Operation Camilla

By: Tabitha Ormiston-Smith


“It’s all there, Tammy. I’m still going through stuff, but we’ve definitely got him on the hack. He was working on a new piece when we seized the computer. He was actually in the document. Stupid bastard had everything in a folder called godhateswhores. Talk about careless! Thinks he’s above the law, I suppose. He was down the station today, throwing his weight around and yelling. Janey was on desk, she got rid of him by threatening to book him for creating a disturbance in a public place.”

He set down his mug and stretched his arms above his head. Tammy could almost hear the crack of released tension.

“And you, you little monster. Tell you what, Tammy, Tom’s the real hero of this operation. If he hadn’t got himself locked up in that office - well, I never would have suspected Don Blackman, that’s for sure. Never in a million years.”

“What’ll happen to him?”

“Depends if we get convictions for everything, but besides the hacking charge, the OPP reckon we can get him on Obtaining a Financial Advantage by Deception.”

Tammy snorted. “That doesn’t sound like much.”

“Not much? Hey, that’s Fraud. That’s what the charge is called. Obtaining a Financial Advantage by Deception. One count of fraud for every file he’s opened up that resulted from his hacking actions. He’ll get slotted for sure.”

“Slotted. Hmmph.”

“Yeah, for a few years I reckon. Oh, and struck off, of course. A fraud conviction, well it doesn’t get much worse than that for a lawyer. Unless it’s multiple fraud convictions. Heh heh. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

“You really don’t like him, do you? Apart from being a crook.”

“Well, put it this way, he’s not the first person I think of when I’m making up my Christmas list. God, you should have heard him getting stuck into his poor little secretary when we were coming up the path, you could hear it right out in the street. Anyway,” he went on, moving Tom to the other side of the sofa, “I reckon we have more important things to discuss, Ms Norman.”

***

It had all turned out for the best, Tammy told herself, switching off the sander and arching her back. The belt sander was hell to use, but she was determined to do it herself. After weeks of searching online, she’d finally found a product that would do the bedroom floor white - not pure white like the walls, but very pale, anyway. She imagined how the room would look, with furniture and curtains. Soft, gauzy white curtains, drifting in a warm breeze. All white on the bed, of course. And that bed... a queen size, she reckoned. Big enough to fit a tired cop and a small black cat. Tom would provide just the right note of contrast in the white room.

Those tortured weeks when she’d planned to break up with Ben seemed very far away now. How could she have been so stupid? She could only put it down to some kind of hormonal upset. Or a virus, perhaps. She sighed, thinking how hard she must have been to live with. But it was all in the past now.

Tom, hearing the quiet, came winding into the room, his tail waving in graceful question marks above his back, his mouth opening in a silent mew.

“Whattya reckon, Tom? Look good?”

It would do, he seemed to say. He jumped onto her lap and stood up, rubbing his face against her nose, the diamond collar scratching her chin.

“It’ll do, I reckon,” said Tammy. “For now.”





THE END