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“I’m as clean as they come, Detective,” I replied, barely keeping my voice calm. “Why are you so sure that I’m the one who’s lying? Don’t they have CCTV in Savoy Tower? Couldn’t you just look to see me going into Pete’s room? Or for that matter, couldn’t you just see who it was who …?”

Taylor cleared her throat, cutting me off. “The Savoy’s CCTV currently only covers the lobby, restaurant and other public areas. They use dummy cameras in the guest-only areas. ”

“Dummy cameras?” I asked, confused.

“Devices that look like cameras as a deterrent, but they don’t actually record or stream any footage.”

“It’s made our job a lot more difficult,” Coughlin added and Taylor threw him an icy look.

“We aren’t here to discuss issues of hotel security,” Taylor said. “We’re here to follow you up, Miss Black.”

“Well, consider me followed up.”

“So, you’re sticking to your story?” Taylor asked.

I glared at her angrily. “I’m sticking to the truth! How about you go and question Pete Levine a bit further?” I suggested.

Taylor must have caught my mood because she stood. “Oh, rest assured, Miss Black, our colleagues down in Melbourne are with him as we speak. We’ll get to the bottom of this. You’re not by any means off the hook.”

I swallowed, but I held her gaze. I knew I’d done nothing wrong, and it would only be a matter of time before they knew it too.

The pair walked back to the door. Coughlin stepped out into the hallway, but Taylor turned and eyed me with dislike from the doorway.

“Don’t leave town, Miss Black,” she muttered. I slammed the door in her face and turned to Brad, bursting into hysterical laughter.

“I wonder how long she’s wanted to use that line!” I gasped. Brad smiled, but I could see the concern in his eyes. I sobered up a bit.

“Pete Levine?” he asked. I could hear a hint of some emotion in his voice, but I couldn’t quite place it. I flushed.

“It was just a bit of harmless fun. He’s a nice guy,” I replied.

Brad rolled his eyes. “Oh, he sounds delightful – he won’t even admit to spending the night with you!”

I flinched, Brad’s words hitting me like a slap.

“Mel … you just …” Brad moved closer, the anger on his face softening. He reached up and stroked my cheek with his thumb, staring down at me. I met his gaze for a moment before looking away – his grey eyes were too intense for me .

My phone rang, thankfully distracting both of us. I hopped over to where I had dumped it on the table the night before and answered.

“Melanie! Why didn’t you call to tell me you were home?” my mother’s shrill voice demanded. I held the receiver away from my ear. Brad could hear the screeching too. I winced and he grimaced.

“I got home really late last night, Mum,” I replied. “You know I was just about to call you.” I crossed my fingers behind my back to excuse the little white lie.

“Mrs Rodriguez down at the newsagents said she saw a police car outside your building just a moment ago. You’re caught up in this whole Steve Herbert thing, aren’t you?”

I bit my lip, nostrils flaring as I got my emotions under control. “What Steve Herbert thing, Mum? Oh, you mean that my tennis coach was …” I cleared my throat. “Murdered . That is what you mean, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. I’m worried about you! Are you in any trouble?”

I sighed. There was no use in trying to make my mother understand.

“No more than usual, Mum,” I mumbled.

“I think you should go to confession, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’ll see if I can fit it in somewhere,” I lied.

“I’ll let Father Shannon know to expect you.”

Yeah, right. Like he hadn’t heard that one a thousand times before.

“Okay, Mum. Bye.” I hung up before she had a chance to say anything else.

“Mel, I’ve got to get going,” Brad said apologetically. “I’ve got a meeting at Uni at twelve, I just wanted to drop by and see how you were holding up. Oh, and to give you this. Sorry, it’s probably cold now.” He handed me the lukewarm coffee.

I smiled gratefully as I took a sip. “It’s sweet and caffeinated. That’s ninety-nine percent perfect, I’d say. Thanks Brad.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked tentatively. I pressed my lips together, nodding .

“It was a bit rough last night, but … coffee helps!” I attempted chipper. I think I almost pulled it off. “Do you have time to drop me off at Joel’s house?” I asked, slipping my unbandaged foot into a flat sandal. I looked up at him to see him nodding.

“Time to stop by the florist on the way?”

Another nod. I chucked my wallet, keys and phone into my bag and shuffled my way to the door.

Armed with a bunch of David Austin roses, we approached the Herbert mansion.

The number of cars parked out the front was insane.

My shock rapidly turned to disgust when I realised they belonged to the photographers and camera crews milling on the pavement.

Luckily, the house was completely private from the road, with an eight-foot fence and solid timber gate.

Brad pulled up by the gate and put his window down to punch in the code I muttered as quickly and discreetly as possible. Cameras went off and my name was shouted as the vultures noticed me in the car.

And then we were in, the gate closing behind us. Thankfully the media circus had the sense not to trespass.

Brad pulled the car up at the front door. I brushed my lips very briefly across his cheek as I opened the door.

He smiled sadly at me. “Tell Mrs Herbert I’m thinking of her,” he said as I clambered out of the car.

“I will,” I promised.

I made my awkward way up the front steps, juggling the flowers and my crutches.

The Herbert house still gobsmacked me. It was one of those places that always looked like it was straight out of an interior design magazine. The furniture was ultra-modern, the floors were always spotless, and the pool glistened in the sunlight – there was never a leaf or a spider in that pool.

The huge front door swung open as I lifted my hand to ring the doorbell. I looked down at Sandra Herbert, immaculate as usual, blonde hair perfectly styled, lipstick flawless.

I held the flowers out to her. “Hi Sandra,” I murmured. Suddenly the words of consolation I had planned got stuck on the rock in my throat.

She took the flowers from me, eyes glistening. “Thank you, Mel. It’s good to see you.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around my waist. I hugged her back around the crutches, desperately blinking back my own tears.

She broke away and beckoned me inside. I followed, the rubber feet of the crutches squeaking on the gleaming polished Blackbutt floorboards of the entryway.

The house was built clinging to a cliff. We entered a large foyer, with two sets of stairs. One set led up to four bedrooms up top. Sandra took the other set, heading down to the rest of the house. I hopped along gracelessly after her.

Down a level was the living and kitchen, a monster open plan space with gleaming white leather and glass furniture, splashes of blues and greens reflecting the colours of the harbour. A glass wall which slid away opened out onto a sunny deck.

Yet more stairs took us to the ground level, with a huge theatre room, gym, and a bar and rumpus space bigger than my entire apartment opening onto a manicured garden, which in turn gave way to a tennis court and a glistening pool with a waterfall edge that tricked the eye into thinking it spilt into Sydney Harbour itself.

Sandra glided through the garden towards the pool cabana. I heard children splashing in the pool, giggling and squealing. The sound seemed completely at odds with the fact that this was a house in mourning.

“Dianne’s kids are here,” Sandra explained.

Dianne was Sandra’s younger sister and she had four kids ranging in age from seven to twelve.

Probably too young to really understand that Uncle Steve wasn’t coming back.

“Joel’s entertaining them in the pool. He’s been so strong.

Make yourself at home, Mel. I’ll go pop these beautiful flowers in some water. ”

I was surprised Sandra had another vase handy; the living room already looked like a florist.

Dianne glanced up at me from a table laden with food and smiled wistfully. “Hello, Mel. Good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

I smiled at Dianne and took a seat beside her, looking out to the pool and the harbour beyond.

Three of the kids were sitting on the edge of the pool, staring intently into the water.

Suddenly Joel burst to the surface, the fourth kid standing on his shoulders.

The kids all giggled hysterically as the child did a somersault off Joel’s shoulders.

Joel turned then and spotted me. He waved, his smile not quite reaching his blue eyes.

He turned to the kids and said something that I couldn’t make out.

They all protested, but he climbed out of the pool and grabbed his towel, walking towards the table.

He stood and dried himself directly in front of me.

I couldn’t help but stare at the beads of water rolling off his skin.

He’d stood there on purpose. He might be grieving, but some Joel Herbert traits just worked on autopilot.

Dry at last, he came through the gate and pulled a chair up opposite me. I thought he was going to sit down, but he lifted my right leg onto it.

“Remember the RICE principal, Mel: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation . We need to keep this up for another twenty-four hours, then you can start doing some light exercise. Swimming to begin with.” He gestured towards the pool.

I couldn’t believe that he was focusing on my rehab at a time like this. But to be honest, it was much easier for me to think about my ankle than to try and come to terms with Steve.

He piled a plate of fruit in front of me. “You need to make sure you eat right while you’re recovering.”

I glared at him. “I eat great, thanks,” I snapped. It felt better to stay in this familiar territory with Joel. The territory of insults and sarcasm.