The Agatha Christie Book Club

by Larmer, C. A.

  Barbara’s eyes flared up, a scowl crossed her face. “Stop acting like she’s some sort of saint! Holly never gave me a thought, so why should I consider her?”

  “Because you’re her mother, Barbara. You’re supposed to be the grown up. Or at least, I thought you were.”

  “You don’t know me at all,” she snapped, clunking her teacup down so loudly several people looked around. She took a deep, calming breath of her own. “All I wanted to do was give my husband a wake-up call.” Her eyes suddenly lit up, her mood excited now. “I had been reading a book about Agatha Christie, how she took off and scared her husband half to death. I thought, what a grand idea! I’ll disappear for a bit, see if he even notices.” She smiled. “You can blame Agatha Christie! She’s the one who popped the idea into my head. If I hadn’t read that book...”

  “Is that why you ran down poor Missy?”

  Barbara stopped smiling. “Sorry?”

  “I know you were the one who tried to run Missy over with the BMW.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even own a BMW. As for Missy, why would I want to—”

  “Oh give me a break, Barbara. You recognised Missy that first day at Book Club. Or rather, she recognised you from the library and it freaked you out. I noticed it straight away. Why was that?”

  Barbara was obviously wrestling with her conscience, or what little she had of one, and had turned very quiet so Alicia ploughed on, desperate to keep her talking.

  “We know how it went down, Barbara. Your brother owns the BMW. Lynette spotted it a few days ago at his café with dents all over it. We know that you borrowed it the Tuesday before you hosted Book Club, the Tuesday that Missy got run over. Niles has already confirmed all of this so don’t bother denying it. You pretended your car was playing up and took his Beamer which, conveniently, had tinted windows, and drove back across the Harbour Bridge, waited for Missy’s scheduled lunch break—which you’d already ascertained was at noon because she told us about it at that first book club gathering at my place. Then you tried to kill her.”

  “No! No, I just wanted to hurt her, that’s all.”

  “Why?!”

  Barbara sighed and placed her hands on the table, admiring her long, polished nails as she did so. They looked like they had only recently been manicured.

  “You’re right, I was quite startled to see Missy at that first get together at your place. What are the chances?! She recognised me instantly, of course, from the library, and I panicked that she’d look up my library file and discover I took that bloody book out. The one on Agatha Christie’s disappearance. Then she’d put two and two together and give the game away far too quickly. I needed to buy some time.”

  Alicia dug into her handbag and produced Eleven Missing Days, dropping it onto the table in front of Barbara. The older woman smiled and picked it up.

  “Yes, this is the one.” She flicked through it, a slight smile on her lips. “How ironic. I use a library well out of my local area and I still get busted.” The smile deflated. “But that’s all it was, honestly. I didn’t want to kill her, really I didn’t. I was hoping maybe she’d break a leg or twist an ankle and couldn’t come to the next book club. I just wanted to scare her off until I had set my plan in motion.”

  “So that’s why you joined our club? Hoping to drag us all into your little scheme. Why? Because you figured we’d be inquisitive, mystery-loving types?”

  “Exactly! I needed somebody to notice when I disappeared. I couldn’t rely on Arthur for that. He wouldn’t have reported me missing for weeks. This spa bill would be through the roof.” She smiled, looking shameless again. “I’d been plotting this for ages, was thinking of enlisting my brother in the whole scheme but he can’t be relied on at the best of times. Then I spotted your silly little advertisement in the classifieds. You can’t imagine how excited I was! I had such fun writing to you, all soppy and depressed. I knew I’d hook you in, and I knew my sudden disappearance would catch your eye. You couldn’t help but investigate.”

  Alicia frowned not sure if she was being complimented or criticised. “We were genuinely worried Barbara. We’ve all spent hours and hours on this trying to find you. We’ve neglected our own friends, families, jobs.” She paused and took a sip of her tea, trying again to calm down. “So that number for the battered women’s shelter on the white board—you left that for us to see? To make Arthur look dangerous?”

  “Yes I did, and I make no apology for it. I knew Holly wouldn’t notice. She wouldn’t notice if the bloody house was on fire. Don’t you see, I had to get you guys involved. That’s why I insisted on holding the first club at my house. I needed to plant the clues. I knew you’d spot that kind of stuff and hoped you’d mention it to the police or, better yet, to the press. I wanted Arthur to get a rude shock. I wanted him to come under suspicion, to get questioned and accused of doing away with me. I wanted him to teach him a lesson.”

  “Ahh,” said Alicia. “That’s what you meant the day you disappeared, when you told Jake, the tennis coach, that you had another lesson on. You meant you were about to teach Arthur a lesson.” Barbara nodded smugly. “But it’s just so extreme—”

  “He deserved it! He treated me appallingly. He needed to learn a lesson.”

  “But he never did beat you up, did he?” She shook her head no. “And the scarves around the neck, the nervousness?”

  “All an act. I used to be on the stage you know?”

  There was a sickening blush of pride in her cheeks and Alicia wanted to stand up and swipe it away. “I know,” she said instead. “We all missed that clue initially. Glaring as it was. Everyone told us you were a drama queen; you had a fake Oscar trophy in your lounge room for God’s sake. Yet still we didn’t take it literally. I have to admit, you were good, you had us all convinced. We really believed you were a victim, a vulnerable, hapless victim.”

  “Ha! Never!” She waved a salmon sandwich in the air.

  “So tell me, the mysterious phone call you got the day you hosted Book Club? The hang-up that Lynette and I witnessed...?”

  “That was me.” The blush of pride deepened. “I called from my mobile phone in the bedroom while you were fetching the lemonade in the kitchen. Clever aren’t I?”

  “And your suggestion for that Sunday’s book club, The Mysterious Affair at Styles? Deliberate?”

  She nodded, laughing. “Let’s face it, shall we, I made it pretty damn easy for you! I mean, short of writing it in giant letters in the sky, I was making it all pretty clear that Arthur was a pig. That’s why I can’t believe it took you so long to work it all out.” Then, reading the contempt on Alicia’s face she quickly added, “I had to do all that, don’t you see? I had to make you believe that Arthur was being unfaithful to me. I didn’t know how to show you so I thought, what better way than a series of mysterious hang-ups? And he was you know, he was frightfully unfaithful.”

  “I know, Barbara. That’s what got him killed, remember?”

  Again she glanced away and out to that mountainous view, soaking it in as if she was simply on holidays.

  “So, the newspaper appeal from Rosa Lopez to friends? You?”

  Her eyes snapped back to Alicia. “Of course. Well, Agatha Christie did the same thing. She used the name Teresa Neele of course.”

  “And the jewellery you sent from the Strand Arcade?”

  “Another clue. Agatha got a ring repaired and sent that to Teresa Neele at the Harrogate Hydro. Room number 5. Oh, I had such luck getting the exact same room number as Agatha Christie! I hadn’t expected that! An added bonus. I wanted to follow Agatha’s path exactly, you see, have a little fun while I was at it. It took me weeks and weeks to think through, to plan and devise. That’s why I couldn’t have Missy going and giving the game away too quickly. If she mentioned that book at the next book club it’d be too obvious. I needed it to work, I’d had the most thrilling few weeks planning this whole thing. It had to work!
”

  Then, noticing Alicia’s now unrestrained look of disdain, she quickly added, “I was going to come back! Of course I was. I was going to return like nothing had happened, just as Agatha did, and then Arthur would be off the hook, but maybe he’d appreciate my presence a little more when I got back. I know it’s juvenile, but hell, it worked for Agatha Christie.”

  “Er, no it didn’t Barbara.”

  “Sorry?”

  Alicia took the book from her and turned to the final chapter. “Sure, when Agatha went missing for 11 days, her husband, Archie, was accused of killing her and his adultery was splashed all over the headlines, but afterwards, when he found her at the spa and they returned home, tails between their legs, that was beginning of the end for him. He could barely look her in the face again after that. Archie divorced Agatha soon after and married Nancy. There was no happy ending for them.” She snapped the book shut. “And there’ll be no happy ending for you, either, Barbara.”

  Barbara sighed, scooping up a Turkish Delight. “Oh, well, I never did finish it. It started to get boring...” She popped it in her mouth and proceeded to chew. “But, still, I achieved my goal. Arthur’s name has been sullied. That’s all the happy ending I need.”

  Alicia felt sick to her stomach. “He’s more than ‘sullied’, Barbara. Your husband is dead. He was murdered.”

  “Not by me he wasn’t! I heard that they’re holding Rosa for that. Who knew she was a murderer as well as a traitorous slut?! I knew she was sleeping with him. Well, not sleeping so much as having quickies in the pantry, in the bathroom, behind the pergola. Disgusting, juvenile behaviour. They were worse than Holly and Jake.”

  Alicia’s eyebrows rose.

  “Oh yes, I knew about them, too, but they were a class act compared to my husband and his whore. At least they had the decency to try to hide their affair. But not Arthur and Rosa. Oh, no, they flaunted it! He used to call her his princess. His ‘precious Filipino princess’. Said I was little more than a useless maid. Couldn’t even cook. What was the use of me? They laughed at me. Both of them, all the time. I heard them, giggling behind my back. Well, I showed them! I was the one holding Arthur’s respectability in my hands. I was the one with all the power. Once I was gone, it was all downhill for him.”

  “He wanted you back, you know.”

  “Good. So he should.” She sat forward then, a flicker of doubt appearing in her eyes for the first time. “Really? Did he say that?” Alicia nodded. “Well, I was coming back, you have to believe me, Alicia. I didn’t even mean to stay away this long, it was just going to be a few days... I wrote a letter to my brother, I told him where I was. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t spoken up. It’s very stran—”

  “Niles never got your letter, Barbara. He got evicted from his apartment before it arrived. He has no idea where you are. He’s come under suspicion, too, his café’s about to fold. He’s frantic.”

  Her jaw dropped. “So that’s why he never said anything?” She sat back, giving it some thought, then picked up a scone and shoved it into her mouth, cream smudged across her lips as she chewed. “In any case,” she said, mid-mouthful, “it’s not my fault. I wrote, I tried to explain, I can’t help it if the letter never arrived.”

  As if this somehow assuaged her guilt.

  “That’s not good enough!” Alicia spat now, unable to control her anger any longer. “You could have phoned! Contacted the police. Why didn’t you come forward when they found Arthur’s body on the golf course? Why didn’t you come back and see your daughter through all of that horror?! She’s all alone, Barbara. She’s a mess, an absolute mess, and so is your poor brother.”

  Several patrons were now staring at the table but Alicia didn’t care, and Barbara didn’t seem to notice either.

  “I was coming back!” she cried. “I am... I’m checking out tomorrow, just ask the receptionist!” She dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

  “Not before time.”

  “I... I panicked, that’s all. I... I thought the police might suspect me. I’m not even sure I’ve got an alibi for the time Arthur was killed, I spent most of that day sightseeing, alone. But now, well, now that they’ve pinned it on Rosa...”

  “Now you can slink back and pretend everything is okay?”

  Alicia felt violently sick again. It occurred to her now as she watched the ‘miserable housewife’ stuff herself full of sweets, oblivious to the depth of pain and trouble she had wreaked, that Barbara Parlour had actually been extraordinarily successful. She had achieved the ultimate revenge—her philandering husband was dead, his reputation destroyed, and his mistress was locked up for his murder. She could not have planned it any better. Alicia wondered whether Barbara knew about Wanda’s affair with Arthur. She was certainly not going to mention it, but in any case Wanda, too, had been maimed along the way, her reputation ruined and her marriage in tatters.

  She pushed her tea aside, unfinished and stood up. As she did so, she realised that Arthur, Rosa and Wanda were not the real victims in all of this, just as Archie Christie was not the true victim when Agatha did her own disappearing act all those years ago. In both stories, there was a young girl caught in the middle. Had any of these supposed ‘grown ups’ stopped to consider how their behaviour would impact their child?

  “You’re heading off? So soon?” said Barbara, looking genuinely surprised.

  Had she really believed that Alicia would sit back, sip tea and enjoy the scenery? Alicia shook her head at her again, nothing left to say. Then picked up the book, placed it back it back in her bag and walked away, feelings of anger and disgust bursting to the surface now.

  As she strode out of the majestic hotel and back towards the train station, Hercule Poirot’s words kept echoing in Alicia’s head.

  “Old sins have long shadows.”

  What lingering effect would this have on the already troubled Holly Parlour? That was the true legacy of Barbara Parlour’s deadly charade.

  Part 3

  It was Sunday, 2:10 p.m. The third official meeting of the Agatha Christie Book Club was just getting underway, and the various members of the club were settling into deck chairs in the shady backyard of Perry’s stylish terrace house. He had only recently renovated the place and, unlike many of the old terraces around Surry Hills, it was bright and breezy thanks to strategically placed skylights and an entire glassed wall at the back that afforded a great view of the small, lush backyard. There, Perry had placed an assortment of hors d’oeuvres and drinks, including gin and tonic and a fruit punch.

  His flatmate, the ‘randy author’ he’d warned them about at that first book club, was nowhere to be seen and when Alicia asked about him, Perry exhaled loudly.

  “Jonathan’s in the UK at the mo’, working with the cover designer on his new book.”

  “That’s lucky,” she said.

  “You have no idea,” he replied drolly, disappearing into kitchen before she could enquire further.

  She glanced at Lynette who’d already got the full story and said, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  Several members had brought copies of today’s book, Murder on the Orient Express, but before they started dissecting it, they had the small matter of Barbara Parlour’s reappearance to discuss. No one was interested in fiction when there was a real life mystery to catch up on.

  By now they all knew that Alicia had located Barbara alive and well, but several members still had plenty of questions and were leaning over Missy as she flicked through Eleven Missing Days, the same book that helped click the final pieces of the puzzle into place.

  “So let me get this straight,” said Perry who was still smarting from the whole affair. “Barbara staged her own disappearance, and left a bunch of clues around so we’d be interested enough to investigate? And she got the idea from reading this book about Agatha Christie?”

  “Yep,” said Missy. “That’s why she did all those strange things like get a ring repaired and sent to the hotel where she wa
s staying. It’s exactly what Agatha did all those decades ago. Except, in Barbara’s case she addressed the ring to Rosa Lopez, her husband’s lover, just as Agatha had addressed hers to Archie’s lover. I guess it was to throw suspicion on Rosa. But yes, as Alicia says, she followed the script almost exactly. Get this...” Missy turned to a page that had been marked in the book. “According to this, before she disappeared, Agatha Christie left her wedding ring in her bedroom, then swept out of the house telling her maid that she was going to London.”

  “Ah! So that’s why Barbara mentioned London to Rosa?” said Claire.

  “Exactly. A fantastic red herring if ever I heard one. Agatha was also wearing a fur coat and carrying a large black bag, no luggage. She then drove off and her car was later found dumped near a quarry.”

  “And we know that Barbara took a fur coat, no luggage and dumped her car near a train station,” said Lynette.

  “She really did follow the story, almost exactly to the word,” said Anders, sounding impressed. “That must have taken an amazing amount of planning.”

  “What I find even more amazing,” said Alicia, “was how the same stuff-up that happened to Agatha Christie, also happened to Barbara Parlour.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the letter to her brother. Back in 1926, just before she disappeared, Agatha Christie wrote her brother-in-law a letter telling him she was feeling distressed and going to a spa in Yorkshire. Except he didn’t really take the letter seriously and apparently burned it, so it was never used to help find her.”

  “Oh I see.” said Claire. “That’s similar to what happened to Barbara. She wrote to her brother but that letter also got lost along the way.”

  “He’s got it now though,” Lynette said. “I spoke to Niles a few days ago, and we were right. In her letter Barbara tells him she’s unhappy and going away for a while, to a hotel in the Blue Mountains. But he never got it, so it was no use to anyone.”