It was just past noon. Mary stood on the sidewalk, pulled on her shades and waited a moment for me to get out of the car and lock it. I led the way to the store, keeping the keys in my hand. The manager’s office was at the back. A girl standing on some steps filling shelves pointed the way. “Take a seat, take a seat,” the manager, Matt Jones, said enthusiastically. “Obviously bored,” I concluded. “Slow day in Bellevue Hill.” “We’re looking for Julie O’Connor. Understand she works here.” “Julie? Yeah, she does. Should be here now, but isn’t.” “What do you mean?” “Didn’t turn up for her shift this morning.” He frowned. “So what’s this all about? You cops?” “No,” Mary said. “We’re from an investigative agency. We’ve had a call from one of Julie’s relatives,” she lied. “An old aunt has died and the family wants to reach Julie.” “Really? So she might be in for an inheritance!” “Maybe.” “Well of course … I understand … Mustn’t assume anything.”
