The Murder Club (A Miller Hatcher Novel Book 2)

by Nikki Crutchley

  ‘Piece of shit gets away with it then.’

  ‘Dead in the ground, exactly where he belongs.’

  Bull motioned for quiet. ‘Tiffany Winslow has also been charged as a party to murder. She was Jay’s accomplice. Got him into the women’s houses. She knew exactly what she was doing and knew what Jay planned. She’ll get a hefty sentence.’

  ‘Who’s Tiffany Winslow?’ Cody asked.

  Miller looked at Ash who nodded. ‘Word’s going to get out sooner or later.’ She took a gulp of beer and Miller quickly explained.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Cody said, shaking his head, putting down his beer. ‘Poor Cassie.’

  Bull’s voice pierced through the throng again. ‘Logan Dodds has confessed to the murder of Li Chen and has been charged with—’

  He was cut off by someone giving him a shove, his beer spilling down his front. Beatrice and William Dodds stood at the open door of the Royal with another couple. All talk halted, and Miller felt the hatred emanating from everyone in the room. William backed out, head down. Beatrice cast her eye across the room, meeting Miller’s for just a second, then walked back out.

  ‘Shit,’ Hine said. ‘They honestly thought it would be a good idea to come out for a meal tonight? Makes you wonder how they’re supposed to live in a town this small after their son did what he did.’

  Miller shook her head. She had no answer. Logan had taken Li’s life and in doing so ruined her family’s. But he’d also ensured that his parents’ lives would never be the same again. Hine was right. Logan would be gone for some time, safe from the stares, snipes and gossip. It would be his parents who were punished for his actions.

  Miller had had enough of the noise and talk. ‘I think I’m done here,’ she said, leaning into Ash so she could be heard.

  ‘Me too.’ Ash rose and said goodbye to Hine and Cody.

  ‘Have a lovely Christmas, guys.’ Miller stood and gave Cody and Hine a quick kiss on the cheek.

  By the time she had made her way to the front door, Bull was in deep conversation with a group of women, including Aubrey, eager to know the workings of a murder trial, and the rest of the pub had gone back to talk of Christmas Day and New Year’s plans.

  ‘My place, tomorrow, for lunch. Yes? Save Zach from spending the whole of Christmas Day with his mother,’ Ash said as they stood in the parking lot of the Royal.

  Miller hesitated.

  ‘Nothing fancy. Nothing too over the top. I hate to think of you alone on Christmas Day.’

  Which is exactly what I want to be.

  She promised Ash she’d think about it and they said their goodbyes.

  Miller pulled into her driveway, noticing the For Sale sign up outside Li’s house. Li’s murder almost didn’t seem real. Miller knew it was because there was no family around, no one left to remind people what had happened. There had been no funeral. After the autopsy Li’s body had been flown back to China.

  Miller sat in her car and wondered how they got the blood out of the carpet in her bedroom. Stupid thing to think about. She wondered who would buy it, whether it would sit empty for months or years. Everyone in Lentford would know it was the house where ‘that Asian woman’ was murdered. And it would be the same with Emmeline’s, Madi’s and Tamara’s houses. Three more homes that would forever be tarnished with a horrific story.

  Miller unlocked her front door, stopped and listened. Silence. Of course. But she knew that someone hiding in wait made no noise. One more sleep till Christmas. One hundred and eighty-nine days sober.

  Chapter 48

  Miller woke with a start on Christmas morning to a shrill scream and then crying. She rolled herself off the couch, which had been her bed since Jay had broken in two nights ago, and peered out the window. Greg, her neighbour, was picking one of his kids up off the footpath outside her driveway. A bike lay on its side and a thin line of blood ran down the girl’s grazed leg. Greg picked his daughter up and gently brushed away the small bits of stone and grit embedded in her knees. She watched his mouth move, no doubt telling her she was okay, telling her to be brave, that it was all right because he was here. He folded her into his arms to quieten the sobbing. Miller turned away, ashamed and confused at the anger she felt.

  It was still early but she was awake now. She inhaled, her body shuddering. She let the tears fall for Li. She thought of her mum and dad, the Christmases they used to share, often disastrous because of her drunken father, but there were enough good memories there to make her realise how alone she was now. She thought of the Christmases she and her mum had, just the two of them, but such happy times. Making mince pies, decorating the tree (Miller hadn’t even bothered putting one up this year), going to church on Christmas morning to whichever church they fancied just because her mum enjoyed it – she wasn’t religious but to her there was ‘just something about Christmas’ so they’d sit in a pew at the back and sing ‘Away in a Manger’, ‘Come All Ye Faithful’ and ‘Silent Night’. Then go home and eat a small lunch of ham and salad and at least three desserts – pavlova, Christmas pudding with whisky sauce, and trifle. They’d take a walk, have a nap in the afternoon then watch a movie, usually a classic like It’s a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street. At night, they’d sit outside eating dessert for dinner.

  Miller blew her nose and rubbed her eyes. She pulled the curtains across, blocking out the street’s frivolity. She walked to the kitchen and without thinking about it reached to the back of the pantry. The bottle of wine was still there, the one she’d bought after discovering Li’s body. She opened the cap and put her nose to the bottle and inhaled, the fumes making her dizzy, casting her back to long dinners with friends and exes, nights in with Nat, a shared bottle or two with her mum before she got sick, and then nights alone, after she was gone. She took a quick swig without another thought. The liquid hit the back of her throat and ran down into her stomach, quenching what felt like a decade-long thirst. She picked up her coffee mug and filled it to the brim. Avoiding her mum’s photo on the windowsill, she grabbed a screwdriver from the laundry and went into her room.

  She would sleep in her own bed tonight. She took another drink and put the mug on her drawers. Walking up to her wardrobe she started on the first set of screws. It was easier than she thought. She finished the first set of three and was about to start on the next when there was a knock at the door.

  She picked up her mug, taking another drink. It had gone to her head and she felt better already. How could this possibly be a bad thing?

  She put the screwdriver under her arm so she could open the door.

  ‘Kahu,’ she said, suddenly deflating.

  ‘Hi,’ Kahu said, looking first at Miller and then to the cup in her hand. ‘You okay? You look upset.’

  ‘I’m great,’ Miller said, her voice forced, strangled. She turned her back on Kahu and walked back into her bedroom. She took another drink and went back to the last set of screws.

  Kahu followed her in, peered inside the mug sitting on her drawers and watched her. The last screw came out and she expected the door to fall away. She gave it a yank, but it didn’t budge.

  ‘Let me help,’ Kahu said, stepping forward.

  ‘I don’t need your help,’ Miller said, still tugging at the door.

  ‘I know. But let me.’ He eased the door out of Miller’s hand. He gave it a few tugs and it came away, leaving unpainted wood beneath.

  ‘He— That was where he was,’ Miller said, pointing to the wardrobe, a mess of shoes and clothes. ‘He sat there, waiting for me, just like he did with Emmeline and Tamara and Madi.’

  ‘I know,’ Kahu said.

  She reached for the mug and Kahu took it from her.

  The guilt came then, and she wondered if Kahu had manifested it or if it would’ve come sooner or later. She followed Kahu into the kitchen, guilt and embarrassment turning her face red. She sat at the table and didn
’t fight him when he tipped the contents of the mug and bottle down the sink. The whole room smelt of fermented grapes. Kahu opened the doors out onto the deck and indicated for her to follow. They could hear yelps and laughter from across the fence. Kids trying out new toys in the backyard.

  ‘When she died, my life fell apart. I am the ultimate cliché,’ Kahu said. ‘And that kind of embarrasses me. Trina made me strong. She was responsible for a lot of who I was – am. And when she died ... I didn’t know who I was without her. I don’t know if it was the right decision to leave Castle Bay, all of our friends, all the memories we had made. But it’s done now. I feel like I’m coming out the other side. I know I’ve been difficult. But I couldn’t bring myself to speak about her. It hurt – a lot. Like it physically hurt every time I remembered her. It didn’t conjure up happy memories, just pain. But that’s not me. I don’t shut out friends and family. I don’t give my life up for my work. Just like that, in there,’ he tipped his head towards the kitchen, to the empty bottle on the bench, ‘isn’t really you.’

  He said it with such vehemence that Miller believed him.

  ‘Come on, get changed. Shoes on. Clean yourself up. Be in the car in five minutes. We’re due at Ash’s for lunch at eleven. If we want to get a game in we need to get moving.’

  ‘You were invited too?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep. You’re not the only one on their own this Christmas.’

  It was said in an off-hand way, but the comment made her stop and think. She’d been so involved in herself and her own problems these last few weeks she hadn’t been looking out for her friend.

  ‘But come on, first I want to whip you at basketball. I’ll wait for you outside.’ He ushered her inside, locked the back door and left before she had a chance to protest.

  Half of the court at the high school was taken up by a young boy on a new bike, learning to ride. Miller and Kahu watched for a few minutes as he wobbled his way around it, his mum following behind him, his dad holding a phone in front, recording and cheering at the same time.

  Kahu bounced the ball a few times. He smiled at Miller, feinted left then darted to her right. For the next half hour, they pounded up and down the court. Miller, sluggish at first, found her rhythm, her need to beat Kahu overriding anything else she had going on in her head. As the sun rose higher, they were forced to retreat under the shade of an oak.

  ‘I won,’ Miller said. ‘Just to be clear.’ She lay down, staring up at the thick foliage blocking the sun and the never-ending blue sky. ‘I’ve been going over it in my head,’ she said as Kahu sat down next to her. ‘I ask myself, is it better that Jay’s dead? That there’s absolutely no chance he will hurt anyone again. Or does that seem a cop-out? A lucky break? Would it have been better for Cassie, those women’s families, me, to see him rot in jail? And Logan, he’s in jail, where he should be. But then I think they don’t rot in jail, do they? Logan will be out again at some stage. He’ll probably be in his early sixties but one day he’ll get to breathe in fresh air, take walks, eat what he likes, do what he likes.’

  Kahu reached over and grasped Miller’s hand. ‘Women are dead. Families are destroyed. From where I stand there’s never going to be a perfect outcome, so you need to stop trying to create one.’

  Miller sat up. ‘So now what?’

  ‘You know you have a good thing going on here. Lentford, your job, your friends.’

  At the mention of friends Miller thought of Li. The pain was physical. ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘So maybe it’s time you looked at your move to Lentford as a positive instead of as a punishment.’

  ‘After what’s just happened, that’s kind of hard to do,’ Miller said. She could still feel the tang of wine on her tongue.

  ‘So maybe you try to stop outrunning your problems,’ Kahu said quietly, as if expecting reproach. ‘They’ll follow you wherever you go, and this seems a good a place as any to face them.’

  ‘And how about you? You ran from Castle Bay, memories of your and Trina’s life together.’

  ‘Yeah. I did. It didn’t help.’ He stood up and looked down at her. ‘There’s such a thing as starting over, second chances. I believe that.’

  Miller wondered how many chances she’d get to make good.

  ‘So now, we start over.’ Kahu reached out his hand to her. ‘We don’t forget. We just start afresh.’

  Miller nodded, grabbing his hand and hauling herself up.

  Start afresh. She was good at that.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing another book featuring Miller was never really on the cards after I finished Nothing Bad Happens Here. It was always going to be a standalone book. So it is with many thanks to the people who contacted me and spoke to me about their love for Miller after reading Nothing Bad Happens Here and wanting to know what was next for her. It was fun meeting up with Miller and Kahu again and creating the community of Lentford.

  As always, there is a long list of people I need to thank who helped me get The Murder Club off my laptop and into your hands.

  To Nathan who was my go-to for any police procedure questions. Thank you so much for answering email upon email of questions from me. Any errors made in police procedure are, of course, my own.

  Tina Shaw, thank you for assessing a very early draft of this novel and as always your advice and suggestions always sent me in the right direction.

  To editor extraordinaire Stephen Stratford. Thank you for always putting a hundred percent into what you do. You unfailingly turn my manuscript into something so much better.

  Thank you to my proofreader Kathy Swailes for doing such a thorough job.

  There is a long list of people I contacted with questions I had about certain parts of the book. Even if it made up only one sentence of the book, thank you for your contribution: Kate, Anna, Casey, Cathy, Zealand Tattoo, Sarah, Claire, Tania and Bron.

  To my agent Vicki Marsdon. Thank you for all your support and help. It’s lovely having someone who ‘gets it’, who I can talk through things with. You were privy to my very first thoughts for The Murder Club and your enthusiasm for the story gave me the confidence to write it.

  To Mum and Dad, thank you for giving me access to your excellent LP collection, which became Miller’s.

  As always thank you to my family and friends who are so enthusiastic about my writing. It means a lot to have such a wide group of supportive people around me.

  Lastly, thank you to Simon. There aren’t really enough words to thank you for your support and all the hard work you put into helping me get a book out into the world. And to my two girls Cate and Abbie (who have been waiting patiently for a book dedication). You’re the ones who, after many years, sparked my imagination again – yes, writing fairy stories and writing crime thrillers are worlds apart – but you’re the ones who got me writing again and for that I will be forever thankful.

  If you enjoyed The Murder Club please consider posting a review on Amazon or Goodreads.