Earthly Delights by Kerry Greenwood

hungryoffice workers and the man with the horse and cab. It is a very well tended horse and while Bill likes my bread, his noble steed loves my muffins and gets one a day. I wished him good morning. He looked worried.
    ‘What do you make of this talk about a serial killer?’ he said. ‘That’s going to be bad for trade.’
    ‘I think it’s nonsense,’ I said bracingly. ‘Anyway, do a lot of junkies hire your cab?’
    ‘None,’ he said.
    ‘Well then,’ I said. ‘Here’s a nice muffin for Dobbin and I hope he enjoys it.’
    Bill went out but he had me worried. I did all my trading during the day, of course, and most of my bread was spoken for; I didn’t really need the shop, I just liked having one. A serial killer might have the same effect on Melbourne tourism as SARS had had on Hong Kong as a pestilence-free holiday destination. Still, nothing I could do about it. Kylie came back with the drinks and let me in on the latest gossip. How that girl does it I do not know. All she has to do is stand still and gossip enters her skin by some sort of osmosis.
    ‘The Prof’s doctor says he’s allowed to walk around with a stick,’ she announced. ‘His nurse told me. I told her to tell him to take it easy, I can do his bit of shopping after two. Not as though there’s much. I can take his bread up then too. Make sure the ditz hasn’t left him with nothing to watch but Oprah. I mean, he might end up watching Jerry Springer and then … I don’t know what Jerry would do to the Prof …’
    ‘Neither do I,’ I said frankly. ‘We might never get him down off the curtains.’
    ‘Like Horatio that time the wolfhound came into the shop,’ she giggled reminiscently.
    I recalled the incident. Not only had Horatio reactedentirely by instinct and scaled the highest curtain, but he was so embarrassed when he came down that he didn’t speak to any of us for two days. There was now a large sign on the door saying ‘No Dogs Except Guide Dogs’. I exempt guide dogs from my general loathing of the canine species. They are self-consciously Good Dogs. You can practically see the little halo above their ears. And they never, never, never notice cats, much less chase them.
    Grandmother Chapman had a failed guide dog as a pet. He was very clever but easily distracted. One can imagine that this would disqualify him from work with the blind, but he was very good with the unhappy. I hadn’t thought of him in years. His name had been Ebony, a black Labrador.
    I shook myself alert. Kylie had more gossip: ‘Then someone painted—’
    ‘I saw it,’ I said. ‘That’s what Mistress Dread came to talk to me about.’
    ‘If she gets her claws into him he’ll be sliced and diced,’ commented Kylie. ‘Did you see her nails? All silver. I reckon they’re those glue-on metal ones.’
    ‘More like talons,’ I agreed.
    ‘Do you think Mistress Dread’s a man?’ she asked in a whisper.
    ‘I’ve never liked to ask,’ I replied. ‘There are six foot women with size twelve feet. In any case it isn’t our business. She’s a good neighbour. And she had one of those strange letters.’
    ‘Scarlet woman letters? So did Goss and me,’ said Kylie. ‘I thought it was a joke.’
    ‘Some madman leafleting all letterboxes with a female name on them, I expect,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m going to see the nerds this afternoon to get some information about the letter. Have you still got yours?’
    ‘Tossed it,’ said Kylie. ‘You going to see the Lone Gunmen? Ask them if they’re testing any good games. Then Goss and me can come down and play with them.’
    ‘Have you done that before?’ I asked.
    ‘Couple of times,’ she said. ‘They’re all right. Not interested in sex.’
    I found this hard to believe. Not interested in housekeeping, for sure. Not interested in the outside world. When I asked, in passing, what they thought of the Coalition of the Willing invading Iraq, they asked me who published the game.