by Grace York
Adam gave it a moment's thought and then nodded. Addison was relieved. Adam could be pushy when he wanted to be, but he seemed to respect her daughter's studies.
"What are you working on today?" she asked. "Besides trying to find Getaway Bay's most recent murderer, I mean."
Adam sighed. "My publisher wants a synopsis for the new book by the end of the month, and I've got next to nothing so far."
"You'd better get to work, then." Addison put the ingredients for the base of the Jaffa slice into the food processor and switched it on. Even though she was well used to it, the noise was still jarring this early in the morning.
"Do you have to do that?" Adam asked, cringing.
"Do you want a piece of Jaffa slice for morning tea later?" Addison countered.
"Yeah, good point. Carry on." Adam finished the mammoth bowl of cereal and put his dishes into the dishwasher. At least Addison had managed to train him to clean up after himself.
Adam went up to his room to work on his synopsis, and Addison carried on with her baking. By the time nine o'clock rolled around she had the finished hummingbird cake in its protective container and the two slices all portioned and ready to go to Hazel's. She started loading the containers into the large basket she used to transport her baking in the car.
"Morning," said Layla as she entered the kitchen.
"Good morning. How are you today?" Addison grabbed her keys from the hook on the kitchen wall.
"Nervous," said Layla. "We're doing the final inspection today, before the contractor officially hands over possession of the new gallery to me."
"That's exciting," said Addison. "Why are you nervous? I thought you were looking forward to this?"
"I was. I am, I mean. But it's been over six months, Addison. I've become used to life here, with you and the boarders. I'm going to miss you all."
Addison put an arm around her cousin and squeezed her close. "We're going to miss you, too. But you're only going to be five minutes away. You can come and visit all the time. And we'll all drop in on you, no doubt. Actually I'm quite looking forward to having the gallery as a place to come and get away from all this from time to time."
"Why would you want to get away from the beach house?"
"Oh don't get me wrong, I love the beach house and all of its chaos. But sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed, if I'm honest. I usually go to Hazel's, or for a walk on the beach. But now I'll have the gallery to come to as well. If you'll have me, of course."
"I'll be expecting you," said Layla with a smile. She seemed less anxious, and Addison was glad she could help.
"Excellent. Speaking of Hazel's, I'd better get these over to her." Addison pointed to the cake tin on the bench. "I've left a couple of samples, make sure you get a piece of slice before Adam eats it all."
"Will do. Thanks, Addison."
"Good luck today," Addison called over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "Enjoy inspecting your new gallery and home."
Addison loaded the car and thought back over her conversation with Layla as she drove the short distance into town. She'd wanted to make her cousin feel better, of course, but she hadn't been lying. She did need to escape the bustle and chaos of the beach house from time to time.
Since arriving in Getaway Bay her life had changed dramatically. Even the years before the move had been a time of change in her life, with menopause hitting not long after she'd lost Rob. If she was honest with herself, the symptoms of the mid-life change were still present. She'd learnt to deal with the hot flushes and the other physical aspects of menopause; those things didn't bother her. But she still struggled sometimes with the psychological aspects, most significantly the anxiety that troubled her from time to time.
She'd done all the right things, of course. She'd spoken to her doctor, read all the information online. She'd even downloaded a couple of books on the subject. So she knew an increase in anxiety was completely normal at this time in her life. Together with losing her husband, a change in environment, and both of her kids moving on with their own lives, Addison wasn't surprised she got a bit anxious now and then.
Understanding the reasons for it helped enormously, and when it happened, she usually managed to work through it by recognising what was happening and being kind to herself. Layla had had her own big upheavals in the last six months, Addison reflected. She was the same age, she might well be going through some of the same sorts of struggles.
Having the gallery finally open would cause some anxiety for Layla, naturally, but at the same time it would be a good thing. Being able to finally settle into her own home should help, too. Addison resolved to pay more attention to her cousin over the coming weeks. If Layla was going through some of the same experiences, there was no reason why they couldn't share war stories.
Problems shared were always easier to handle.
8
The first thing Addison noticed when she pulled into a parking space outside Hazel's was the activity in the town square. The police tape was all gone, and the square bustled with people in overalls attending to the remaining mess.
There were still a few tables to be packed away, but most of the workers were ministering to the flower beds. Gone were the gorgeous colours from a few days ago, ripped out by the rampaging dogs, and council workers were now refilling and raking the beds ready for new plantings. Addison hoped their budget extended far enough to cover the cost of new flowers. The burst of spring colour was energising for the whole town.
Addison quickly delivered the morning's baking to the café, explaining the ingredients so Hazel could put appropriate allergy signs with her display.
"Do you want a coffee for Isaac as well?" asked Hazel, handing Addison her usual morning caffeine fix.
"Oh, go on then," Addison replied. "I've got time to call in and see how they're getting on."
"I bet you do," said Hazel with a knowing smile. Addison knew Hazel loved to get in on the town gossip. She'd probably be all over Addison's 'murder team' as Layla called it if she wasn't so busy with the café.
"Where's Holly today?" Addison asked. Holly Rodriguez was a friend she'd made earlier in the year when the carnival had come to Getaway Bay. Sick of the travelling carnival life, Holly and her boyfriend had decided to stay in the bay for a while and Hazel had been only too happy to take the young girl on as extra staff.
"She wanted a weekday off to help Hugh with his new business, and since we're never very busy on Mondays anyway, that fits in fine with me."
"That makes sense. He's doing really well, I hear."
Hazel nodded. "He's got a great market. Between here and Riverwood there are plenty of people who need help with their home computers."
Addison smiled. Hugh Hanley hadn't wasted any time setting up his home help service for all things technical, and with the number of mature-age residents in the area his business was already booming.
While Hazel got to work on Isaac's coffee, Addison turned her attention back to the town square. She wondered how much of the bill for the mess would end up with the dog show, and how much Getaway Bay's local council would have to kick in.
"So who do you think did it?" Hazel asked as she held the milk jug under the steam wand. Addison turned back to the counter. There was no-one else in the café, a rare quiet moment.
"I really don't know," she replied. "We don't even know if it was murder yet, do we? I mean, until the autopsy is done we don't know how he died, whether it was poison or something else. Just because the paramedics said it looked like he was poisoned, doesn't mean they were right, does it?"
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Hazel asked.
Addison shook her head. "I don't know. All of us, I suppose. I guess I just don't want to think another murder has been committed in Getaway Bay."
"I know what you mean." Hazel placed the finished coffee in front of Addison. Addison went to pay, but Hazel shook her head. "I'll put it on his tab. He's one of my best customers."
"Thanks." Addis
on put her purse in the now-empty carry basket, placed the basket over her arm, then picked up her coffee and Isaac's.
"I'll get the door for you," said Hazel, coming out from behind the counter. "Maybe you're right, maybe Perry's death was accidental." She held the door open and Addison scooted through sideways to fit both herself and the large basket. She looked across the road towards the police station.
"I guess I'd better go and find out."
"It was no accident," said Isaac as soon as Addison was settled in his office. "Thanks for this," he added, raising the coffee to her before taking a sip.
"Don't thank me, Hazel put it on your tab."
"Fair enough." He placed it on the desk then focused his attention on his computer. "We got a preliminary report from the forensics team this morning. They found traces of strychnine in one of the wine glasses retrieved from Perry Abbott's table."
"Strychnine?"
"Yes. It comes in powdered form, and is bitter but odourless. It could have been slipped into his wine and he wouldn't have noticed in time."
"Wow." Addison sipped her coffee as she contemplated what this meant. Perry Abbott was definitely murdered. "What is strychnine used for these days?"
"We're still working on that. The report has only just come in. Diaz is doing some research while Short finishes off the background checks on all the attendees of the dinner."
"But it was definitely in his glass?"
"Yes."
"What about the wine bottle?"
"We haven't found it in any of the empty or half-empty bottles tested so far, but they're still going through them. I suspect we won't find it in any of the bottles, though. We'd have had more casualties if it was in a bottle."
Addison placed her coffee down, sat back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. If just the glass was poisoned, and not the bottle, that meant Perry Abbott was targeted.
"It was a planned attack on the victim," said Isaac, confirming Addison's thoughts. "The lab said the amount of strychnine they found in the glass was enough to kill a person twice over. Whoever did this absolutely intended to murder Perry Abbott."
"So the question is, who?" asked Addison. "Who could possibly want the judge of a regional dog show dead?"
"According to his wife, a lot of people."
9
"You interviewed Helen Abbott yesterday?" Addison asked Isaac. She was beginning to wish she'd brought her notebook with her. She made a mental note to pop it into her handbag. How could she call herself a writer if she didn't even carry a notebook?
"Short and I interviewed her, yes. The poor woman was still quite distraught. But she gave us the impression her husband wasn't terribly well-liked in the community."
"Are they Getaway Bay locals?"
"No, they're from Riverwood. But the murder happened here, so it's our investigation. Sergeant Alonso from Riverwood has offered assistance if we need it. They already helped out with a couple of officers on scene when it happened."
"Well, that's something," said Addison. "You've been complaining about being short-staffed."
"Yes." Isaac straightened the items on his desk. "Problem is they're as short-staffed as we are. Anyway, we're doing okay for now."
"So what did you find out from Mrs Abbott?"
Isaac flipped a couple of pages in his notebook. "Perry Abbott was a retired lawyer. Only just recently retired, apparently. They were in the early stages of organising a world trip to celebrate. He was sixty years old."
"Is that early for a lawyer to retire?" asked Addison. It sounded young, only five years older than herself.
"Helen said he'd had enough. With their investments doing well he didn't need to work anymore, so they decided he would finish up and they'd start travelling."
"That sounds reasonable. So why did she say a lot of people would want him dead?"
"Apparently Perry had an opinion about everything and everyone and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. That's a powerful combination. He had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way."
"Anyone in particular?" Addison asked.
"Helen wasn't naming names. She was still pretty upset, so I didn't want to push her. It's probably best that we come up with our own suspect list anyway."
Addison nodded. She finished off the last of her coffee. "So do you have a suspect list then?"
Isaac smiled and stood. "I thought you'd never ask."
Out in the main area of the station the whiteboard had been set up next to the wall of photographs. On it was a list of names. Isaac started with the one on top.
"Ted King, one of the other judges. We heard from a number of people that Ted resented Perry's position as head judge. He believed he was more deserving of that title."
"But if the Abbotts were about to go travelling, surely that would have paved the way for Ted to step up?" said Addison. "Murder is a pretty drastic way to get rid of the competition."
"It's been known to happen," said Isaac. "And it's possible King wasn't aware Abbott was planning to step down."
"I guess it's also not definite he would have given up all the judging, depending on what type of travelling they were going to do. He could have planned to still be around for the dog shows."
"Good point," said Isaac. "Next on the list we have Richard Divola. He won the Group Three award on Saturday with his Cocker Spaniel."
"Diesel, that's right," said Addison. "What's his motive?"
"Word amongst the competitors is that there was a big feud between Divola and Perry Abbott. We don't know what it was about, there were a number of conflicting theories thrown around when we interviewed people yesterday. But they all agreed on one thing – Divola and Abbott couldn't stand each other."
"Did you ask Helen Abbott about it?"
"I did, but she shrugged it off. Said there was something years ago, but it was water under the bridge. She claimed there was no ongoing feud, that it was all malicious gossip."
"I might be able to shed some light on that," said Kendall Short. Addison turned to see the Senior Constable had joined them in front of the whiteboard.
"What did you find out?" Isaac asked her.
"There was a feud, all right. Abbott had a restraining order against Divola."
Isaac and Addison both raised their eyebrows. "Recent?" Isaac asked.
"No. Ten years ago. Back when Perry was a competitor, not a judge."
"What was it about?" asked Addison. "Did it have to do with the dogs?"
Short shook her head. "It's listed as domestic, but the details are vague. I'll keep digging, but it might be best to re-interview him." She looked at Isaac, the question clear on her face.
Isaac nodded. "Bring him in. You find anything on anyone else?"
Another head shake. "The rest of the competitors and dinner attendees are clean," she said.
"Okay." Isaac turned around to the desk in the back corner of the room where Constable Ryan Diaz was glued to his computer screen. "You got anything yet, Ryan?"
Diaz peeked out from behind the screen. "Just a minute." His fingers worked the keyboard for a while longer, and Addison watched as Isaac grew impatient. Just as the detective started to make his way over to Diaz's desk, the young constable stood. He grinned at the three of them, obviously pleased with himself.
"What have you got?" asked Isaac.
Diaz made his way to the middle of the small station, and the four of them stood in a circle next to the whiteboard.
"I've been looking into the uses for strychnine, based on the information from the lab this morning," he began.
"I know what you've been doing," said Isaac, rolling his eyes. "I told you to do it. What did you find?"
Addison smiled to herself at the detective's impatience.
"It's mostly used these days as a pesticide to kill rats, but it's also used in Queensland in controlled baiting operations to cull wild dogs."
"What do you mean by 'controlled baiting'?" asked Addison.
"Baiting carried out at a speci
fic time in a specific place. You have to have a permit to do it, control where you put the baits, and the amount of the poison you can have is also controlled."
"A permit?" said Isaac. "So if anyone has used it around here there'll be a record?"
"Yes," said Diaz, and that big grin lit up his face again. "And someone did."
"Who?" asked Isaac and Addison at the same time.
"Sam Clayton. He has a chicken farm about twenty kilometres west of here."
"I know Sam," said Isaac. "His family have run that farm for generations. He had some trouble with kids stealing chickens a few years ago."
Addison remembered the suspect list she'd compiled with Adam and the rest of her household. The name Clayton was familiar. She scanned the photographs on the wall until she came to the one she was looking for. Lola, the Australian Terrier. She pulled the print off the wall and turned it over.
"Here," she said, thrusting the photograph into Isaac's hands. It had 'Sam Clayton' written on the back. "Sam Clayton was at the dinner on Saturday night."
Short was busy flicking through her notes. "That's right," she agreed. "He was here with his wife, Vanessa Clayton. She won Group Two with Lola."
"We thought the group winners might be worth looking at as suspects," said Addison.
"Why?" asked Isaac. "Perry Abbott was the judge who would decide which one of them won Best in Show. Why would any of them want him dead?"
Addison shrugged. "Maybe one of them thought he wouldn't decide in their favour? Maybe they figured if he was out of the way they'd have better luck with a different judge? I'll admit it wasn't a strong theory when Adam and I discussed it yesterday. But you've just said one of the contestants, Richard Divola, had a genuine feud with Perry Abbott. And now this…"
Isaac's lips straightened. Addison recognised it as his thinking face. She, Diaz, and Short all waited while he stared at the photo of Lola and processed the new information.
Finally Short spoke up. "We're going to need to take a closer look at the dog show competitors, Sarge."
