Evil at Echo Point

by Grace York

  "Yeah, we'll be there."

  "I'd better go and start getting ready then. See you later."

  17

  Addison was surprised to find Ed himself serving in the bakery. He normally left it to the staff.

  "Good morning, Mrs Lake," he said.

  "Ed, when are you going to call me Addison? Everyone else does."

  Ed shrugged. "I like formality. Not enough respect is shown these days."

  Addison was glad he didn't go as far as saying respect for elders, given that Ed was actually a couple of years older than herself.

  "What can I get for you today?"

  Addison asked for a dozen bread rolls, plus a loaf of her favourite sourdough. As Ed set about bagging the rolls, Addison wondered if she could help Isaac after all.

  "I hear you have the Burchard family staying in your apartments," she said. He might like formality, but Ed Mathieson also liked to gossip.

  "I do," he said. "They've taken all my available bookings at Seaside for the foreseeable future. Malcolm is devastated, the poor man."

  "Understandable," said Addison. She lowered her voice, even though they were the only ones in the bakery. "You've spoken to him, then?"

  "Oh yes," said Ed, matching her whisper. "He's come to my apartment a couple of times. I think he must get sick of only having employees to speak to you know."

  "I can imagine," said Addison. She asked for a plain white loaf as well, sliced, to keep Ed talking a little longer. Adam would eat it.

  "They're all lovely people, of course," Ed continued. "Professional, which they have to be. But nice people." He handed her the sliced bread.

  "How is Chad holding up?" Addison asked. "It must be hard for him, having lost his brother in such a tragic way."

  "I don't think he's doing too well," said Ed. "Malcolm is keeping both him and the other young man, Brody, well away from the media after their little public argument."

  "I saw that. They really went to town on each other, didn't they? What do you think it was about?"

  "Chad accused Brody of being the one to murder his brother, didn't he? Of course he took it back soon enough. Malcolm saw to that. It was just a couple of hot-headed young men blowing off steam. Chad doesn't really think Brody killed Trent."

  "What do you think?" Addison asked.

  Ed looked around, making sure they were alone, before he answered. "Personally, I think the girlfriend did it."

  Addison's eyes widened. "Really? What makes you say that?" She saw a young mother pushing a pram approaching the bakery, a toddler walking with her holding onto the pram. She didn't have much time.

  "It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ed. "At that age it has to be about love. The young man was cheating on her, and the whole country knew about it. She had to get revenge, didn't she?"

  "The whole country only knew about it once Trent was already dead," Addison corrected him.

  "Even so, she's admitted knowing he was cheating. My guess is they had an argument, and she pushed him over the edge in a fit of jealous rage."

  It was becoming a popular argument.

  The mother and children stopped outside the bakery, the mother bending down to attend to the baby in the pram while the toddler stood waiting, swinging one leg wildly backwards and forwards.

  "Does Malcolm think Erin killed Trent?" Addison asked Ed.

  "I couldn't tell you," he said. "But I think he was relieved when she refused his offer of accommodation at Seaside Apartments."

  Addison had no more time to beat around the bush. "If that's the case, why is he keeping Chad and Brody away from the police? Surely he'd want them to cooperate with the investigation to clear their names."

  Ed's eyes narrowed at Addison. "That's right. You and your little band of writer friends are in tight with Detective Wilcox and his team, aren't you? Are you pumping me for information, as they say?"

  "No, I'm just curious." Addison watched as the mother pulled her purse from her bag. But instead of coming inside the bakery, she pushed the pram two doors down and went to the butcher.

  Ed handed Addison her bags of bread. "I can't betray the trust of my valued client," he said.

  "Valued client? They've only been here two days."

  "The lawyers, yes. But Malcolm and his driver, Daniel, have been here almost a week."

  Addison handed Ed a twenty dollar note. It took her a moment to realise what he'd just said. As he put the note in the till and counted out her change, Addison did a different calculation in her head. It didn't add up.

  "I thought they arrived on Tuesday," she said. "New Year's Day."

  "No. They arrived on Monday. I remember because I told them all about the fireworks display. I thought they might come down to the beach to watch."

  Addison vaguely recalled speaking to Ed the night of the fireworks. He'd seemed distracted, as if he were looking for someone. It all made sense now.

  "So just to clarify, Malcolm Burchard was in town on New Year's Eve."

  "Yes," said Ed. "But as far as I know he and Daniel stayed in the apartment. They certainly didn't come to the fireworks. I don't think they're big on celebrating things like that."

  Addison took her change and piled the bread into her carry baskets.

  "Thanks, Ed," she said as she left the bakery. "You've been most helpful."

  18

  Addison put the bread in the back of the Rav 4 and hurried back to the police station. If what Ed said was true, Malcolm Burchard and his driver had lied to the police.

  Ed could be mistaken, of course. But Addison didn't think so. He'd told them about the New Year's Eve fireworks at the beach. He would have only done so if they were there before the fireworks took place. There would have been no need to mention it afterwards.

  Which meant Malcolm Burchard was in Getaway Bay when his son was murdered.

  Addison pushed open the door to the police station and stood impatiently in the reception area. Kendall and Ryan weren't there. It took a moment, but Isaac finally looked up from his desk and noticed her waving her arms about.

  "Did you forget something?" he asked as he came out to greet her.

  "No. I think I might be able to help you with Malcolm Burchard after all." She quickly relayed everything Ed had told her.

  "So they were here when Trent was murdered," Isaac concluded. He had the look on his face Addison referred to as his 'breakthrough' look – eyes wide, mouth getting very close to a smile, but overall still a serious face.

  "Yes. According to Ed they didn't go out, they just stayed in the apartment they rented from him."

  "We'll see about that," said Isaac. "I have to interview him." He looked around the empty station. "Shoot. I just sent Short and Diaz out to re-interview some of the surfers, see if we could get any more out of them."

  "So?"

  "So I can't leave the station unattended in the middle of the day. And I really should take one of them with me."

  "Can I help?" Addison asked.

  Isaac shook his head. "No. It's okay, better I take some time to work out how I want to approach him. It's not just his son Burchard has surrounded with lawyers. They'll be there the moment I even hint at interviewing Malcolm himself. No, I have to play this smart. It can wait until Short and Diaz get back."

  "That makes sense," said Addison. She stood there for a moment longer, feeling bit deflated. Even though she knew Isaac was right, it was still an anti-climax. "If you don't need me then, I'll go and get ready for tonight."

  "Sure," said Isaac. "Thanks, Addison. This is a big help."

  "Thank Ed," she said. "He's the one who ratted out his 'valued client'."

  Addison left the police station for the second time that day, and finally headed for home.

  The beach house was quiet when she arrived. She assumed the writers were all up in their rooms working. Olivia had left a note on the counter, she'd gone to the beach with Max. Addison remembered Max was working at the pub later tonight, as he couldn't make it to the barbecue. He must have th
e morning to himself.

  Charlie, who'd come hurtling through the doggy door into the kitchen as soon as he'd heard Addison arrive home, was now turning circles at her feet.

  "What's got you so excited?" she asked him, leaning down to scratch the top of his head. "Are you after a treat?"

  The little dog went nuts at that word, turning faster circles and jumping up and down on his back legs. Addison went to the cupboard and pulled out one of his favourite treats, but made him sit nicely before she gave it to him.

  "Gently," she said, as she slowly lowered the treat to his mouth. He'd gotten into a bad habit of snatching them lately, and she was trying to put a stop to that.

  Charlie obediently took the treat gently from Addison's hand, but as soon as it was in his mouth, he raced off outside to eat it on the grass.

  When he was gone Addison put the bread and her baskets away but was then lost for what to do. She wanted to talk about the latest development in the case, but it was probably something that she couldn't share with anyone except Adam. He would be working right now, so that wasn't going to happen. Maybe he'd come down at lunchtime.

  In the meantime, Addison decided she should check on Mrs Jones. She made a cheese and salad sandwich, put it on a plate, covered it with cling wrap, and headed out the back door.

  Charlie had finished his treat, and followed her down the garden path and through the gate that connected Addison's backyard with Mrs Jones's. Bella came out of the house onto the back porch at the sound of the gate, and her tail wagged furiously at the sight of Charlie. The two dogs were such great friends.

  "Hello!" Addison called out as she approached the back door.

  "It's open!" called Mrs Jones from inside.

  Addison went through, and found Mrs Jones sitting in her sunroom, knitting needles poised. Addison held up the sandwich. "I made you some lunch. Do you want it now, or should I put it in the fridge?"

  "Oh thank you, dear. I couldn't eat it now, though. I'm still full from that delicious scroll you sent in with Olivia this morning. You really should stop doing that, Addison. I'm sure I've put on at least five pounds since you arrived in the Bay and starting baking."

  "I don't think a few extra pounds is doing you any harm," Addison said. She went through into the kitchen and put the sandwich in the fridge. "Shall I put the kettle on while I'm in here?" she called out.

  "Might as well," Mrs Jones called back.

  Addison went through the ritual of making tea. Mrs Jones liked it in a pot, with tea leaves, and while it was a little more time consuming than a simple tea bag in a cup, Addison had to admit it did taste better. She wasn't sure if it was the ritual, or the tea itself.

  When the kettle had boiled and the tea was brewing, Addison piled the teapot, two cups, and a milk jug onto a tray and carried it through to the sunroom.

  "It's lovely out here," she said, setting the tray down on the table and plonking herself into the second armchair.

  "Yes, Bella and I spend a lot of time in this room." Mrs Jones looked out the window. Bella and Charlie were playing together in the yard.

  "How's that leg doing?" Addison asked.

  "It's a lot better, thank you. And yes, I have been resting. Not that I've had much choice, with your tribe constantly trooping over here with food and such for me, and taking Bella for walks. I haven't had to lift a finger."

  "Excellent," said Addison. She'd asked the kids to keep an eye on Mrs Jones. They were all so terribly fond of her, so it wasn't asking much.

  "Now tell me, what's happening with this young lad on the beach? Has Isaac found the culprit yet?"

  Addison poured the tea into the cups and handed one to Mrs Jones. "No. It's proving to be a most frustrating case."

  "Well tell him to hurry up, will you? I don't like all of these reporters in our town. It reminds me…"

  Mrs Jones didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. Addison knew exactly what it reminded her of, and she was keen to forget that time herself.

  "He's doing his best," said Addison. "In fact, we might just have had a breakthrough. I can't tell you about it—"

  Mrs Jones held up a hand. "I don't want to know then," she said. "I'm no gossip. I'm no Eleanor Moffett."

  Addison smiled at the mention of Mrs Jones's arch rival. They were once close friends, as Addison heard it, but not these days. Mrs Jones had written Eleanor off as a malicious gossip, and Mrs Jones didn't have time for such things.

  "Speaking of gossip," said Addison, "I was in the bakery today and Ed served me himself."

  "Oh, he's almost as bad as Eleanor," said Mrs Jones. "How that man ever became our elected official, I'll never know. He's never been able to keep a secret in his life."

  "I heard no-one else wanted the job," said Addison.

  "Yes, that sounds about right. Still, I wouldn't be telling him my deepest darkest secrets, that's for sure."

  Addison smiled. Mrs Jones certainly had Ed Mathieson's number.

  The two women chatted away about everything and nothing, enjoying each other's company. But at the back of her mind Addison couldn't help thinking about the case.

  She wondered whether Isaac had gone off to interview Malcolm Burchard yet. Now that was a conversation she'd like to witness.

  Why had the man lied about when he'd arrived in town?

  19

  Addison left Mrs Jones to eat her sandwich and took Charlie back to the beach house. She closed the gate in the fence to keep the dogs apart and give Mrs Jones a chance to rest. Charlie and Bella together could be quite boisterous.

  Back in the beach house kitchen Addison found Adam, Lenny, and Brooke all making themselves some lunch. Luckily it was a big kitchen, and they weren't in each other's way.

  "Can we fix you something?" Brooke asked. "Actually, don't answer that. You're always cooking for us, I want to do something for you. I'm going to make you some Deb's Eggs."

  "Deb's Eggs? What's that?" Addison asked. Adam seemed equally intrigued, and Lenny just smiled.

  "It's something my friend Deb showed me a long time ago," said Brooke. "She's a writer too, and she wanted something quick and easy to make for lunch when she had limited time and wanted to keep writing."

  "It's scrambled eggs in a mug," said Lenny.

  "It's not," said Brooke. "Pay no attention to him. Here, sit at the table and I'll get you your lunch."

  Brooke cut up some mushrooms, capsicum, and spinach and put them into a coffee mug. She then cracked an egg into the mug, added a dollop of cream and some salt and pepper, stirred it all around, and put it in the microwave.

  "The trick is getting the timing right," she said. "Different microwaves cook it at a different rate, so you have to be careful. But a minute or two usually does it. You just want to cook the egg but make sure it doesn't explode."

  While the microwave was doing its thing, Brooke sliced a piece off the sourdough Addison had bought from Ed that morning, buttered it, and put it on a plate.

  The microwave pinged, and Brooke retrieved the mug and poked a fork into the contents.

  "All done," she declared with a smile. She upended the mug onto the plate next to the sourdough, and coaxed the egg and vegetable mixture out with the fork. She then presented the dish to Addison with a knife and fork.

  "There you go. Deb's Eggs."

  "That was quick," said Addison. She looked down at the simple creation. It smelled delicious.

  "That's the point." Brooke started the process again in a fresh mug for herself.

  Addison tucked in. It was just what she needed, not least because she hadn't had to make it herself.

  "This is fantastic. Thanks, Brooke."

  "You're welcome. Thank you for looking after the rest of us so well."

  "Can I get one of those?" Adam asked. He'd just finished making himself a ham sandwich.

  The microwave pinged again, and Brooke pulled out the mug. "Sure. You can have this one." She handed it to him, and smiled at Lenny. "See, you're the only one who doesn't l
ike it."

  "I don't like eggs," he said with a shrug, and pinched half of Adam's sandwich before bounding off up the stairs.

  Brooke shook her head at him and made a third cup of Deb's Eggs for herself. She also made a cup of tea, and took both back up to her and Lenny's room.

  "I'm in the middle of a really good chapter," she said as she retreated up the stairs.

  "Don't stop if you're on a roll," Addison called after her.

  Addison went back to her lunch, and Adam joined her at the kitchen table.

  "So what's happening?" he asked as he tucked into his egg concoction.

  Addison smiled. "I thought you'd never ask." She explained her morning, first lamenting that she couldn't do anything to help Isaac and the team, and then telling him triumphantly about Ed's gossip.

  Adam stopped chewing when she got to the part about Malcolm Burchard being in town the night of the murder.

  "So he lied!"

  "It would seem so. Isaac's going to try and interview him again today. No doubt he'll surround himself with all those lawyers. But yes, he lied. What do you think it means?"

  Adam polished off the eggs and half a ham sandwich before he spoke. The only thing more important to Adam than working a case was filling his stomach.

  "Usually when someone lies to the police it means they have something to hide," he said. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of juice. "And when it's a lie in the middle of a murder investigation, well, are we looking at a murderer?"

  "You think Malcolm Burchard killed his own son?"

  Adam poured juice into a glass. "Do you?"

  Addison realised she hadn't actually thought that far. She'd found out Malcolm had lied, but she hadn't made the connection beyond that. But Adam was right. Where there were lies, there were secrets. And secrets in a murder investigation usually led to the killer. Could Malcolm really be the culprit? Could he have murdered his own son?

  "What's his motive?" she asked as Adam sat back at the table.

  "Malcolm's a high-profile figure. His name is his business. Trent was doing a pretty good job of dragging the family name through the mud, what with all his partying and getting into trouble. Maybe Malcolm had had enough. Maybe it was a business decision."