Broomed For Success

by Morgana Best

“Yes, a key to the shed out the back.”

  “Shed?” he parroted.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t going to go well if all he could do was repeat what I said. “Yes.” I figured I had better explain what happened. “Doug Greer, the owner of this house and the son of Ben Parrish…”

  “Yes, I know who he is,” he snapped.

  I shrugged and pushed on. “The police were just here and made him open his shed. He told me he’d lost the key years ago, but he somehow had it today. I wondered if maybe you had the key to his shed and he murdered you to get the key.”

  “My key?” the ghost said.

  I took another deep breath. “Yes, your key, if you had one. Do you remember coming here with a key to Doug’s shed? I am trying to help you, you know,” I added for good measure. “When we solve the murder, you can cross over or push on or whatever you ghosts do.”

  “I don’t want to hang around here forever,” he snapped. “It’s not doing anything for my mood.”

  “Really?” I said snarkily.

  He glared at me. “My memory is not as good as it was when I was alive.”

  “It’s probably the shock of being murdered,” I said seriously. “When someone’s been murdered, they don’t always remember everything that happened clearly.”

  He looked at me with interest. “You’ve spoken to other ghosts who’ve been murdered?”

  “I’m afraid so. Do you think Doug murdered you? Did he murder you and take the key from you?”

  “I don’t remember seeing him at all,” Angus said. “I’ve been here for a long time, ever since I was murdered and I haven’t had anything to do. There’s no TV and I can’t drink beer or place any bets on the races. What else is a man to do? All I’ve done is wonder who murdered me. As I said, my memory is hazy, but I don’t remember seeing anyone at all. I just remember pressure on my back and that’s the last thing I remember when I was alive.”

  I swatted away a persistent mosquito. “Did you have your keys on you?”

  “Yes, I always carried my keys with me.”

  I nodded slowly. “So you had a ring of keys with your house key and your car key.”

  He shook his head. “I never carried my house key with me. It’s under a potted plant at my front door.”

  I wondered why, but I didn’t like to ask. After all, I didn’t want to distract him now that he was finally talking. “So, on the key ring, you only had the shed key and your car key?”

  “I don’t think I ever had the shed key.”

  Something occurred to me. “How did you get here that night? I mean, did you drive? I didn’t see your car out the front.”

  “No, I left it on the main road and walked here,” he said.

  “Now think hard, Angus. Were you holding your keys or were they in your pocket when you were attacked?”

  He shut his eyes. I thought he would vanish, but he stayed materialised. “No, I do remember now. They were in my hand because I also had one of those little tiny torches on my key ring and I was using at the time, so I was holding it. Why is that important?”

  I slapped my hand on my leg. “For a moment I thought we found the murderer. If the key was in your pocket, I would think Doug was the murderer because he wouldn’t have had any chance to go through your pockets when the police were here, but if it was in your hand, then it could have been flung from your hand when you fell. Doug could have easily found it lying on the floor and pocketed it. After all, he did recognise who you were soon as he saw you.”

  “Wouldn’t the police have searched the place first?” Angus asked me.

  I waved my hand around the room. “How could anyone find anything in this mess?”

  He nodded solemnly. “You’re right. Doug’s father, Ben, was just as messy back then. Anyway, I’m certain I didn’t have the key to Doug’s shed. I can’t remember why I came here, but I know it wasn’t anything to do with the shed.”

  My spirits fell. “Oh, I was so sure I was onto something! Doug told me he lost the shed key, but he opened the shed today for the police.”

  “So if Doug didn’t murder me, then who did?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, I’m afraid,” I said.

  Just then my phone rang. I pulled it out and looked at the text.

  I gasped.

  Chapter 17

  I read the text from Oleander again.

  One of the residents just drove past Max’s house and there was a removalist van outside. Men were taking stuff out of Max’s house.

  Is this what Max had been trying to tell me? He was leaving town? No wonder he had been acting strangely. My spirits fell.

  There was no use feeling sorry for myself. I decided to take Persnickle home and then drive back to see Laurence Pattinson-Smyth. After all, he was more or less local and knew about the article in the paper. I had no idea why I hadn’t given him my close attention before.

  I drove home and put Persnickle in his wombat bed. He at once went to sleep and snored gently. The morning’s outing had obviously tired him. Wombats weren’t the most energetic creatures.

  I then turned on my coffee machine. While it was heating, I paced up and down thinking about Max. I had thought there was something between us. How did I get it so wrong? He was leaving town. I paced some more and then made a thermos of coffee for Athanasius and Oleander. I jumped in my car and headed to my office.

  “We don’t have any firm listings for you, Goldie,” Oleander called out as soon as I walked in the door.

  “But we do have a lady interested in selling her house,” Athanasius said. “She works in Broadbeach, so she’s going to call you in the next few days.”

  My spirits lifted. “That’s great! Her house doesn’t look like Doug’s, I hope?”

  “No, it’s quite a nice house,” Athanasius said. “We searched it online. Come and see.”

  I walked around to look at the computer. “That is a nice house,” I said. “Great work, Athanasius. I’ve brought you something.” I reached into my tote and pulled out the thermos. “Hide it well,” I said. “Max thinks Power is going to take me in for questioning again. He could turn up at any time.”

  “You going somewhere, Goldie?” Athanasius asked me.

  I nodded. “Only if it’s okay with you two. I thought I’d pop up and question Laurence again. After all, he lives nearby, and he saw the article in the paper. I don’t think we were suspicious enough of him.”

  “You’re right,” Athanasius said. “But be careful, Goldie. If he’s the murderer, he might push you over his front balcony.”

  I chuckled. “I promise I won’t let him push me over his front balcony. I’m sure it’s a significant drop.”

  “Do you have some questions in mind?” Oleander asked me.

  “Oleander, I’m sure Goldie can think of them on the way. She can wing it.”

  “I’m not a fan of winging it and when I try to think of something specifically, it pushes it even further from my mind,” I told them. “Do you have any idea what I could ask him?”

  Athanasius looked at the ceiling. “Ask him if he has any idea who the murderer could be.”

  “I can’t even remember what we asked him before,” I admitted.

  Oleander looked up from her dusting. “He doesn’t know about Melissa Fowl, does he?”

  Athanasius looked at her. “Good point. Goldie can ask him if he knows anything about Melissa Fowl.”

  “Oh yes, and Chris Coleman’s son too,” I said. “You know, I’ll probably forget all this by the time I get there. I’ll just throw myself on his mercy and ask him for help.”

  “Still, be careful, Goldie,” Athanasius said. “He might be the murderer. Call us as soon as you arrive there and then call us when you leave so we know you’re safe.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

  Soon I was driving along the M1 hoping I wouldn’t miss the exit. Of course, I did miss the exit and had to continue on until I turned off at
the Helensvale exit. By some miracle, which involved turning left at every opportunity, I somehow ended up on the correct road. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Once I’d left Oxenford, the road to Tamborine Mountain was quite pretty. I had to stop about five times for road works, and that slowed me down considerably. I was sure they weren’t there the other day. Finally, after yelling abuse at several drivers who overtook me at high speed when I was doing sixty kilometres in a sixty kilometre zone up a steep hill, I navigated my way to Laurence’s house.

  I parked outside and called Athanasius. “I’m here now.”

  “We were beginning to get worried about you,” Athanasius said. “It took you well over an hour.”

  “There were all these road works,” I said. “I got stuck at the back of the line at each one.”

  “Call us again as soon as you get back to your car, and don’t be there for more than an hour.”

  “Goodness, I don’t intend to be in there for more than ten minutes,” I told him.

  “Keep your phone on you, though,” Athanasius said. “Don’t leave it in the car. And don’t be ageist and underestimate him. He could be a cold-blooded killer.”

  “I won’t underestimate him,” I said with a shudder. “Stand by.”

  With that, I hung up, got out of the car, and was making my way to the door when his next door neighbour stuck her head out her window.

  “You back again so soon?”

  I smiled and nodded. I thought speaking might encourage her.

  Apparently, she didn’t need encouragement. “He’s home. He hasn’t picked up his dog’s business since you were last here.”

  I smiled and nodded and kept walking.

  She was still speaking, but thankfully I had reached his front door. I pressed the buzzer, hoping he had his hearing aids in this time.

  Laurence opened the door a little, his expression neutral. At least he didn’t appear annoyed to see me. He opened the door wider and beckoned me inside. “I just have to put my hearing aids in,” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  I smiled and nodded again. I was beginning to get a sore neck. To my dismay, Laurence showed me to the balcony. “Take a seat,” he yelled. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I sat as far away from the edge of the balcony as I could and looked around for something I could use as a weapon. Sadly, there wasn’t anything unless I picked up the iron table. It looked too heavy to lift.

  The back of the house in Cliff Road certainly did have a significant drop. I figured the balcony was of a pole construction. It did afford a wonderful view of the tall buildings at Surfers Paradise and the sparkling blue ocean beyond.

  I decided to sit with my back as close as I could to the wall in case Laurence tried to grapple with me and throw me over the edge. He didn’t look particularly strong to me, but I was mindful of Athanasius’s warning not to underestimate him.

  “So Ms Bloom, isn’t it?” he said when he returned. This time he was speaking at normal volume.

  “Yes, please call me Goldie.”

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  “Two suspects have come to light.”

  He leant forward. “Who are they?”

  “Chris Coleman has a son, Charlie, and Martin has a daughter. She changed her name to Melissa Fowl.”

  “What did she change it to?” His brow furrowed. He poked his hearing aids with both hands.

  “Melissa Fowl,” I said. “Fowl, like a chook.”

  “She has chooks? That’s not suspicious. Most people in the country have chooks. In fact, I would have chooks myself but for the fact there are too many foxes out there. There’s even been known to be a few wild dingos there too.” He swept his hand in the direction of the extensive bushland behind his house.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket, typed ‘Melissa Fowl’ in the notes, and showed him.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” He looked quite affronted. “Why would anyone change their name to Fowl?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “Now, Chris Coleman lives at Mermaid Waters and he’s a retired schoolteacher. It looks like he spent most of his father’s money inside the house.”

  “No doubt he paid cash,” Laurence said, smiling and nodding. I cast a surreptitious glance through the open bi-fold doors into his house. He also had an expensive sound system and his furniture looked quite expensive. “I’m not so much suspicious of him, but I am suspicious of Melissa Fowl.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea, dear?”

  I shook my head. “No, I stopped for coffee on the way here. But thanks for offering.”

  “Would you like an intact biscuit?” he asked me. “I made them myself. I’m not sure if I accidentally used salt instead of sugar, but most of them fell apart. I gave some of the intact ones to that dreadfully nosy woman next door and I saw her throwing them out the following day. Maybe she thought I was trying to poison her.” He broke into loud laughter.

  “Did you try to poison her?” I asked, wondering if he was the murderer.

  “Of course not. Now what were you telling me about this Melissa Chook?”

  “Melissa Fowl,” I corrected him. “It is quite suspicious. You know that article you told us about that was in the Sydney paper?” He nodded. “She must have seen it, because soon after that she arrived at the East Bucklebury Retirement Home to work as a volunteer. She’s a physiotherapist by trade, and now she’s set up there in an office giving everyone free physiotherapy.”

  He jutted out his chin. “Why would she do that?”

  “That’s exactly the point,” I said. “Why would she? She clearly saw the article, and so she got herself to town just in time for the murder. She was in town, so she certainly had the opportunity to murder Angus Burns. She looks like she could handle a gun, too.”

  “Well, Angus was my age so he wouldn’t have put up much of a fight,” Laurence said with a chuckle.

  Once more, his words filled me with suspicion. He didn’t seem at all upset that Angus had died. I sized Laurence up. He was tall and well built, and did not look anywhere near his age. I had seen a small white car in his carport. It was the sort of car anyone would overlook. I wondered if he had slipped over to Doug Greer’s place in the dark and shot Angus. But how did he know Angus was there?

  Then it dawned on me—maybe he was in it with somebody else. Maybe they were both there looking for Ben’s gold, and Laurence decided to do away with Angus. But for what reason? It was a mystery to me.

  I looked at Laurence, who was staring at me fixedly. “Who do you think murdered Angus?” I asked him.

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately and I don’t have a clue,” he said. “Clearly, it’s all to do with the Great Bank Robbery of 1955.”

  I shrugged. “That does seem the obvious conclusion, but maybe he had a fight with his girlfriend and she decided to do him in.”

  Laurence looked surprised. “Angus had a girlfriend? What a lucky bloke.”

  I hurried to explain. “I don’t know if he did. I just wondered if there could possibly be another reason that he was murdered, something that didn’t have anything to do with the robbery at all.”

  “It’s the location,” Laurence said. “If it didn’t have anything to do with the robbery, then why was he shot in Ben Parrish’s house? No, you mark my words, this has everything to do with the robbery.”

  “Okay, then do you mind if I run through my conclusions with you?”

  Laurence shook his head. “No, I’d be happy to hear them. This has been bothering me. And the police haven’t arrested anyone yet?”

  I shook my head. “No, they haven’t. Okay, you, Ben, Chris, and Martin gave Angus what, around half of your money?”

  Laurence nodded. “How much of your money?”

  “Probably half?” Laurence said with a shrug of his shoulder. “Like I said, I hardly gave him any.” He chuckled.

  “Do you think he spent it all?”

  Laurence frowned. “I h
ave no idea, but he possibly did spend it all.”

  “And did you ever try to find Angus?”

  “Yes, Chris, Martin, Ben and I did try to track Angus down, but he was living in Senegal. By the time we looked for him there, he’d left. He was elusive. We managed to track him down to a few places, but he’d only just left. By all accounts, he was living the high life. I doubt he had any money left.”

  “Then why do you think he was at Doug Greer’s house? Do you think he went there to look for Ben’s gold?”

  “Either that or someone invited him there,” Laurence said. “Invited him there to kill him.”

  “I thought of that, but it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Angus would have known you were all angry with him. For example, if Doug invited him there, Angus wouldn’t go because he would figure Doug wanted to take revenge on behalf of his father. Isn’t that right?”

  Laurence was silent for a while. I imagined he was thinking it over. “You’re right, you know. It is a mystery.”

  “Okay, so we can’t figure out why Angus was there, so let’s get back to the motive,” I said. “Angus kept the gold belonging to the rest of you, so the motive must be revenge. Is that right?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, it would have to be revenge.”

  “Angus had a big ring, a big golden ring with some sort of a symbol on it. When Doug first saw the body, that’s how he recognised him. He said his father had the same ring.”

  “We all had those rings,” Laurence said. “I wore mine for years. I took it off decades ago when I lost weight and it kept falling off me.”

  “So what significance did the rings have?” I asked him.

  “Nothing, really. We all had them because we were in the gang together.”

  I was disappointed. I thought I’d been onto something, but it was another dead end, just like the shed key. I stood up, keeping as far from the edge as I could. “Well, thanks for your help, Laurence.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been any help at all,” he said. “Still, it was good to talk with you. I’m sure the motive was revenge, but I am puzzled as to why Angus Burns was in Ben Parrish’s house.”

  “You and me both,” I said.