by Gilmour, SJB
Sally added a splosh more olive oil to the onions then tossed in the rice. She stirred it about a bit, then poured in the remaining wine from her goblet. She gave the rice a quick stir then put the lid on and refilled her goblet and went straight back to stirring the rice. As it began to thicken and clump, she ladled lovely steaming spoonfuls of yellow stock into the pot.
Her rhythm never wavered. Stir the rice with a wooden spoon, stir the chicken, add stock to the rice and stir again. After about ten minutes of this, the chicken was browned beautifully. I dared a quick visit to Mitch’s mind just to get a whiff. I wasn’t disappointed. He was beginning to get tipsy himself, and wasn’t worried about anything other than watching the wonder that was his pretty wife at the stove. The smell was delicious.
Sally kept adding more stock and stirring for about another five minutes, then she added the cheese Mitch had grated.
‘Now’s your chance,’ she said finally. ‘To blue cheese, or not to blue cheese?’
‘Blue cheese! Blue cheese! My kingdom for blue cheese!’ Mitch replied with a grin. Then he paused. ‘No, that’s not right. Wrong play.’ He reached into the fridge and retrieved a wedge of Danish blue cheese. ‘How about something rotten from the state of Denmark?’
Sally rolled her eyes at him and held out her hand.
‘Maybe I should put you in the pot, you cheesy hack.’
Mitch sniffed under one armpit, then sniffed the cheese. He made a face and handed her the cheese which she then chucked into the pot without even bothering to cut up.
‘Snap, snap, my little minion. I need some parsley.’
Mitch paused, trying to find a Shakespearean quote about the herb.
‘Now.’
‘I’m on it!’ Mitch gave up and raced out of me in the direction of the back door. Moments later, he returned with handful of fresh parsley. ‘I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit!’
Sally gave him a quick smile, knowing he’d been wracking that wonderful mind of his to make her smile.
Shaking her head, she asked, ‘What’s that from?’
‘Taming Of The Shrew. Act Four.’
‘I dunno how you remember all that stuff. I hated Shakespeare at school.’
Mitch shrugged as he chopped the parsley. ‘I had The Bard, you had Glee.’ He set the board and knife within easy reach for her.
She turned off the heat, scraped the parsley into the pot with the knife, gave it another stir and set the lid on it.
‘Risotto al gorgonzola e funghi con pollo. Prego!’ Her Italian accent was perfect. She levelled the wooden spoon at him. ‘And I didn’t watch Glee. That didn’t come on till I was in uni and I didn’t watch it then either. I like my cheesy tv singalong free.’ She overacted the rhyming sentence with a ham-acting grin. Then she began using the wooden spoon to count on her fingers. ‘House, The Good Wife, CSI, Doctor Who, Bones and Castle.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Such awfully trashy writing— Fantastic.’
‘Glad I’m not writing for a top-selling awfully trashy sitcom.’ His tone was mockingly imperious.
Sally grinned at him. ‘Your writing’s not awfully trashy.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No. It’s wonderfully trashy. Now gimme your plate.’
I touched Mitch’s mind once more just as he lifted the lid to spoon some of the cheesy goop onto his plate. And I’d thought the smell was good before. Now it was truly awesome. He was also very glad to see Sally cheering up.
‘I dunno how you kept up with all those shows.’ Yeah, Castle’s cool. I can watch Castle, but I’d rather watch an hour of Doctor Who than five minutes of any of the rest of that crap.
Sally made a mock pious face and pretended to pray, her eyes skyward.
‘There is a god, and its name is Tivo.’
The next morning, Sally came down to view the world from my window with a decidedly seedy pallor on her face. This struck me as odd. She’d not drunk any more wine after that second glass she’d poured herself while cooking. I’d seen both of them consume far more booze than that and look less hung over the following day.
It was a frosty morning outside, probably somewhere around three or four degrees Celsius. Sally sighed a little wistfully, watching her breath fog up the window. She blew out again and then drew a heart in the mist on the glass.
Buck up, kiddo, she thought to herself. Nobody likes a sad-sack. And so, forcing a smile, she went to the dishwasher, opened it and bent down to pull out the drawer. A sharp twinge in her abdomen made her gasp and she stood up again, resting her hand low on her belly in surprise.
Mitch arrived just in time to see her startled expression.
‘Salls? You okay?’
I.. I don’t know! I’ve been moody… My pussy lips are still swollen from yesterday and he was being gentle! Now my belly hurts… What the fuck? Morning sickness? But I’ve got an IUD in— Shit. I can’t be knocked up. Kelly…
‘Think I better come with you while you go to the police station. There’s a medical clinic down the street.’ She kicked the dishwasher closed and went around to the bench to get her phone. ‘I’ll see if they can fit me in pronto.’
‘Salls,’ Mitch said slowly. ‘Come on. You’ve got an IUD, remember? Even with it in, the medic said you’d still get the occasional cramp and light period.’
Sally shook her head as she got through to the medical clinic receptionist.
‘It’s not like that,’ she whispered to him while the receptionist on the other end of the line looked on the screen to see if there were any vacancies. ‘Okay. Nine-fifteen, got it. No, I’m a new patient. Sally Taylor. What? Umm, no, I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Can’t I just make an appointment? Thanks.’ She hung up and stared at Mitch for a moment, truly shocked. ‘Can you believe that nosey cow? Since when do receptionists ask what you want to see a doctor for?’
Mitch chuckled and gave her a hug. ‘They do things differently out here, Salls.’
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, enjoying the minty taste from his toothpaste.
‘Well at least we’re still civilised.’
‘For now,’ Mitch teased.
‘For ever! I might have done the whole tree-change thing, but I’m not turning into a fucking hillbilly. The closest this girl gets to going bogan is wearing your flannel shirt on a fridge run between bonks.’ She poked him in the belly.
I felt very anxious as I watched them drive out and off down the road. Hurry back and bring good news! Sally would be alright and Mitch would be thanked by the cops but advised they’d already checked everything out quite thoroughly, thank you very much, and that he needn’t worry. That old step could go onto a bonfire, so long as he doesn’t do any burning off during total fire-ban days, and even on non-such days, he’d best get a permit anyway. Just in case.
They returned just before eleven. By the looks on their faces as they walked up the driveway, I knew the good news I’d hoped for hadn’t come. Sally was pale and her eyes were red from a recent bout of crying. They didn’t come into me. Instead, from the sound of it, they sat down in the dining room. A police Toyota Landcruiser pulled into the driveway a few minutes after they arrived.
I couldn’t believe it! A stocky little Indian-looking female officer in her navy cop dungarees carried the step out of the garage and up the driveway towards the house. She disappeared into that blind spot between the drive and the front door.
Fortunately, then she and the male cop, a man I’d known from high school called James Hewson, came into me followed by Mitch and Sally. David was now a Leading Senior Constable, obviously in charge of his burly little companion who was just a Constable. The plastic bag containing the step had a yellow stripe across it marked “Evidence.”
‘Sorry we had to bring it into the house,’ the female cop apologised to Sally. ‘Chain of custody. It’s probably fine, but if on the odd chance it does lead to something, we have to be very careful about it.’
I examined her badge. “N. Preeta.” Yep, definitely Indian background. But, her Aussie accent was as broad as any of the locals’. Must be second generation.
Sally nodded. ‘No problem.’ Just get that fucking thing out of here. I want to be with my husband. Oh Mitch… What if the damage is too bad? What if I’m barren?
James smiled that trained cop smile of his at Sally. Taking this discovery a bit hard, isn’t she? What’s got her so upset? Does she know something?
Ooh! I could hear his thoughts, just as I could Sally and Mitch’s and the Forbes girl Kelly’s. I couldn’t hear Preeta’s though. What was going on here? Wait… Back up! Barren?
I sunk my mind straight into Sally’s and if I’d had eyes, they’d have been overflowing. The IUD had worked its way from where it should have been, to where it shouldn’t have been. The doctor had removed it on the spot. She was scheduled to go in for a full check-up in two days time with the gynaecologist at Gembrook Hospital.
‘Did either of you touch the step?’ James asked them both. He was keeping a close eye on their faces. What are they hiding?
Sally shook her head. ‘Eww.’ She crossed her arms in front of her chest and backed away from it until her back was against my stove.
For a girl who routinely pokes about with spiders, she sure was squeamish, I thought.
Mitch was calmer. He put the kettle on and began pulling mugs out of one of my many cupboards.
‘Salls didn’t touch it, but I did. Tea? Coffee?’
James nodded gratefully. ‘Coffee for me please. Black, no sugar.’ He nodded again at Mitch. ‘We’ve got your prints on file, haven’t we?’
Mitch forced himself to keep a straight face. They’ve done their homework. They know about my arrest. His thoughts flashed back to moments of sheer rebellious excitement as he and his mates stole that car. Then he remembered the shame and a flash of the trial. He remembered the words ‘tried as an adult’ that meant while only seventeen at the time of the trial (sixteen at the time of the joyride), he had a permanent record. Of course it was almost public knowledge. He’d written about it several times. Even based one of his books around that period of his life.
‘Yeah, you might find some of my prints on it… I think. I found it when I’d been chopping up some firewood. Know I had gloves on at some time, but whether I had had ‘em on or not when I picked it up…? Can’t remember.’ He turned to Preeta and held up a mug. ‘Officer Preeta?’
‘Nayani, please.’
Mitch nodded, still holding the mug. ‘Nayani?’
‘Tea for me, thank you Mr Taylor,’ she said. ‘Milk and two sugars, please.’
Milk? The word seemed to explode in Sally’s mind. She began to cry again and waved both hands downward in a shushing motion.
‘I’m sorry… I can’t…’ and she hurried out of me and down the hall to their bedroom.
James and Nayani both looked very surprised. Might have to talk to her later, James thought. Two owner-builders dead, this house gets sold for what must have been half the value… Motive? Could be. There’s gonna be a shit-storm if I have to dig up all that crap again. Someone’s gonna cop it for assuming there was only one step. Then he sighed to himself. Maybe… I’d never have thought there’d be two of the damn things at the scene with only one gap.
‘Sorry about that,’ Mitch said as he poured the drinks. ‘Just got some bad news.’
Nayani seemed genuinely concerned. ‘Oh?’
Mitch cocked his head for a second to see if he could hear if Sally was far enough away to be out of earshot. Blushing slightly, he explained, making sure to keep his voice low.
At the explanation, James made a show of relaxing, but inside his suspicions didn’t budge. How convenient. Any lack of control on behalf of your accomplice, and all you have to do is blame it on female plumbing problems and hormones, and I’m supposed to just roll over.
Mitch demonstrated once more his incredible ability to read people. He saw through James’ poker face straight away. You thought we had something to do with it? You’ve got to be kidding… Oh well, if he’s this suspicious enough already, then he’ll probably at least look into it some more.
‘So what happens now?’ Mitch asked him mildly.
James shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘It’ll take a while. Constable Preeta here is gonna have the fun of doing the four hour return drive to take your lump of wood to the forensics facility in Melton. It’s not like CSI on the telly. Then we’ll have to hurry up and wait a few weeks for them to get around to testing it. Then it takes another couple of weeks for any results to come through. It’s what, mid-March now? My guess is we’ll know all about the stains on that timber some time early May.’
Salls probably won’t feel like cooking now, Mitch thought. He took set two containers of frozen minestrone on the sink to thaw.
‘Stew for dinner?’ Nayani asked him, still trying be the sweet, good cop.
‘Soup. Salls makes it in batches and freezes it for when we can’t be fu— I mean can’t be bothered cooking.’
Nayani grinned. ‘My mum never cooks anything in small batches.’ She chuckled. ‘Our freezer is always chockers.’
Oh please, I thought. Can the false camaraderie, woman.
‘She’s not part Sri-Lankan is she?’ Nayani asked then.
Mitch smiled at the joke, understanding the way more traditional families centred so much of their lives around their kitchens and dinner tables. He thought about Sally’s Italian mother and the huge amount of food she always urged him to eat.
‘Her mum’s southern Italian. From Calabria, I think. Salls grew up in the kitchen.’
‘Southern? She looks so fair.’
‘I got that from Dad,’ Sally remarked coolly as she returned. She’d washed her face and seemed much calmer. ‘All the Morgan boys were blonde and blue-eyed. Recessive genes, so there must have been a northerner or two in Mum’s background somewhere—’ She trailed off, realising she was showing her rarely-seen geeky side. She looked at the frozen soup on the sink and then at Mitch. ‘Minestrone?’
‘I didn’t think you’d feel like cooking.’
Sally turned to James. ‘Is there anything else you need?’ No way I’m apologising to this figlio di puttana.
I don’t speak Italian, but then I didn’t really have to.
James shook his head and soon left with Nayani. Sally ignored them, busying herself in my larder.
‘Salls?’ Mitch was worried about her.
‘I’m alright, Mitchell.’
Shit. She never calls me Mitchell unless she’s pissed.
‘If we’re having minestrone, then we could do with some bread.’ She emerged from the larder with a large bag of flour. ‘Get me some yeast will you? Four sachets. If I’d known we were having minestrone, I’d have started the ciabatta last night. Now I need to use extra yeast.’
‘Sally,’ Mitch pleaded. ‘You don’t have to—’
‘Do what? Go rest up? No way. I gotta do something.’ She was all but shaking with nerves.
Mitch nodded and fetched the yeast. ‘Salt and olive oil too, right?’ Don’t push her. You’ll just fuck things up.
Sally, when you calm down, I hope you realise just what a prince you have there, I thought.
‘And baking powder and bi-carb.’ She began pouring flour onto the bench. I expected her to begin kneading away, swearing in Italian under her breath, but she stopped and forced herself to smile that winning smile of hers. She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her hands still in the flour. ‘Mitch, I’m sorry.’
Mitch grinned and gave her a warm hug from behind. He rested his chin on her blonde head. ‘It’s okay, babe. You gonna be alright?’
She elbowed him gently. ‘I’ll be fine. You go write or something.’
Write? Like I could think of two words to string together right now.
‘Alright. I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll go for a ride.’
‘Wait,’ she said as he turned to go
. ‘Do you want a sandwich?’
Mitch grabbed a couple of apples from the fruit bowl.
‘Nup! Seeya in a few hours.’
Chapter Four
The next two days were almost unbearable. Mitch tried his hardest to keep Sally in good cheer, but he knew he wasn’t getting very far. As for Sally, well she was very adept at keeping that sunny smile on her face, regardless of how rotten she was feeling inside. But I knew, and so did Mitch. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
