Spiking the Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

function.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Spinner. ‘The perv function.’
    Another hour and Spinner had checked that everything was working, turning the power back on while Gemma, inside, adjusted the green digits on the clock radio according to her watch. She checked to make sure the radio functioned, catching the end of the news: ‘ .   .   . alleging that Scott Brissett sexually assaulted her twenty years ago. Brissett has denied the allegations, saying they are a tissue of lies and that he will be taking legal advice on the matter .’
    Gemma switched it off and gave Spinner the thumbs-up at the window, then went outside, taking the white paper bag of pastries. She locked the house and threw the key back through the grille in the window. Back in her car, she gathered up the file for one of the new jobs that she wanted to discuss with Spinner. Then she joined him in the white Rodeo, putting the pastries on the console between the seats while Spinner opened his laptop. Sitting here with Spinner reminded her of her early days as a surveillance operative, living, breathing, eating, even peeing on the job in the back of a van.
    ‘Let’s check it one more time,’ he said and started running through the program.
    ‘Who’s Scott Brissett?’ Gemma asked. ‘The name’s vaguely familiar.’
    ‘Vaguely familiar?’ Spinner looked at her in disbelief. ‘Boss, where have you been?’
    Gemma shrugged apologetically.
    ‘Scott Brissett,’ Spinner continued, ‘was a Wallaby and a Waratah legend. He’s on television all the time. He’s just become the corporate face of the Boofhead Cup.’
    Gemma knew from overhearing previous discussions between Spinner and Mike that the Boyleford Cup was an international rugby play-off, second only to the World Rugby Cup. ‘You know that sporting heroes aren’t my strongest point,’ she said. She recalled a recent television news item and a weathered sportsman speaking with a group of French players. ‘Is he that good-looking guy in the ad with a scar through one eyebrow? Late forties?’
    Spinner nodded. ‘That’s him. Some GPS kid split his face open in his school years in competition footie.’
    Spinner adjusted his receiver and laptop and looked up with satisfaction. ‘It’s all working well,’ he said. ‘And that reminds me. You and Stevie-boy will be right as rain. You two are an institution.’
    Gemma shook her head. ‘Not this time.’
    ‘How did the fight start?’
    ‘Does that matter?’
    ‘Sure it matters. It’s where the conflict lies.’
    She thought about the origins of the fight. ‘Steve started talking about us getting a place together.’
    ‘And?’ Spinner prompted as the silence lengthened.
    Gemma shrugged, feeling uneasy. ‘It started me thinking. About all sorts of things. Lorraine Litchfield for one.’
    ‘The crim’s widow? The blonde bombshell whose weapon of choice was a Colt M1911?’ Spinner’s words were tinged with respect.
    Hot anger and shame arose as Gemma remembered a scene involving Steve, the widow Litchfield and the wrong end of that same Colt.
    ‘She put me through hell,’ said Gemma, recalling the overstuffed room, the looming gun and the other woman’s overpowering scent. ‘I can’t forget that he slept with her,’ she said.
    Spinner made as if to speak.
    ‘Don’t even think about it!’ said Gemma. ‘I don’t want to hear any bullshit about what an undercover cop might have to do. Don’t give me that line of duty crap!’
    Gemma thought she would never forget the one and only time she’d met stunningly beautiful Lorraine Litchfield, nor her terror and complete humiliation at the hands of the jealous woman who’d waved the heavy weapon around and forced Steve at gunpoint to choose between the two of them. ‘ Baby ,’ Steve had said, indicating the mirror in which the three of them were reflected ‘ There’s no contest. Look at you. Look at her .’ Slowly, Lorraine had lowered the Colt. And Gemma had wanted to die.
    She