Free For Death Comes Softly by Hilary Bonner

insisted that was nonsense as her extra height had been essential in order for her to see over other people’s heads during her many years of standing on doorsteps – whereas a police officer could just arrest anyone who got in her way and have them promptly despatched to jail, she said.
    However we might have looked, Julia and I had a magical friendship. She was the only contemporary from my schooldays that I was still in touch with, or come to that, would even have wished to be still in touch with. Whenever we met, after not having seen each other for months sometimes, it was always as if we had parted company only the day before. We were so close that often it seemed as if we could read each other’s minds. I confided in Julia in a way I never had with anyone else in my life, really, not even Simon.
    Only Julia knew how deeply affected I had been by the serial murder case I had headed around the time Simon and I were breaking up, and how, partly in a final bid to save my marriage, I had come close then to resigning from the force. So when she asked me how The Job was going, it was more than a polite enquiry and one of the few more serious moments of our evening.
    â€˜God knows,’ I sighed. ‘Being deputy chief of the CPT no longer looks like such a great career move with Titmuss the Terrible in charge. And as for moving into Child Protection after nearly cracking up on a murder case – well I must be barking mad, mustn’t I?’
    â€˜Probably,’ Julia remarked through a mouthful of beef and noodles. ‘You didn’t nearly crack up, though. You’d nearly had enough, that’s all, and it’s different.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ I responded. ‘Nonetheless, Child Protection is considered the highest risk area of all for breakdowns among police officers. Did you know they only let you do the job for a maximum of five years?’
    â€˜As long as that?’ Julia enquired, her eyes open wide in mock amazement. ‘Heavens, Rose, that’s about five times as long as I’ve known you stick at anything.’
    I found myself giggling again. That was usually the way with Julia. A night out and a few drinks with her had always been better than any of the therapy sessions the force and the world in general suddenly appeared to be rife with.
    After we’d finished two bottles of house white and moved on to a couple of large brandies of uncertain origin, I decided to treat her to a full account of my Abri Island adventure. Well, I really needed to tell someone, and who better than Julia. She sussed out my feelings for Robin Davey at once, the old bat.
    â€˜When are you seeing him again?’ she asked.
    â€˜He’s engaged to be married,’ I said sturdily.
    â€˜So?’ she enquired, calling for more brandies.

Four
    The morning after Julia returned to London I received a phone call I had been expecting but not looking forward to, from my former husband, Simon.
    â€˜We’re ready to exchange contracts,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ve got a load of paper work for you to look at and I need your signature.’
    â€˜Fine,’ I said, trying to sound as if selling the home in which I had shared my life with him for twelve years was really of no consequence at all.
    â€˜I’d like to move as quickly as possible now,’ he went on very formally.
    â€˜Fine,’ I said again.
    â€˜So, is it all right if I come around to your place this evening?’
    I started to agree to that too and stopped myself only just in time, remembering Julia’s reaction to the so-called studio flat I was renting. It was a complete tip. To be fair, it hadn’t been that bad when I moved in, and it was in a big old Victorian villa in a nice part of town, but the fact remained, whatever fancy names you gave it, it was only a bedsit, and I had not been born to live in one room. I rented on a weekly basis, at a highly inflated price, and the place had