The Other Side of Sorrow Read Online Free PDF Page B

just inside the room. She chuckled and dropped smoothly onto the couch, drawing her legs together, knees up high. She had good legs in sheer black stockings. Medium heels. ‘I’m Annette, Clifford,’ she said. ‘From the look of you I’d say you’ve been around, so I’m not going to pretend I’m a chiropodist.’
    â€˜More into counselling?’
    She smiled. ‘I’m on the older woman game. If I’d known how profitable and easy it was I’d have taken it up long ago.’
    â€˜Good for you, Annette. Less of the Clifford, if you don’t mind. Cliff'll do. I’m interested in the tenant of number 3, Damien Talbot.’
    â€˜Mmm. Young. Tall. Good-looking. Long hair. Limps a bit. That him?’
    â€˜Sounds right. He drives a Kombi van painted the colours of the rainbow.’
    She snapped her fingers. Her nails were long, red. ‘That’s him. Good. You look like trouble. If I can give him some, I will.’
    â€˜How’s that?’
    â€˜Little shit booked an appointment with me and then couldn’t get it up. I gave him the name of one of those male clinics. He went nuts and tried to stand over me. I won’t take that. My bloke broke one of his thumbs. By accident. That discouraged him.’
    This was worse than I’d expected and I sat down to absorb it.
    â€˜Not what you wanted to hear, eh?’
    â€˜No. When was this?’
    â€˜Let’s think. Haven’t seen them for a couple of weeks. Say, three weeks ago.’
    I took the photo of Eve from my wallet and showed it to her. ‘When you say them, d’you mean this woman?’
    She scarcely glanced at it. ‘Yep, that’s her. Poor kid. She looks like she deserves better than him, but you never can tell.’
    â€˜Do you know her name?’
    â€˜No. I never had much to do with them apart from that one time and that was enough for me. Come to think of it I did hear a name. From him, that is. Melly? Molly? Something like that.
    â€˜Well, I can see why you’re worried. About her being with him I mean. Bloody good-looking and charming with it, but a real nasty streak. He speaks well. You know, good grammar and all. But it’s an act.’
    â€˜An act?’
    â€˜Yeah. Like he’s acting and the real him is something else. Look, I love a chat but I’m running a business here. I can’t see how I can help you. They did a flit, the agent tells me, so you won’t get a forwarding address.’
    â€˜Just anything you know could be a help.’
    She looked at her watch again. ‘Like what?’
    â€˜Their movements. Did they go to work?’
    She laughed. ‘Not likely. Dole bludgers for sure. I mean him. I saw her reading at the bus stop a couple of times. Could be a student.’
    â€˜So, what did they do with themselves? Did they have any friends in the flats here? Is there someone else who might know something?’
    She shook her head. ‘Scarcely ever here. Oh, there is one thing. That’s if I’ve still got it. Hang on.’
    She went out to the kitchen and came back with a leaflet. ‘She put these in the letterboxes. I stuck it up on the fridge. I hate all that Olympics carry on, but I suppose it’ll be good for business. Take a look.’
    The leaflet was cheaply produced, with a grainy photograph showing a narrow tree-fringed waterway. It was headed SAVE TADPOLE CREEK and went on to solicit support for the Friends of the Creek’s on-site picket preventing the diversion and piping of the stream.
    â€˜I haven’t heard anything about this, have you?’
    She shrugged. ‘They’ve probably hushed it up. I’ve got a client who works on one of the projects over there. He says you wouldn’t believe the rackets going on. And nobody wants to stir the possum. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat about politics and such. Now, if you’d like to make a