Claire gasped. “Oh, yes, of course. Wanda Birchin!”
“Exactly. Wanda Birchin. Barbara’s so-called ex-BFF. The very same person who told us Arthur was the philandering type. How does she know that? Maybe she was another notch on his bedpost? Maybe they had a lover’s quarrel?”
The frown on Claire’s face told her she wasn’t buying this theory either so Alicia pressed on. “It makes perfect sense to me. Remember, Claire, how Wanda told us that she and Barbara had a falling out, but she wouldn’t tell us why. Maybe Barbs caught her sleeping with Arthur?”
“Or maybe Wanda’s husband did it!” squealed Missy, suddenly getting in on the action. “She does have a husband, right?”
Claire and Alicia looked at each other blankly. They had no idea. Wanda had never mentioned one, but she certainly behaved like a lady of leisure, which usually meant there was someone in the background, topping up the AMEX.
“Well, assuming that she does, maybe Wanda’s husband catches them at it and takes his revenge,” said Missy. “Pity we don’t know more about the hubby...”
“Pity we don’t know whether she was even sleeping around with Arthur or not,” added Alicia. “I’m just guessing here.”
She slunk back into her seat as they fell into a gloomy silence again.
Eventually Alicia had a thought. “I need to pay Wanda another visit. I need to find out for sure.”
Lynette frowned. “I dunno...”
“Sorry, but I need to get some straight answers from her. I reckon Wanda’s been playing us from the start. She’s the one who invited us over, remember, then fed us all the stuff about Arthur’s supposed affair with Rosa. Even tried to implicate Holly in the whole thing—said she was the violent type. Next thing we know Arthur shows up dead right next door to her house. Nope, that woman’s got some questions to answer and I’m not afraid to ask them.”
She sat forward, holding her hands prayer-like in front of her. “Listen, guys, I know we’re all really busy people and we’ve spent a lot of time on this already, but Arthur’s death takes it to a whole new level. I think we have to step things up considerably if we want to find Barbara alive.”
“If Barbara’s still alive,” said Perry, his chin resting on one palm. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but that seems extremely unlikely now. We have to face facts.”
“Either way, whether she’s alive or dead, we need to find her,” persisted Alicia. “And if that means asking some difficult questions then so be it. Arthur’s death clearly proves there’s something very dodgy going on over at Chateau Parlour. Come on, gang, are we committed to this or not?”
She glanced at each member and they nodded in turn.
“So what do you suggest, Poirot?” asked Missy.
“It is the approach, classic!” she said, putting on her best Belgian accent. “The technique of elimination. We eliminate the suspects one by one. We do not scamper around like the puppies.”
The stared at her, bemused, and she blushed.
“Sorry couldn’t help myself. That’s a quote from Poirot in Three Act Tragedy, I watched it not long ago on TV. What I’m trying to say is, I think we each have to focus on one line of enquiry and work from there. We need to eliminate the suspects, one by one. So, I’ll stick with Wanda and see where that takes me.”
“And now he’s dead, I could go back to Arthur’s house and have a look around—” began Missy but Alicia shook her head.
“The cops will be swarming all over the place now, I don’t think you’ll get past the front gate.”
“Well about time, too,” she said. “Okay, then possums, I’ll stick to what I do best. I’ll see if I can unearth more juicy details about the book they found in Barbara’s car. I might also look a little more closely at Barbara’s account while I’m at it. Maybe there are some clues in there somewhere.”
“Is that even legal?” asked Claire and Missy gave her a wicked grin.
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Alicia, turning to Claire. “As for you, Ms Hargreaves...”
Claire’s shapely eyebrows rose slightly. “Yes?”
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but I think you need to pay our tennis Lothario a visit. Find out what he really knows about the Parlour family and what his real relationship is with Holly. Maybe find out, if you can, what they were on about that day at the tennis court.”
Claire groaned. “Oh, but he’s such a sleazebag.”
“A sleazebag who took a fancy to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “Come on, pull on your tennis whites, it’ll be worth it.”
“Oh I have just the outfit!” she declared, suddenly sounding enthused. “Rightio then but it will have to wait until Saturday, I can’t keep closing the shop willy-nilly. I’ll go broke.”
“What about me?” said Perry, sitting up. “Any sleazebags for me?”
Alicia laughed. “How about you visit that jewellery store in the Strand Arcade? It’s one of the last places Barbara was seen alive. Inspector Ward suggested she was getting something repaired but he wouldn’t elaborate. Maybe you can find out what that’s all about. See if it means anything.”
“Excellent idea, what’s it called?”
“Oh, damn, Ward didn’t say. But how many jewellers can there be in one little arcade?”
“I guess I’ll find out. But, I’m with Claire on this one—no can do until the weekend. My boss will skin me alive if I take any more time off work.”
“Actually, that’s ideal,” said Alicia. “Barbara was there last Saturday, so you want to make sure you speak to the person who works weekends. Besides, they’re less likely to be the owner, so you’re more likely to get the goss out of them. Then we could all get back together on, say, Sunday morning and compare notes? Let’s meet at our place around 10, so we can give poor Max a little attention, and maybe enjoy Lynette’s fabulous cinnamon pancakes...?”
She flashed her sister a questioning glance and Lynette nodded.
“Oh goodie, I’m salivating at the thought!” said Missy. “But what about you, Lynette? What are you going to do, possum, apart from cook up a storm, of course?”
“Oh I know exactly what I’m going to do,” she said, standing up and stretching out. “I’m going to take another trip across the bridge to Balmoral Beach. As far as I can see, there’s one person who should be very happy to hear about Arthur’s death, and it’s time I paid him another visit.”
Chapter 19
If Niles Blakely was happy about his brother-in-law’s sudden demise, he certainly didn’t look it. His hair was more dishevelled than normal, the furrow between his eyes was now a gaping gorge, and the bags under his eyes had turned into luggage. Nor was he very interested in talking to Lynette who was now standing outside his café, her sister in tow.
Lynette had insisted on visiting Niles that very night and, after failing to put her off to the morning, Alicia did a little insisting of her own.
“If you’re going this late, I’m coming with you. He could be dangerous.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“You don’t know him, Lynette. Besides, I have a few questions of my own. May as well kill two birds...” She winced, gave her sister an apologetic smile.
And so they had gone straight from the library to their house, first to feed a sorely neglected Max, then to grab a bag of muffins and the old Torana. It would be much faster than public transport.
On the way, Lynette had swiped Alicia’s hands away from the muffin bag, receiving a sulky moan in return. “Sorry, sis, but they’re a peace offering for Niles. Might also loosen his tongue a bit, if we’re lucky.”
“So what makes you think he’ll even be there?” Alicia glanced at the dashboard clock. It was now almost 10:00 p.m. “I thought you said it wasn’t open for dinner.”
“Just a hunch.”
Lynette’s hunch was spot on. Niles was indeed still loitering at his Balmoral café but he was not easily bribed and glared at Lynette’s blueberry and white chocolate muffins as thou
gh they were laced with arsenic.
“No thank you,” he said going to shut the glass sliding door on them.
Lynette wedged her foot in the door and tried for her most sympathetic smile. “Come on, Niles, we’re not the enemy here.”
“Everyone’s the enemy, that’s what my lawyer just told me. You hear about Arthur?”
“It’s all over the internet.”
“Well I didn’t do it!”
“I never said you did.”
“Yeah, but after what I said to you yesterday...” He broke off, blushed crimson red under his freckly white skin.
“That makes me think you didn’t do it,” she said. “You told me you had no motive for killing your sister, unless of course Arthur suddenly showed up dead. Well, you’d hardly say that if you were planning to murder him now would you?”
He stared at her warily then glanced at Alicia who was standing quietly in the shadows.
“This is my sister, Alicia, we’re both in Barbara’s book club, that’s how we know her. Can we come in? Please?” Lynette pushed the muffins towards him. “Freshly baked, really tasty. You can flog them off tomorrow if you like. We get five bucks a muffin at Mario’s.”
He looked at the muffins, clearly doing a little mental arithmetic, then sighed, snatched the bag off her, and opened the door wider so they could enter.
“I can’t offer you coffee, the machine’s off.” He dropped the muffins on the counter. “Want a tea or a cold drink?”
They both shook their heads no, so he sat down with them at a table.
“I couldn’t have killed Arthur, you know, I was here all afternoon. Cops have just been, I told them all of this.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?” asked Alicia gently and he frowned again.
“No, unfortunately. Barely a soul through all day, same as yesterday. I locked up early today, around 4:00 p.m., been out the back most of the arvo doing the books at exactly the time the poor bastard was supposedly being hit over the head.”
“What time was that, do you know?”
“According to ‘the filth’, his body was found about 6:30 p.m.; they reckon he’d been dead no longer than an hour or two. So, I guess, anytime from four, maybe.” He sat up straighter. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you guys about Arthur.”
“Then talk to us about your sister instead,” said Alicia. “You didn’t receive a letter off her this week, did you?”
Both Niles and Lynette looked at her, not quite understanding.
“It’s just that I spoke with Inspector Ward today, he’s the guy running the case—”
“Yeah I know him. What about him?”
“Well he mentioned that Barbara posted a letter from a city mail box on the day she disappeared. I’m just wondering if that letter was for you?”
He shook his head emphatically. “Ward’s already asked me that. I haven’t heard a single peep from my sister since she disappeared. I would’ve said something if I had.”
“Fair enough. It’s just that you told Lynette that your sister would never do anything without talking to you first. I just wonder if she, maybe, wrote you about what was happening, how she was feeling...”
“No she did not. Listen, I don’t know what happened to her, that’s the God honest truth. Nor do I have anything to do with Arthur’s death. I’m not going to pretend I liked the guy, or that I’m even sorry he’s gone—he was an arsehole, most people will tell you that—but I didn’t kill him. No way.”
He glanced beseechingly from one sister to the other and Lynette placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Niles, we’re just asking.”
“Yeah, well you’re asking a lot of bloody strange questions,” he replied, sulkily.
“Can I ask one more?” said Alicia, and, when he didn’t respond she added, “About Holly.”
He looked up. “Holly? My bratty niece, what about her?”
“Did your sister ever mention anything going on between her daughter and her tennis coach?”
He seemed stumped by the question until a flicker of understanding crossed his face. “Ah, that’s right, a slimeball called Jack or Jackson or something.”
“Jake Smith.”
He nodded his head. “Yep, that’s it. I met him once at a family BBQ. Coming on to Barbs, if I recall. Why, you think he’s playing up with Holly? She’s still a kid.”
“She’s 16 going on 26, or at least that’s how your sister described her.”
“Look, I don’t know anything about what Holly and some paedophile tennis coach were up to, and I don’t remember my sister mentioning it. The only thing she ever said about Holly was that she was a stuck-up little daddy’s girl. They weren’t real close, not since she hit puberty anyway. What’s this got to do with her disappearance? You think Jake did something to her? Or to Arthur?”
Alicia held her hands up. “I’m not saying that, just wondering about him, that’s all. And wondering whether Barbara mentioned him.”
He shook his head slowly.
“Okay, then,” said Lynette breezily, “we’d better get going.”
Now it was Alicia’s turn to look surprised. Surely Lynette hadn’t dragged her all this way so late in the evening for this? These questions could easily have waited until morning. She thought Lynette had some great ace up her sleeve, but clearly she was wrong.
“Can we give you a lift home, Niles?” Lynette was saying, standing up and grabbing hold of Alicia’s car keys, which had been flung on the tabletop.
He shook his head quickly. “Nah, still got the books to do.”
“You seem to spend a lot of time doing the books,” Lynette said. She sat down again and tossed the car keys back on the table. “You’re homeless, aren’t you?”
Alicia was more stunned by the question than Niles. So there was an ace after all.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his voice deadpan.
“I saw the backpack and sleeping bag, yesterday, Niles, I know you’ve been bedding down here. I mean, yes, café owners have work to do after hours, but you seem to be spending an insane amount of time here lately. Can’t be that much to add up, you’re clearly not getting a lot of customers through.”
He still wasn’t talking so she gave his shoulder another squeeze and asked, “How long?”
After a few moments, he shook his head and groaned. “Got evicted from my Surry Hills apartment Monday arvo. They changed the locks, can’t even get in to get my stuff. Bastards. Hardly owed any rent, but you know how landlords can be these days? Stingy buggers.”
“Your sister usually bail you out?”
He didn’t say anything but the look of shame that crept across his face was all the answer she needed.
“Why don’t you just sell this place? Move on? Clear your debts?”
He shrugged. Looked away despondently, so she glanced at her sister.
“Come on, Alicia, we’d better let this poor man get some sleep.” She turned back to him. “Good luck with it all, hey?”
He nodded bleakly as they left him sitting alone in the middle of his empty café.
Chapter 20
Alicia Finlay stared hard at the 16 page pull-out poster of Lady Gaga that her art director had just designed. It was slightly fuzzy and out of focus, but that’s what happened when you blew a digital image up way beyond its original purpose. She wasn’t exactly in love with the lime green border either but she knew 12-year-olds would consider it the epitome of style, and that’s all that mattered. She gave him the nod and returned to her desk.
It was Friday morning and yet again she was struggling to focus on work. It was becoming a bad habit. She had now finished the kitten mag, these things never took long to whip together, and was onto a one-off poster mag which was failing, miserably, to hold her attention. Alicia had already left two messages at Wanda Birchin’s house to no avail and was itching to make some progress on the investigation. She didn’t know where to turn. She pushed her chair as
ide and strolled to the coffee room where, surprise, surprise, Ginny was whipping up a cappuccino. Any excuse to be away from the front desk.
“You look like absolute crap,” Ginny said over the gurgling of the milk frother.
“Thanks, Gin, you always make me feel so fabulous.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but what’s going on? You’re spending a lot of time out of the office these days. Gonna get yourself fired if you’re not careful.”
“Who’s to know? Head honcho’s in London, remember.”
Ginny glanced around. “Yeah but Hamish Keener’s not. He’s in thick with the Big Boys. I wouldn’t put it past him to dob you in.”
“He can dob away. The mag’s nearly done, I’ve been catching up at home.”
She took a mug out of the cupboard and leant against the bench, waiting for Ginny to finish.
“So what is luring you away so much? Not still stressing about that missing weirdo from your book club are you?”
“Even more so now the husband’s shown up dead.”
Ginny mock gasped. “I know! I saw that on the Today Show this morning! It’s a murky mystery you’ve landed yourself there, that’s for sure. You and book clubs, eh? You’ve got a bad track record—kicked out of one club, a member missing from another, her husband murdered!”
“I wasn’t kicked out of the Monday Night Book Club, thanks, Ginny, I gave them the boot, remember?”
Still, it didn’t make her feel any better and she slumped over the kitchen bench with a dramatic sigh.
“Why don’t you just leave it to the coppers?” Ginny said, pulling the silver milk jug out of the steamer and fetching a spoon. “Hate to burst your little bubble, baby, but it’s their job, not yours.”
Alicia stood up straight and stared at her. “You’re right. My God, you’re absolutely right!”
She dumped the mug back in the cupboard and ran to her desk to retrieve her handbag.
“Oi, where the bloody hell are you going now?” called Ginny from the corridor, the milk jug still in her hand.
The Agatha Christie Book Club Page 14
