10.

Blake's expression sobered immediately upon hearing Alice's news.

'Well, it is not really a surprize, it is what we were expecting'

'We also have the results back from the bloods.' continued Alice, 'The lab was most displeased with the quality of the samples and say that the results cannot be conclusive. However, what they can tell us is that it there was a 70% chance that both the child and the Emily McCaffery were the same blood type. Type AB+.'

'That's a very rare blood type, isn't it? asked Lawson

'Yes' replied Alice, 'Only about 3 or 4% of the population have AB+. But remember, the lab said the results were not conclusive.'

'Still, with such a rare blood type it does indicate that both victims were related, possibly mother and child.' mused Blake.

'Right, what else have we got? Charlie?' Laswson turned to look at the chalk board that held a variety of notes and scrawls.

Charlie flipped through his notes; 'So, adult victim is Emily McCaffery, cause of death unknown. Child victim unknown, cause of death severe trauma to both sides of the skull. Emily was a recluse and last known siting of her was two years ago. Ned says that she came into the bank and spoke with the Manager to arrange to close her bank account and withdraw all the funds in English pounds or travellers cheques. As far as we can tell, he was the last person to speak with her face to face.' Charlie flipped to another page, 'We have the deeds and letter from the Tyneman's..'

'I'd like to see those' interupted Blake

'Later' growled Lawson, 'Continue Charlie'

'Um, right... okay, so we have the paperwork from the Tyneman's, um, yes, Bill has recovered some notebooks belonging to Emily McCaffery. He is reading through them all now and should have something to report by the end of the day. It appears she was anonymously writing Romance fiction under the pen name of Caroline Storm, which is how she earned her income, not as suggested by Susan Tyneman as...er, a 'lady of the night.' Charlie looke a little abashed at this statement. 'We still don't know who her late night visitor was though.'

'A lover, maybe the father of the child? Or perhaps her editor? Or both?' proposed Blake

'Speculation.' replied Lawson. 'But it appears that she really was planning to travel to Europe. And someone stopped her before she could leave.'

Blake pulled the lump of chain and dirt from his pocket. 'Bill and I found this in the wattle scrub near Emily's gravesite. It looks like a men's id braclet of some type. But it needs cleaning before we can read what is engraved on it'

Alice held her hand out for the item. Recieving it from Blake she examined it closely, 'This shouldn't be too difficult. A bit of soap and water then a paste of lemon and baking soda should clean this up well'

Lawson looked at here quizzically. Alice shrugged, 'That's how my mother always cleaned the silver where she worked.'

Lawson continued; 'Ned, find out who was her publisher and have a chat to the editor there. Charlie, I need you to visit the Tyneman's and break the bad news. Ask them, politely please, if they would mind coming in for another chat'

Blake started to speak, but Lawson forestalled him 'No Lucien. This time I will interview Susan and Patrick on my own with Charlie. We need to find out if she ever had reason to belive Emily was pregnant, who the father might possibly be and I don't want you upsetting Susan again.'

'..The papers..?' started Blake

'I'll bring them home with me tonight. You can review them then.' He glanced at Blakes trousers noticing the dirt and tears from the wattles. 'But for now, don't you have patients to see? Leave this to us for the time being and go home and change.'

...

Jean strolled out of the house with the empty laundry basket in her arms. The weather had been hot and dry - perfect laundry weather - and the clothes on the line were already dry. As she approched the Hills Hoist she noticed Blake standing in the far corner of the garden. He was in his shirt sleeves and bizarly dressed in one of her floral print cleaning pinafores and was holding something.

'Lucien!?'

Blake looked over and smiled at her; 'Ah, Jean! Just the person I need. Come over here please and give me a hand'

As Jean came closer she noticed he was holding a small canteloupe in his hands. 'Why are you manhandling tonights desert?' she queried

'Ahh. Quite. I needed it for this little experiment'

'Really? Should I bring out the icecream for you too?'

Blake gave her a look. 'No Jean. But come stand here for me.' Jean came closer and Blake put his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face back to the house. Standing close behind her he put the fruit in one of her hands and placed her other hand on the opposiste side of the sphere.

'Jean, I'd like you to hold this out in front of you like so' He demonstrated by putting his hands over hers and moving her arms into position. Jean leaned back slightly into his chest, enjoying his closeness.

'Like this?'

'Yes, perfect' He slid his hands up to her shoulders. 'Now Jean, men and women are physically different..'

'I've noticed' said Jean wryly.

'Um, right, of course. Anyway, what I mean is that men have much more upper body strength than women. What I'd like you to do is squeeze as hard as you can on the canteloupe'

Jean started to apply pressure, she made very little impresson on the flesh. 'Can you squeeze any harder?' Asked Blake.

'No, that's as much as I can do'

'Good, now give it to me and watch' Stepping away from Jean, Blake held the fruit and took up the same pose. His large hands almost encircled the melon entirely. Flexings his bicips he began to squeeze. There was a soft 'pop' and the sides of the canteloupe crushed inwards.

'There!' he exclaimed. 'See, a strong man can exert almost 150 pounds of force. More than a slight female like yourself. That is certainly enough force to crush a young baby's skull.'

'Ugh. Really Lucien, that is a horrible idea. But I guess it shows that Emily could not have murdered that child.'

'I think it was someone else. Someone we still are unaware of'

'Well' Jean, looking down at the mess in Blake's hands and noticing the tears in his trousers. 'You won't find out who it was standing here. And your clothes are a mess. You have patients in an hour and are hardly presentable! Get out of those things now!'

Blake grinned at her.

'None of that, I have laundry to bring in. And throw that out!' Jean gestured to the broken fruit and strode off. Blake watched her swaying walk with pure enjoyment, then sighed and went indoors to clean up and change.