CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

His bed was dumped at one end and the rest of the aerated space had been filled with a large wardrobe of similar designed shirts, a chair and a desk, which had scattered sheets of paper on the top. The room was richly cream coloured and it seemed that with each visit, a newer design was added and she did visit quite often.

"My father bailed me," he said after a long wait. He sealed his lips together, pressing out the brush water from his lips.

"You were the one Thelma said the detective spoke about right?" Ashley asked. Her smooth hair had fallen generously on her shoulder and settled there. They still shone of excessive lubrication and moved about despite the constraint of heat and friction. "I called to tell you Thelma did it and you still took the blame?" Ashley asked.

"The detective came to me when I was in detention and told me that I was the one." His hands rested on a reading lamp with a flexible steely spine.