‘Your fiancé. I stand corrected. But he’s definitely prissy. I’ll bet he’s sitting in court right now, in his smart suit and silk tie-not like me, out here getting my hands dirty. Case for the prosecution-me and the time I can spare after work. Case for the defence-you and Philip and weeks of paid preparation. Two lawyers against one cop.’

‘There’s the Crown Prosecutor…’

‘Who’s eighty. Who sleeps instead of listening. This’ll be a no-brainer, even if you don’t show.’ He shoved the car a bit further. ‘But I’ll be there, whether you like it or not. Meanwhile, take the dog to the vet’s.’

‘You’re saying you want me to take the dog to the vet’s-to keep me out of court?’

‘I’m saying take the dog to the vet’s because there’s no one else,’ he snapped. ‘Your car’s the only one still roadworthy. I’ll radio Justice Weatherby to ask for a half hour delay. That’ll get us both there on time. Get to the vet’s and get back.’

‘But I don’t do dogs,’ she wailed. ‘Raff…’

‘You don’t want to get your suit dirty?’

‘That’s not fair. This isn’t about my suit.’ Or not very. ‘It’s just… What’s wrong with him? I mean… I can’t look after him. What if he bites?’

Raff sighed. ‘He won’t bite,’ he said, speaking to her as if she were eight years old again. ‘He’s a pussycat. His name’s Kleppy. He’s Isaac Abrahams’ Cairn Terrier and he’s on his way to be put down. Put him on your passenger seat and Fred’ll take him out at the other end. All I’m asking you to do is deliver him.’

It was twelve minutes to ten on a beautiful morning in Banksia Bay. The sun was warm on her face. The sea was glittering beyond the harbour and the mountain behind the town was blue with the haze of a still autumn morning. The sounds of the traffic chaos were lessening as Raff’s attempts at restoring order took effect.

Abby stood motionless, her arms full of dog, and Raff’s words replayed in her head.

He’s Isaac Abrahams’ Cairn Terrier and he’s on his way to be put down.