It was a medium-sized piece of bark which had been rerolled. There was a painting on the inside. We unrolled it gently."Can you 'read' it?" Henry aske...."Probably," I said. "See, along this side are some golden wattles, acacias. And in front of them are several women. Here is water and in it are men with spears and there is a shark. So it is a band of men hunting a shark while watched by their women." I see it. The sitting women are quite different from the men. We have many stories of. Henderson left her car and made her way to Fletcher’s front door. Fletcher gave Florence an enigmatic smile. He knew there had been problems between Florence and Sorrel. He just never understood why. He’d been awake most of the night trying to think this thing through. Sorrel was guilty. He was sure. Still, he wanted to take this thing slow. She needed to be brought down. She needed to be hurt, ruined even, but he didn’t want to push too far too fast. Fletcher had studied Sorrel’s file. She. More

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