.

At six thirty the alarm radio intruded. The shower, long dry from the previous night's usage, received a sustained drubbing of barely warm water as Elisabeth held first her face then the back of her neck to its sharp heavy spray. This was followed by a prolonged unfocused viewing of the face in the mirror, and a mechanical all-over moisturising of damp skin. Still damp she took her cosmetics into the living area, letting the morning's illusory coolness waft around her body. Breakfast was a large glass of water and an orange. After cleaning her teeth she dressed in semi-fitting, sleeveless white linen. First in to the office she got the coffee brewing and was engrossed by the time Robert arrived. He swung on her door jamb and said 'Good morning.' He was smiling. It was a new day. Elisabeth looked up, pencil gripped, mind elsewhere.

He came in. 'Hard night?'

'Not you by the look of it.'

The smile slid from his face. 'We're all allowed time out. In fact,' he said with a caustic twang, 'it's supposed to do you good.' She continued to look up at him, expression indecipherable. After a moment, without another word, she bent her head back to the documents methodically stacked around her desk. He felt forgotten, knew himself forgotten, was annoyed and left, brushing past Judy, who shrugged her shoulders to the question of 'What's that all about?' from one of the other solicitors, Ryan Coleman, who returned to his work as Judy flicked a glance into Elisabeth's office where there was a view to the corner of a desk only.

Oblivious, Elisabeth read on, flipping between statements and testimony, cross-checking for any missed inconsistencies. Telephones rang, voices spoke; she was unaware of Judy coming to her door, hesitating, going away, returning with a mug of coffee. It was only when Judy cleared her throat that she realised she had company. Startled, Judy slopped the drink. 'Sorry,' she said, 'sorry,' and shoved the mug on a corner of the desk to race out and grab some paper towels from the kitchen.

'Sorry,' she said again, returning. Picking the mug up she placed the towels on the desk. The liquid seeped slowly into the tissue as she wiped the mug dry.

'It's all right. And thank you. But I don't expect you to run around after me.'

Judy bent over the desk checking surrounding papers and files for sogginess. Satisfied she'd caught it all she stepped back, folding and refolding the sodden towels to contain any drips. 'You looked busy so I thought I'd make you one.'

'Thank you,' Elisabeth said again, already returning to her work.

Before losing the hardwon attention Judy said, 'But I also wanted to tell you that Joe Gaudry rang; he wants you to call him.'

'When?'

An excess of blood flooded colour into Judy's face and spread with speed down her throat and chest. 'About twenty minutes ago. I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you.'

For the second time in three days it occurred to Elisabeth that she was going to have to make an effort to let these people get to know her. 'I don't mind being interrupted. Okay?' She hoped her voice conveyed enough sincerity and that it would suffice. Other things filled her mind.