The Easy Sin by Jon Cleary Read Free Book Online Page B

just shopped at St. Vincent de Paul. In Monica's case, he felt, the contrast was cruel.
    But it seemed that the cruelty was unintentional. Kylie kissed her sister with real affection. “Say goodbye to Clarrie and the girls for me. I'll call you.”
    â€œLook after yourself,” said Monica.
    â€œ Sure,” said Kylie and one knew that she would. Always.
    Sheryl picked up the suitcases and Kylie looked at Malone. “Is that how it is in the police force? The women carry the bags?”
    â€œOnly Detective Dallen. It's part of her weights programme.”
    He grinned at Sheryl and went ahead of her and Kylie down the garden path. Behind him he heard Kylie say, “How can you stand him?”
    He was out of earshot before Sheryl replied. He went across to Detective-Constable Fernandez, who got out of his car as he approached. “There'll be no need for further surveillance. I'll call your commander and put it on the computer. We're taking Miss Doolan back to town.”
    Fernandez looked past him. “She doesn't look too upset, sir.”
    â€œLike I told you, that's Miss Doolan.”
    Fernandez nodded. “They'll always be a mystery to me, women.”
    â€œNever try to solve them, Paul. You might be disappointed.”
    He went along to his own car. Sheryl had put the suitcases in the boot and she and Kylie stood waiting for him.
    â€œKylie, did Errol ever wear gloves?”
    â€œYou mean in winter, against the cold?”
    â€œNo, medical gloves, surgical ones. Did he have a hand condition, dermatitis, something like that?”
    â€œGod, no, nothing like that. He had beautiful hands, too good for a man, almost like a woman's. Why?”
    â€œOh, something's come up. Righto, Sheryl, can you find your way back to town?”
    â€œWe just head north, sir. We'll hit either Sydney or Brisbane.”
    Serves me right for being a smartarse with a junior rank .
    They drove Kylie Doolan back to Sydney. She sat in the back of the car looking out at the passing scene with eyes blank of recognition or nostalgia. She had drained Minto out of her blood.
    III
    â€œBefore we take you back to your unit—”
    â€œApartment. Not unit.”
    â€œApartment, unit, flat,” said Malone. “What's the difference?”
    â€œSize. Location,” said Kylie. She could sell real estate, he thought. She could sell anything, including herself. “If I'd stayed in Minto, I'd be living in a flat. Or a unit.”
    â€œRighto. Before we take you back to your apartment , I think we might drop in at I-Saw's offices. Where are they?”
    â€œIn Milson's Point,” said Sheryl, chopping off a road-rager trying to cut in on her. They have a whole building there.”
    He might have guessed it; Sheryl always did her homework. “Milson's Point? When my wife and I were first married we lived in Kirribilli, the other side of the Bridge. In a unit.”
    â€œHe's a real card, isn't he?” Kylie said to Sheryl. “Okay, let's go to I-Saw.”
    â€œWho dreamed up that awful bloody name?” asked Malone.
    â€œIs it any worse than Yahoo, Sausage, names like that?” She was defensive of I-Saw; after all it had kept her in luxury. “It was a game in the early days, dreaming up smartarse names. There were four- letter ones that almost got on to the companies' register.”
    â€œIt's no longer a game,” said Sheryl, taking the car over the Harbour Bridge.
    â€œNo,” said Kylie and was abruptly silent.
    Milson's Point was another of the original grants to early settlers; modern-day developers wince at the luck of James Milson. He was a farmer from Lincolnshire, who, to his credit, couldn't believe his own luck. Today the Point and its neighbour, Kirribilli, are the most densely settled area north of the harbour. The ghost of James Milson occasionally stands on the Point, beneath the grey rainbow of the bridge, and looks across at the city skyline.