“Going over the case, eh?”
She shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Well that’s hardly going to help you sleep.”
“I know, I know.”
Lynette grabbed her handbag and over-sized sunglasses. She slipped them on and then bent down to give Max a cuddle.
“Gotta go, got work to do.”
“Yes, all that swimming will be most taxing,” Alicia said and Lynette rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Just be careful!” she called after her. “Promise!”
“I promise!” Lynette screamed back, then slammed the front door and made her way to the bus stop.
The trip between Woolloomooloo and Balmoral is a long one, requiring at least two bus changes, but Lynette was prepared. She had grabbed a copy of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express on her way out and started reading as she went. It had been scheduled for the upcoming Sunday’s book club and while she wasn’t sure they would even be holding it anymore, she was determined to read it just in case. It had been many years since Lynette had taken that fateful train journey with Poirot and 12 angry suspects, and the details were now hazy.
She had considered swatting up by watching the film—the fabulous Albert Finney version with a cast of vintage Hollywood stars including Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman and Sean Connery—but she knew that film adaptations never quite stuck to the original story, so thought better of it. This was a book club after all!
By the time Lynette’s bus chugged the final leg down to The Esplanade at Balmoral, a good hour later, she was so engrossed in the novel she barely noticed. Along the way she had come across another classic Poirot quote that got her thinking about the Barbara Parlour case. After inspecting the compartment of the murdered man and discovering a monogrammed handkerchief, a pipe cleaner, a gold watch (conveniently stopped at the time of the murder) and other interesting items, he quips, “One cannot complain of having no clues in this case. There are clues here in abundance.”
That’s just like Barbara’s case, she thought, making a note in the margin. She sat back and thought about this for a bit. There were so many clues cluttering the case—on Barbara’s fridge, on the whiteboard, all that stuff left in her car—none of it seemed to make any sense and yet, she wondered as Poirot does, if that was somehow deliberate.
“Last stop, Ma’am!” came the bus driver’s voice from the front and Lynette looked up with a start. The bus was empty and they were parked at the curb.
“Oops, sorry!” she called out, thrusting the book in her bag and grappling to get out.
She jumped onto the pavement, glanced around, got her bearings then began to make her way along the esplanade to the Just Beachy Café.
It was bustling when she arrived, as it should be on such a glorious day, and Niles looked run off his feet. She looked around for another waitress but it was clear he was flying solo.
“I haven’t got time for you,” he hissed as he brushed past her on his way to the espresso machine. “It’s chaos today.”
She followed him into the café, dumped her handbag in the back room and grabbed an apron she saw hanging on a hook.
“Okay, where do you want me to start?”
He looked up from the coffee machine with surprise. “You’re going to help me?”
“That’s what I keep telling you. But let’s start by clearing this place a little. Orders all taken outside?”
“Tables 3 and 6 are still waiting. And they’re not looking happy.”
“I’ll soon change that!”
He threw her an order pad and pencil, and she dashed outside.
After about 30 minutes, Lynette noticed that the café was out of a few supplies, things like serviettes and sugar sachets and she couldn’t see any sign of them in the storeroom.
“Oh shit, I did pick up some yesterday,” said Niles when she enquired. “Haven’t had a chance to unload them yet.” He reached for some car keys that had been placed under the counter. “Do you mind? It’s the old Beamer out the back.”
She grabbed the keys and dashed through the kitchen, past the harried looking cook who was wrestling with a hot frypan and some eggs, to the back door where she spotted his black BMW. As she went to unload the boxes from the boot, a small bell began ringing in her head, but there was no time to think. She had to get back to the hungry hordes. She lifted up the boxes and hauled them inside.
Within 20 minutes the place had settled down considerably. The breakfast rush was over and most customers were finishing the dregs of their coffee before heading off to the gym or Bridge club or wherever it was the idle rich go when they don’t have to worry about the rent. Lynette returned inside with a tray of dirty dishes and cups.
“Just dump them in the kitchen, I’ll deal with them later,” Niles said. “And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me too soon, it’ll probably fire up again for lunch you know?”
“I know, I know, I’ve already called Annie in. She’ll be here in 10.”
“Good, then you and I can sit down and chat.”
He shot her a worried glance but said nothing. Once the young waitress arrived, looking like she’d just crawled out of bed, Niles made Lynette and himself a latté then they sat down at a back table. He let out a long, weary sigh.
“That’s the problem with this business. Drought one day, flood the next and it always seems to rain when I haven’t got any staff on.”
“Such glorious weather, Niles, surely you expected it to be busy today?”
He shrugged. He clearly had no business acumen, and had probably avoided putting staff on to skimp on costs. She decided not to go into any of that, it wasn’t her raison d’etre. Instead, she asked about Barbara.
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know what she was like.”
“I thought you guys knew her.”
“So did I, but I’m wondering whether there was another side to Barbara that we didn’t know.”
She took a sip of the latté, nearly burning her tongue in the process and pushed it aside to let it cool down. Lattés were not supposed to be boiling hot, she wanted to tell him, but again she resisted. There was no saving this guy from himself.
Instead she said, “It’s just that we seem to be getting such diverse descriptions of your sister. I wonder whether the side she showed us at the book club might be very different to the side she showed others.”
He looked confused and rubbed his tired eyes.
“I just want to know what she’s really like, Niles. Not the saccharine, air-brushed studio photo version. I want to know about the real Barbara Parlour. Tell me about her.”
He stopped rubbing his eyes and thought about this for a moment. “My sister was... is...” He paused again, looking suddenly distraught. “Jesus, I don’t even know how to refer to her anymore. You think she’s okay?”
She shrugged. She couldn’t offer him that solace, she didn’t know.
“Alright, let me start again. Barbara is a good person, she’s just made a few bad decisions in life.”
“Like Arthur Parlour?”
“Exactly. You’re not supposed to talk ill of the dead and all that, but the man was a prick, excuse my French. All he cared about was being the Big Cheese in society. I told you he was turning politician, right?” She nodded. “He would’ve been right at home with those scumbags. Slept around on her, too. Made her furious.”
“Did he ever hit her?”
Niles looked surprised. “Christ no. I woulda smashed his face in if he even tried.” He caught himself and stopped. “But I didn’t! I mean, I never touched the man—”
“Yeah, I know, we’ve been through that.” She wasn’t in the mood for his innocent victim routine today. The ocean outside was beckoning. “So why did your sister stay with Arthur if he was so unfaithful?”
“Didn’t really have a lot of choices. I mean, we’re not old money you know. Come from the wrong side of the tracks. Neither of us is very educated, never ma
de uni, and I know for a fact that Barbara doesn’t want to have to work again. She tried her hand at acting once or twice but prefers to be a lady of leisure.” There was slight disdain in his voice then. “Guess it was just easier to stay with him. Giant house, steady income all that.”
“Couldn’t she sue him for divorce? Take him for half his money and set herself up somewhere else?”
“And then do what? Plus she had Holly to consider.”
“But Holly’s practically an adult, she’s 16. She’d be fine.”
“I dunno.” He hesitated. “There was something, um, bitter about my sister I s’pose you could say. She was always angry at Arthur but, I dunno...”
“What, Niles? What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t quote me on this.”
Lynette held up her hands. “Do you see a tape recorder? A camera? I’m not a reporter, Niles, I’ve told you that before. I’m a friend.”
“I know. Look, I love my sister, I owe her big time, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wondered whether the real reason she kept helping me out with loans was to get back at Arthur. She certainly made sure he knew about it. Rubbed his face in it all the time. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think my sister’s loathing of her husband fuelled her, gave her purpose, you know? Well, that and this café of course.”
“And Arthur had no problem with her using his money to pay your bills?”
He began massaging the line between his eyebrows. “He had no choice. I guess you could call it guilt money.”
“So let me see if I’ve got this straight. Are you saying your sister enjoyed splashing Arthur’s money about? Did it to taunt him?”
He stopped massaging and shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon she did. I remember she bought a giant ruby ring once, ugly reddish black thing in a clunky gold casing. When I commented on it she just laughed and told me she doesn’t even like rubies, just wanted to stick it to Arthur. As I say, I love my sis, but she ain’t no saint, that’s for sure.” Niles’ tired eyes looked imploring. “Do you think she’s okay? Still alive, I mean?”
It was the second time he had asked and Lynette suddenly felt pity on him and placed a hand over his.
“I honestly don’t know, Niles. I’d like to say yes but I have no idea. That’s why I’m here. Is there anything else you can tell me about your sister? Anything that might help?”
He thought about this for a few minutes, glancing back out to the café, which was starting to fill up again. “Not that I can think of.”
“Fine, well, you’ve got my number if you think of anything at all. No matter how small, just call me, okay?”
“Okay, look, I better get back.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
“Hang on, how much do I owe you for today? For helping out?”
He reached into his pocket as if going for his wallet and she waved him away.
“Don’t be stupid. Just shout me the coffee, okay?”
He nodded a silent thank you, his hands together prayer-like, then dashed off towards an incoming customer while Lynette gathered her stuff and headed for the beach outside.
The sun was now much stronger and Lynette dumped her towel on the warm, white sand and slipped out of her sundress to reveal a pink and white-checked bikini underneath. Several men around her turned to stare, mesmerised by her milky brown skin and long, lithe legs, but Lynette did not notice. She rarely noticed the attention she got from men, unless of course they were older, richer and ready to promote her to ‘Princess’ status and pop her on a pedestal. Then she would turn to them with a wide smile, flick her silky blond hair, and step on up.
Lynette expected complete adoration from the men she dated. The problem with this arrangement, at least as far as her older sister was concerned, was that it never lasted long. Eventually the richer, older bloke would start treating Lynette less like royalty and more like the human being that she actually was, and Lynette would grow indignant and dump him for another pedestal-wielding, gift-offering, flower-thrusting, older, richer man. And so the vicious cycle continued.
For now though, men of all persuasions were far from Lynette’s mind as she lathered herself in sunscreen then strode into the water for a dip. It was glorious. As she lay on her back, the ripples bobbing her about, she considered what Niles had just told her, and she began to see a pattern. There was another side to Barbara Parlour, a darker, more devious side that she had clearly not shown to the Book Club. To them, she had appeared soft, nervous and vulnerable.
Just like a victim.
Yet Niles described a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was very much in control. Almost into playing games, she thought. In fact, hadn’t he mentioned that she used to act, once? That correlated with something both Arthur and Wanda had said of Barbara. They had both called her a drama queen.
Lynette stood up with a start nearly toppling over an ogling body-boarder nearby.
Had Barbara been playing a role with the Agatha Christie Book Club? Hiding her true self? Acting like someone she was not? And if so, why?
As Lynette strode back to her towel and laid down on it to dry, she couldn’t help wondering who—or what—it was that Barbara Parlour was trying so desperately to hide.
An hour later, as Lynette gathered her things to go, she heard the jangling of keys in her handbag. It surprised her. She hadn’t taken Alicia’s car and her house key did not make that much noise. She reached in and realised then that she must have inadvertently popped Niles’ keys in her handbag after fetching the supplies from his car. She groaned, not in the mood for more of his self-pity and puppy dog eyes, then reluctantly headed back towards his café. As she did so, the bell that had been ringing in the back of her head began clanging louder and louder.
That’s when it hit her, and she stopped and gasped, shaking her head.
It couldn’t be.
Lynette detoured around the café to the back car park where she took a closer look at Niles’ BMW and gasped again. It had dark, tinted windows and there were several dents along the left side, some paint missing where it had clearly collided with something.
Or someone.
A shot of electricity raced through Lynette’s body as she recalled Missy’s words after her hit and run a few weeks ago: “All I could see was an old dark-coloured BMW... it had dark, Drug Dealer Windows.”
“Hey, you’re still here!” came Niles’ voice from the kitchen door and Lynette swung around to see him watching her closely, his hands in his pockets, an inscrutable expression on his face
“Oh, um, I forgot to get your keys back to you,” she stammered, her heart pounding as she tossed them across the car park to him.
He caught them in one hand. “Thanks. You off now?”
She nodded, hesitated then took a deep breath. Alicia would never forgive her if she didn’t ask.
“So what happened to your car?” She indicated the dented side and tried to sound casual.
He shrugged. “No idea. Just found it like that.”
“Really?” Casual had turned to accusing.
“Yeah, really. Why?” A dark look crossed his eyes.
“You didn’t accidentally hit something... or someone?”
He stared hard at her. “Course not. I’d remember something like that wouldn’t I? What’s this about?”
“I’m just wondering how you could dent your car so badly and not notice,” Lynette said trying to sound light.
“Obviously some idiot must have side swiped me while I was parked and didn’t bother to leave their details,” he spat. “Not my fault.”
No, she thought, nothing ever is. Lynette studied his face, unable to read him. Did he look culpable or just confused?
She decided to leave it for now; she was not even sure how any of this fitted in with Arthur’s death or Barbara’s disappearance. Why on earth would Niles try to hurt poor Missy? How could that help with either of those outcomes? It had Lynette’s head spinning, and her head had been doing way too mu
ch spinning today, so she decided to let it rest for now.
Besides, Niles might look exhausted but he could still beat her in a punch up. Of that she was certain.
Lynette waved him goodbye and turned to go, but as she left him standing there, staring strangely at his car, she couldn’t help wondering if Niles Blakely was as innocent as he made out.
Chapter 26
As Alicia entered work late that same Monday morning, she made a decision that surprised her. She was not going to go to Woollahra today, she was not going to chat to Rosa Lopez or have anything to do with Barbara Parlour and her murdered philandering husband. Not today. Today she was going to do as Claire and Lynette had done yesterday, and take a well-earned break.
Perhaps in his own infuriating way, Anders was right. She was taking it all too seriously. Perhaps she needed some distance if she was going to get some perspective. Besides, her editing work was really starting to pile up.
At the front desk she waved a quick hello to Ginny who was flirting with a spandex-clad courier from Deliver it, Express! He was holding a bike helmet in one hand and popping her details into his phone with the other, and she had to shake her head as she made her way to her desk. Ginny certainly didn’t muck around.
She wouldn’t be sitting around pining for a married doctor, she thought.
After her computer whirred to life, Alicia watched a seemingly endless stream of new emails begin cluttering her inbox. She chose to ignore them as she set to work, putting the final details on the Lady Gaga magazine and trying hard to concoct some witty coverlines. It was tricky coming up with great lines when you were dealing with a vacuous pop star, and she battled to keep the sarcasm from her tone.
Gaga for Gaga had been done to death and she didn’t think anyone would appreciate The Lady is a tramp. She sighed and kept thinking...
Two hours and countless exclamation marks later, she put the cover aside and turned back to her email. Better clear the inbox before it spills over, she thought, picking through the messages as you would a carcass, looking for the tasty morsels and dumping the spam.
The Agatha Christie Book Club Page 19
