Quokka Question

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"G'day," I said, holding out my hand. I felt a thrill of anticipation. I was about to take on my second real case at Kendall & Creeling Investigative Services. "I'm Kylie Kendall. And you must be Dr. Oscar Braithwaite."

"Oscar will do."

"Then you must call me Kylie."

The bloke in the crumpled brown suit standing on the other side of my desk leaned over to shake my hand. I retrieved my crushed fingers and gestured for him to take a seat.

After carefully aligning a yellow writing pad on my desk, I picked up a pen and looked alert. "You mentioned on the phone, Oscar, that your problem was something to do with the quokka question. Just what is the question about quokkas?"

Oscar Braithwaite sat back in the chair as though I'd said something out of turn. Actually, I was making an educated guess at his reaction, because his expression was hard to discern. The lower half of his face was concealed by an untidy mustache and beard that seemed never to have been trimmed. His brown hair was similarly wild, and almost hid his eyes. The only feature I could see clearly was his bulbous nose, and it didn't tell me much about his inner feelings.

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