by Morgana Best
I did as she asked. I rifled through paper after paper. I found a bunch of old photos, which I threw in the box at my feet.
Aunt Agnes and I were packing the second box when Aunt Maude and Aunt Dorothy burst into the room. “You’ll never guess what we found in the safe!” Maude said, her eyes wide in horror.
Chapter 8
“What did you find?” I asked.
Aunt Maude shoved a bunch of photographs at me as well as a DVD case. “I’m afraid the case is empty, but there’s an image on the cover.”
Aunt Agnes put a hand over my eyes. “Valkyrie’s not even a hundred years old yet! You can’t show that to her!”
“Why not?” I protested, managing to push her hand away. I stared at the cover of the DVD tape in shock. “Is that Karen Killian? And who’s that man she’s with?”
“It’s obviously a sex tape,” Aunt Agnes said. “It was just as I thought! Gorgona and Ethelbert were blackmailing Karen as well.”
“And we can add that man to our suspects list,” I said.
Aunt Agnes peered at the photo. “We’ll need a magnifying glass.”
“That’s rather unkind, Agnes!” Aunt Maude said.
Aunt Agnes rolled her eyes. “For his face, Maude.”
Aunt Maude looked embarrassed. “Oh yes, I see.”
“Well, I’m pleased that we have another suspect, at any rate,” I said.
“Was there anything else in the safe?” Agnes asked the other aunts. “Jewellery? Valuables?”
They shook their heads. “Just all these photographs and that DVD,” Aunt Maude said. “There are lots of photos of Killian Cosgrove and Mrs Mumbles as well.”
“We know about those,” Agnes said. “What a shame the DVD case is empty.”
“We found lots of loose DVDs and put them in a box. Maybe one of those is the sex tape.” Aunt Dorothy handed a piece of paper to Agnes. “Oh, and we weren’t sure what this meant.”
I looked over Aunt Agnes’s shoulder. “What does it say?”
Aunt Agnes handed the paper to me. “It says Joyce Batson was late with a payment.”
I raised my eyebrows. “A payment? Does that mean they were blackmailing her too?”
Agnes shrugged. “It seems like it, unless maybe they sold her an expensive antique and she was paying it off. I’ll have to question Joyce.”
I knew Aunt Agnes was fond of the local antique dealer, so I fervently hoped she wasn’t the murderer. It seemed we were no longer short of suspects, at any rate. I looked up to see Aunt Agnes waving her hand at me.
“Let’s look for Gorgona’s altar room.”
I frowned. “Do you think there will be incriminating evidence about The Other in there?”
Aunt Agnes paused, her hand to her chin. “The very fact that Gorgona made us executors leads me to believe she kept all incriminating evidence elsewhere. Sure, she didn’t expect to be murdered, but still…” Aunt Agnes pulled a potion from her handbag. “I’m sure the room will be protected by very nasty spells and hexes.”
We found the altar room at the end of a long corridor. Aunt Agnes pointed to the pulsating golden symbols covering the door. “I don’t like the look of this, not at all. I’ll deal with it, and the rest of you put all the paperwork you can find into boxes. Quick, we have to work fast.”
Aunt Maude, Aunt Dorothy, and I worked feverishly, putting all the documents we could find into boxes. There were plenty of bedrooms in the house, as well as the study, and the huge safe in the garage. We had only just stuffed the last box into the truck when Jezabeth drove up behind us.
“Perfect timing,” Aunt Agnes said with a sigh of relief.
“Did you make a copy of the key for Hemlock?” Jezabeth demanded by way of greeting.
Agnes handed the key to her. She took without thanking her and looked around for her daughter who was just getting out of the car. Hemlock took a cigarette out of her mouth and threw it into the gutter before stomping on it. I figured it contained more than nicotine. Hemlock sauntered over to us. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “You’re not a beneficiary!”
“I’m helping,” I countered.
She shot me a malicious look. I thought she looked like a Pekinese dog. I quite liked Pekinese dogs, but it wasn’t a look that sat well on a human face. Her bottom lip jutted out in a petulant fashion.
“Well, I’ve gotta move into my house now. Catch youse later.”
She trudged up the front stairs.
“We haven’t finished inside yet,” Aunt Agnes called after her.
Jezabeth swung around towards Agnes, her hands on her hips. “You haven’t finished yet? What have you been doing all morning?” Her eyes narrowed with nastiness. “You’ve made poor Hemlock upset. You’re making her feel like an unwelcome houseguest.”
“She is an unwelcome houseguest,” I muttered, but Aunt Agnes elbowed me.
“Jezabeth, might I remind you that the will did not mention anybody staying in the house. If Hemlock is to stay in the house, she will have to abide by our rules. She can’t smoke or consume any illegal substances while in the house, and she will have to obey the law.”
Jezabeth waved one hand at Agnes in dismissal. “Of course, of course. You wouldn’t get a nicer person than dear Hemlock. She is always thinking of others. Why, look what she’s done for you over the years!”
“What has she done for me over the years?” Aunt Agnes said, clearly confused.
Jezabeth looked off into the distance and bit her lip. Finally, she said, “Lots of things. Well, come inside if you must. I hope you won’t be here for long.”
We all followed her inside. I thought she would object to me going into the house, but she didn’t. “What have you taken out of the house?” she asked Agnes, her tone full of suspicion.
“Only legal documents,” Aunt Agnes said as quick as a flash.
“Did you take the jewellery?”
Aunt Agnes shook her head.
Jezabeth turned to her daughter. “Quick, Hemlock, look through your grandmother’s clothes. Sometimes, she had jewellery in her pockets.”
“Any jewellery has to be given to us so we can sort through it under the terms of the will,” Agnes said.
A cunning look passed over Jezabeth’s face. “Yes, of course, of course,” she said with a big wink at Hemlock. “Off you go, Hemlock.”
Hemlock shot us a nasty look. She looked just as much of a troll as her grandmother. As she walked away, I heard her mutter to herself, “There’s bad energy here. This house needs a lot of incense.”
I had never met a more infuriating person in my life. “Go with Hemlock, Dorothy,” Agnes said. “Make sure that she brings any jewellery that she finds out here. In fact, that’s what we should all do now, find all the jewellery and bring it to the kitchen table.”
I went back into the study to search for jewellery. I found two heavy gold bracelets and one teeny gold bracelet which I thought might be fake. That was the only jewellery I found, so I took it back to the kitchen. I didn’t know what else to do, so I waited for the others to appear.
When they didn’t turn up, I thought I’d look through the kitchen cupboards just in case there was jewellery hidden in there. I didn’t find any, but amongst numerous packets of coffee and bottles of caramel syrup, I did find tins of cat food. I went in search of Aunt Agnes and found her in one of the bedrooms, looking through a chest of drawers. “There’s cat food in the kitchen cupboards,” I announced.
Aunt Agnes looked up in surprise. “I thought Gorgona didn’t like pets.”
I shook my head. “Remember, she said Ethelbert hated pets, but she liked them.”
Aunt Agnes tapped her chin with one finger. “No, if I remember correctly, she said she liked pets but said they were too much expense.”
“Then why is there cat food in her cupboards?” I said. “I hope there isn’t some poor kitty in the house. She’d have to be hungry by now, maybe thirsty too.”
“Then we have to look for a cat,”
Agnes said. “Did you see a litter box?”
I shook my head. “Good thinking! I’ll go and look now.”
As I walked out of the room, I looked over my shoulder. “Or maybe she was an outside cat.”
By now, Agnes had her head in a drawer, so I went back to the kitchen. I looked in the laundry room for a litter box but didn’t find one. There was a key in the back door, so I let myself into the back yard. It was a tiny yard, with layers of rock work, and the particularly large house behind it overlooked most of the yard. Jasmine, growing wild, covered most of the rocks and gave off the most delightful fragrance.
“Here kitty, kitty,” I called out. I looked everywhere but could see no cat. There were no food or water bowls set out anywhere. I walked back and reported this to Aunt Agnes.
“It seems she didn’t have a cat then,” Agnes said. “I wonder why she had the cat food?”
I shrugged. “She had cans of cat food and two packets of dried cat food as well as a few packets of cat treats.”
“That is awfully strange,” Agnes admitted.
Just then, Jezabeth called us loudly, telling us to go to the kitchen. We hurried to the kitchen to find the others gathered there. In the middle of the table was a huge pile of jewellery.
“Did your mother own a cat?” I asked Jezabeth.
She narrowed her eyes. “Not as far as I know. Why?”
“There are cans of cat food in the cupboards.”
“Are there now!” Jezabeth’s eyes glittered. “Have they been there a long time?”
“Well, I didn’t check the use by date,” I said, somewhat puzzled by her intense interest. “If there’s a cat, we will have to find it. The poor thing is probably hungry by now.”
“Now, I have something important to say,” Aunt Agnes began. “Jezabeth, I know we mentioned this briefly to you before, but my sisters and I are firmly convinced that your mother was murdered. The police say it was natural circumstances, but let’s face facts—it’s clear she was murdered. Do you want to avenge your mother’s death? Or at least find out who murdered her?”
Hemlock burst into floods of tears. Or rather, she was making sobbing sounds, but I couldn’t see any tears coming from her eyes. “How could you say such a thing?” she cried. “No one wanted to murder my grannie! She was so nice.”
I stared at her in shock. Maybe we were thinking of different people.
Hemlock pushed on. “Everybody loved her!”
Jezabeth patted Hemlock on the back rather too hard. “Hush, Hemlock,” she snapped. “Get a grip.” To Agnes, she said, “Can’t you stop creating all this drama? You’ve upset Hemlock. No one likes drama but you, Agnes, and you’re always causing it. Hemlock is very sensitive to drama. She will get a bout of anxiety with all this drama in the room.”
“Back to the question of your mother’s murder,” Agnes began, but Jezabeth cut her off.
“My mother wasn’t murdered!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “She wasn’t murdered, I tell you! And don’t you dare suggest to the police that she was murdered, because probate won’t be able to go ahead if you do.”
I wondered why Jezabeth was protesting so much. Had she, in fact, murdered her mother, or did she simply want to get her inheritance as soon as possible? I knew in the state of New South Wales that probate could drag on for many months, and if Jezabeth had fallen on hard times, she would want the money as soon as possible.
“Anyway, let’s forget all this talk about my mother’s death by natural causes and let’s turn our attention to the jewellery.”
“We will take the jewellery with us and divide it up later, according to the terms of the will,” Agnes said.
“Not so fast,” Jezabeth said, her eyes glittering with something that could only be greed. “I gave my mother this diamond necklace, so I’m taking it back.” Her hand moved out and snatched the diamond necklace almost faster than the eye could see.
“And my mother promised this heavy gold chain to my dear daughter, Hemlock,” Jezabeth continued. She greedily snatched the thick gold chain.
“But, but each piece would be worth over ten thousand dollars,” Aunt Agnes sputtered.
Jezabeth narrowed her eyes. “What of it?”
“We will deal with all the jewellery later,” Agnes said, shoving it all into a box before Jezabeth could get her greedy clutches on any more of it. “Now, you choose a room, Hemlock. The rooms are all clean and tidy. Don’t go into the other bedrooms while you’re here, so we can make sure they stay nice and clean for sale.”
Hemlock jutted out her bottom lip and pouted. “Sure, whatever. I’ll have my grandmother’s room, the one with the big en-suite bathroom.”
Aunt Agnes rubbed her forehead. “Fine. Try to stay out of the other rooms as much as you can.”
“Why are you upsetting Hemlock like this?” Jezabeth said. “The poor girl has come all this way from Adelaide and you’re making her feel unwelcome in her own grandmother’s house. Hemlock can have the run of the house and do whatever she likes.”
Aunt Agnes stood up and drew herself up to her full height, looming over Jezabeth. “No, I’m afraid she cannot. This is not her house and it’s not your house.” Jezabeth made to protest, but Agnes held up one hand, palm outwards. “You are to receive a share of the house, but Hemlock isn’t. My sisters and I are executors of the will and you will have to do what we say. Otherwise, probate won’t be able to proceed and it will take you a lot longer to get any money.”
Hemlock burst into another bout of fake tears. “Youse are awful,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her cheeks puffed up like cane toad’s and her eyes turned bloodshot. “Why can’t you have any compassion for me? I can’t handle all this drama!” She waved her arms around like a windmill and ran out of the room. I noticed her pockets were bulging and I figured she’d stolen some jewellery when Aunt Dorothy wasn’t looking.
I fervently hoped I never had to be an executor of a will, not when relatives could be as malevolent as this.
Chapter 9
I was sitting in the funeral director’s office along with the aunts, Jezabeth, and Hemlock. The aunts had persuaded me to come along. Aunt Agnes had told Jezabeth that the executors had to attend to make sure the funeral was in accordance with the instructions of the will.
After the funeral consultant lady had introduced herself and shaken our hands, she indicated we should sit opposite her at a white table. Everything in the room was white. Hemlock was seated next to a bowl of white mints. She took a handful and shoved some in her mouth and the rest in her pocket.
“Now, have you brought the clothes you wish your mother to be buried in?” the consultant asked Jezabeth.
“No. It’s not an open casket, so what does it matter what she’s buried in? Nobody is going to peek in and look at her.”
The consultant was visibly shocked.
“But wouldn’t you like an open casket?” asked Aunt Agnes.
“No!” Jezabeth snapped.
“I don’t think it costs any more,” Aunt Agnes said, “but if it does, I’m happy to pay the extra.”
The consultant attempted a smile. “Now, we didn’t have a chance to discuss this on the phone. Who is the minister who will be taking the service?”
“There won’t be a service,” Jezabeth said. “There will just be a burial. In the ground,” she added for good measure.
The consultant’s eyes shot skyward. “No service?” she repeated.
“That’s right,” Jezabeth said. “No service. And she is to be cremated.”
“No, she can’t be cremated under the terms of her will,” Aunt Agnes said. “She left specific instructions that she wasn’t to be cremated.”
“All this drama!” Hemlock said. “Just cremate Grannie, for goodness sake, Aunt Agnes. Honestly, it’s beyond me why you create all this drama.”
Aunt Agnes turned to her. “It was your grandmother herself who asked not to be cremated.”
The consultant spoke up. “Well, she
can’t be cremated if her will expressly asked that she not be,” she said, I thought rather bravely.
Jezabeth fixed her with a steely glare. “All right then, but there won’t be a minister. We will simply bury her.”
“Will there be a service at the cemetery?” the consultant asked.
Jezabeth pointed to Aunt Agnes. “Ask her! She’s got all the answers.”
“Your mother simply asked that she not be cremated, that’s all,” Aunt Agnes said in even tones. “And my sisters and I would like it to be an open casket, but you have flatly refused.”
Jezabeth did not respond, but Hemlock muttered to herself.
“So, which cemetery would you like?” the consultant asked, before reeling off a list of cemeteries.
“One in Lighthouse Bay,” Jezabeth said.
“There are several,” she said, naming them.
As soon as she stopped, Jezabeth said, “That one.”
“Which one?”
“The last one that you said.”
“So, when would you like to see it?”
Jezabeth looked affronted. “See it? Why would I want to see it?”
The consultant appeared rather surprised. “Well, I assume, to see if it’s nice. The cemetery you have chosen has nice flowerbeds all around. It’s quite pretty.”
“I doubt my mother would care,” Jezabeth said in steely tones. “She’s dead. How soon can we have the funeral?”
The consultant pushed a brochure across the table. “I’ll leave the room and call the cemetery. Meanwhile, you can look at the brochure. It has the prices listed at the bottom.” She tapped one fingernail on the brochure.
“This is quite expensive,” Jezabeth complained. “It would have been much better to have had her cremated.”
No one responded. We could all hear the consultant speaking on the phone in the next room, explaining to the cemetery that the relatives did not want to see the gravesite first.
She came back into the room. “We can book you in for the day after tomorrow, if that would suit,” she said. “It just depends whether there is an available coffin.”
