by Grace York
"You could bake for her. In amongst all the other jobs you're taking on." Olivia smirked behind her iced coffee.
"I could," said Addison, calling her bluff.
"I was joking, Mum."
"I know you were. Let's just stick with the murder case for now, shall we? Answer my question. Why all the negativity? I thought you'd agreed to help."
"I am helping. I'm playing Devil's Advocate."
"Oh, right. I missed that."
Hazel appeared at the table with a plastic container full of water. "Sorry, Charlie," she said, leaning over to put the water on the ground and pat the dog. "I nearly forgot you. Everything okay out here?" she asked the women.
"Yes, great," said Addison, praying Hazel wouldn't notice the uneaten biscuits. She did.
"They're pretty bad, aren't they?" she said with a sigh. "I'm doing everything I can to find another baker."
"I'm sure you'll find one soon," said Addison in her best reassuring voice.
Hazel smiled and followed another customer back through the door.
"So give me your list of suspects," said Olivia once Hazel was out of earshot.
Addison wished she had her notebook with her. She tried to remember everything she'd written and relayed it to Olivia. Unfortunately, her list of suspects was very short. Jason, who she hoped didn't do it because he was so sweet, and Ed Mathieson, who she hadn't even met yet.
They discussed the possibilities of each suspect, and Addison realised she needed to find out more about Ed.
"What could we be missing?" asked Olivia.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, who else could have done it? Maybe it wasn't someone from around here. Maybe it was a random stranger who broke in and killed Jenna."
"Then why would they burn the place down?"
"Why would anyone? To destroy evidence."
Addison contemplated the random stranger theory while she nibbled on the edge of her cookie. If you took really small bites, they weren't that bad.
Because of the fire it was impossible to know whether the killer had broken in or been invited in. Perhaps someone broke into the gallery with the intention of stealing some of the art, Jenna had surprised them, and they'd killed her. Then instead of stealing anything they'd lit the fire to destroy evidence. That could have happened. She ran the theory by Olivia.
"It's not impossible," said Olivia. "But whoever it was, the fact that they lit a fire tells me the murder was unintentional."
"How do you figure?"
"Because lighting a fire, which draws everyone's attention almost immediately, is risky. I reckon you'd only do it if you panicked, and you figured you needed to hide the evidence. If whoever did this planned it, then they would have come up with a less risky way to hide evidence."
"Or been careful enough to not leave any evidence that needed hiding," said Addison. "This is good. You're going to make an excellent forensic scientist."
"You're just saying that because I'm helping you."
"No, I'm not," said Addison. "You're very clever, and I'm very proud of you. Your dad would have been too."
Olivia picked up her cookie as a diversion from what she often called the 'sappy moment', and after a failed attempt at eating it herself she fed it to Charlie. At least his teeth were up to the challenge.
"Okay. So let's assume the murder wasn't planned," said Olivia. "Who else could it have been, besides Jason and Ed?"
"We're at a bit of a disadvantage not knowing many people around here yet," said Addison. "And I'd hoped to get to know the locals in a more friendly way than 'Hey, do you know who killed my cousin?'"
"It's not a great opening line," Olivia agreed. "What about a non-local? Getting back to the random stranger or thief idea. Or maybe it wasn't a stranger. What about someone Jenna knew from Sydney?"
"That's something we hadn't considered."
Charlie stood and stretched himself out, then reached up with his paws onto Olivia's lap.
"You ready to go, mate?" Olivia asked the dog. He answered by jumping up and down and turning in circles.
"I think that's a yes," said Addison with a laugh. She stuck her head in the door and waved goodbye to Hazel, and they set off for home.
"Do you know anyone from Jenna's life in Sydney?" Olivia asked as they walked.
"No. I barely knew Jenna."
"But she was your cousin. We lived in Sydney my whole life up until now. How come I'd never met her?"
"It's complicated," said Addison, and gave her daughter a look that said she wasn't going to discuss it. And she wasn't – Olivia didn't need to hear about Jenna's attempt to steal Rob from Addison. It was a long time ago, and it wasn't going to help find her killer. But it did mean Addison and her family had never socialised with Jenna, and therefore she had no idea of anyone back in Sydney who might travel to Getaway Bay and kill her.
"Well we can't ask Layla," said Olivia. "Maybe we should be leaving all this to the police."
Addison mulled it all over as they walked the rest of the way home. By the time they reached the beach house she was exhausted. Charlie looked tired, too. She leaned down to give him a pat when he suddenly strained at the lead.
"What's up, boy?" said Olivia. Charlie started yelping, and soon progressed to a full-on bark.
He was barking in the direction of the side of the beach house. The shrubs and weeds were overgrown down that side between the fence and the house, but Addison could just make out a figure standing in amongst all the bushes. He'd been trying to peer in the side window, but had been spooked by Charlie. He was now staring straight at them.
Addison instinctively put herself between the stranger and her daughter. Then she realised it was no stranger. She took Charlie's lead from Olivia.
"Go in the house and call the police," she said, not breaking eye contact with the man. "Tell Layla to stay inside."
"Who is it?" Olivia asked.
"It's Layla's ex-husband."
"The one who's supposed to be in jail? The violent drunken maniac you told me about?"
"That's the one. Go call the police. NOW!"
16
By the time Wilcox and Short arrived, Rick Ramirez was long gone. Layla sat at the kitchen table with them while Addison hung around in the kitchen. Olivia had taken Charlie up to her room.
Addison was desperate for a glass of wine to calm her nerves, but didn't want to start drinking in front of the cops. Even though she rarely had more than one or two glasses, it just didn't feel right.
"You're sure it was him?" Wilcox asked Layla.
"I don't know," she replied. "I didn't see him. Addison did."
"I'm sure it was him," said Addison. "I know I've only met him face-to-face twice, but I've seen enough pictures. I remember his face clearly from the trial. It was definitely him."
"And he was at the side of the house, trying to get a look in through the window?" asked Wilcox.
"That's right."
"He's supposed to be in jail," said Layla. "What's he even doing here?"
"We checked with Brisbane Correctional Centre on the way over here," said Short. "He was released on parole two weeks ago."
"Why wasn't Layla told?" asked Addison. Didn't they have some kind of system for informing the victims when convicted criminals were released?
"I can't answer that, I'm afraid," said Wilcox.
"What can you do?" asked Addison, fearing the answer.
"Not a lot. As far as we know he hasn't done anything wrong. He hasn't harmed anyone, made threats, or acted in a threatening manner."
"Doesn't peering in through the side window constitute a threatening manner?" said Addison. She gripped the edge of the kitchen bench as hard as she could in an effort to keep calm. Arguing with Wilcox wasn't going to do Layla any good right now. "Surely if he weren't up to no good, he'd have knocked on the front door like a normal person. Can't you get him for trespassing, at least?"
Wilcox sighed. "We can talk to him. If we can locate him." He turned
to Layla. "Do you have any idea where he might be staying in town?"
Layla shook her head. "I haven't seen or spoken to him in five years, Detective. Not since he put me in the hospital. Our divorce was arranged by lawyers. Jenna made sure I never had to see or speak to that man again."
Wilcox shifted in his chair. "Your sister Jenna was your divorce lawyer?"
"Yes."
Addison saw the connection at the same time as Wilcox. If Jenna had stood between Rick and Layla in the past, maybe this time he got her out of the way. Rick had just put himself in the frame for murder.
"What was the relationship like between your ex-husband and your sister?" Wilcox asked Layla.
Layla's eyes sought out Addison, pleading for help. Pleading to not have to go through this story again. Addison took charge. She came and sat at the table next to her cousin, across from Wilcox and Short.
"Rick was a violent drunk, to put it bluntly," Addison began. "He put Layla in the hospital more than once, and the last time was the last straw. Jenna wasn't one to step in uninvited, but once Layla gave her the go-ahead, she went after Rick with everything she had. By the time Jenna was finished they were divorced and Rick was behind bars for aggravated assault, among other things."
"He'd also committed some armed robberies, we found out," said Layla. "He was sentenced to seven years. I didn't think he'd get out this early."
Wilcox rubbed a hand over his face. "So Jenna wouldn't have been his favourite person, then."
"No," said Layla. "He'd never liked her, but after all that, I can't imagine how much he must have hated her." Layla's eyes widened as she realised what Wilcox was getting at. "Do you think he killed her?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"It's possible," said Short. Wilcox shot her a look.
"Then it's my fault Jenna is dead." Layla's eyes dropped to her lap, and Addison's heart broke.
"You're not responsible for Rick's actions, Layla," said Addison. "You never have been. He's the one who hurt you. He's the one with the problem. Leaving him was the best thing you ever did. Helping you leave him was the best thing Jenna ever did." Addison put her arm around her cousin and pulled her in close. "We'll figure this out," she said. "If Rick did this to Jenna, the police will catch him and put him away forever. He'll pay."
Addison looked straight into Wilcox's eyes when she said those last two words. Wilcox nodded once, acknowledgement of the pain Rick Ramirez had caused Layla, and a silent promise to hold him to account. Maybe the detective wasn't so bad after all.
"I need be alone right now," said Layla, pulling herself from Addison's embrace and standing. "Do you have any more questions for me?"
"No, we have enough to go on," said Wilcox.
Layla nodded and headed for the stairs, leaving Addison alone with Wilcox and Short.
"Rick Ramirez is a nasty piece of work," said Addison once she'd heard Layla's bedroom door close. "He's the reason I didn't visit Layla more often when they were together. It makes total sense he'd be behind Jenna's death."
"You think he was that angry with Jenna?"
"She came between him and Layla. And he was an angry man in general. He had five years in prison to think about it." Another thought occurred to Addison. "Plus burning down Layla's gallery is an added bonus."
"How so?" asked Short.
"It's made Layla vulnerable. You saw her, she's a mess. Rick probably thinks he can get her all upset and displaced, and then come in like the big hero and take care of her. He'll probably promise he's changed, say all those years gave him time to think, now he'll be the husband she wants him to be, etcetera. And with Jenna out of the way, there's no-one to talk any sense into her." The more Addison thought about it, the more she convinced herself Rick must have killed Jenna and burnt down the gallery. Well, he might have got rid of Jenna, but he didn't count on Addison.
"It's an interesting theory," said Wilcox. "We'll look into it. In the meantime, please call us immediately if you see or hear from him at all." Wilcox handed her his card as he and Short stood to leave.
"Who else have you been looking into?" Addison asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Wilcox turned back to face her.
"Do you have any other suspects? We haven't heard anything from you about the investigation, so I was just wondering where you were up to."
Wilcox shot off the standard line. "We are following a number of lines of enquiry."
"Jason Sadler? Edward Mathieson? Are they involved in any of your lines of enquiry?"
Wilcox took a deep breath and sighed. "Mrs Lake, have you been conducting your own investigations into this case?"
Addison shrugged. "Layla's my cousin. She's family. I'm entitled to ask a few questions here and there."
Wilcox sighed again, making Addison feel like a naughty schoolgirl. "You're Rob Lake's widow, aren't you?" he asked, catching Addison completely off-guard.
"I… I am, yes. Did you know my husband?"
Wilcox shook his head. "No. But I would have liked to. I worked in a Sydney local area command for ten years before I moved up here. He was well-known, even back then. Had a reputation as a first-class homicide detective."
Addison nodded solemnly. She didn't know what to say.
"Still," Wilcox went on, "that doesn't give you the right to interfere in my investigation. I doubt your husband would have approved."
Addison smiled. "You sound like my daughter."
"She's a wise young lady." Wilcox turned for the door and followed his partner, who was already out on the verandah. He had one last speech for Addison. "Please, don't get involved. Call me if Ramirez turns up, or if you have anything else to tell us."
Addison lowered herself onto the steps and watched the police car drive away. Wilcox had known of Rob. There was a turn up she hadn't expected. It was nice he'd heard such positive things about her husband. But of course he would, Rob was an excellent detective. And Wilcox was right, Rob would have told her to stay out of the investigation. Maybe Wilcox wasn't as bad as she'd first thought. Maybe she should concentrate on looking after Layla and let him do his job.
17
Addison woke early on Monday morning after a fitful night's sleep. She lay in bed for a while, watching the sun stream through the still un-curtained window, thinking about all that had happened in her short time so far in Getaway Bay. It really had been a whirlwind introduction to the small town.
She tried to push thoughts of Jenna's murder and the fire to the back of her mind. Wilcox had been right yesterday. She really should leave it to him. She should be concentrating on getting the beach house ready to open as a bed and breakfast, and of course spending time with Olivia. She had less than two weeks before her daughter would head off to campus for the first time.
Addison's thoughts turned to breakfast, and what she would be doing if the bed and breakfast was already up and running. She wanted to offer a range of food options for her guests, not just breakfast. She'd planned to dig up all her old recipes and start baking again, as well as offer a couple of dinner choices for guests as an extra service.
Cooking for her family was one thing Addison had loved, but had lost all interest in after Rob died. Even though they had those final eight weeks together after his diagnosis, it still seemed like her life had been ripped away so quickly two years ago. Rob's death had crippled Addison, and it was all she could do to hold it together for Justin and Olivia.
But now, here in Getaway Bay, she was starting to see the possibilities of the future. She could imagine cooking for people again, and the idea filled her with joy. If she was honest with herself it was the real reason she wanted to run the beach house as a bed and breakfast. Cooking she was looking forward to – changing beds and cleaning bathrooms, however, she was not.
Addison pulled herself out of her reflection and got out of bed. She was showered and dressed and down in the kitchen before anyone else was up. Even Charlie had still been curled up at the foot of Olivia's bed when Addison had peeked into her dau
ghter's room.
She didn't want to wake the others so early, so she decided to start practicing in the kitchen. She pulled puff pastry sheets out of the freezer then set about making the custard for Portuguese custard tarts. They were one of Olivia's favourite treats.
Addison was filling custard into pastry cases when Olivia appeared bleary eyed in the kitchen. She went straight to the coffee machine, Charlie trotting after her.
"Good morning, sweetheart," said Addison. She opened the back door for Charlie, and he dutifully went out to go about his business. She'd have to talk to Jason about putting a dog door in, she thought, then remembered that keeping Charlie wasn't a decision they'd made yet. The little dog was quickly worming his way into their lives and her heart.
"What are you making?" said Olivia once her hands were wrapped around a steaming coffee mug. Olivia had to have her coffee first thing, whereas Addison was more of a mid-morning coffee fan.
"Portuguese custard tarts," Addison replied. "I put a squeeze of lime in the custard, thought I'd see how that goes." They'd found lemon and lime trees in the backyard as well as the mango tree, and Addison had made it her mission to figure out interesting ways to use the citrus.
"Mmm, great. When will they be ready?" asked Olivia, her mouth cracking into an evil little grin.
"At morning tea time. You're not having tarts for breakfast."
The grin faded, and Olivia started searching through the cupboards for food. She eventually settled on cereal.
"So what did the cops have to say yesterday?" Olivia asked. They hadn't discussed Wilcox and Short's visit over dinner last night, or Rick's appearance. Layla had wanted to put it all out of her mind.
"They're going to see if they can find Rick," said Addison. She also told Olivia how she'd decided to stay out of the investigation for now. "Wilcox might not be as incompetent as I first thought," she admitted. "I should leave it to them, now they seem to be laying off Layla."
"Good idea," said Olivia through a mouthful of cereal. "So what's on the agenda for today, then?"
