One Way Ticket by Evie Evans Page A

the camera,
sprawled on a man’s knee, skirt riding up and stocking tops flashing. In
another, she was blowing kisses, chest prominently displayed in a low cut top.
Tina had obviously been no wallflower.
    “Liked to enjoy herself by the look of
things,” I told Addi, showing him the photos.
    “Seems like the usual expat to me,” Addi
said, dismissively.
    “You’d hardly see Aunt June dressed like
that. And you reckon Tina had no bloke on the go when she died?”
    “That’s what her sister said.”
    “I find that hard to believe. She looks
the sort who needed a man in her life.”
    “Doesn’t every woman?”
    He had a lot to learn, but I left it for
now. “What did her friends say?”
    “Too many men came and went for them to
keep up.”
    “Could be a motive for murder there. She
may have been playing around with someone’s husband, or maybe one of the men
was possessive. What about the blokes in this photo?” It looked like her 65 th birthday party (the banner hanging over her head was a bit of a giveaway), she
was surrounded by four men.
    “We’ve only traced two of them.”
    I tucked the photo in my pocket.
    “You can’t do that!” Addi whispered,
horrified. “We’re not allowed to just take evidence out of the lock up.”
    “I expect I’m not allowed to help with an
investigation either.” I looked at my watch. “It’s gone lunchtime, I’d better
go back to my desk, Vara will think it’s strange if I miss a meal.”
    “What about the investigation?”
    “We’ll come back here afterwards and go
through that box of Tina’s personal correspondence.”
    Back at my desk, I tried not to rush
through my ham sandwich and banana too quickly in case Vara thought something
was wrong. I am a bit of a greedy eater naturally so it wasn’t many minutes
before I was finished.
    “I’m just helping Addi catalogue some
documents, if anyone needs me,” I told her before ignoring the work
accumulating in my in-tray and sailing off.
    Addi and I settled down at the desk in the
back corner of the evidence room for an afternoon examining Tina’s paperwork.
He’d brought the case file too and I had a read through of the notes I hadn’t seen
yet.
     It was kind of fascinating going through
someone else’s correspondence. Piecing Tina’s life together was like doing a
jigsaw puzzle. A terrible, tragic puzzle. Her murder had become a bit more real
since I’d found the photos of Tina and touched her belongings. She didn’t feel
like just a statistic anymore.
    I picked up a plastic bead necklace and
looked at the other items that had been considered important enough to be
bagged up. Cheap jewellery, some garish nail varnish, a pair of sunglasses
that, according to the name inside, looked like they came free with a magazine,
some well read paperback romances. It wasn’t much to sum up someone’s life. I’d
yet to see a statement from anyone really upset by her murder. It made me
wonder if many people had been at her funeral. Had anyone cried? Would this
have happened to Aunt June when her time came if I hadn’t come along? No one
caring enough to give a damn? I suddenly felt quite sad.
    “This woman’s electric bills were really
low,” Addi said, piling the bills up.
    “Yeah?” I answered, pulling out of my
thoughts. “What do you think that means?”
    “That I have to tell my mother about this
rate, she could save a fortune.”
    “Addi, concentrate.”
    He looked a little hurt. “It’s a good
deal.”
    “This is a real person. Was a real
person,” I corrected myself. “I think we should be a bit more respectful.”
    I saw him pull a face before he went back
to his pile of paperwork.
    After digging through some bills and more copies
of her bank statements, I found a pile of old birthday cards. “Have you spoken
to the people who sent these?”
    Addi looked up from a pile of newspaper
clippings. “Yes. Well, I expect so. Maybe, if they’re from the friends we
interviewed. We did go through