The father stood at the front of the family photo with his chest out and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side, and he had his arm around her, tightly gripping her waist. The camera was an automatic one that the father had set before quickly running to get in the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this mocked up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes. The father put the kids to bed and then put his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives re-runs. Her favourite. The father could hear Gabi laying into her husband on the TV. It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything he said he would. A real whizz aro...
Detective Taylor sat in the back of the restaurant eating his shish kebab. Each bite was delicious, nourishing, tender and moist. The meat swirled around in his mouth in sumptuous bites. Riz was the restaurant owner. He brought the food out for the detective and said immediately: ‘For the police, no charge,’ Detective Taylor and Detective Paulson were there on business. But what would it hurt with a spot of lunch? Just a bit of shish and then back to business. ‘From what I understand, the missing party Brad Mayson worked here,’ They clarified with Riz. ‘Yes, yes. Such a shame. He goes missing. We all miss him. Such a shame,’ Riz answered in broken English. Between each bite, the police scribbled in their notebooks and then washed the kebab down with a cold beer. ‘Such a young man. Good worker.’ Riz was empathetic, convincing and sincere. Taylor was impressed by Riz. He had come to this country as an immigrant, barely spoke the langua...