by Grace York
The news had finally broken that Patrick's death was not suicide, but murder, and it was front page. Or more accurately top of screen. Addison clicked on the link to the story and was confronted with a picture of the beach house. She couldn't remember seeing any photographers over the last couple of days. Where had they got the picture? It was recent, because it included the flower beds Jason had finished planting on Thursday afternoon.
Addison suddenly realised what was going on. She grabbed her tea mug and went through into the great room at the front of the house. Layla had just come down the front stairs, and the two of them looked out the window to see at least three news vans parked across the road.
"The world knows it was murder then," said Layla.
"It's the top story on the news websites," said Addison. "My goodness, look at them all. There goes our privacy until Isaac and his team get to the bottom of this."
"They can't come on the property," said Layla. "They'll have to stay over there."
"That hardly matters. They can see everything from there. Ivy had the right idea, getting out of here for the day. Maybe we should do the same."
"And go where?"
"I don't know. I need to speak to Isaac. Surely, they've found something by now. What about that forensic team? All that black fingerprint dust. They must have some idea about all this." Addison's patience was running out. It had only been three days, but the whole experience was getting to her. The idea of a murderer in her house, amongst her friends, was doing her head in.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw a familiar car approach. Isaac Wilcox parked in the driveway, followed by two other police vehicles. Addison noticed the camera crews across the road spring to action as Wilcox, Short, Diaz, and three overall-wearing forensic crime scene officers all got out of their vehicles and approached the door.
Addison had the door open before they could knock. "What's—"
She didn't get the chance to finish the thought before Wilcox held out a piece of paper. "We've got a warrant to search the property," he said, all business.
"A warrant? What do you need that for? I would have—"
He held up a hand to cut her off before turning to Short and Diaz. "Please gather all the occupants of the house in the living room. Don't let them touch anything on the way."
Short and Diaz started up the stairs. The crime scene officers spread out downstairs and started their search.
Addison plucked the warrant from Wilcox's hand and opened it. It authorised him to search the entire property, looking for evidence related to not just the murder but also a robbery of some sort. Addison didn't understand.
"What's this about a robbery? What's that got to do with Patrick?"
"Someone broke into the police station overnight," said Wilcox. His voice was stern, his brow furrowed.
"What did they steal?"
"Patrick's laptop."
17
Addison was livid. How dare they barge in here with their warrant, and in front of all those cameras. She was particularly unimpressed with Isaac. Surely he knew her better than that? She would have allowed them full access to search, if only he'd asked.
After an hour of sitting in the living room with Layla, Adam, and Amelie, not being allowed to touch anything, Addison was finally granted permission to get in her kitchen. She clashed around pulling pots and pans and mixing bowls out of cupboards. Hazel might not need any baked goods on Sundays, but Addison needed to blow off steam.
"What are you making?" asked Layla, joining her in the kitchen.
"I have no idea," said Addison.
"That's a lot of mess for no idea. Can I help?"
Addison shook her head and stopped clanging about. "Sorry. It's just frustrating. I need to do something productive."
"I agree. But let's do it without destroying the entire kitchen, huh?"
Addison smiled; she was lucky to have her cousin with her. "What am I going to do when you move out?"
"The gallery is months away from being finished," said Layla with a wave of her hand. "And even then, I'll only be a few minutes away. Just like before."
"Yes, I suppose so." Addison pulled her recipe folder down from the shelf above the fridge. "What do you fancy?"
She flicked through the recipes until Layla reached out a hand to stop her. "There, that one. Can you make one of those?"
"Baked Lemon Cheesecake Pie." Addison quickly scanned the ingredient list. "Yes, I think we can manage that. I'll make a start on the pastry, you get the other ingredients together."
They worked side by side, and Addison slowly calmed down. By the time the pie was in the oven most of her negative energy had dissipated. Which was just as well for Isaac Wilcox, who finally joined them in the kitchen.
"You want to tell me why you needed to get a warrant?" Addison asked him. The rest of the team had packed up and left, no doubt again drawing the attention of the news crews across the street.
"I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice. Now that the media are across this case, I'm getting pressure from higher up. The chief wants this one done by the book, hence the warrant. For what it's worth I know you would have granted us permission to search, but I didn't want you in the middle of things if there was resistance from any of the suspects."
"You mean my boarders."
"Yes." Wilcox took a seat next to Layla at the bench. "What's cooking? It smells delicious."
"Baked lemon cheesecake pie," said Layla, handing him the recipe.
"Yum."
"We might save you a piece," said Addison. She folded her arms. "Is there anything you can tell me about the case? Are you even getting close to finding out who killed Patrick? I'm not sure I can take much more of this."
Wilcox let out a big sigh. "I suppose it couldn't hurt… do you mind if I make myself a coffee? I haven't eaten all day."
"I'll get it," said Layla. "Do you want a sandwich?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you so much."
Layla got to work in the kitchen, and Addison got to work on Wilcox. "So come on then, spill it."
"Well, like I said, the police station was broken into overnight."
"That's pretty ballsy," said Layla. "Sorry," she added after a stern look from Addison.
"You were saying?" Addison prompted Wilcox.
"Yes, right. I agree, breaking into the station is pretty b… ah, bold. We think there must have been something on Patrick's laptop that incriminated his killer in some way."
"If that's the case, why not take the laptop when they killed him?"
"Perhaps they couldn't, or else they didn't know the evidence was on there until later. Either way, they managed to get into the station last night and take it."
"Your chief mustn't be impressed with that," said Layla. "A break-in at a police station. Can't imagine that went down too well."
Wilcox's lips straightened into a thin line. "No, it didn't. But we're a small-town station. There are only three of us, and we mostly deal with petty crime. The station is the last place we thought anyone would break into. Nothing of any real value is kept there."
"Except evidence in a murder case," said Addison. She couldn't help herself.
"Yes, well. No doubt there'll be a review of security at the station in the near future. But in the meantime, we're left with a big hole in our evidence locker. And we're no further along in figuring out who killed Patrick Wilde."
"You hadn't found anything on his laptop then?"
"No. Kendall – Senior Constable Short – had a look through it, but there was nothing obvious. We were going to send it to the city tomorrow for further analysis."
Layla finished making Wilcox his sandwich and coffee, and he tucked in gratefully. Addison ran through the details of the case in her mind as she watched him eat.
"The thing I keep coming back to," she said, as he took the last bite of his sandwich, "is why? I can't understand what possible motive anyone could have for killing Patrick."
Wilcox pushed
his plate away and lifted his mug. "Thanks for that," he said, taking a long sip of coffee. "Just what I needed." He turned to Addison. "You're right. Motive is what's eluding us, too."
He put down the mug and sat with both hands palm up on the bench, as if weighing up invisible items in each hand. "Everyone in the house had the opportunity, if we ignore the issue of the locked room. That is, everyone had access and enough time unseen by others to have got into Patrick's room and committed the murder. How they got out is another story, but that doesn't differentiate between suspects."
"What about means?" asked Layla. "Motive, means, and opportunity, that's what they say on television. We can't find a motive for anyone. You've illustrated opportunity for everyone. What about means?"
"That is whether each suspect was actually capable of committing the act," he said. "I'm not supposed to disclose the way in which Patrick was actually killed…"
Oh for goodness sake. "He was strangled, right?" said Addison.
"Ah… how do you know that?" asked Wilcox.
"I didn't. I guessed, and you just confirmed it. I mean it's pretty obvious. If I was going to kill someone and then pretend they'd hanged themselves, I'd strangle them. Well, in theory. If I was writing about it in a book, for example. I'd never do it in real life."
"Okay," said Wilcox, eyes narrowed at Addison. He paused, examining her face, before he went on. "Yes, he was strangled. So back to means – could all the suspects have done it?"
"I'd imagine it takes considerable strength to strangle someone," said Layla.
"Indeed," Wilcox agreed. "Patrick was an average-sized adult male. He wasn't a big guy, but he wasn't small, either. So we're probably looking at either a male killer, or at the least a strong female."
"So that means either Adam, Louie, or Dan," said Addison.
"Those are the three we've been concentrating on, yes. But Amelie is quite fit and strong, too. It's amazing what a human being can do when emotions are running high. We can't rule her out."
Addison tried to think of a reason to discount Amelie, but couldn't. Wilcox was right. Emotions were a strong driver for people to do crazy things. She'd seen that enough from Rob's cases. The ones he told her about, anyway.
"Have you been able to find out anything about Louie Liu," she asked, changing the subject slightly. He was still number one on her list.
"He's got a record, but we're not sure it's related. Small-time drug use, one charge for supply that was dropped due to lack of evidence. Your friend Jason told me Louie had disclosed all of this to him, and was trying to straighten himself out. He'd asked for a chance to work, and Jason said he was happy to give the guy a go. So far he hasn't let him down."
Addison wasn't surprised at Jason's kindness, his willingness to give a guy a fair go. That's the type of person Jason was. But news of Louie's criminal past didn't sit well with her, under the circumstances.
"The story he told you when we were all at the table that first night didn't add up," she said. She explained how Louie had come in after the murder saying he'd heard screaming, when he'd later told Wilcox and Short he'd been listening to music and hadn't heard anything. "He also took his time coming into the house if he did hear Ivy scream," she added.
"We'll be re-interviewing everyone in light of today's search," said Wilcox. "I'll bring up this discrepancy with him, see what he has to say."
Addison was glad to leave it in his hands, although she also decided to have a word with Jason to make sure he kept a close eye on Louie.
"Thanks for lunch," Wilcox said to both of them as he stood. "I'd better get back to the station. Short has the afternoon off."
A thought occurred to Addison. "What have you taken?" she asked. "From your search, I mean. Have you found any evidence?" Ivy was still out with her brother. Addison was going to have to explain why her room had been searched in her absence.
"Nothing, according to my people. We didn't find Patrick's laptop, if that's what you're asking. I'll see you later."
He left Addison and Layla in the kitchen. The timer went off, and Addison reached into the oven and pulled out the cheesecake pie.
This case got stranger and stranger. What was so important on Patrick's computer that someone would break into the police station to retrieve it?
18
Addison felt stifled in her own home. The police coming and going, the reporters outside, the house guests on edge – it was all making her feel very uncomfortable. She had to get out.
"Where are you going?" asked Layla when she saw Addison pluck her car keys off the ring by the front door.
"I need a break. I'm going into town. Do you want to come?"
"I can't, I'm in the middle of a project and I want to get some more done before it dries. But it's a good idea. Go clear your head. Don't worry about dinner tonight, I'll handle it."
"Thanks," said Addison, grateful again for her cousin's presence. The two of them were very good at picking each other up, or 'taking turns falling apart', as Layla had put it.
Addison ignored the news crews as she drove the Rav 4 out of her driveway and into town. She hadn't known where she was going, but wasn't surprised when she pulled up outside Hazel's cafe.
"What are you doing here on a Sunday?" Hazel asked when she made it to the counter. There were three groups of tourists in the bustling little cafe, as well as a few locals. Luckily Hazel had help today.
"I had to get out of the house. All this business is driving me crazy. Do you have time to make me a coffee?"
"Of course. Take a seat, I'll bring it out. I've got one of your pecan cinnamon scrolls left if you want it? On the house, of course."
"No thanks. I couldn't eat, to be honest. Just the coffee will be enough."
The only free table inside was one for six people, and Addison didn't want to take that up in case a group came in for lunch. She opted for a small table for two out the front of the cafe. Ivy had been right, it was a beautiful day. Addison took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the sunshine while she waited for her coffee.
"I thought that was you," said a deep voice beside her. She opened her eyes to find Jason standing next to her table.
"Oh, hi. What are you doing in town?"
Jason nodded towards a figure standing across the street in the town square. She had a small dog on a lead, who was sniffing about the flowers. "We were just taking Kendall's dog for a walk," he said.
Addison's eyebrows shot up before she could control her surprise. "We? Kendall?" She looked closer, and realised the woman with the dog was Senior Constable Kendall Short.
Jason blushed. "Yeah. We've been seeing each other for a few weeks. I know it's quick, after Jenna…"
"Don't be silly, Jason. I think it's wonderful. She's… lovely."
Jason wasn't fooled. "She actually is, outside of work. She's good at her job, but once she changes out of the uniform she's really quite sweet."
"If you like her, then she must be."
"Thanks. I'll come over and fix that door tomorrow for you. How are things going at the house? Is it still weird?"
"The atmosphere is a little tense, yes. Hey, I don't want to keep you, but do you mind if I ask you a quick question?"
"Sure." Jason held up his hand to indicate five minutes to Kendall, then sat opposite Addison. "What can I help you with?"
"It's about Louie. I know he's been a good worker and all, but with all that's happened…"
"You know about his past, don't you." Jason scratched his chin.
"Detective Wilcox mentioned he had a record. Drugs?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah. I know about it all. He made some mistakes when he was younger. He's a family friend. He asked for my help, and I agreed to give him a chance. So far he hasn't let me down. But I understand your concerns. I won't bring him back to the beach house if you're uncomfortable."
"You don't have to go that far. I'm all for giving people a second chance. But maybe we both could keep an eye on things, just until the polic
e finish their investigation?"
"Agreed. Anything else?"
"No. Get back to your date. Enjoy yourself, Jason. You deserve it."
He said goodbye and trotted over the road to Kendall, wrapping an arm around her waist as they walked off to the other side of the square. Addison smiled, it had brightened her day to see Jason so happy for a change.
"There you go," said Hazel, placing a coffee on the table in front of Addison. "Sorry I can't stop and chat, it's busy for a Sunday."
"All the news crews in town, I expect," said Addison. She laughed in spite of it all.
"I guess so. Take care, won't you?"
Addison nodded, and Hazel retreated back into the cafe. Addison had only taken one sip of her coffee when a shadow came over her again. She looked up, this time finding the stooped figure of Eleanor Moffett standing over her.
"Mind if I join you for a minute, pet?" said Eleanor.
Addison searched her mind for an excuse, but she was too slow. Eleanor had already lowered herself into the chair.
"Ah, that's better. These old hips aren't what they used to be."
Addison took a deep breath and waited. She didn't have to wait long.
"Terrible business, this murder out at your house. How are you coping, dear?"
"We're doing okay, thanks for asking. Detective Wilcox is on the case. I'm sure he'll uncover the truth soon enough."
"Yes, of course. So he hasn't got it figured out yet then?"
Addison picked up her coffee mug and made a big deal out of taking a small sip. She didn't have the patience to deal with Eleanor Moffett right now. Where was Mrs Jones when you needed her?
"He's doing his best," she eventually said.
"Of course he is. Good detective, that one. We're lucky to have him in this town."
Addison just nodded. Eleanor didn't need any encouragement.
"Quite sensational though, isn't it? A famous author, murdered right here in Getaway Bay. And not long after that cousin of yours, too. What was her name?"
