by Grace York
Addison thought back to Saturday night. Right before Perry Abbott died the dogs had gotten loose and caused absolute chaos.
"Anyone could have done it," she said. "The dogs got restless and started running amok. Tables and chairs went flying. They trampled through the flower beds and up onto the stage. It would have been easy to slip something in someone's drink unnoticed when all that was going on."
"How did that start?" asked Adam, turning to face her. "Do you remember?"
Addison shook her head. "Not really. I was busy chatting with Mrs Jones and Josie about how long they'd spent getting Bella ready for the show. I heard the commotion before I saw it. I jumped back and managed to save my wine glass before our table was knocked over."
"But the table the Abbotts were at didn't get knocked over," said Adam. "I remember from the photos at the police station."
"Right. So like I said, anyone could have slipped the poison into the glass while the dogs were going berserk."
"Yeah, but that's not the point," said Adam. He was grinning almost as much as he had the day Isaac said he could be a police volunteer.
"What is the point?" Addison asked, not at all sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"The point is the dogs were a distraction. The question is, was the distraction opportunistic or planned?"
13
Back at the beach house Lenny and Brooke were both in the kitchen. Lenny was pouring two glasses of wine, and Brooke was cutting some carrots. She had scooped a dollop of hummus from the large tub into a small bowl, and was arranging that and the carrot sticks on a serving plate.
"That looks healthy," said Adam, stealing a carrot and dipping it into the hummus.
"Well it's slightly better than potato chips," Brooke answered. She accepted a glass of wine from her husband.
"Anyone else?" asked Lenny, wine bottle in hand.
"Yes please," said Addison. She pulled a glass from the cupboard and handed it to him.
"No thanks," said Adam, helping himself to a beer from the fridge. "What's for dinner?"
Addison gently moved him out of the way and started getting ingredients from the fridge. "Kung Pao chicken," she answered. "Want to help me chop the vegetables?"
Adam planted himself on one of the stools on the opposite side of the bench and took a long swig of beer. "Not really. I'd rather be on clean-up duty."
"I'll help," said Lenny. He handed Addison a glass of wine, then set himself up at the bench with a chopping board and a knife. "Tell me what you want chopped and how."
Addison passed him the vegetables and a bowl. "Just chop all this up stir fry size. Thanks, Lenny."
"No problem. Anything that gets me out of the washing up." He got busy slicing capsicum and beans. "So how's the dog show murder case going? Got any leads?"
"Oh very funny," said Addison. She pulled the chicken thighs out of their packet and started slicing them into small cubes.
Lenny took a bow, and Brooke laughed. "Thanks, I do my best. But seriously, how's it going? You two are on the case, right? All that police volunteer stuff?"
"Sure," said Adam. "We're going to the police station tomorrow to see how we can help."
"We are?" said Addison.
"Yeah, why not? I want to look at the photographs again. Isaac reckons something in those photos will break the case, and I want to be the one to spot it."
Lenny, Brooke, and Addison all raised their eyebrows at each other while Adam smiled and drank his beer. He seemed pretty determined, and again Addison worried how Isaac would take his enthusiasm. Oh well, they were grown men. They could sort it out themselves. Adam did have a point, though. It would be good to look at the photos again in light of what they now knew.
"I found a couple of jigsaw puzzles in the hall cupboard," said Brooke, thankfully changing the subject. "Do you mind if I have a go at one of them? I love jigsaws."
"Not at all," said Addison. "You can use one end of the dining table in the great room if you like."
"But that's where we eat dinner. I don't want to be in the way."
"You won't be in the way. The table is plenty big enough. And anyway, there's only five of us at the moment. Soon to be four. We can always eat at the kitchen table. There's no need to be formal all the time."
"Well, okay, if you're sure."
"I'm sure," said Addison. "I might even take a look myself. I haven't done a jigsaw puzzle in years."
She finished dicing the chicken and put it aside while she gave the chopping board and knife a good scrub. She was always careful when it came to handling raw chicken. Cross contamination of cooking implements and chopping boards was one of the biggest causes of food poisoning, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her boarders sick.
"Thanks, Addison," said Brooke. "I'll set one up tomorrow." She glanced at her husband. "After I've finished my writing for the day, of course."
"Of course," Lenny repeated, scraping chopped vegetables into the bowl. "You're on a good roll right now, hun. You'll be finished the first book in your new series in no time."
"Oooh, can you tell us anything about it yet?" asked Addison as she mixed the ingredients together for the kung pao sauce.
"I suppose I can give you an overview," said Brooke. She took a sip of her wine, and then described the characters and setting she'd created for her new romance series. For a few moments Addison was lost in the fun of listening to a writer speak passionately about her subject, and she forgot all about the murder at the dog show. It made her keen to get started on a writing project of her own. The problem was, though, she had no idea what she wanted to write.
"So what are you working on, Addison?" Brooke asked once she'd finished summarising her own project. "Besides the murder, of course."
Addison sighed. "I wish I knew."
"You should write mysteries," Adam suggested.
"Yes, but I don't really like all the nasty stuff that goes along with those kinds of books," said Addison. "All the blood and gore and stuff."
"Mysteries don't have to have any of that," said Lenny.
"No, that's right," Brooke agreed. "You can write suspense, where there's only the threat of violence. Or you can write lighter mysteries, where the violence happens off-stage."
"I suppose," said Addison. She wasn't convinced. After hearing Brooke's plans for her romance series, she was quite taken with the idea of writing something similar herself. She was enjoying reading books with happy endings lately, and just couldn't see herself writing something dark and murderous. Living in Getaway Bay had lifted her spirits so much since she moved here at the beginning of the year, and between her new home and Brooke's enthusiasm she was feeling inspired to write something romantic and joyous.
Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't interested in helping Isaac solve Getaway Bay's latest murder.
"I think I'm going to keep mulling over what I want to write next for the time being," she eventually answered. "There's no rush." She turned to Lenny. "Are you finished with those vegetables?"
"Yes, here you go. All chopped up and ready for the pan."
Addison lit the gas and heated her favourite stir fry pan while she lined up the ingredients: chopped vegetables, sliced chicken, and kung pao sauce. She found a packet of peanuts in the pantry, and poured some out into a little bowl ready to go in as well. Fortunately no-one in the household was allergic. Addison loved putting nuts in her stir fry to add a crunchy texture.
"Anything else we can do to help?" asked Brooke.
"This will be done in no time," said Addison. "You could set the table." She looked at the clock on the wall; it was almost seven. "Adam, could you give Layla a call? I thought she'd be here by now."
"No need, here I am." Addison spun around, bowl of vegetables in her hand, just in time to see Layla before she raced off up the stairs. "I'll just wash up, be back down in a minute."
"Hi… Okay," said Addison, and turned her attention back to the stir fry. With this dish the preparation was the hard part.
Once everything was chopped and ready it was just a matter of throwing it all into the pan in the right order.
Ten minutes later they were all seated around the kitchen table tucking into their dinner. Layla teased them with some details about the gallery opening, holding back what she said was the 'big surprise'. Brooke and Lenny spoke some more about their work, and even Adam was excited as he described the synopsis he'd sent off to his agent and publisher.
Addison forgot about her own difficulties starting a new project. Listening to everyone talk she realised the beach house had been her project for the last six months. It might have got off to a rocky start, but now she was proud of the home she'd built for these wonderful creative people. They were all so talented, and she couldn't wait to see their work out in the world.
She was particularly looking forward to Layla's gallery opening on Friday. What was the surprise her cousin had kept secret all these months?
14
After dropping the morning's baking off for Hazel, Addison and Adam crossed the road to the police station. Isaac opened the door as they approached.
"Were you expecting us?" said Addison as she stepped into the small public section of the station.
"I saw you go into the café and figured you'd be here next," Isaac replied. He opened the partition and they all went through into the open office section. Adam headed straight for the photo wall.
Isaac raised his eyebrows at Addison.
"He wants to be the one to crack the case," Addison explained.
"Fair enough. He's going to want to listen to what I have to say, then."
Adam's head spun around. "Listening," he said, eyebrows raised.
Short and Diaz were seated at their desks, and they both continued what they were doing after nodding greetings to Addison and Adam.
Isaac perched himself on the edge of an empty desk. "First, the toxicology report from Perry Abbott's autopsy has come in. They've confirmed cause of death as strychnine poisoning."
Addison shuddered. It was just confirmation of what they'd expected, given the evidence found at the crime scene, but still it was unnerving to think someone had intentionally poisoned another person to death in front of practically the whole town.
"We conducted a number of interviews yesterday," Isaac continued. "We got some rather interesting information.
"Let's start with the Claytons. As you know, Vanessa Clayton was the winner of one of the groups in the dog show and would have gone on to contest Best in Show. A number of people close to the dog show scene have told us she was favourite to win."
"So what reason would she have to kill the judge?"
"None that we could find," said Short.
"But the strychnine definitely came from the same lot that was used on their farm," Isaac added.
"Definitely?" asked Adam. "How can you be so sure?"
"Strychnine used for wild dog baiting programs is supposed to be strictly controlled. Licensees are able to purchase a set amount, which they must keep locked up. After the baiting program is finished, they're required to return the unused portion of the poison to the chemist where they purchased it."
Isaac covered the distance to the photo wall in two long strides. He pointed to a photograph of Sam Clayton, standing with his arm around his wife after she and Lola had won their group award.
"Clayton had finished his baiting but hadn't returned the remaining strychnine to the chemist. He had it locked up in a cabinet in a shed on his property."
"Did he give a reason for not returning it?"
"He was defensive at first. Blustered about saying he wasn't finished the baiting program, then changed his story to say he'd just not gotten around to returning it. When we explained how serious the matter was, though, he came clean. He kept it because it was expensive, and he planned to use it for rodent control this coming summer. So he locked it away in a cabinet in his shed, and as far as he was concerned it was still there."
"Did you check?" asked Addison, then felt immediately foolish. Of course they checked.
"We did," said Isaac. "The lock on the cabinet had been smashed, and the poison was gone."
"That could be a coincidence," said Adam. "Just because one lot of poison is missing doesn't mean it was the lot used in the murder."
"No, it doesn't. But we got a sample of that lot, with the same batch number, from the chemist. It matches the strychnine in Perry Abbott's glass, and his body."
"They can do that?" Addison asked. "Match the batches?"
"Yes," said Short from her desk. "The lab in Brisbane is able to do it. They tested the chemical composition and were able to give us a greater than ninety percent certainty that it was the same batch."
"So what does that mean?" asked Addison. "Someone stole the strychnine from the Clayton's farm shed and used it to poison Perry Abbott?"
"Yes," said Isaac. "Either that, or Sam or Vanessa Clayton used it themselves and faked the break in."
"Was there any evidence to point either way on that?" asked Adam.
"It was just a busted padlock," said Diaz, shaking his head. "Anyone could have done that. Inconclusive, unfortunately. We dusted for prints, but only found Sam Clayton's."
"Huh," said Adam. He went back to scanning all the photographs from the presentation dinner. "Was there any of the same batch of strychnine left at the chemist? Was that batch supplied to anyone else?"
"Yes and no," said Isaac. "There is some at the chemist, but all theirs is accounted for. And it wasn't supplied to anyone else. We're confident the strychnine stolen from the Clayton's farm was used to poison Perry Abbott."
Addison pulled the chair out from under the empty desk and took a seat. "Who knew that Sam Clayton had strychnine?"
"Quite a few people, apparently," said Short. "A farmer carrying out a baiting program has to inform all neighbouring properties. Actually, they're all supposed to coordinate their baiting."
"You mean do it at the same time?" asked Adam.
"Yes," said Short. "But Sam Clayton was the only farmer in the area who had a problem with wild dogs. They keep stealing his chickens, apparently. Anyway, he was the only one who baited this season, so he was the only one with strychnine. But the owners of all three properties bordering his were informed. They would have known he had the poison."
"Any connections between them and the dog show? Or Perry Abbott?" asked Addison.
"Two of them had nothing to do with the dog show, weren't at the dinner, and had no connection we can find to Perry Abbott."
"But one neighbour did," said Addison, reading the hint of a smile on Isaac's face.
"Yes." Isaac pointed to a photograph on the wall. "Richard Divola's property shares a border with Sam Clayton's."
15
"Richard Divola?" said Adam. "The guy who had a restraining order against the victim?"
"No, it was the other way around," said Isaac. "Perry Abbott had a restraining order against Richard Divola."
"Did you interview him yesterday as well?" asked Addison.
"We did. I can't go into details, but we did find out that the restraining order – which was ten years ago, remember – had to do with an argument that got out of hand. Divola's teenage son was dating Abbott's daughter, and it seems the teen drama might have spilled over to the supposed grown-ups of the families."
Addison smiled. She remembered the angst of teenage dating all too well, with both her own children taking their respective first romances way too seriously. It wasn't that long ago, either. Fortunately both Olivia and Justin had managed to pick themselves up and move into adulthood without involving the law.
"If that was ten years ago," said Addison, "do you think it has anything to do with the murder?"
Isaac studied the picture of Richard Divola and tilted his head to one side. "I don't know. I've seen feuds between families start over almost nothing and escalate into full-blown war. It depends on the personalities of those involved."
"Helen Abbott admitted that her husband h
ad a habit of rubbing people up the wrong way," said Short.
"She did," Isaac agreed. "And Richard Divola doesn't strike me as a terribly friendly fellow either. It's definitely possible this feud between them could have got way out of hand."
"And he knew about the strychnine Sam Clayton had," said Adam. "You said it was just a busted padlock? Anyone could have done that."
"So Divola had means and motive," said Addison, standing to join Isaac and Adam at the photo wall. "What about opportunity? Was he close enough to have put the poison in Perry's glass?"
Adam scanned the wall looking for pictures of Richard Divola. He started putting his fingers on each one, but quickly ran out of hands.
"Here," said Short, handing him a box of yellow dot-shaped stickers. "Put one of these in the corner of each photo he's in."
Adam got to work, and a couple of minutes later at least a dozen photographs had little yellow dots on them.
"He sure got around," said Adam.
"He did," Isaac agreed, peering over Adam's shoulder. "Unfortunately we don't have any pictures from when the dogs ran amok. We have plenty from before, when the presentations were on. And we have a few from afterwards, particularly thanks to one photographer who snapped a lot of pictures of the carnage. But as for when it actually happened, we have nothing."
"That's too bad," said Adam. "A shot of someone pouring the powder into the victim's glass would have been handy."
"It would have saved us a lot of time," said Isaac. "But murderers aren't usually handed to us on a plate."
Addison examined the photos while Isaac and Adam carried on lamenting their lack of a smoking gun. Richard Divola had indeed managed to spread himself far and wide at the presentation dinner. He'd been pictured talking to people from at least five different tables on Saturday night.
