She knew Isaac or, rather, she’d known him. The old man had lived a mile or so out of town, up on Black Mountain where…well, where she didn’t go any more. Isaac had died six weeks ago and she was handling probate. Isaac’s daughter in Sydney had been into the office a couple of times, busy and efficient in her disposing of Isaac’s belongings.

There’d been no talk of a dog.

‘Can you get your car off the road?’ Raff said. ‘You’re blocking traffic.’

She was blocking traffic? But she gazed around and realised she was.

Somehow, magically, Raff had every other car to the side of the road. Raff was like that. He ordered and people obeyed. There were a couple of tow trucks arriving but already cars could get through.

There was no problem. All she had to do was get in the car-with dog-and drive to the vet’s.

But…to take a dog to be put down?

‘Henrietta should do this,’ she said, looking round for the lady she knew ran the Animal Shelter. But Raff put his hands on his cop hips and she thought any minute now he’d get ugly.

‘Henrietta has a van full of dogs to find,’ he snapped.

‘But she runs the Animal Shelter.’

‘So?’

‘So that’s where he needs to go. Surely not to be put down.’

Raff’s face hardened. She knew that look. Life hadn’t been easy for Raff-she knew that, too. When he was up against it…well, he did what he had to do.

‘Abby, I know this dog-I’ve known him for years,’ he told her, and his voice was suddenly bleak. ‘I took him to the Animal Shelter the night Isaac died. His daughter doesn’t want him and neither does anyone else. The only guy who loves him is Isaac’s gardener, and Lionel lives in a rooming house. There’s no way he can keep him. The Shelter’s full to bursting. Kleppy’s had six weeks and the Shelter can’t keep him any longer. Fred’s waiting. The injection will be quick. Don’t drag it out, Abby. Deliver the dog, and I’ll see you in court.’