by Alana Ling
Sam laughed.
‘What can I do for you?’ Rose asked.
‘Is Patrick here? We really need to talk to him,’ I said.
‘Of course. He’s in the garden mowing the lawn.’ She took us to the other side of the house where we found Patrick on a tractor driving in a straight line across the garden. Rose left Remus by the stairs, but I took Alfie with me. Leaving him unsupervised with another dog was a recipe for disaster.
Rose waved at him and he saw us. He switched off the lawnmower and climbed down from it.
‘Ms. Christie, Ms. Tully, nice to see you again,’ he said and gestured us towards the garden table, making sure he kept his distance from us, and mainly my dog.
‘Would you like some tea or juice?’ Rose asked us.
‘We’re okay,’ I said for both of us and Rose sat down next to her husband, clasping his hand.
‘What brings you here?’ Patrick asked.
All eyes turned to me. Even Sam’s. ‘We were talking to Harold’s secretary, Nina—.’
‘How is Harold? I cannot believe what happened,’ Rose said.
‘Well, he’s not too good, seeing as he’s being charged for two murders he didn’t commit,’ I explained.
Patrick looked at me, but didn’t comment.
‘We were talking to Nina, and she told us she saw you going to the second floor, nowhere near the toilets,’ I said. ‘Is that true?’
Patrick scoffed and readjusted his seat. ‘It was so busy on the ground floor bathrooms, I thought I’d use—,’ he started but I cut in.
‘There are no public toilets on the second floor. So what were you doing there?’ I insisted.
Patrick’s stare was fixed on me. When the awkwardness became too much he tapped his wife’s hand. ‘Can I have a pot of tea, sweetheart?’ he said.
Rose straightened in her seat. ‘Oh, Patrick, tell them the truth. You weren’t doing anything wrong.’
I leaned in closer and so did Sam.
Patrick stared at his wife and after a few moments she urged him with a nod.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘I didn’t use the bathroom. I was hiding on the first floor until Arthur got on the podium. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to interrupt me.’
‘Interrupt what?’ I asked.
‘I went into his office. That’s what Nina saw.’
‘And he wasn’t in there?’ Sam asked.
Patrick shook his head. ‘No, he wasn’t.’
‘What were you doing in his office?’ I asked.
He looked at Rose and she pursed her lips in a gentle smile, giving his hand a squeeze. ‘He was threatening Tatiana. I was trying to help her.’
‘Help her, how?’ I asked.
‘I’m afraid I can’t—,’ he started, but his wife cut in.
Again, her flavour complemented his, despite them being so completely different. I really needed to try some mashed potato with white chocolate. I’d probably skip on the sausages.
‘You have to promise not to say anything,’ Rose said. ‘We cannot say the full story, but whatever we do say, has to stay in this house.’
I looked at Sam who was looking at her knees.
‘She’s in witness protection,’ came the response, but not from Patrick or Rose.
Instead, it had come from Sam.
‘What? How do you know?’ I asked her.
Sam avoided my eyes and looked at the top of the parasol we were sitting under. ‘We started talking when we were cleaning together, and I sort of guessed it, from the context,’ she said.
My mouth sagged open and I couldn’t find the will to close it.
‘Tatiana has had a difficult past, but she’s made a home in Haven-on-Sea,’ Rose explained.
‘Arthur found out and he threatened to expose her new identity,’ Patrick added.
‘He hit on her and she rejected him,’ Rose said. ‘She told him she wouldn’t let this slide and would take it to the press, and that’s when he called her to his office late one evening and threatened her.’
‘And you knew about this?’ I turned to Sam.
She grimaced. ‘No, not all of it. But I got the gist from talking to her. She thought she was being vague, but I understood what she was saying.’
I sighed. ‘I can’t believe this.’
Sam started to apologise, but I stopped her.
We needed to focus on the suspects.
‘Why did she come to you for help?’ I asked.
‘Well, she’s a voter,’ Patrick said.
‘And she’d read my article on sexual harassment,’ Rose added, ‘so she approached me and asked me for advice.’ I briefly remembered that she worked as an agony-aunt-slash-political blogger on AngryWoman.com. Her blog had been praised across the world for its feminist and environmental viewpoints and articles.
‘Did you find what you were looking for in his office?’ I asked Patrick.
He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t have time to look. I heard the commotion on the stairs and came out to see Arthur lying on the ground floor.’
‘And you didn’t see anyone else? Anyone who can verify your whereabouts at the time?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t think I have any more questions. Have you told the police any of this?’ Patrick shook his head. ‘I think you should, although that would make you a suspect if you weren’t already one. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?’
Patrick repeated his previous statement.
‘I did see someone though.’ Rose jumped. ‘Harold.’
‘Where? When?’ I asked.
‘He came into the kitchen. I don’t think he saw me. He filled up his glass with some whisky and went back out, then two minutes later Arthur was dead.’
‘Have you told Detective Anderson?’
She lowered her head.
‘Please do. It might help him.’
We got up and Rose took us through the living room. Alfie decided to make another attempt to greet his new friend and made a run for it despite his lead being held close to my body.
He jolted so fast the lead slipped from my fingers, and he was as surprised as me, because he stopped, looked at me and then dashed across the room.
Alfie slid on the sleek flooring and crashed into a small wooden coffee table in the corner. A picture frame fell on the floor and its glass broke.
‘Alfie!’ I shouted.
He wasn’t defeated by the mishap. He ignored me and his accident and ran to Remus who was still waiting at the staircase. Alfie sniffed the dog’s butt and I bent down to clean up the mess he’d caused.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to Rose. ‘His lead slipped out of my hands.’
Rose laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Remus breaks half the house all the time.’
I looked at the picture Alfie had knocked and saw a snapshot of Patrick in front of Haven University campus with a group of students.
‘I forgot Patrick was a professor,’ I said.
‘He still is, if only part-time. It’s his passion. Educating the younger generation about the dangers of environmental pollution.’
Next to him in the picture was a brunette, middle-aged woman wearing her academic cap and a bright smile. The taste of honey and oats hit me. It was Melissa Foster. Arthur’s wife.
I ran back to the garden, Sam following suit. We reached Patrick just as he was about to return to his lawn tractor.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked when he saw us.
I showed him the picture. ‘You know Melissa Foster?’ I asked him.
He let out a long breath. ‘Yes, indeed. She was my student for three years. She graduated last year. Such a bright student. So passionate about the world. She has so many great ideas on how to make the world better. If only she wasn’t married to Arthur, I would have recruited her to the party.’
‘Did you see her on the night of the gala?’ I asked.
Patrick shook his head. ‘I did speak to her before we arrived, though.’
Patrick frowned. ‘I found out Arthur was planning on knocking down the whole of Emerald Park to build luxury hotels and shopping centres. I thought she might like to know what he was up to and hopefully stop him.’
Sam gasped. ‘She was talking to Patrick when you saw her on the phone.’
‘I guess she did something about it,’ I said.
Patrick heaved. ‘You don’t…you don’t think she killed him, do you?’
‘Are you sure you didn’t see her that night? Like in Arthur’s office when he went missing?’
‘No, there was no one there,’ he repeated.
Sam slapped her cheek. ‘Of course.’
I nodded.
‘We need to go,’ I said. ‘Thank you again for your time. Your information has been invaluable.’
We left Patrick standing like a statue next to his lawnmower, and approached the front of the house. Alfie came begging for me and I picked him up.
‘Now you miss me?’ I rolled my eyes.
Rose, who was petting Remus, stood up. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
There was a knock on the door and both dogs went mental.
Rose approached the front door and opened it. We were greeted by a familiar face.
‘Tommi? Geri? What are you doing here?’ Miranda said.
She looked shocked. Rose winced.
‘We were just visiting the Gardners. Do you work here?’ I asked. She had said her boss was moving to New Zealand to join the anti-whale-hunting protest. That sounded like something Rose could do.
‘I just started here. I finished at the Fosters’ house two days ago.’
‘The Fosters?’ I asked.
Sam looked at me. ‘She’s making a run for it.’
I took a deep breath. We had found our murderer.
Nineteen
I drove us back to my house and dropped Alfie off. He didn’t want to stay, but we had to leave him behind. Had we had Remus as a pet, he might have offered us extra safety, going into an encounter with a murderer. Alfie could do no such thing.
After that business was sorted, I took us west, to the edge of town, and to Arthur Foster’s house like a woman on fire.
We got there in less than ten minutes and I immediately parked outside the house. The front door was open and so was the boot of a white Nissan.
Sam and I ran inside and bumped into Melissa who was carrying a green suitcase. Melissa screamed. Her honey and oats flavour juxtaposing who this woman actually was.
‘Joanna, Samantha, what are you doing here?’ she asked, holding her chest and staring at us.
‘We-we,’ I started, but my brain had stopped.
How could I explain our visit to her house? What were we supposed to do? Why hadn’t we called Daniel on our way here?
‘We’re here to tell you that Harold has confessed to killing Arthur. We thought you might like to know. Get some closure, you know?’ Sam said.
The shock on Melissa’s face was apparent and it carried out into her words. ‘He did?’
Sam nodded.
‘Of course he did,’ she said after a moment’s pause. She put her suitcase down. ‘I-I can’t fathom why he did this to my poor Arthur. Harold was always so cordial, so composed. Such a gentleman.’
‘He is,’ I said.
‘But he is a monster,’ she shouted.
‘Are you going somewhere?’ I asked.
She dropped her hand from her chest and put her suitcase down. ‘Uhm, no. I’m donating some of Arthur’s possessions. He was always so charitable, I thought he’d have appreciated passing his belongings to a good cause.’ She sniffed, a bit too loud for it to be realistic, and looked behind her. ‘Come inside, girls. Take a seat. Can I offer you some water?’
We followed her into the living room and she went over to the kitchen. I noticed the fireplace. I got the sweet taste of rice pudding and chocolate hazelnut biscotti from the wedding pictures and the fresh vase of carnations, but there was a taste missing: aloe vera.
‘Her diploma is missing,’ I pointed out to Sam.
Sam approached the fireplace and checked out the wedding photos. ‘It’s like she realised her diploma was making her a suspect,’ she whispered.
‘Are you all right?’ Melissa asked behind us.
We turned and looked at her. Sam stood behind me.
‘Just looking at your wedding pictures. I noticed your diploma is missing,’ I said.
A smile that never quite reached her eyes appeared on her face. ‘Indeed,’ was all she said while she put a tray of glasses down.
A pause grew in the air.
‘What did your husband think about your relationship with Patrick Gardner, Mrs. Foster?’ I asked.
‘I didn’t have a relationship with Patrick.’
‘But he taught you everything you know about environmental sciences, didn’t he?’
‘He did.’
‘And Mr. Foster had no qualms about you studying something he believed was fake science?’
‘Arthur didn’t have a clue what he was talking about when it came to climate change. Thankfully, having Patrick as my mentor broadened my horizons about the real issues in the world.’
‘Is that why you killed your husband?’ I asked.
Melissa gasped. ‘I cannot believe you have the audacity to enter my house and accuse me of murder. Who do you think you are?’
‘I’m right, aren’t I? And you think going to New Zealand to protest against whale hunting will atone for your crimes? Well, it won’t.’
My legs were shaky, but my voice carried on. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t.
‘Whoever said I need to atone?’ she said and reached behind her. A gun appeared, putting a definite barrier between her and us.
Sam screamed. Melissa asked her to stop. In a not-so-nice way.
‘You believe you’re Sherlock Holmes now, do you? You think you have me assessed. Well, you haven’t. I don’t need to atone for killing that vile creature that I wedded. He was despicable, through and through. He was talking about concepts he couldn’t comprehend. He was going to destroy this town with his candidacy.’
‘What about Sylvester?’ Sam asked, her voice trembling.
‘Who?’ Melissa replied. ‘Sleazy? Well, he was a cinch. So easy to eliminate. That man would have sold his soul to the devil to acquire what he desired. Much like my late husband, may he rest in…hell. Sleazy was, uhm, a distraction. I never intended on killing him. But you and your boyfriend detective were suspecting Patrick. I couldn’t let him arrest the future mayor of this town.’
‘You were there at Bean Therapy when Daniel came in, weren’t you? In the black fascinator?’ I said and looked at Sam, but her eyes were fixed on Melissa and the gun she was pointing at us.
‘Well, naturally, I had to keep monitoring you. You don’t think I was aware you were snooping in on Arthur’s murder?’
‘And you decided to put the blame on Harold, who has been the best mayor this town has seen?’ I said.
She sighed. ‘He was retiring anyway.’
‘You really don’t feel bad that you killed your husband?’ Sam asked behind me.
‘Darling, my only regret is that I didn’t go to university sooner. It would have saved me the strife of marrying that slob in the first place.’
‘What are you going to do now?’ I asked.
Melissa laughed. Her eyes glistened. ‘Well, I’ve got a flight to catch, naturally.’
‘And…what about us?’ Sam asked. ‘You’re going to kill us too?’
‘As much as it would assist me, I don’t have the time, sweetheart. The longer I stay in this town, the bigger my chances of being exposed.’
Sam relaxed. She wiped her forehead. ‘So you’re going to let us go?’
‘Don’t be ludicrous.’ Melissa cackled. ‘I can’t risk you going to the police and impeding my escape.’
‘Then what?’ Sam asked.
Melissa lo
oked around her like a delusional woman.
‘Here, follow me,’ she said, and with the gun still pointed at us she backtracked all the way to the end of the living room. ‘Don’t make me repeat myself,’ she said when she noticed we hadn’t moved.
Sam and I hurried after her. She led us to the hallway and pointed to the back. She stopped along the side of the staircase and opened a door.
‘Get in,’ she said.
Sam shook her head and closed her eyes. ‘I hate basements. It’s dark in there.’
‘How awful,’ Melissa cooed and grabbed her arm. ‘You don’t have a choice.’ She shoved Sam inside.
I pushed Melissa onto Sam, and tried to disarm her. We crashed into the door, Melissa’s face pressed against it. She groaned. I grabbed her gun arm and tried to loosen the hold she had of the weapon. Sam rolled down the stairs.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked her.
‘Fuh-ine,’ she groaned.
Melissa pushed me back and I tripped on the carpet. I fell onto my back. She got her balance and stood at my head, the barrel of the gun pushing at my forehead.
‘Get in,’ she shouted.
I picked myself up and climbed down three steps. Sam had ascended a few of the stairs to come and meet me.
‘Now, give me your phones,’ she yelled.
Sam scavenged her pockets and passed her phone to Melissa. I didn’t move.
‘Hurry up. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,’ she said. ‘I’m allowing you to live. You should be grateful.’ Melissa said, putting her gun to my head.
Without taking my eyes off her I removed my phone from my pocket and gave it to her. She took it and slammed the door shut.
We were enveloped in darkness and I could hear Melissa turning the key on the other side.
Then came a screeching sound.
I peeked through the gap at the bottom of the door. All I could see was an empty wall and the legs of some sort of furniture. She was barricading us.
Silence followed.
And then a car revved.
We were alone.
‘Now what?’ Sam asked from somewhere behind me.
‘We need to find the light switch first.’
I felt along the wall and looked for any fittings. Something crawled on my hair.
