Good Murder by Robert Gott Page B

bit murky on this area of the law and whether it applied anyway in such a remote town. He would surely need some substantial evidence before he consigned me to the earthen-floored hell of a Maryborough jail. I was not, however, confident about this. Perhaps suspects were thrown into prison here as a matter of course.
    My arm was aching, my eye was tender, and I had a headache that felt as if all it needed was a gentle push to result in bleeding from the ears. I also had an erection. The images flooding my brain, and by extension my penis, were, my God, images of me making love to Annie Hudson. What was wrong with me? Was I aroused by a woman’s pity? Knowing that women responded positively to wounded men, I suspected that Annie’s sympathy was partly the result of my injuries. I could not explain my own attraction to her so neatly. She was, after all, receiving the priceless gift of Peter Topaz’s nocturnal emissions. I wasn’t sure of this, but I had every reason to believe that it was so. My sudden desire was not unreasonable, or inexplicable. She was, after all, a woman of considerable charms. My attraction could hardly be an expression of some kind of as yet undescribed fetish.
    I was about to relieve myself of this unwanted, but not unwelcome, bout of erotic yearning when there was a knock on the door. It opened before I had a chance to call ‘Wait!’, and Augie Kelly entered to the sight of me fumbling with my flies. At least I had brought nothing forth.
    ‘It is customary to wait until you’re invited in,’ I snapped. If I hadn’t been so cross, and therefore obviously guilty of something, he would not have realised that he had caught me in flagrante delicto solo, as it were.
    ‘Sorry,’ he said, and then, in an attempt at conciliation, ‘It must be difficult with only one hand free. You should get someone to help you.’
    It would be an understatement to say that I was flabbergasted by his lewdness. I suppose he thought he was being blokey, or letting me see that he was a man of the world, unfussed by the libidinous pursuits of others. Well, I wasn’t going to behave like a shy teenager.
    ‘And who would you suggest, Mr Kelly? Do you have a sister who is looking for work?’
    He laughed the laugh of a man who was sisterless.
    ‘I don’t think you need to look any further than Miss Hudson,’ he said.
    Those weird, green eyes missed nothing. I had underestimated Mr Kelly. Perhaps, though, he was alert to what had passed between Annie and me because his own interest in her had not gone unnoticed by me. Jealousy improves eyesight. Indeed, it improves upon eyesight. I pushed the pillows against the bed-head and propped myself up.
    ‘What can I do for you, Mr Kelly?’
    ‘Please, call me Augie. There’s no need for all this formality. I just caught you having a toss, for God’s sake.’
    I coughed uncomfortably, and to cover my embarrassment said, ‘It’s an unusual name, Augie is.’
    ‘It’s short for Augustus,’ he said, letting me off the hook, but letting me know that that was exactly what he was doing.
    ‘Augustus Kelly,’ I said, and thought it was rather too grand a name to wear in a town without trees. I didn’t say so because I didn’t think I had the upper hand. He pulled a chair up and sat at the foot of my bed.
    ‘Even if people stop coming,’ he said suddenly, ‘you can stay here.’
    I was surprised by the intensity with which he said this. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.
    ‘People won’t stop coming, Augie. If anything, they’ll come in droves, hoping to get a glimpse of Jack the Ripper. It’s a bargain. They get a good meal and a shiver of horror, and all for a few bob. It’s better than the pictures.’
    ‘I’m just saying, you can stay here, whatever happens.’
    There was that tiny tremor of emotion again. Had he been drinking?
    I felt grateful for this show of support, especially as he seemed so sincere about it, but I changed my mind