Mid-morning and the minutes whipped by. Franklin drummed a pen on the dining table. Strewn over the pine tabletop were Solomon’s poison-pen letters, Franklin’s daybook, Kat’s Good News Bible (which he suspected she hadn’t opened since her last religious education class in primary school) and a roll of Christmas wrapping paper. On the latter’s plain side, he’d map out everything he knew about Solomon and noted the gaps. Plot the links between the victims. Visualise the big picture.
Good News Bible He checked his watch. With a glance at the still-blank paper, he took a mouthful of strong coffee.
‘C’mon. Wake up.’
After dinner with the Noonans, he’d picked up the remainder of the late shift, running through to after 2.00am and then on availability until the day crew came on at morning tea.
