The Property Manager: You'll never rent again... by NS Thompson Page A

everyone in the main street that something quite serious was going on. I didn’t see you emerge from the surgery once. Perhaps you did when I wasn’t looking.
    That’s the phone. I’ll be back.
     
    That was Jill Buxton ringing to impart some gossip. At this stage people are sewing snippets of information together and everyone is ending up with a different garment.  
    What she has heard from a pretty reliable source, is that a young girl about twelve was found stabbed to death at the Sunrise Look-Out at the beginning of the National Park – less than a kilometre from town. Another girl was found a little further down the track. She was still alive but barely. Can you believe it? No one has heard if they are local girls or not. It would be a terrible thing for this tight-knit community if they were. Either way it’s terrible. The poor families involved. How could anyone recover from that? 
    Jill is in a terrible flap. Her girls are ten and twelve and it’s very possible that the girls could be friends or classmates. Everyone is frantically ringing around checking up on every young girl. The police are not giving any information out. One can only assume they were sexually assaulted. That’s generally the motive when young girls are involved. You would have heard this on the grapevine already I presume. Your friend Jenny is a bit of a town crier, I believe. She’s also good friends with our local policewoman.
    The Buxtons have invited me down to The Thistle Inn for dinner. As I don’t really have plans, I accepted their invitation. I’m getting a bit sick of these four walls. There will be the usual low-lifes in the public bar and those not so conversationally-challenged in the lounge. The food there is fairly good. I feel like roast lamb.
    I just watched the local news to see what they had to report but Jill was more informative than the media.
    I’m feeling quite relaxed and calm tonight. Probably because I’m off to the city tomorrow and I might kick back and take in a show or something like that. I’d ask you along but I don’t want to rush you and I’m not entirely sure what my strategy to woo you is just yet.
    Did you get my gift? You’ll be wracking your brain trying to figure out who your admirer is. I don’t think I’ve done anything to give it away. You will be looking at every male patient in a different light now, won’t you?
     
    I’m sure the hotel will be packed as it always is after a local drama. It’s a comfort for the community to group together. I suppose people feel safer in a crowd.      
     

    25/06/05 Friday.  Early morning. Still dark.
     
    We’re getting closer, Grace. Do you feel it? I just had to set down on paper how I feel this morning before I head off in the car to pick up my mother.
    Did you have a nice time last night? It was wonderful to see you.
    We have officially supped together now. I sat across the table from you and completely lost my appetite. Love does that to you. You were wearing my necklace and it nearly brought tears to my eyes. You looked striking in your black high-necked jumper and well- fitted black pants. It was a plain canvas back-ground for my blue sapphire.
    When I saw you walk into the hotel with your friend, Jenny, I felt paralysed and my breath caught in my throat. I coughed and almost choked. You came straight over to our table, gave me a smile and sat in the empty seat next to Jill. 
    “I suppose you’ve heard the drama?”
    Jill nodded, wide-eyed and asked you if you had any information, after sending her daughters over to the bain-marie.
    Jenny was at the bar ordering a bottle of champagne.
    You huddled closer to Jill and almost whispered.
    “I shouldn’t say much but Dr. John was called to the lookout this afternoon. He got there before the ambulance and treated the girl who was still alive at the scene. I’m not sure who she was, I didn’t recognize the name. But the dead girl was one of the Moorebanks.”
    There was a stunned