Gilda hesitated. “You want to tell me what this is all about? What it’s got to do with Jed Moody?”
“No I don’t, not yet.”
“Right, well, I had a word with Detective Brent Wiles. You remember him? He was the lead investigator on the Gordon Reilly homicide last year.”
Roxy’s brain shot back to a dreadful series of murders that all linked in to the death of an old surveyor and his missing photograph. It was one of several cases Roxy had helped solve over the past few years and it still saddened her to think of it, which she didn’t want to do, not now.
She pushed the memory away and said, “What about Detective Wiles?”
“Wiles is fairly high up at the NSW Homicide Squad and is usually the first one to get on a plane and investigate suspicious deaths around the state.”
Roxy flashed a glance at Sam who was watching her eagerly. “So you guys do investigate homicides outside of Sydney then?”
“Only when the local area command aren’t sufficiently resourced or specifically request our help. Many just don’t have the skills and expertise. It’s a point of contention, but it’s all to do with funding, or lack thereof. I won’t bore you with the politics now but Tweed/Byron is usually one area command that does need our help, whether they like it or not. In this case, Wiles says he never got the call. In fact, he didn’t know anything about Sunny Forrest’s death, not until I gave him a buzz. He was able to take a look at the case file for me, which was really nice of him...” She paused. “You know, I’m surprised he could find the time, to be honest, he’s usually so—”
“What did it say, Gilda?” Roxy’s patience was wafer-thin.
“What? Oh, right, um, I hate to say this, but you might be right. There are some obvious clangers.”
Roxy glanced at Sam again and this time she nodded, then watched as his jaw tightened and he abruptly turned away. “How so?” she said.
“Well, judging from the report, the local detective there put it down to an accident, and never ordered a post-mortem.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Yes and no. Death by drowning is quite a common cause of death.”
“But in a creek?”
“Yes, funnily enough. About 90 percent of all drownings occur in freshwater, Rox. We usually think of the surf when we think of dangerous water, but it gets a bad rap. You’re more likely to drown in creeks, rivers, dams, swimming pools, hell even the bathtub can be bad news, at least for little kids.”
“Okay, so what about a grown woman who knew never to cross a swollen creek?”
“Yet one more reason to order a post-mortem, which the local area commander, Quick, never bothered with.”
“You think he should have?”
“Yes I do. Looking at it now, so does Wiles. It’s like your local bloke made no effort. One brief witness report, but no last sightings and nobody canvassed the area. Plus, she had a fairly suspicious head wound that might have been explained by the drowning, but it might not have. Who knows, it was never investigated further. On the advice of Detective Sergeant Quick, the coroner ruled it an ‘accidental death’ and left it at that.”
Roxy lowered her voice. “Could it have been suicide?”
“Maybe, maybe not. As I say, the head wound is suspicious. In any case, it’s rare for a coroner to rule suicide without strong evidence to support that. And as we know, there wasn’t any evidence.”
“And the cop in charge?”
“Detective Sergeant Quick? I asked about him. Wiles has worked with him once or twice before. Reckons he’s okay, at least he didn’t want to bitch about him to me, but I could read between the lines. It sounds like Quick is one of those slacker cops, looking to ride out the rest of his career in a cushy job in a quiet part of the world. He got posted to the Tweed Heads command about four years ago, probably more for the surf than anything else. Apparently he used to be a pro surfer, before he entered the force. Look, you have to tell me what all this has to do with Jed Moody.”
Roxy explained, “It’s actually more to do with Quick. He’s the one about to look into Jed’s death and I’m just wondering whether he’s up for the job.”
“You’re wondering?”
“Well, let’s just say someone I know has got his reservations.”
“His? Who is this someone?”
Roxy hesitated; Sam was watching her again. “Just someone I’ve met.”
Gilda cleared her throat. “I know something’s up, Roxy, and you don’t seem to want to tell me about it.” Still Roxy remained silent. “I’ve already got my mate Johnno trying to trace this number, but it looks like a ‘prepaid’, which doesn’t help. Just say the words ‘okeydokey’ if you’re in trouble. Just say it.”
Roxy nearly did, she wanted to, but again Sam’s doe eyes seemed to hold her back, and it didn’t help that his gorgeous, faithful dog was also staring at her with his big, wet eyes. She said, “I’m okay, Gilda, really. But I’d be better if I knew this idiot Quick was off the case. Is there anything you can do from there?”
“Not really. As I say, Wiles is the one who usually gets the call when the death is ruled suspicious.”
“But what if Quick rules Jed’s death an accident? Drops it.”
“Oh, he’s not gonna do that! There’s no way they can fudge this one. I’ve finally logged in to the outside world and it’s all over the press. Every celebrity, politician, news groupie is tweeting about it.”
Roxy said, “There’s another problem with Quick. He seems very friendly with Jed Moody’s wife.”
“Friendly as in, ‘seen-her-around’ friendly?”
“More ‘cuddle-and-stroke-hair’ friendly. They were almost intimate. Made me wonder whether they’re best mates, maybe ex-lovers...”
Gilda considered this for a moment. “Okay, well, that might naturally preclude him from the investigation, then again it might not. In small towns, if you prohibit the top cops from investigating their mates, you leave them twiddling their thumbs all day. It’s a bit impractical.”
“Yes, but if it is murder, Annika could be a suspect. Quick can’t be seen to be doing her any favours.”
“Or doing your mate any disfavours, right?” When Roxy didn’t answer, Gilda said, “Look, no matter what happens, the Powers That Be are not going to let this one get swept under the carpet. No way. Judging from the police buzz, it’s sounding increasingly suspicious.”
Roxy glanced back at Sam. She wasn’t sure whether that was good news or not. “What are they saying?”
“I haven’t got all the details yet. I can look into it further for you, if you like.”
“Thank you, that would be great. And I’m sorry for ruining your day off.”
“Nah, I was bored to tears anyway. I’m not real flash at entertaining myself. Was even considering watching Bold & the Beautiful reruns when you rang.”
“So I saved you from a fate worse than death then?”
“I think you did. And I’d like to repay the favour. You have to tell me what’s going on. Are you really okay?”
“Really, I’m fine. But I have to go. Thanks again, Gilda. I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than that, Missy. You owe me the truth.”
“One day,” she said softly, then hung up.
Sam made his way back over, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes hopeful, so she relayed what Gilda had said.
“You were right about your sister. Accident or not, it was never investigated properly. Gilda thinks Quick’s a joke.”
His whole mood lightened. It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted and he pumped a fist in the air. “I bloody knew it! I knew it!” He turned back to her. “Now what do we do?”
Roxy held both palms up. “Hey, I don’t do anything, this is your fight, Sam, your case, remember?”
“Yeah, right, of course.” He did not look discouraged.
“Whatever happens, regarding Jed Moody, Gilda says it’s very unlikely Quick will be in charge of the case, a
t least not for long. She says someone from Sydney will probably be sent up to investigate, most likely a detective called Brent Wiles.”
“Good, then hopefully he’ll look at it with fresh eyes, won’t jump to any conclusions.”
She nodded but wasn’t as mollified by this. Despite her instincts, Roxy had to concede that things looked pretty grim for Sam Forrest. And she remembered Detective Inspector Brent Wiles well. He was smart and he was efficient. In anyone’s books, the disgruntled brother Sam was a pretty obvious suspect.
Sam seemed to be considering this too as his shoulders slumped and his face clouded over again. “Want me to drive you back?”
For the life of her Roxy did not. She liked it here and she liked this burly guy with the sad eyes and the faithful mutt. But she nodded anyway and stood up. It was time to get back to the Moody property, to pack her bags and head home. The book was clearly off now and she had lost her taste for it anyway. The more she knew about Jed Moody, the less she seemed to care, and it saddened her.
Roxy had once been so impressed with the rock star and his music. Now, Jed Moody seemed little more than a cliché character from Gilda’s favourite soap opera.
Chapter 16
Roxy and Sam did not say a word to each other the entire trip back. Lunar was seated between them and had taken a sudden liking to the ghostwriter, dropping his soft head onto her lap and blinking up at her with his big dark eyes. She stroked his head gently, not looking forward to returning to Moody Views. She wondered whom she would find there and what would happen next. For ten minutes they simply drove in silence, Sam watching the road, Roxy stealing glances at him from time to time trying to work out what his story really was.
She had always been a softie for the brooding type, but this was one brooder she needed to stay clear of. Despite his declarations of innocence, she had to wonder. Sam had said it himself. He had both motive—a deep hatred for Jed Moody—and opportunity—he was there on the night.
She had also witnessed his anger in full flight, and it was not pretty.
How did she know he was not a killer? How could she be sure of that?
Eventually Sam’s vehicle turned down the long Moody driveway and into the clearing near the house. Roxy noticed that several police cars were still present, as well as two vehicles she did not recognise. The plump officer with the shaved head was hauling boxes out of an unmarked car while the officer with the Hitler mo’ was wading through the garden beneath the veranda, clearly looking for evidence. Two other officers were scouring the ground around the stables.
The plump officer glanced up as they approached then dropped the boxes back into the boot and started speaking into what looked like a walkie-talkie attached to his jacket. Just then, Houghton appeared from the side of the house and came rushing across the grass, arms in the air, as Sam brought the car to a halt beside one of the squad cars.
“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to!” Houghton called, shooting Sam a frown. He opened Roxy’s door. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m fine.”
“It’s just that I brought you some breakfast this morning and you’d vanished. But your car’s still here. Your agent’s been calling; he’s got me all worried. I didn’t know what had happened to you.”
“Sorry, Houghton, I just went for a walk. Thought you guys needed your space.”
“Well, Annie hasn’t even appeared yet, and I wanted to a have a quick word with you, you know, before she gets up. Got a minute?” He stared at Sam again, his disapproval now obvious.
Sam opened his door and got out. “I’ll see you round, Roxy. And thanks again.”
She looked back at him, wondering what to say, how to help. “It’s not your problem, Roxy,” she told herself and simply nodded at him and let Houghton lead her away. She thought he’d take her up to the veranda but they only got as far as her hire car which was still parked beneath the fig tree, and was now splattered with bat droppings and seeds.
“What’s going on there?” Houghton asked, shrugging one shoulder back towards Sam who was leaning against his car while one of the officers strode swiftly towards him.
She shrugged back. “Nothing, I walked to the café, Sam gave me a lift back.”
“Okay, sure, but you know, you’ve been gone for hours, Roxy.”
“It was a long walk.”
He stared at her. “You know he’s a bit of a nutter, right? You do understand that?”
Roxy glanced back to Sam who was now talking with the officer.
“He’s okay,” she said, her tone wavering a little.
Houghton sensed this. “Just be careful, there, hey? He’s not who you think he is, I can tell you that much.” Before she could say anything, Houghton took a step closer and said, “Listen, about Annika.” He glanced around again as if checking she wasn’t loitering close by. “Last night, well, she was ranting about the book being off, wanting you to head home.”
“Of course, I understand that. I’ll pack up and—”
“No! No, no, no, that’s nonsense. She’s just under a lot of stress, that’s all. She’s not thinking straight.”
“But surely, with Jed gone...”
“Now’s the perfect time to bring the book out. In honour of him.”
In honour of your bank account more likely, Roxy wanted to say. “In any case, I’m not sure I’m the girl for the job. I never even got to interview Jed, remember?” Her stomach sank at that. Sure, he might be an unfaithful fool, but he was still one of Australia’s hottest musicians, and she had liked his work. She would have enjoyed interviewing him, sharing his life story with the world. Instead, they never even shared more than a few sentences and a plate of antipasto.
“You’re the perfect person for the job. You were here when Jed died, that’s going to be a great selling point. Terrific for marketing.”
Roxy cringed. Perhaps Macker Maroney was right. Was Jed’s publicist any less sleazy than him?
“I’ve just got to convince Annie of that,” he was saying. “It might take some time. Can you hang around?”
She looked across at the sprawling timber mansion and the lush rainforest beyond. “Well, there’s worse places to hang, I guess.”
He blushed. “Ahh, actually, it’d be better if you ... I dunno... went for a drive today or, if you don’t feel like that, maybe just lob in the bails for a bit. Just until I get a chance to talk to Annie.”
“You want me to hide in the bails?”
“Not hide so much as hang out, chill. I’ll get some food sent across and you can just relax; hey, that’ll be fun!” He brushed his frizzy hair off his face. “It’s just that, well, you know what she’s like? Bit territorial, bit tricky. I think it’d help if you stayed out of sight. Just for a night or so, until I get her on side.”
“You want me to hide in the bails all day and all night?”
He blushed deeper. “If that’s okay.”
“You can stay at my place.”
Roxy swung around to find Sam standing there again, hands by his side, eyes wide. He had a bad habit of sneaking up on her, she thought, and trying to steal her away.
“I thought you buggered off,” Houghton said, his tone indignant.
Sam ignored him and kept his eyes on Roxy. “Quick wants me to come down to the station, got some ‘questions’ apparently.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’d be doing me a big favour if you could take Lunar back to the cottage, give him a feed. I could be a while, don’t want him sitting in the car the whole time.”
“Lunar? Your dog?” Houghton retorted, like he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “Why should she? She doesn’t know you from—”
“That’s fine,” Roxy said, looking down at Lunar who was standing by his master, tongue out, tail wagging. She knew it was a strange request, but the idea of canine company seemed preferable to hiding away from a grieving widow in an old milking shed, even if the shed was incredibly glamorous.
Sam looked relieved.
“Thank you. You are a lifesaver. His food is in the pantry, bottom shelf. Just give him a good feed this evening, and keep his water filled up. I should be back later, hopefully not too late. Help yourself to whatever, use the bed if you want, there’s fresh sheets in the cupboard near the bathroom. Should be enough wood for the fire, but if you need more, there’s a stack of logs at the back of the house, just near the chook shed. You might need to split them; the axe is on the chopping block.” He didn’t bother handing her a house key, as he never locked the place. “You can find your way back? Lot 21, Grears Crossing.”
She nodded, thinking, “What the hell am I doing? I don’t even know this guy.”
As if reading her mind, Sam said, “It’s okay, you already know I don’t bite.” He smiled, tilting his head to one side. “And you know I’ll always bring you back in one piece.”
Then he bent down, gave Lunar a quick hug before staring into the dog’s eyes and saying in a deep, firm voice: “Lunar, stay!”
Lunar didn’t look like he wanted to obey that order, glancing between Roxy and Sam, but he did as instructed anyway, now watching his master worriedly as Sam strode back to his vehicle, got in and drove away. Roxy, too, watched on, wondering what she was thinking. Max had tried for years to convince her to move in and here she was moving into a virtual stranger’s place after just one afternoon together.
Was she having an early midlife crisis?
Chapter 17
“Are you completely nuts?” It was Oliver’s voice on the other end of the line and he sounded as stunned as Houghton by the turn of events.
Roxy’s mobile phone had no network coverage and she had borrowed the Moodys’ landline, a portable phone that Houghton had insisted she use just outside the front door, clearly terrified Annika would stumble across her. Roxy found his behaviour infuriating and it only hardened her resolve to get off the property. Oliver did not sound so convinced.
“You are seriously going to stay at some strange guy’s place looking after his dog. You don’t even like dogs.”
Note Before Dying (Ghostwriter Mystery 6) Page 10
