by Grace York
"Oh." Richard's face dropped. "That girly sent you, did she?"
"No, not at all," said Addison. She'd been wondering how to approach him on the drive over, and she'd settled on trying to sympathise rather than antagonise. It was easier said than done now they were face to face, though.
"Josie is actually a bit concerned about you, Mr Divola," said Adam, going off-script already.
"Concerned? What for?"
Addison took Adam's lead. "She's had a few of your clients come to her because they feel the quality of your work isn't up to its usual high standard. She's concerned there might be something wrong." It wasn't entirely untrue, although 'concerned' might be stretching the truth a little.
"Not up to my usual standard?" Richard shook his head. "The hide of some people… I've been doing this job for over thirty years… Who do they think they are?"
Addison and Adam let the man blow off steam for a while longer, before Addison leaned forward and spoke gently.
"Mr Divola, I'm sure you've been an excellent groomer for all those years. But it is possible you might be getting a little… tired?"
"Are you saying I'm too old?"
"No, not at all." Addison didn't know what to say next. This wasn't going well at all.
"I see you have some staff in there," said Adam. "Is it possible one of them isn't up to scratch? Could they be causing you to lose customers?"
Richard turned to observe his staff through the window for a minute, and Addison and Adam watched them as well. As far as Addison could tell they were good workers. The one grooming the dog seemed to know what he was doing, and looked every bit as competent as Josie did with an animal on the table.
Richard turned his attention back to his guests, and his shoulders slumped. "No, they're not the problem. They're the reason I still have any business left at all, actually."
Addison was surprised to see a solitary tear roll down the man's cheek. She reached out and covered his hand with her own.
"Is everything okay, Mr Divola?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry I've been giving that poor lass a hard time. It's just… it's hard to accept."
Adam and Addison exchanged glances. "What's hard to accept?" asked Addison.
He looked up at her. "I've got Parkinson's Disease. Diagnosed a couple of years ago, but it's only started causing me problems recently. I can't do a lot of what I used to."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Addison. "But it looks like you've done the right thing and got help," she added, nodding towards the two workers inside.
"I have now," said Richard. "But I should have done it earlier. I thought I was fine to carry on. I can be a stubborn old man sometimes. I guess if I'm honest I haven't been doing a good enough job for a while now. It's hard to see clients leave, though. You expect people you've known for years to stick by you. I guess it's not the same these days as it used to be."
"Times are certainly changing," said Addison.
"It's no excuse, though. I shouldn't have taken it out on your friend. Please tell her I'm sorry."
"We will," said Addison. She felt sorry for the man, and realised for the first time that she knew very little about him. "Mr Divola, do you have people around you to help you through this? Your wife, perhaps?"
"Please, call me Richard. No, my wife left me years ago. It's just me and Diesel now." He leaned down and stroked the dog's head. "I'm afraid I've burned too many bridges in my time. Some of them I'll never be able to repair now."
Addison wondered if he was talking about Perry Abbott, so she took the opportunity and jumped in.
"Do you have any idea what happened to Perry Abbott?" she asked him. She kicked Adam under the table to make sure he stayed quiet.
"The police reckon he was poisoned," said Richard. "They've been asking me questions. I don't know why, I didn't kill him. He was my oldest friend."
Adam opened his mouth, but Addison kicked him again.
"I heard you and he weren't exactly on speaking terms," said Addison.
Richard narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. "I thought I recognised you. You were there that night, weren't you? You tried to help him."
"Yes," said Addison. She was afraid she'd been caught out, and he'd stop talking, but he did the opposite.
"Thank you," he said. "It must have been very frightening for Helen. I'm glad someone was able to take charge of the situation before the police arrived. How did you know what to do?"
"My late husband was a police officer," Addison explained. She left out the part about Rob being a homicide detective, and steered Richard back on track. "So are the stories about a rift between you and Perry not true?"
"Oh no, they're true. We hadn't spoken for ten years. I'll regret that for the rest of my life." Richard went on to explain the argument between the two families that started with teenage love, and ended up getting way out of hand.
"Perry tried to make up a few years ago, but I was too stubborn. It's the thing I've struggled with most over the years, I'll admit now. It cost me his friendship, and eventually cost me my marriage. You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you?"
Addison gave him her warmest smile. "I think we can all be guilty of not learning from our mistakes, Richard."
He nodded and squeezed Addison's hand before pushing himself out of his chair. "I'd better get back in there and see how the young ones are going," he said. Please give my apologies to your friend Josie. She's a fine groomer. I promise I won't bother her anymore."
"We'll pass the message on," said Addison as she and Adam followed him back through the salon and out into the arcade. "Oh, and Richard, don't think you're alone. You might have missed your chance with Perry, but I'm sure there are others you can call. And next time you're in Getaway Bay, look me up. I'll meet you at Hazel's for a coffee."
Richard smiled. "Thank you, I'd like that." He waved them goodbye. "You've made an old man's day."
23
It was almost dinner time when Addison and Adam pulled into the driveway of the beach house. They'd taken the opportunity while they were in Riverwood to do some grocery shopping, and as Adam unloaded the car Addison thought through what they'd bought and decided on salmon and sweet potato patties for dinner.
Once the groceries were put away, Addison put the sweet potato on to boil. She found a bottle of white wine in the fridge, set aside half a cup for poaching the salmon, and then poured herself a glass.
"Would you like some?" she asked Adam.
"No thanks, I'll grab a beer." He'd bought a case of his favourite beer while they were in Riverwood, so he put a few of them in the fridge and kept one out to drink.
"So I think we can probably rule out Richard Divola, don't you?" said Addison. She sorted through the green vegetables in the fridge and pulled out some broccoli and asparagus that needed using. Together with some of the beans they'd just bought, the greens would make a nice accompaniment to the salmon patties.
"Yeah, I think so." Adam took a long drink from his bottle of beer. "He never even mentioned the dog show while we were talking to him. If he was that keen on winning, I mean, keen enough to knock off the judge, he would have brought it up, don't you think?"
Addison hadn't thought about that side of things. She'd been more focused on his diagnosis of Parkinson's Disease, and his regret at not making amends with his old friend before he died. She was certain he'd been telling the truth, in which case it wouldn't make any sense for him to kill Perry Abbott.
"I suppose you're right," she said. "In any case, I don't think he's our killer."
"Agreed. My money's back on Lucy McGregor."
As Addison was putting away the rest of the groceries, Lenny and Brooke came down to join them in the kitchen. They got themselves drinks, a beer for Lenny and a soda water with lime for Brooke, and asked Addison and Adam about their afternoon. Adam filled them in as much as he could while Addison continued her preparations for dinner.
"What are you making?" asked Brooke once they were up to speed on the
day's events.
"Salmon and sweet potato patties," said Addison. She poked a skewer into the sweet potato to check that they were done before draining the water and putting the pot back on the stove for a few seconds to dry the potatoes off. "They're a bit fiddly, but I think they're worth the effort. The secret is to use fresh salmon rather than canned, and poach it in white wine."
Just then Layla entered the kitchen, and clapped her hands together when she realised what Addison was making. "Ooh, I love your salmon patties!" she said, giving Addison a hug.
"You're in a good mood," said Addison. She fetched the bottle of wine from the fridge and poured her cousin a glass, not bothering to ask if she wanted one. Layla accepted it gratefully.
"Thanks. The gallery is all set. I can move in first thing tomorrow, just in time for the opening on Friday."
"Fantastic!" said Addison, and the others all nodded and congratulated Layla.
"A toast!" said Lenny, raising his beer. They all followed suit. "To the new Getaway Bay Art Gallery."
"Actually it's the Dennis and Jenna Dallimore Memorial Art Gallery," said Layla. "I know, it's quite a mouthful. But it seemed the right thing to do."
"Of course," said Addison, raising her glass once again. "To the Dennis and Jenna Dallimore Memorial Art Gallery."
"We should have champagne, shouldn't we?" asked Brooke. "For such an important celebration."
"We will on Friday night," said Layla. "You're all still coming to the grand opening, aren't you?"
"Of course we are," said Addison. "We wouldn't miss it." The others all nodded enthusiastically. "You haven't let me know what I can bring yet, though. I'll need time to prepare."
"Don't worry about it," Layla answered with a wave of her hand. "I've got it all organised, you don't have to bring a thing. I don't want you working for this. I want everyone to just enjoy the night."
"And the big surprise," said Adam with a grin.
Layla's smile matched his. "Yes. I can't wait for you all to see it."
"Are you going to give us a clue?" asked Addison. She'd been intrigued for months, ever since Layla had said she'd been working on a surprise for the gallery opening. Jason Sadler, Addison's handyman and good friend, had finished the art studio out the back of the beach house earlier in the year, and Layla had wasted no time moving all her art supplies from her bedroom into the studio. It hadn't been long before Addison had been banned from the little workshop.
"I'm working on something special," Layla had said at the time. "It's something new for me, and I want to see how it goes before I let anyone see it."
It must have gone all right, because it had quickly become 'Layla's secret project' that no-one was allowed anywhere near. She'd even gone out and bought a padlock for the studio, mostly to keep Adam from nosing about.
Addison had been happy to indulge her cousin in the secret, and had made the others promise to do so as well. Addison had noticed a change in Layla as soon as she'd started working on the project. She still had her moments of grief, of course, but they were becoming fewer and fewer. She had a much more positive outlook on life since she'd been working on whatever it was she'd kept hidden away, and Addison was very pleased to see that.
The group chatted away about the opening for a while longer, and Addison kept working on dinner. She poured the wine and some water into a pot and brought it to the boil, then carefully placed the salmon pieces in to poach. When they were done, she drained the liquid away and then broke the salmon into pieces, mixed it with the potato she'd mashed earlier, and set it aside to cool while she prepared the vegetables.
"So, are we reconvening the murder club?" asked Layla as she refilled her and Addison's wine glasses ready for dinner.
"I hope so," said Brooke, setting the table in the kitchen for the five of them.
"We're missing someone," said Lenny with a grin. "Mrs Jones is part of the club, isn't she?"
"Oh, stop it, all of you," said Addison. "There's no murder club. That sounds awful."
"What would you call it then?" said Layla, all serious now. "You and Adam are helping the police investigate a murder. The rest of us talk about it with you, as much as you'll let us. I think murder club is a very appropriate title."
Addison opened her mouth to disagree but couldn't find the words. Layla had a point. And she had been struggling to get the murder out of her mind. As long as they didn't discuss anything confidential, what harm could it do to have a little 'murder club'?
"All right," she said, dishing up the salmon patties and vegetables. "Murder Club it is. One of you had better go over and get Mrs Jones after dinner."
24
As it turned out no-one had to go and get Mrs Jones – she popped in anyway. She'd been to visit one of her friends in Riverwood for the day and had brought back a jar of the woman's homemade lemon butter for Addison.
"Ooh, thank you very much," said Addison, removing the lid and tasting the delicious spread before putting the jar away in the fridge.
"You're welcome. I know how much you like it. And Dot makes the best lemon butter in Queensland, no question."
"I'll go along with you there," said Layla. "So how are you, Mrs Jones?"
"I can't complain," said Mrs Jones, taking a seat with them at the kitchen table. Adam and Lenny had cleared the dirty dishes away and were now stacking the dishwasher. "You know everyone in town is still talking about Perry Abbott. Eleanor Moffett has been bugging me for days, trying to get information." She turned to Addison. "She thinks you're personally investigating the murder, you know."
"Why would she think that?" asked Addison.
"It's a small town, dear. People talk. They've seen you at the police station a few times. Word gets around. Not that anyone has a problem with it, mind."
Addison wasn't sure what to say. Should she be worried that people knew she was helping the police investigate, or flattered?
"I thought Eleanor Moffett had her own inside man," said Adam. "She knows someone who knows Constable Diaz, right?"
Mrs Jones nodded. "Her grandson. But apparently Constable Diaz has woken up to her and is keeping tight-lipped this time. So she's back on at me. I tell her I don't care for gossip, but she never listens."
Addison put the kettle on to make Mrs Jones a pot of tea. "You'll join us for dessert, won't you?" she asked. "I've made something new I want to test out, to see if it'll work for Hazel's."
"Of course," said Mrs Jones. "I love your experiments. What is it this time?"
"Apple and cinnamon slice. It's a bit of a cheat, really, because you use a packet mix for the base, but I found the recipe on a new website I was looking at and all the reviews say how lovely it is."
"Well what are you waiting for," said Lenny. "Bring it on!"
"As soon as you boys have finished cleaning up," said Addison. "Anyone else want tea?"
There were votes for both tea and coffee, so Addison made tea while Brooke started up the coffee machine. Adam and Lenny finished cleaning the dinner dishes while carrying on an animated discussion about an element of Lenny's latest science fiction novel. Mrs Jones and Layla talked about the gallery, and Brooke questioned Addison about the new dessert recipe. With three separate conversations going on, no-one heard the front doorbell.
"You really should lock that door at night," said Isaac as he entered the kitchen.
Six pairs of eyes swivelled to where he'd appeared in the doorway.
"Sorry, we didn't hear you," said Addison.
"Clearly."
"Well come in then," said Mrs Jones. "Don't just stand there looking awkward. Sit down. Addison was just about to feed us again."
"No surprises there," said Isaac. He moved towards the table, but Addison held up a hand.
"Let's move to the dining room," she said. "There's more space out there. And we'll hear the door if anyone else comes." The kitchen table was okay for five or six of them, but with the added presence of Isaac's large frame it just wouldn't do. She shooed them all out into
the great room, and soon they were sitting around with hot drinks and pieces of apple and cinnamon slice.
"This is delicious," said Isaac. "Are you going to make this for the café?"
"I think so, if everyone is in agreement."
There were enthusiastic nods all around the table. "Definitely a winner," said Adam. "Can I have another piece?"
Addison sent him into the kitchen for the rest of the slice, and between them, he and Lenny polished off the lot. That was the only vote of confidence Addison needed, and she was glad she'd bought extra apples so she could make another slice for Hazel tomorrow morning.
"So what's new in the case?" Layla asked Isaac. The rest of them sat staring at him expectantly.
Isaac turned to Addison and Adam. "What—"
"We haven't told them anything confidential," said Addison before he could get cross with them.
"They haven't," Brooke agreed.
"They haven't needed to," said Mrs Jones. "It's all the town is talking about. I heard you were questioning Ted King this afternoon. Is he a suspect?"
"Not anymore," said Isaac. "But I can't discuss the details of the case with you."
"But we've formed a murder club," said Layla with a completely straight face.
"A murder club?" said Isaac.
"Yeah. We've got suspects and everything. Tell him, Addison."
Addison was lost for words. She'd gone along with Layla's idea of a murder club, of course, but now that they said it out loud to the police detective it sounded ridiculous. She'd give anything to know what Isaac was thinking right now.
"I… um…"
Layla burst out laughing. "Sorry, Addison," she said in between giggles. "But you should see your face." Layla turned to Isaac. "Like Mrs Jones says, they haven't told us anything the whole town isn't already talking about. But this house is full of writers with excellent imaginations. Of course they're going to wonder, and perhaps come up with a few suspects and theories. It's only natural."
Isaac forked the last bite of apple and cinnamon slice from his plate into his mouth. He ate slowly, his eyes moving from person to person around the table. Addison felt like she was at a job interview, or something else equally stressful. She was being scrutinised, and she didn't like it. She considered shooing the entire crowd off to bed and home, but something about the way the group waited for the detective's response stopped her. She realised she needed to hear what he thought, too.
