by Grace York
"Yeah." Jason helped with the wallpaper stripping. "We talked about it a couple of days ago. But I thought I could change her mind. I still think I could have, if I had time. Now we'll never know."
Addison decided to change the subject. She'd grilled the poor boy enough. "I heard Jenna had been creating waves amongst some of the people here in Getaway Bay."
Jason half-smiled. "She gave old Ed a bit of trouble."
"Edward Mathieson? The owner of the bakery?"
"Yeah. He didn't like her at all. If there was anyone who might have killed Jenna, I reckon it'd be him."
13
Addison asked Jason why Edward didn't like Jenna, expecting to get the same story of café rivalry and cockroaches in croissants that she'd already heard from Layla. She didn't expect what Jason said next.
"She told me she didn't like him because he was a bully."
"A bully? Is that true? Do you think he's a bully?"
Jason shrugged and pulled down a large sheet of wallpaper. "He can be pushy sometimes. He likes to think he runs Getaway Bay. He's our representative on the council, and he's always saying how we need to do this and that for the town, for progress, that sort of thing. I don't really listen much."
"But Jenna did."
"Oh yeah. She said people like that back in Sydney were known as bullies, and when she called him on it he couldn't handle it. So he started saying stuff about Hazel's café, which Jenna said was to divert attention. Because he couldn't find anything bad to say about Jenna."
Now Addison was confused. "Edward didn't like Jenna calling him a bully, and he couldn't find anything bad to say about her, so he badmouthed Hazel's café instead?"
"Yeah. That's what Jenna said."
"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, Jason."
"Tell me about it. I told her to let it go, Edward is who he is and no-one else around here really cares. I wanted her to forget about all that stuff and spend time with me. I don't get much time off as it is."
Addison was going to need to dig into Edward Mathieson further.
They continued working on the bedroom until all the wallpaper was stripped. Then Jason showed Addison how to sand the walls and get them ready for painting.
"You already know how to paint, right?" he asked.
Addison nodded, having never painted anything in her life. "Sure. How hard can it be?"
Jason smiled, the first one today she'd seen that had genuine mirth. "This one's the primer," he said, pointing to one of the cans he'd brought in from his truck. "It goes on first. Let that dry, then do your colour."
"Then what?"
"I'll be back before you get that far." He checked his watch. "I really need to get home now."
Addison nodded and walked him down to the front door. "Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it."
"No problem. I agree you need to let Layla get settled in here. The gallery is a mess."
"We haven't been back there yet. I'm not sure how Layla will handle it."
"Maybe give it a few days," said Jason. "Bye."
Layla still wasn't back from her walk, and Olivia had gone to pick up Charlie after his grooming session, so Addison made herself a cup of tea and pulled her notebook out of the drawer. She wrote down as much as she could remember from what Jason had said, realising that he had no alibi for the time of the fire.
What if he went to confront Jenna about her leaving, and they got into an argument? Wilcox said Jenna had been murdered, but he didn't say how. It could have been an accident. A bit of pushing and shoving, someone falls onto something hard and hits their head, next thing you know they're dead. It happened. Rob had seen it enough times.
Layla said she locked the door to the gallery. So whoever went inside either broke in, or Jenna let them in. Who would she let in? Jason, definitely.
If that was what happened, if Jason accidentally killed her, would he have panicked and set the fire? Or would he have called an ambulance? Addison didn't know him well enough to answer that. He seemed like a nice guy, but you never could tell. That was something else Rob had taught her.
Jason certainly hadn't acted like a killer today, though. He'd come over when she'd asked, and helped her with the room for Layla. He'd been upset, naturally, but he hadn't seemed like he'd just committed murder and arson. Maybe she had it wrong with him. Or maybe he'd been trying to act normal and cover his tracks.
Who else was there? Ed Mathieson? It sounded like he'd become Jenna's latest plaything. Addison had witnessed her younger cousin's games back when they were teenagers, and by all accounts she'd never grown out of it. She liked to pick on people who would bite back, and Ed sounded like just the right fit.
Jenna rubbed people up the wrong way, and she never knew when to quit. It was very helpful in her career as a lawyer, but not so helpful when it came to making friends. No wonder Layla didn't know if she had any.
Just then the door opened, and Layla returned from her walk. She hung her hat on the hatstand, and ran a hand through her hair. As she came into the kitchen Addison could see she'd been crying.
"Hey, what is it?" Addison asked. She pulled out a chair at the dining table for her cousin.
"It's nothing. Just… oh, Addison, I feel so guilty."
"Why do you feel guilty? You haven't done anything wrong." Addison's stomach tightened as she thought again of Detective Wilcox zeroing in on Layla for Jenna's murder.
"I went to the gallery," said Layla, bursting into tears again.
Addison put an arm around her for a minute, then when Layla calmed a little she got up to put the kettle on.
Olivia and Charlie burst into the kitchen. "When's dinner? Oh, sorry," she added when she saw the state of Layla. "What's happened?"
"Layla went to the art gallery."
"Oh." Olivia took a seat at the table. "How bad is it?" she asked gently.
Layla shook her head. "Everything's gone. I've lost everything, and I'm devastated, and that's why I feel guilty."
"You feel guilty because you're devastated?" Olivia asked. "That doesn't make sense."
"I feel guilty because Jenna is dead, but all I seem to care about is my stuff. My paintings, my furniture, everything I've collected over the years. Everything that meant anything to me was in that place. I've lost it all, and I can't help but care about that more than I care about my sister's death. I'm a horrible person."
Olivia looked at her mother with wide eyes; she clearly had no idea what to say.
"I'm going to do a pasta bake for dinner," Addison said to Olivia. "Why don't you put the water on for the pasta, and chop up some mushrooms and green veg for me."
Olivia nodded, and got to work. Addison took her seat in front of Layla, putting a hot cup of tea down in front of her sobbing cousin.
"You're not a horrible person," Addison said gently. "It's natural for you to feel this way. You care about Jenna's death, I know you do. She wasn't the nicest person in the world, but she was your sister and I know you loved her. I know you're grieving her loss."
"Then how come all I can think about is the gallery? It was just stuff. I shouldn't be so upset about losing stuff."
"It wasn't just stuff. It was a part of you. Your possessions form part of your identity. You lost a big part of yourself in that fire, Layla. That's why it hurts so much. That's why you're feeling the loss of the gallery so hard. It doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you human."
Layla seemed to understand. She leaned forward and hugged Addison. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me too."
Addison realised she was crying as well. It was hard to see her cousin – her friend – like this. But they'd get through it. Together.
They took another moment to clean themselves up, then helped Olivia with dinner. With three of them chopping and preparing, the pasta bake was in the oven in no time.
"I think a glass of wine might be in order," said Addison. She found a bottle of white in the fridge, and Olivia pulled three glasses down from a cupboard.
"How was the rest of your walk?" Addison asked Layla as she poured.
"It was okay. I got that weird feeling again, though. Like when we were in the shops."
"Like someone was following you?"
"Yes. I didn't see anyone, though."
"Were there others around when you were at the gallery?" Addison asked.
"Yes. A few of the people from the town were close by. They came over when they saw me."
Addison shrugged. "That's probably all it was. You were feeling like they were watching you."
"Yes. Maybe."
Layla turned her wineglass in her hands. "I think I'd like to make a toast," she said, raising the glass. "To Jenna. May she rest in peace."
"To Jenna," said Addison and Olivia.
"And may her killer be brought to justice," Addison added.
14
On Sunday morning Addison spent some time helping Layla make phone calls and arrangements regarding the insurance on the art gallery, and Jenna's funeral.
The fire chief had called around the night before and informed them that sadly nothing had been salvaged from the gallery. It was completely destroyed in the fire. Layla asked if he knew how it had started, but he'd just mumbled something about it being an ongoing investigation.
One of Jenna's work colleagues had managed to reach Layla. He'd apologised for the loss, saying all the things you said to someone whose family member had suddenly passed away. He assured Layla that everyone in the firm was feeling the loss with her, and that Jenna had been a valued colleague.
"I find that hard to believe," Layla said when she'd ended the call.
"Maybe he just meant she was valued for all the hard work she did," offered Addison, who'd been listening in on the call. "However much she alienated people, you can't say she wasn't very good at her job."
"She was very good at her job because she alienated people," said Layla with a smile.
"True. Is there anyone else you want to call?"
Layla shook her head. "I think I'm done with talking to people for today. What are you going to do now?"
It was still only mid-morning. "Olivia and I are going to get cracking on your new room."
"Can I help?"
"Of course you can, if you feel like it. I was going to ask if you wanted to choose the colour. Jason brought a few different ones because I told him I want to paint each room a different colour. I think I want to make this house as bright and welcoming as possible."
"Good idea," said Layla.
They all got to work in the room, and the sanding and undercoat were done by lunchtime. Layla chose a powder-blue colour, of which Addison approved.
"That was one of my favourites when Jason showed them to me," she said. "Good choice. We can make a start on that tomorrow. Let's get some lunch."
Addison and Layla made sandwiches while Olivia helped herself to the chicken pasta bake left over from the night before.
"Are you going to heat that up?" asked Addison, watching her daughter spoon cold pasta into her mouth straight from the casserole dish.
"Tastes better cold," Olivia replied.
"You had no complaints last night," said Addison, mildly offended. Her pasta bake was always one of her kids' favourite meals.
"No, I'm not complaining. It was awesome as always last night. But it tastes even better cold. Here, you try." Olivia thrust a spoonful in Addison's direction.
Addison had a taste, and couldn't believe it. "You're right. It does taste better cold. How'd you figure that out?"
"I didn't. Justin did. He came home late one night and couldn't be bothered to reheat the leftovers, so he just ate it cold. We've been doing that ever since."
Addison smiled at the mention of her son. She must call him tonight, see how he and Emily were doing.
After lunch Layla went for a lie down, so Addison and Olivia took Charlie for a walk. He got terribly excited at the sight of his lead, and Olivia had to fight to get it on him.
"Settle down, boy," she said, which made absolutely no difference. Then she stood straight and said "sit!" firmly, and Charlie immediately stopped wriggling.
"Wow," said Addison. "He's been trained."
"Yeah. We've been practicing, but he already knew sit, and come. He's not so good at fetch. He'll go get the ball every time, but only gives it back when he feels like it. We're still working on that one."
They walked along the beach after checking the signs to make sure dogs were allowed. There were a lot of people in the water today, being a Sunday in the middle of summer. It was nearing the end of the school holiday period, though, and Addison assumed the crowds would drop soon.
This was the first time since arriving in Getaway Bay that Addison had been for a walk along the beach. There had been so much else going on, she hadn't had the chance. But walking in the sand with her daughter and an over-excited dog was exactly what she needed right now. It was so calming, even with all the tourists around. This was going to be a great place to live. Murderer notwithstanding.
"That's going to be a big house," said Olivia, pointing to a building in progress towards the southern end of the beach.
"It sure is," Addison agreed as they neared. "It looks more like apartments. It's very close to the beach." There were quite a few serviced apartment buildings at this end of the beach. Getaway Bay was a summer tourist hotspot, and families liked to rent apartments and come for weeks at a time. But none of them were built as close to the beach as this new building.
"I wouldn't have thought council would approve a building that close to the sand," said Addison as they reached the construction site. "It should have been much further back."
She peered through the fence at the scaffolding surrounding the large frame. The building was going to be four storeys high, at least. It was still in its early stages, though.
Olivia and Charlie turned and started walking back towards their end of the beach, and Addison hurried to catch up with them. "Shall we go to Hazel's for a coffee?" Addison asked.
"What about Charlie?"
"He'll be okay. He's on the lead. We'll sit outside. I want to explore more of the town. We've hardly had a chance to look around yet."
Olivia agreed, and they made their way back up the beach and into town. It was a decent distance, and by the time they'd walked up and down the main street, checking out all the shops, they were ready for a sit down.
Olivia and Charlie plonked themselves at a table out the front, while Addison went in and ordered.
"Hi Hazel," said Addison when she spotted the owner behind the counter. The café wasn't too busy, the lunch rush over for the day.
"Oh, Addison! Hello. How are you? How's Layla? The poor thing."
"She's holding up okay," said Addison. "Thanks for asking. We're just taking things one day at a time."
Hazel wiped her hands on her apron. "What can I get you?"
"Two iced coffees, thanks. We'll have them outside, if that's okay." Addison pointed to where Olivia and Charlie were waiting.
Hazel followed Addison's finger and her eyes lit up when she saw the dog. "You found Charlie!"
"Yes. He seems to have attached himself to us."
"He's such a dear little thing. Jerry used to bring him down from time to time. I'll bring you a bowl of water for him."
"That would be great. We've just had a big walk along the beach, and then all the way into town. He's exhausted."
Hazel laughed. "It's probably the most exercise he's had in his life. Jerry wasn't big on walks."
Hazel set to work making the iced coffees. Addison was still curious about the development on the beach, and thought Hazel might know something about it.
"Do you know what they're building at the other end of the beach?"
Hazel's face dropped at the mention of the construction site. "Ugh. Don't get me started. That's Ed's life's work, that building."
"Ed Mathieson? The baker?"
"The one and only. He's poured every penny he owns int
o that building. It's his retirement plan, apparently."
"Is he going to live there?" Addison asked.
"He plans to live in the penthouse and rent the rest out as holiday lets. It's a good plan. He'll manage it himself until he gets too old, then he'll just hire a manager. Or so he keeps telling me. Over and over again. He's like a broken record, that man."
Addison watched as Hazel topped the iced coffees with whipped cream. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was. They looked delicious.
"Would you like something to eat with these?" Hazel asked, pushing the drinks across the counter.
Addison remembered tasting Hazel's scones the other day. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She checked the display cabinet, finding it quite empty. She remembered Hazel mentioning on Friday night that she hadn't found a baker yet.
There was a glass jar of cookies on the counter. Addison decided to play it safe. "We'll have two of those please."
"Lovely," said Hazel. "I made these myself."
15
"So, how goes your meddling in the murder case?" said Olivia when Addison returned to the table with the iced coffees and cookies.
"I'm not meddling. I'm simply asking a few questions. Like that detective should be doing."
"How do you know he's not?"
Addison hadn't thought of that. "Good point."
"He hasn't been back to see Layla since yesterday morning. That might be a good sign," Olivia continued, obviously buoyed by stumping her mother.
"Yes, all right. But it can't hurt for me to look into things on the side, can it? I might find out something he can't."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something someone might be willing to tell me but not a police officer. What's with all the negativity?" Addison bit into her cookie and nearly broke a tooth. "Ouch!" She quickly looked through the window to see if Hazel had noticed. Fortunately, she was busy serving a customer.
"That bad?" asked Olivia, picking up her cookie and tapping it on her plate. "Oh. Right. I think I'll pass."
"The poor woman needs to find a baker, fast. Layla was right about one thing, though. She makes good coffee. And iced coffee."
