Fair enough. “It’s not like I would have written anything awful,” she said, but let it drop. Glossy magazine would have plenty more stories where that came from. She hoped. “Okay, I’d better fly. I want to see if I can grab Annika before she disappears again.”
Roxy had just spotted the widow walking around the side of the house, from the direction of the stables, her dog Coco nipping at her heels.
“Okay, but before you go,” said Olie and she stiffened, afraid she’d lose the line again.
“Yes?”
“Be careful around that Sam guy. You may think he’s innocent but ... well ... just keep a wide berth, okay?”
Why do people keep saying that? She thought moodily. “I’ll be fine,” Roxy told him, knowing she would be doing exactly the opposite of what he was advising, and not caring in the slightest.
Chapter 28
Annika Moody might have given the go-ahead for the Moody Roos book, but she wasn’t about to help kick it into motion. “I really don’t have the energy for that right now,” grumbled Annika. “Plus, I have to see that detective with the lovely blue eyes. He has questions, apparently.”
Roxy wasn’t sure if she was referring to Quick or Wiles. “I didn’t think you were meeting the detectives for another hour.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to have some breakfast first.” She sighed resignedly. “Come back later today or tomorrow. I might have some time then.” She went to walk off, then halted. “Where have you moved to? Houghton tells me you’ve cleared out of the bails.”
No thanks to you, Roxy wanted to say but said, instead, “Oh, I decided to give you guys some space. I’ve booked into Bindi’s Hideaway, not far from here.”
Annika considered this for a moment, then shrugged and swept past her, yelling out, “Coco, come!”
Houghton had been watching the exchange and cringed. “Sorry about that, Roxy. You could head over to the studio, bail up Al, I’m pretty sure he’s still there.”
She glanced at the time, picked up her handbag and recorder and said, “I might leave Al for now. I spoke to him the other day so he’s not my first priority. I might try the drummer instead.”
“Whoops, no can do. You just missed him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sorry, while you were talking to your agent, he cleared off, back to his beach pad. He’s rarely here if he can help it.” His eyes lit up. “You could follow him down, he’s probably not doing much.” He scribbled an address onto a slip of paper and handed it across. “If he’s not there he’ll be on the surf, out the back of his house. One way or the other you’ll track him down.” His eyes swept out to the lawn and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Isn’t that your copper friend? What’s she up to?”
Roxy followed his gaze and spotted Gilda striding towards the house, from the direction of the thick forest that lay between the Holloway and Moody properties. Dropping her things back onto the table, Roxy skipped down the steps to join her friend out on the lawn, close to the sooty patch where the bonfire had burned so brightly just three nights earlier.
As she walked, she noticed the stage was still cordoned off with police tape, but Jed’s guitar and amp were no longer there. Wiles must have taken them away as evidence.
“Morning, Missy!” Gilda called out as she approached. “How’d your grilling go? I hope Wiles was gentle as a lamb.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not Wiles I worry about. Quick is the one who bites. Really, the man’s got serious issues.”
Gilda laughed. “He knows he dropped the ball with Sunny Forrest and he knows you’re the one who pointed it out, so he’s never going to be your best friend, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not.” Roxy looked past her to the forest. “What have you been up to out there in the wild yonder?”
Gilda smiled mischievously. “I’ve been checking the pathway between the studio and the creek where Sunny was found. Did you know it takes precisely eight minutes to get from the studio door to the front of that romantic hutch?”
“Not too far for a muso to stumble in the dark then to meet his mistress?”
“Indeed. But that’s not the interesting bit.”
“Oh?”
“I found some jewellery at the hutch.”
Roxy’s brain ticked over. “Is it a Moody Ring?” It had to be Sunny’s missing jewellery.
Gilda’s smile dropped. “What? No, not quite.” She produced a plastic bag from her jacket pocket and Roxy peered inside to what looked like a bit of string with tiny chunks of bright powdery rock attached.
“What is that?”
“That, my dear, is one of those ridiculous edible necklaces we used to wear when we were kids. Remember? They’re made of candy and you hang them around your neck and chew away. Dentists must have loved those things. They probably invented them. Haven’t seen one in years.”
“I have,” Roxy said, her brain ticking in a different direction now. “Where exactly did you find it?”
“Just outside the door of the hutch, under a clump of leaves. Easy to miss if you don’t follow the line of ants that were making a quick meal of it... I had to flick them off first. That was no mean feat.” She mock shuddered.
“Do you think it was dropped there recently?”
“Take a look at it. Any later than a week and the weather or the ants would have demolished the evidence. They’re hard workers, those critters, but I thwarted them today.” She looked impressed with herself, like she’d taken on vicious gangsters and won. Arching her blonde eyebrows, Gilda said, “Why? Where did you last see one of these?”
“I think I saw one hanging around the neck of a very young, very pretty blonde girl named Asha, who also happens to be the daughter of the local mayor.”
“Really?” Gilda’s eyes lit up.
“Really! Just the other night... The night Jed Moody was killed. I can’t be sure, but it looks similar to one she was chomping at.”
“Veddy veddy interesting. Perhaps Asha was Jed’s latest conquest.”
Roxy glanced around. “Don’t let Houghton hear you say that. He’s adamant they weren’t sleeping together, but the way he went on and on about it the other night, it makes me wonder.”
“The man doth protest too much?” Roxy nodded and Gilda asked, “Could Asha and Jed have rendezvoused at the hutch before his gig?”
She thought about that. “I can’t see how. She arrived with her dad quite late as far as I could tell. About fifteen, twenty minutes before Jed went on stage. I didn’t catch her movements after that. If they had met up it would have to have been a quickie. Like I’m talking lightning speed.” She did the maths. “Eight minutes there, eight minutes back. They would have had just a few minutes alone before he returned to the stage. Seems a bit illogical.”
“Ah yes, but perhaps she had a taste for these, wore a different one that night. They could easily have met up the night before or the night before that.”
“That’s true. Jed was in his studio the night I arrived; he’d been there all the night before, too. Working late apparently. So, what? You think maybe Annika caught them at it and it was the final straw? She was certainly in a foul mood that night I arrived. After what had happened with Sunny, maybe she couldn’t take any more.” Roxy began clicking her fingers. “You know, I did see the mayor’s daughter rushing into the middle of the crowd after Jed hit the stage, looking a bit flushed. He could easily have been staring at her when he dedicated the song to ‘the love of my life’.”
Gilda looked doubtful. “Really? A teenage kid is the love of Jed Moody’s life? I find that hard to believe. The man’s had his pick of women for several decades, and he settles on one who thinks candy necklaces are the height of fashion?”
Roxy cocked her head to one side. “Hang on a minute. I thought you were focusing on Sunny’s death, not Jed’s.”
“Ah, but maybe this necklace is the link between the two.”
Before she co
uld elaborate, Gilda gave Roxy a pointed look and pocketed the bag just as Houghton came stumbling across the lawn.
“You two look very intense out here. What’re you up to?”
Gilda smiled. “Mr. Houghton, just the man I was looking for. I wonder if I can have a moment of your time?”
“Me? Why?”
“Just need to ask you a few questions about Sunny Forrest’s death, if you don’t mind.”
His demeanor shifted and he began flicking glances back at the house. “Oh, well, sure, but I can’t see what I’d have to say that could help you. I wasn’t around when the poor girl drowned.”
“Still. Shall we go back to the house?”
He mumbled something and led the way back to the veranda, and Roxy decided to join them, intrigued by what Gilda could possibly glean from the band’s publicist. That’s as far as she got.
“Thanks, Roxy. I’ve got it from here,” Gilda said and Roxy frowned.
“Oh, of course, right.” Damn it, Gilda was chucking her out. “I’ll go and see if I can have another chat to Alistair while he’s still around.”
Houghton looked like he wanted to flee with her, and she couldn’t help chuckling as she left him in the hands of the inimitable Gilda Maltin.
When Roxy got across to the recording studio, she found the front door partially ajar and tapped loudly a few times before slowly pushing it open. It was exceptionally heavy and twice as thick as a normal wooden door.
“Hello!” she sang out. “Anyone here?”
The place appeared to be empty and Roxy’s voice was swallowed up by the acoustics of the room, which were dull and flat. The air was musty and the place smelled like mouldy leather and stale tobacco. She glanced around. The space had been divided into two and there was an enormous Neve mixing console in one room, just in front of a wide window made of two panes of thick glass and looking out at the lush green forest. She looked through the window, wondering if you could see the hutch from here. If Roxy’s calculations were correct, it had to be straight through those trees beyond.
An upright office chair sat in front of the mixing desk and behind it, a large, shabby black leather sofa with a small coffee table laden with music magazines, beer bottles and, surprise, surprise, an overflowing ashtray.
Both rooms were cluttered with musical instruments of all kinds, from tambourines to old banjos. She spotted at least twelve guitars, some hanging from the walls, others perched on guitar stands at various spots, and in the live room an enormous drum kit almost filled the space. She also spotted numerous amplifiers, speakers, microphones and what looked like a workbench against a wall with a range of tools including screwdrivers, an electrical hand tool of some sort, crimping tools and wire cutters. Above the bench she noticed a thin black telephone attached to the wall.
Roxy’s eyes widened. Was that phone connected to the line in the main house? Had the voice she overheard been coming from in here?
“Rox!”
Roxy was caught by surprise and her heart nearly leapt out of her throat before she realised Gilda was standing at the studio door, ushering her across.
“I’ve just received word that Macker Maroney is down in Byron, at the local paper. I want to grab him before he takes off again. Feel like a drive?”
Roxy smiled. “Sure, there’s a surfer dude I need to pop in on while we’re there.”
On their way through the hinterland down to the coast, Roxy took the opportunity to tell Gilda about the strange phone conversation she had overheard while at the Moody house. Gilda didn’t seem nearly as excited by it.
“Most people are wary of cops,” she said. “Someone telling his mates to stay away is not that unusual.”
“Yes, but he said something about not wanting to get busted.”
“So, they could’ve been talking about sharing a joint or something. These are musos, after all.” Then, sensing Roxy’s disappointment, asked, “Any idea who it was?”
“He sounded familiar. I’ve heard his voice before, but he didn’t say enough for me to place it. I do know the two band members, Alistair and Doug, were there at the time, as was the man from the Goddess Café. Hans, I think his name is. He does some cooking for Annika, but get this...” She paused for effect. “He was getting the heave ho, apparently, before Jed died. Houghton reckons they could no longer afford him. Maybe it was Jed’s idea to sack him, so Hans bumped him off.”
“What? To keep his job?”
“Maybe he had grown accustomed to working in the big house. Didn’t want to slum it down at the local café anymore. He does have access to the property, he’s the cook, can come and go as he pleases.”
“But can he rewire an amplifier so it electrocutes someone? He’s just a cook, after all, right?”
She chewed mercilessly at her lower lip then said, “I know, I know. I’m grasping at straws again.”
Gilda laughed and filed it away in her brain anyway, then said, “Houghton’s a nervy character. I wonder what he’s hiding.”
“Could just be another person wary of cops.”
“Touché!” Gilda responded, then flashed her a smile. “Do you know Mr. Houghton reckons he, too, knew nothing about Jed and Sunny’s affair before Sunny showed up dead. Like Govinda, he insists he only found out about it after Sam showed up and starting making waves.”
“Do you believe him?”
She snorted. “He’s a publicist, darling! I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”
Chapter 29
The editorial office of the Valley Times looked exactly like what you’d expect of a small-town, small-time, free newspaper. Squashed into a few shabby rooms above a chemist on a side street, there were stacks of old newspapers against every available wall, desks crammed against each other and, despite it being the weekend, several flustered-looking newshounds madly typing away at aging PCs. The woman on the front desk looked as frazzled as the drudges, and completely unfazed by Gilda’s badge.
“I dunno,” she told her, barely looking up from her screen, a phone wedged to one ear, chewing madly at some gum. She nodded her head towards the inner sanctum of the office. “He’s in there somewhere, help yourself.”
“Thank you,” Gilda said, and then asked Roxy, “Can you spot him?”
Roxy peered around the corner and smiled. “Yep, second desk along, got his head in a girlie mag, of course!”
Macker Maroney was the only person in the office who did not look busy. He had his legs crossed up on the desk and was slowly flicking through a copy of a sleazy men’s magazine while the chaos whirled on around him. When Roxy approached his desk, he looked up with a frown that quickly broke into a seedy smile.
“Wondered if you’d come good. Got something for me?”
She smiled smugly. “Yes, I do, as it happens. Macker Maroney meet Detective Gilda Maltin.”
Macker also didn’t look too perturbed by the detective’s presence, simply shifted his eyes to her and said, “This about Jed Moody?”
She shook her head. “Sunny Forrest. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
He slammed the magazine shut and dropped his legs to the floor. “Sunny? Sam’s sister? What about her?”
“Is there a meeting room somewhere or would you prefer to chat right here?” Gilda glanced around at the staff, all of whom had ceased typing and were now openly watching this exchange.
Macker stood up, snatched his cigarettes from the desk and turned towards a man two desks along. “Hey, Gazza! Just buzz my mobile when the proofs come back, yeah?”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode out of the office, past the receptionist and down the stairs to the street, his scrappy ponytail swishing behind him. Gilda and Roxy let him lead them to a café called Hobo just half a block down from the chemist. He was clearly a regular because he simply held a finger in the air and the barista nodded then raised his eyebrows at the women.
“Two large lattés, thanks,” Gilda told him, then followed Macker back to a table on the pavement.
He sat down and instantly lit up, and Roxy stared at the generic cigarette box on the table but couldn’t quite read the brand name.
“Do you mind if I bum a ciggie from you?”
He looked surprised by this, as did Gilda for that matter, then pulled a cigarette out and handed it to her before pocketing the box.
Roxy surreptitiously checked the brand printed along the butt. It was Marlborough. Now why did that not surprise her? She flashed a small smile at Gilda who was watching her intently and the detective nodded then turned to Macker.
“What can you tell me about Sunny Forrest’s death?”
“You reopening the investigation?”
She ignored his return question and fired another one off: “Did you know Sunny Forrest personally?”
He dragged on his cigarette again and gave this some thought. “Sure. She used to hang at the Goddess Café. I got to know her a bit.”
“Really?” This was Roxy now, sounding unconvinced.
He looked at her. “Sure, she was a pretty girl. Why not?” He turned his eyes back to Gilda. “You know, you’re not bad looking yourself, you’d take a decent photo, if you wanted to. Got curves in all the right places.” His muddy eyes lingered on those places and Roxy felt like jumping across the table and snotting him, but Gilda didn’t flinch, just stared at him deadpan, her own eyes cold and unwavering. Despite this, he pulled a business card from his top pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. “Call me, we could work something out.”
Gilda sighed now, as though bored beyond belief. “Did you ever see Sunny Forrest with Jed Moody? Maybe at the café? Maybe elsewhere?”
He smirked. “Nah, they weren’t that obvious about it. I mean, he was an arrogant bastard, but he wasn’t that arrogant. Annika would have killed him.” His smirk deepened. “Perhaps she did.”
Gilda waited for the barista to place their coffees down and leave before she said, “So how did you know they were seeing each other?”
His smirk dropped a little. He reached for his espresso and took a sip. “I have my sources.”
Note Before Dying (Ghostwriter Mystery 6) Page 18
