“I have absolutely no idea.”

Cath’s phone played its song. She picked it up. “Hello, Catherine speaking.”

Jack watched her nodding. Forged fingerprints? Why, and by who? It should be easy enough to work out who had access to the cup and glass. Cath could work on that.

She was off the phone now.

“Health authorities have been in contact. Poisoning. Looks like there’s a bout of poisoning hitting the hospitals. Many severe cases, and Sally fits into that category.”

“So the public health agencies will take over. I’ll be interested to see where their investigation takes them.”

“We best get your name cleared first, so it’s no longer deemed a crime scene.”

“That depends on where the poison came from.”

She gave Jack a suspicious look.

“Deliberate or accidental.”

“I’m sure it’s accidental and will be traced to a restaurant or wedding or something along those lines.”

“You’d assume so, but what if there’s a link between the poisoning and the forged fingerprints? That puts a different perspective on it.”

Cath nodded and looked at her phone. “Yes. It does. I’ve got to go. The gym is calling. If you leave the country, I’ll be coming after you.”

“Not with me?” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

She bounced from her seat and headed towards the door. Jack followed and held the door open.

“You need to get back with Erica.” She gave him a gentle thump on the arm. “See ya.”

He frowned and ushered her out the door. The clock on the wall told him he needed to get a move on. Wasn’t going to be late for his dinner appointment. He headed toward the bathroom.

Jack stood in front of the bathroom mirror. There were bags under his eyes, but his eyes were clear. No more alcohol drowning his eyes. He didn’t need eye drops to flush away the red veins in his eyes today. Hang in there. You’re doing well. He closed his eyes and thought of Erica.

When he opened his eyes, they were watery.

Johnny. How nice it would have been to give him a sister or brother, but it wasn’t worth the risk. They both agreed. Johnny has been a blessing.

Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his head. I’m a fool.

His phone beeped. Where was it? Kitchen. Was Erica texting to cancel dinner?

Nope. It was the superintendent.

Hi Jack, got confirmation that the prints found were forged. You’re reinstated, come see me first thing tomorrow. Regards

The plot thickened.

He looked down at his feet. His funky coloured socks had been a present from Johnny. Were they over-the-top? They had big colourful dots—a few orange ones here and there. They went with the theme of the night. Wrong attitude, Jack. Anyway, his jeans would cover them.

First it was the grog, then the religious stuff. Each played into the other. The grog lowered his tolerance and loosened his tongue. Made him say things about religion he should have kept to himself. Why was religion so easy for some but such a struggle for others? And after the things he’d experienced and people he’d met. A man who saw demons. Jack had no doubt the demon seer was telling the truth. What was his name? Churchie. That was it. How was he doing?

It was like a veil had covered his mind and eyes. Were there eyes drops for such a thing? He was weary—probably because he’d missed a night’s sleep. He’d best not let tiredness get in the way tonight.

8 - Welcome home

Been a while since Jack had visited the house. The front yard looked well kept. The door opened before he got the chance to knock. Erica looked beautiful in a cute loose-fitting denim dress over a white t-shirt.

“Hello, Jack.”

They hugged, a loose sort of hug. Jack stood back and looked at Erica. Her hair was shorter and darker than he remembered, even though it had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen her. Her eyes still had an inviting softness about them.

“Hello, Erica.” He opened up his arm as to present her to the world.  “Look at you. You’re looking great.”

“Thank you. Come follow me.”

He had forgotten how shapely her legs were. They passed the lounge room. Erica paused, muted the TV and switched channels but not before Jack picked up the words “there is power in the name of Jesus”.  Most probably one of the Christian channels—nothing wrong with that. The kitchen had a pleasant aroma. Comforting.

He half expected to see Johnny in the kitchen.

She read his thoughts. “Johnny is out. Should be home soon.”

Some emotion kicked in. Pain? Was he no longer connected or important to his son? He could do with a drink right now. What? Where had that thought come from? Since when was alcohol his cure-all?

“You okay?”

He gave her a nod and small smile. The kitchen hadn’t changed, and he did miss their times together. He could see the TV from where he was standing. “You can put what you were watching back on.” That wasn’t a practical suggestion. He was nervous. Why? This was his house. His wife. He needed to relax.

“Nope. Too busy.” She grabbed an oven glove, opened the oven, lifted the roasting pan, and placed it on top of the oven. Jack met her eyes and she nodded towards the meat thermometer.

“Yep. Will do.” He grabbed the thermometer and stuck it into the thickest part of the roast. The temperature reading indicated the meat was close to being ready. “Not long to go.”

Erica returned the meat to the oven. “You want a drink? I have some mineral water ‘filtered with lime’, as the label says.”

“Nice.”

He watched as she collected a glass and opened the fridge. Her legs caught his attention again. So tanned and toned. An internal sigh—he needed to fix things up.

“You’re looking good, Erica. You working out or something?”

“Yep. Just with a group of ladies. Most are younger than me, so they stretch me a bit.” She poured his drink. “What about you?”

“Too busy, but I know that’s not a good excuse. Been to the gym a few times. I did manage to squeeze in a run before I came.”

“No, it’s a valid excuse, Jack. But I think you need to take a break, have a holiday.”

She could come with him. They could sail the Whitsundays. But it was too soon to ask.