Thin Blood (3 page)

Grace’s
shoulders sagged as she dropped her hand, releasing the door, and without a word
gestured Jacinta inside. Grace, dressed in a loose, white, gauzy dress, seemed
to float from the small entrance foyer into the next room on the left, making
Jacinta wonder if she was just some ghostly apparition. She didn’t even dent
the carpet. In comparison, Jacinta felt like she was wearing concrete boots as
she plodded in her wake.

As if suddenly
remembering her manners, but probably more to forestall, Grace offered Jacinta
a cup of tea or coffee. While Grace busied herself in the kitchen, Jacinta waited
in the white, bare-walled, sparsely furnished formal sitting room, seating
herself in one of the contemporary, but austere, white leather armchairs just
inside the door. She gathered her thoughts, hoping that the cold, almost
clinical room wasn’t a reflection of its resident.

*

Brett Rhodes sat near the back of
the conference room, his legs outstretched with his ankles crossed under the
seat in front of him. A PowerPoint presentation of the latest product release
of computer peripherals flashed in a blur of meaningless colour across the
large screen at the front of the room. Even the booming voice of the presenter
failed to grab his attention.

In fact, his
mind really wasn’t on the job at all; hadn’t been all day. What had possessed
him to open his big mouth and tell Jacinta about the Edmonds murder case? Worse
still, that he worked with Narelle Croswell? Perhaps it was to get her
attention. Well, it had worked, even if only momentarily, but at what cost?

Jacinta had
backed off when he refused point-blank to introduce her to Narelle, but he knew
it would only be a short reprieve. He knew her too well to think she wouldn’t
pursue the story with the same dogged determination she applied to everything
else in her life. That same trait that had drawn him to her in the first place.

Funnily enough,
it was at a new product release, similar to the one he was at now, that he had
met Jacinta Deller. She had been seated in the front row, her brow furrowed in
intense concentration, when he first spotted her. But it wasn’t until the
session was well underway that he really became interested.

Initially it was
because she was asking questions that he considered extremely basic, like ‘what
is the function of a hub?’, leaving him curious as to why an obvious amateur
would be attending a presentation aimed at IT professionals. But when she stood
her ground, undeterred by the barely disguised sniggers and the occasional
guffaw from those around her, he wanted to know more.

At the
mid-morning break, he had searched for her amongst the people milling around
the tables set out with row upon row of white cups and saucers, plates of cakes
and bite-size savouries. The panicky fluttering in the pit of his stomach when
he couldn’t immediately see her passed as soon as he glimpsed her collecting
brochures and specification sheets from the table just inside the double doors.

Taking a deep
breath, he picked up his cup of coffee and, trying to appear as nonchalant as
possible, wandered her way. He was taken aback when she continued looking
through the papers on the table, completely ignoring him. Of course, now he
knew from experience that she hadn’t done it intentionally.

If the theory
that men could only focus on one thing at a time while women were capable of
multitasking held, then either Jacinta was a man, or she just didn’t fit the
stereotype. And with her long blonde hair, her petite but curvy figure, her
button nose and deep-blue eyes that sucked you right in, he vouched she wasn’t
a man. More like a shortened, freckle-faced Barbie doll with attitude. Not that
he would ever tell her so.

After much
throat-clearing and cup-tapping, he eventually attracted her attention. She
looked around at him, starting in surprise to find that she wasn’t alone. Then
she smiled, her whole face lighting up.

He could smell
her perfume, a light floral scent. The fluttering sensation in his stomach
returned, worse than before. He remembered standing there like a paralysed
idiot, unable to speak or breathe for what seemed like an eternity.

Just then the
presenter called everyone back to their seats, rescuing him, or rather her,
from an awkward situation.

He spent the
next hour and a half fidgeting, unable to concentrate on anything more than the
back of the blonde head in the front row, mentally rehearsing what he was going
to say to her — if he could stop acting like some fumbling, lovelorn schoolboy.

The session
ended at noon, providing him with what he thought would be the perfect
opportunity to ask her to lunch. But she seemed to be in too much of a hurry to
bother with him, scarcely pausing as she turned him down flat, glanced at her
watch and strode off. Dejected and feeling like he’d been kicked in the
stomach, he had walked head down through the hall to the exit.

About a week
later, he had received a call. It was her. It was Jacinta. Caught by surprise,
he regressed to gibbering nonsense. They hadn’t been introduced, so how had she
known who he was, or where to find him?

She laughed and
reminded him that even though she didn’t know much about computers, she could
read. It took him a moment to comprehend what she was talking about. He felt
his face reddening, glad that she couldn’t see him, as he recalled the large
plastic-encased tags detailing name and company with which each attendee had
been issued on registration. How blind was he?

Somehow, he had
managed to pull himself together enough to agree to meet Jacinta after work
that day, at some bar he had never heard of in the city centre.

Over drinks, he
learned that the only reason she had been at that IT product release was to
cover for
The Acacia Tribune
’s AWOL regular technology columnist.

That had been
over three years ago, and yet he still hadn’t fathomed her completely. She was
as unpredictable as ever. And that was his predicament. Should he pre-empt
Jacinta and get to Narelle first, forewarning her as well as apologising? Or
should he do nothing except stand back and prepare himself for the inevitable
fallout?

*

Waiting for Grace to answer,
Jacinta leaned forward, setting her empty cup on the narrow, bleached-pine
coffee table.

Grace stopped
twisting the fine gold band on the little finger of her left hand and looked
up. “I don’t even know for sure that Kirsty knew about the affair. I knew
something was bothering her, but that’s all.” She dropped her gaze, adding in a
half-mutter, “I only found out about it myself at the trial.”

Even after all
these years, Grace’s disappointment that her best friend had been unable to
confide in her was still evident. Had Kirsty known about the affair between her
husband and sister? Reading between the lines, Jacinta felt sure that at least
Grace thought she had. How could she not have?

So far, Grace
had not revealed much more than what Jacinta had read in the trial transcript.
Not surprisingly, she remained guarded, only divulging information already on
public record. What had Jacinta expected? She was a complete stranger to Grace
and, what was more, a journalist.

A different
approach was called for.

“Grace…” She
paused, waiting for Grace to lift her head, only continuing when she held her
gaze. “Were you aware that Craig Edmonds and Narelle Croswell had married?”

For a few long
seconds, Grace sat there frozen. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, her
dark eyes suddenly widened, her jaw dropping as her mouth gaped in a giant ‘O’.
She tried to hide her shock behind visibly trembling hands.

Jacinta had
expected some sort of reaction, but nothing as dramatic as this.
So, the
wedding really has been kept hush-hush after all
, she thought. She had
searched the Internet for any mention of the wedding, but had not come up with
one hit. Considering the hype surrounding the original case, that in itself was
odd. But she would still have expected someone like Kirsty’s best friend to
know about it.

With a horrible
mixture of guilt and glee at provoking such a response, Jacinta took a deep
breath, her mind racing as she tried to untangle her thoughts. One part of her
wanted to reach out as a friend to Grace, but the journalist in her was
spurring her on to strike while Grace’s defences were down.

Why not both?
she thought, leaping to her feet and making her way around the coffee table.
She couldn’t let the opportunity slip by.

She crouched
beside Grace’s chair, still unsure of what she should say. Before she could
open her mouth, Grace had dropped her hands and, with a fire in her eyes that
hadn’t been there before, turned to Jacinta.

“That bitch! How
could she do it? How could she do it to her own sister?” She shook her head,
her dark hair grazing her pale cheeks. “Tell me, what sort of person could do
that?” She stared down at Jacinta as if she should have all the answers.

Jacinta had no
answers, only questions. What was she supposed to say? That only a cold,
calculating person with no morals could do that? Was that what Grace wanted to
hear?

In the end, what
Jacinta thought didn’t matter. Grace had risen from her seat and was pacing
backwards and forwards across the room, wringing her hands and talking to no
one in particular.

Feeling like an
eavesdropper, Jacinta remained crouched beside the vacated chair, listening and
trying to make some sense of Grace’s incoherent ramblings. The news had clearly
disturbed her, and most of what she was raving about centred on murderers and
evil adulterers. What had Jacinta unleashed?

It soon became obvious
that Grace held the same view as Brett in that Craig Edmonds, although not
convicted of his wife’s murder, was guilty all the same. Nor did she consider
Narelle an innocent party. Was it possible that the pair had been in it
together, as Grace was implying?

Jacinta felt the
beginnings of cramp nipping at her calf muscle. Flexing and bending her leg,
she used the arm of the chair to ease herself up. She continued to watch as
Grace, seemingly oblivious to Jacinta’s presence, swept from the room. Jacinta
moved to follow her, almost colliding with Grace when she stopped abruptly and
turned.

Grace stared
straight through her and for a moment, Jacinta thought she had become
invisible. Then she blinked, her eyes slowly focusing on Jacinta’s face.

“I can’t help
you.” Grace’s voice quavered. “I need to be alone.”

Jacinta nodded.

She collected
her satchel from the floor beside the chair, opened the zippered side pocket,
drew out one of her business cards and handed it to Grace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to upset you; I assumed you would already have known about Craig and
Narelle.”

At the mention
of their names, Grace’s eyes narrowed. She looked on the verge of tears, her
lips trembling as she opened the front door.

Jacinta was
about to say something about the futility of burying the truth, but then
thought better of it, and quit while she was still ahead.

“Please, Grace,
think about what I said. You can call me any time of the day or night.” She
stepped through the doorway, turned and added, “About anything, anything at
all.”

“You’re talking
to the wrong person.” The door swinging closed, Grace’s ashen face disappeared
from view.

“You’re unbelievable, do you know
that?”

Jacinta held the phone at arm’s
length and could still hear every word Brett was saying. Not that she could
entirely blame him.

Grace’s words
rang in her ears:
You’re talking to the wrong person
. What had she been
alluding to? What wasn’t she saying? Perhaps it had just been a passing
comment, intended only to send Jacinta scurrying off in a different direction.

She had spent
more than an hour sitting cross-legged on the daybed, staring out the window at
nothing, carefully weighing up her options before finally coming to a decision.
Why couldn’t Brett understand that it wasn’t personal? It was business, nothing
more.
Anyway, his reputation is still intact and if he would just stop
kicking up such a fuss, he’ll soon realise that I would never deliberately
undermine him
, she thought as, shifting position, she pulled her legs up
under her.

What was wrong
with inviting a few people to dinner? They had been talking about it for long
enough. She would do her utmost to play the perfect hostess, making sure it
would be an enjoyable evening of good food, wine and conversation. She was
already planning the menu in her head. Something simple and elegant, she
decided. It would have to be; her cooking skills didn’t stretch much further
than simple.

Brett still
wasn’t convinced. “Don’t do this to me, Jacinta.” He sighed and dropped his
voice. “Don’t do this to us… please…”

“Brett, I really
don’t know what you’re so concerned about,” she said, knowing full well what
was on his mind. “I invited,” she added, trying to allay his fears, “Patrick
and Shauna as well.”

Patrick Malcolm,
an old school friend of Brett’s, had recently become engaged to his partner of
eight years, Shauna Boise. The start-up of a new florist’s business on top of
wedding arrangements had kept the couple busy. Consequently, Brett hadn’t seen
much of his friends of late. Jacinta hoped that inviting them to dinner might
offset, partially at least, her ulterior motive for inviting Craig Edmonds and
his new wife, Narelle Croswell.

Brett paused in
his tirade. Perhaps he was coming around to her way of thinking. Perhaps that
was just wishful thinking on her part. More than likely, on the other end of
the phone, he was shaking his head and trying to work out what her ploy was.