Take Out by Felicity Young Page B

stairwell. A tall, fair-haired man stepped out in front of them as they were about to make their way down, deliberately bumping her on the shoulder. ‘Watch where you’re going, Stevie Hooper,’ he said, disappearing into the crowd outside the courtroom before she could get a good look at him.
    Did she hear him correctly?
    ‘Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?’ Stevie started after him, only to find herself held back by Skye.
    ‘Stevie, we don’t have much time.’
    Stevie pulled against her friend’s hand, but not enough to dislodge her grip.
    ‘Who was that guy?’ Skye said. ‘Hey, are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.’
    Stevie absently touched her cheek, stared back into the whirlpool of people and shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’m not sure; I think the case is getting to me. I must be imagining things.’
    Stevie hitched her skirt and climbed onto the pillion behind Skye. Dodging traffic and parked cars, they caught more than a few gaping stares and whistles as they sped down the terrace, to which Skye laughed and raised her middle finger. They arrived at the wine bar more than a little out of breath, Stevie laughing despite the annoyance at allowing herself to be so easily manipulated. The incident with the man on the stairs was forgotten. They ordered cheeseburgers and settled into a corner table, Stevie nursing an orange juice, Skye a vodka and Red Bull—it was her day off, after all.
    ‘How’s Monty? Do you think he’ll go through with the op this time?’ Skye asked.
    From anyone else, the question might have been contrived, something off-topic to ease into the intended subject matter. But Skye had shown genuine concern for Monty’s health problems when they’d first come to a head last year, even offering to come over and talk to him about the operation if it would help.
    ‘Maybe he’ll go through with it if Wayne—he’s a guy Mont works with in Serious Crime—keeps his mouth shut this time,’ Stevie said. ‘He insisted on showing Monty his own scar, said the operation was like boning a duck with a pair of poultry scissors.’ She scissored her fingers. ‘I mean, it used to be dick length, now it’s bypass scars. What is it with guys growing older?’
    Skye laughed. ‘Jeez, no wonder he’s been put off. But it’s really not that bad these days. Cook me dinner and I’ll come over and explain it a bit more gently. Better not make it poultry, though, just to be safe.’
    ‘Or rare beef.’
    Skye took a swallow of her drink, smacked her lips. ‘That’s hitting the spot.’ Then she casually said, ‘I guess he’s also worried about sex.’
    Stevie put her glass down. ‘What?’
    ‘Don’t be coy, he’s a man; sex is never far from his mind.’
    Stevie broke into a smile, ‘Well, now you mention it...’
    ‘When he gets home from hospital, he’s got to find some stairs to start practising on.’
    Stevie laughed.
    ‘No, not that, you dag; I mean once he can climb two flights of stairs with no pain or breathlessness he can get back into it again.’
    ‘I’ll pass on your words of advice. I’m sure he’ll find them very comforting.’
    Their burgers arrived and Stevie was running out of time. ‘Okay, Skye, spill it, what have you been up to?’
    Skye’s eyes took on a worrying gleam. ‘Well, for a start, I think a lot more is going on with this Pavel case than Luke Fowler is capable of handling.’
    Stevie frowned. ‘You and Fowler know each other, right?’ Whatever Skye thought of Fowler, Stevie got the feeling it was mutual.
    ‘No time to explain the sordid details of my life right now, but let’s just say we have a history and he hates my guts.’
    ‘Okay,’ Stevie said, ‘Change of topic. You said before you thought the baby was adopted.’
    Skye swallowed one bite of burger and took another, speaking with her mouth full. ‘Yeah, it’s the obvious explanation seeing as both parents are Caucasian.’ She pulled a crumpled newspaper photo from her bag to