by Morgana Best
There was no one about. I parked the car out the front wishing there was somewhere I could hide it. Unfortunately, there was nowhere else to put it. It was conspicuous. I clipped the leash onto Persnickle. He climbed out of the car with a grunt.
“Do you think the ghost is still here?” Oleander asked me.
“I’ll soon find out,” I said.
Athanasius pointed to the back yard. “Oleander, why don’t we see if we can get into the shed?”
I led Persnickle into the bedroom. I needn’t have worried, because Angus Burns’s ghost appeared at once. “How long do I have to hang around here?” he snapped at me.
“Until your murder is solved.” I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I figured he wouldn’t cross over until it was solved. “If you want me to help, you need to tell me everything.”
“Those people who came here with you—can they see or hear me too?” He made a waving motion with his hand in the direction of the back yard.
“No, I’m the only one who can see you and my wombat can too.”
He cast a doubtful look at Persnickle.
“We were speaking with one of the detectives on the case,” I said.
“What was his name?”
“Detective Bob Phillips.”
Angus muttered some rude words.
“There’s no need for that sort of language,” I admonished him. “And Detective Phillips told us some interesting information about you. He told me that Laurence, Martin, and Chris gave you a share of the gold to hide.” I thought it best not to mention that Laurence had told us too.
“Yes, they did give me a bit,” he conceded.
“How much?” I asked him. “A few gold bars? Half their cut? A quarter? What was it?”
He shrugged and looked sheepish. “Maybe it was around half.”
“Why would they trust you with their money?” I asked him.
“Because the police hadn’t connected me at that point. We had a contact on the inside and he said they were about to arrest the others. They’d already hidden some of their gold and were about to hide the rest of it elsewhere, so they gave it to me.”
“Why would they trust you?” I asked again.
He laughed, a sound which sounded more like a pig snorting. I like pigs, but it wasn’t an attractive sound. “I don’t think they did trust me. It was either me or the cops getting the gold. I suppose they thought they had a better chance with me. It all happened so fast, you see. Anyway, they threatened me at length. I suppose they thought we would all get out of prison around the same time, and I wouldn’t have the time to do away with their gold.”
“But you got out of prison first?”
He nodded slowly. “I made sure I was a model citizen, no matter what happened to me. I took a lot of beatings though, but I didn’t do anything to get me into trouble. I got out on parole ages before the others did. I played it smart.” He tapped one finger on the side of his head. “I kept thinking about all the gold waiting for me.”
“Then that means Laurence himself could have killed you, or Chris’s son or Martin’s daughter. I don’t think Laurence had any children, is that right?”
“Not as far as I know. I kept tabs on Chris, Martin, and Laurence for years, just in case they decided to come looking for me.”
“So who do you think murdered you?”
He shrugged. “It could have been any of the four of them.”
“Four?” I repeated.
He nodded again. “Doug, Chris’s son, Martin’s daughter, or Laurence himself.”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t seriously considered Laurence as a suspect. That was quite ageist of me. “Martin’s daughter, Melissa, changed her name to Melissa Fowl.”
“What a stupid name!” he said.
I had to agree. “It is rather strange. I have no idea why she called herself that. Anyway, the point is that she started volunteering at the East Bucklebury retirement home only a few days ago, after the article about East Bucklebury came out in the Sydney paper.”
“Yes, it could be any one of them,” he said. “Can’t the police look at the angle?”
Now I was thoroughly confused. “What angle?” I asked him.
“The angle of the bullet wound,” he said with a shudder. “That would give the police an idea of the height of the person.”
I waved my finger at him. “Good idea! It’s just that I don’t give that much credit to the head investigator. Still, Doug Greer and Melissa Fowl are about the same height.”
He scratched his head. “Yes, it’s a difficult one.”
I was relieved that the ghost was not as belligerent as he had been earlier, and now seemed happy to help. “We’ve been to Laurence’s house at Tamborine Mountain, and we know where Melissa is. We also know where Doug Greer is, obviously, but we haven’t been able to track down Chris Coleman’s son. Do you know where he is or if he’s changed his name?”
“I know where he is, and no, he hasn’t changed his name,” he said. “I kept tabs on him. He lives in Mermaid Waters. Charlie, Charlie Coleman. I don’t know what Chris did with his money, because his son doesn’t have one of those nice big houses there, not even a waterfront house. His house looks modest.”
I went to say something, but he was still speaking. “It’s a bit strange. I suppose the cops would have kept an eye on his father for some years, but surely they would have given up long ago.”
“Do you know the address?” I asked him.
“Let me see.” He tapped his head and then said, “If you said the address, I’m sure I would recognise it.”
I pulled out my phone. “I’ll search now.”
It didn’t take me long to find several Colemans listed in the phone directory at Mermaid Waters. After I read out the second address, the ghost said, “That’s it! That’s him for sure.”
“Do you know what he does for a living?”
He frowned. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Because we need to go to his house and talk to him,” I said. “We need a cover. We can’t just turn up at his door and say we suspect him in your murder, so we need a good excuse to get inside his house.”
“Maybe you could pretend to be a prostitute,” he offered.
I gasped. “I’m certainly not going to pretend to be a prostitute!”
He looked crestfallen. “Well then, I don’t know what else you could say.”
“So you don’t know what he does for a living?” I pressed him.
“No, I don’t.”
I thanked him and turned to leave, but he called me back. “I don’t want to hang around this house for too long. Can you let me know as soon as you find out anything?”
“Of course.”
I turned around and walked straight into a body standing in the doorway.
I screamed.
Chapter 14
“Thomas!” I screeched. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your car and given that someone was murdered here, I was worried about you,” he said.
“You can’t see my car unless you deliberately drive down this road.”
Thomas ignored me, and said, “Look, Goldie, berate me all you like, but it’s just as well I came here. You need professional help.”
“What do you mean?” I snapped.
“I’ve been standing here a while and I heard you having a long conversation with someone who doesn’t exist. Who are you talking to, Goldie? You need to be on medication.”
Just then Athanasius and Oleander hurried in the room. “What are you doing here?” they asked Thomas in unison.
“I saw Goldie’s car. I was worried about her safety, given that someone was murdered here,” Thomas said.
Athanasius waved his hands in the air. “Pish posh! You can’t see this house from any other roads. You drove here deliberately. Are you still following Goldie?”
“Still?” he said. “You’re treating me like I’m some sort of criminal, but I’m only concerned about Goldie. And with good reaso
n! Did you know she was talking to herself at length?”
Athanasius and Oleander exchanged glances.
“Yes,” Thomas continued. “I was standing here for some time behind the door. Goldie didn’t know I was here and she was talking at length, having a conversation with someone who didn’t answer her. I think she needs a psychiatric evaluation. She’s not acting herself. Why, she’s even refusing to come back to Melbourne with me! That shows she’s not in her right mind.”
“And neither are you, young man,” Athanasius said. “Leave at once or we will call the police. You’re trespassing!”
“You two are trespassing as well,” Thomas countered.
“They’re actually my receptionists,” I said, “and I have the legal right to be here because I’m selling this property. Not that it’s any of your business. Leave now or I’ll have you charged.”
“Don’t be like that, Goldie,” he said. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step to getting help. I’m dreadfully sorry about how you’ve lost your marbles.”
I shut my eyes tightly. “I should have made another vinegar bottle,” I muttered.
When I opened my eyes, Thomas was pointing at me. “See! Now she’s talking nonsense. I think she is really a psychiatric emergency.”
I pointed to the door, took a deep breath and yelled, “Out!” with all my might.
Thomas hesitated, not knowing what to do.
“I’ll set my attack wombat onto you,” I added for good measure.
“Oh dear, poor Goldie.” He shook his head. “You poor thing. You actually think that gentle animal could attack someone?”
“I make you a deal, Thomas,” I said. “I caught a glimpse of your nice orange designer socks. You always did have trendy taste in socks. Would you mind pulling up your jeans so I can look at your lovely orange socks? And if you remain in this house for the next two minutes, then I will certainly go and have a psychiatric evaluation.”
Thomas looked utterly confused.
Athanasius said, “It seems like a good deal to me, Thomas. If you do as she says, Goldie will get a psychiatric evaluation.”
Thomas shot him a wide smile and then rolled his jeans up halfway to his knees, revealing ghastly orange socks that were pulled up his calves.
I felt a tremor run from Persnickle’s body through the leash. Quick as a flash, I unclipped the leash, just as Persnickle lunged at Thomas.
The only thing that saved Thomas was the fact he had spent many hours in the gym while looking at his reflection in the mirrors. He took off at a sprint with something akin to Olympic speed. And Persnickle could move awfully fast when food was involved or when he was chasing someone wearing orange.
Oleander and Athanasius rushed past me. I was doubled over, clutching my stomach with laughter. I made it to the front door in time to see Thomas hurdle over the high front fence.
He ran to his car and only stopped long enough to shake his fist at me, before driving off in a flurry of dust.
“That young man is a mighty good high jumper,” Athanasius said. “He would make a good professional athlete. It was almost admirable the way he could run fast while screaming obscenities.”
We walked down the footpath. “I can’t see any spots of blood,” I said, disappointed. “I don’t think Persnickle managed to nip at his socks.”
“Never mind, Goldie, there might be another opportunity,” Athanasius said. He bent down to remove a piece of orange sock from Persnickle’s mouth.
“I think Goldie would prefer it if she never saw Thomas or his socks again.”
“You’re right, Oleander,” I said. “Okay, back to business. What excuse can we use to get into Charlie Coleman’s house?”
“We’ll just wing it,” Athanasius said.
Oleander and I shot him a look of horror. “Wing it?” I repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Well, Mermaid Waters is what, fifty minutes, an hour away? We’ll discuss it in the car.”
“Okay, if we’re going there now, I’ll have to take Persnickle home first,” I said. “Unless we take him and say we are collecting door-to-door donations for the Therapy Wombat Association.”
“What a great idea!” Oleander said, but Athanasius shook his head vigorously.
“He won’t let us in the house if we have Persnickle, and we need to get inside the house.”
I was crestfallen. I thought it was a good idea. “While I drop Persnickle at home, I’ll grab my iPad. Maybe he has a Facebook page or something. If we find out what he does for a living, it might give us a clue what to say to him. Anyway, I don’t like going there without a plan.”
“We have plenty of time for a plan,” Athanasius said.
I dropped Persnickle home, turned on Starsky and Hutch, set it to repeat, and gave him a little snack. That would keep him happy while I was away.
When I got back in the car, I said, “I’ve had an idea.” I held up one hand, palm outwards. “You’ll no doubt think it’s a crazy idea, but I do feel the need to tell you.”
Athanasius leant forward from the back seat. “What is it, Goldie?”
“What if Thomas is the murderer?”
“Thomas?” Oleander shrieked. “He’s a horrible person, but why would you think he’s the murderer?”
“Because the timing is strange. He turned up after that article on East Bucklebury. I know it was in a Sydney paper, but some of those Sydney paper articles end up in Melbourne papers too. He knows I’m living in East Bucklebury. What if he was somehow involved and thought it a good opportunity to pretend to get me back just so he could come up here and murder Angus Burns? It’s a great cover, you must admit.”
“It is a great cover,” Athanasius said, “but it’s way too much of a coincidence, Goldie. Indeed, it’s too much of a coincidence that Thomas would have a relative involved in the Great Bank Robbery of 1955 and then you, his ex-girlfriend and ex-employee, moved to the very town where one of the bank robbers had been living in hiding for decades.”
I pouted. “I suppose so.”
Oleander patted my arm. “Never mind, Goldie. I know you just want Thomas to go to prison. I doubt you’ll ever see him again.”
I nodded slowly. “True. Okay, should I go down the Gold Coast highway or the M1 to get to Mermaid Waters?”
“The M1 for sure,” Athanasius said from the back seat. “Oh, I just found him on Facebook. He’s a retired schoolteacher. That’s no help.”
By the time we got to Charlie Coleman’s house, we had a plan. I didn’t think it was a particularly good plan, but Athanasius said we should all just brazen it out. I hoped he was right. It sounded rather too tenuous to me.
By the time we got there it was just after dusk and we could see the lights on inside the house. “Looks like he’s home,” I said. “That’s a relief. We haven’t wasted our time.”
We all got out of the car and walked to the door. The house was no paid-for-by-crime mansion, that was for sure. It was an L shaped double brick house with a garage attached to one side. The garden didn’t look particularly cared for and the lawn was overgrown. We navigated the ramshackle garden furniture and made our way to the front door. Athanasius knocked hard on the security door and then rang the bell for good measure.
The man answered only moments later. “Hello?” he asked in a suspicious tone.
“We’re terribly sorry for the intrusion,” Athanasius said, “but we’re from the East Bucklebury Progress Association. We have some sad news for you and we thought it was better to come and tell you in person.”
“East Bucklebury, you say?”
“Yes,” I said. “We’re sorry to have to tell you that the body of Angus Burns was discovered on Saturday morning.”
“Angus Burns?” the man repeated.
“Yes, he was in the Great Bank Robbery of 1955 with your father,” Athanasius said. “We hope this isn’t a horrible shock. Maybe you should have been sitting down when we told you the news. I do apologise.”
�
��No, that’s all right. My father didn’t like him at all,” the man said.
Right on schedule, Oleander pretended to faint. “Oh no, it’s her heart,” Athanasius said. “May we bring her inside? Maybe we could have a glass of water so we can give her pills?”
The man looked undecided but opened the door. “Come in.” He showed us through an archway into the living room. I took a quick look to my right and saw a kitchen and dining area. “Do you need me to call emergency?” he said.
“No, I have her pills,” I said. I had some cling wrap in which we had earlier put peppermints. I handed them to Oleander. Charlie fetched a glass of water and she swallowed them whole, and then coughed violently. Athanasius patted her on the back.
“They take a few minutes to work,” Oleander said, clutching her heart in an overly dramatic fashion. “Do you mind if we sit here just a few moments before we go?”
The man looked quite put out but said, “That’s all right.”
I sat next to Oleander, and Athanasius sat on the other side. Charlie obviously didn’t like us being there, but I could tell he wasn’t about to kick us out. “I’m afraid I was the one who found the body,” I told him.
He looked surprised. “He was murdered, you say? How?”
“He was shot.”
Charlie nodded slowly. “I see. And he was living in East Bucklebury?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s what was so strange. Do you remember all the members of the gang? Ben, Angus, Martin, and Laurence?”
He nodded in a more animated fashion this time. “That’s all my father would ever talk about.”
“Well, Ben Parrish changed his surname to Greer. His son, Doug, inherited his father’s house at East Bucklebury. I’m a real estate agent and I’m selling it for him. There was an open home on Saturday morning and the first lady who attended the open home found the body. It was in one of the bedrooms.”
“Do the police know who did it?” he asked.
I shrugged. “If they do, they haven’t told me. Anyway, we figured it had something to do with the Great Bank Robbery of 1955 and so we thought we should come here and tell you, since your father was associated with Angus Burns.”
