My Brother’s Keeper by Donna Malane

wrong. Her head remained tilted forward, her focus still on the upturned hands in her lap. From the doorway it looked as if she was reading an invisible book, or engaged in a silent remonstrative argument with herself. When I thought of all the cops and technicians who would soon be swarming over the place, I wished I had tugged the gown over her exposed nipple. But with Sean’s lecture still echoing, it was too late now. My whispered apology to her hung in the silence. Then I went outside, sat on the veranda steps and waited for the cavalry to arrive. I knew the cavalry would be closely followed by the circus.There’s something about death that brings out the best in us. It’s called life. Raging, adrenalin-fuelled, blood-surging life. It’s obscene, I know, but that’s just the way it is. Now, forty-five minutes after finding Karen’s body, I could feel that adrenalin draining away. It left me feeling flat and a bit weepy.
    Detective Inspector Aaron Fanshaw looked to be in his early thirties. That was young to have been made an inspector in a big city like Wellington. But I may have been wrong about his age. He was probably one of those perpetually youthful guys who don’t age until they’re in their sixties when they then suddenly let go of the reins. Right now he had a gym body and the height to carry it off. Maybe Aaron was the reason Sean had decided to get his own body into shape. He was already higher up the police hierarchy and pay scale than Sean. Or maybe it was having a baby that had made Sean aware of his own mortality and had initiated his bid for a longer life.
    Sean had introduced Aaron and me and then walked away, leaving us to talk. We moved to a wrought-iron garden seat with a view of the gate and the entrance to the house. He slipped a little black notepad out of an inside pocket. The yellow Space Invaders icon on the bottom corner made me smile. I explained my relationship to Karen and the reason for turning up on her doorstep and he nodded but kept his eyes on the notes he made in a flowing longhand. I thought about skirting around how I had entered the house without being invited, but seeing the uniformed and plain clothes cops file down the path I knew this was too important to lie about or obfuscate. If someone had killed Karen, the cops needed to know the facts; the front door had been closed, but notlocked. Aaron gave no response to my admission other than a nod, though he did underline the word ‘unlocked’. He made the telling of it easy, letting me start at the beginning and talk my way through to the end without interruption. From the garden seat I could see Sean pacing up and down outside the dairy across the road, mobile phone pressed to his ear, free hand gesticulating as he talked. He may have been ordering fingerprint experts and photographers. Then again, he may have been telling the pixie that he’d bring home nappies for the baby and a bottle of wine for them when he finished work. I don’t know what he says any more.
    When I’d finished telling Aaron everything, he asked me to accompany him back into the house. In preparation, I clenched my hands and shoved them deep into my jacket pockets; it’s the best way to ensure you don’t touch anything at a crime scene. Aaron nodded in acknowledgement and indicated the plastic runner someone had placed on the floor to protect the carpet. Well, not to protect the carpet, but any evidence there might be on the carpet. If it was a homicide, at some point they would ask for my shoes, too. Hands on my shoulders, Aaron guided me carefully through the bedroom doorway, ensuring no part of me touched or brushed against anything. A squeeze of his fingers indicated I should stand still.
    ‘Just point out exactly where you walked,’ he instructed. His fingers were warm on my shoulder. ‘And try to remember everything you touched.’
    Maybe an hour had passed since I’d felt the coolness of her skin beneath my fingertips and in that time