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swarmed up around us, jostling for an opening.
    â€˜What are you doing, Des?’ I asked, beyond exasperation. ‘You were told to rest. At home. Not jog up stairs in the middle of the night. And you know I was coming round to see you again tomorrow. I know you hate being sick, but this is ridiculous.’
    He cut straight through my concern. ‘Yeah, yeah, Kannon. Something’s come up. I had to talk to you.’
    In the hot yellow light he looked strange, drawn from the effort of the climb but overexcited at the same time.
    I pulled out the chair next to me. ‘At least sit down while you have your next heart attack.’
    Yesterday he’d barely had the energy to watch the cricket on TV.
    Des sat heavily, dumping his ratty old leather briefcase right next to my feet. It must have landed on one of Spud’s paws, because she yelped and sat up, then collapsed back down again with a snort of disgust.
    He peered under the table and mumbled, ‘Sorry baby,’ patting her head while he readjusted the bag.
    â€˜Are you okay?’ I asked.
    His hair wasn’t combed and he was wearing his own version of pyjamas: a faded to almost-white, blue T-shirt, threadbare khaki shorts and worn rubber thongs.
    â€˜I’m fine, stop fussing.’ He gave me a measuring look. ‘But what’s wrong with you, Kannon? You look pretty stressed. Everything okay with the company?’
    He sat there, thin and exhausted, waiting to hear about my day. I loved him so much my heart hurt. And the last thing I was going to do was tell him about Ledbetter.
    Even though Des was retired, he’d been a detective sergeant for so long he felt he owned the police force. If I told him, he’d be on the phone to everyone in sight, yelling about the poor quality of the new police cadets, and asking what the College thought it was doing letting trash like Ledbetter Junior in the front door? I’d just got Des back from hospital; I wasn’t risking him making a return visit on my account.
    I was too tired to think of an excuse, so I went for a half-truth. ‘Nothing, I’m just tired.’
    He gave me a sharp glance and waited.
    I gave up. I’d spent half my teenage years lying to him and he’d caught me out every time. Des was impossible to lie to, and he smelt a con like a seasoned sniffer dog at the airport spotting drug mules.
    I had to give him something, but not Ledbetter.
    I kept my expression neutral. ‘I just got off the phone with one of the people who run my degree program.’
    â€˜Yeah. And?’
    â€˜And they just wanted to discuss this year’s enrolment.’ I flicked my hand to dismiss it. ‘Just some red tape about my subjects. I’ve sorted it.’
    He kept his gaze steady on my face. ‘Why did you lie about it, then?’
    I felt like screaming. Des could teach interrogation techniques. In fact he had. He’d been a country cop but a damned good one. What to notice. Inconsistencies. Facial tells. And he was relentless.
    He knew people, and he knew how they twisted the truth.
    â€˜Des, back off, will you? I’m more worried about you than anything else, so stop trying to fix my problems.’ I eyed him warily. ‘Anyway, didn’t you say you’d rushed over to see me about something?’
    His face hardened when I said that. ‘Stop changing the subject, Kannon.’
    â€˜Sick?’ I spluttered. ‘Where did that come from? I’m healthy as an ox and you know it.’
    He didn’t respond. He was still waiting for me to come clean.
    â€˜Oh all right. All right.’ I couldn’t take his best police detective stare. Well not when he was so frail anyway. ‘The Archaeology Department has told me they won’t enrol me in any more subjects.’ I checked his expression.
    He grimaced. ‘Because you didn’t do the dives and the trips overseas?’
    I nodded. ‘Yep. The fieldwork.