Roxy sighed. Moral grandstanding was never part of their relationship, so she grinned and said, “I hope he was worth it at least.”
Finally Gilda looked lively. “Oh my God, he was fantastic. I mean, really fantastic.” She buckled over again. “I’m going straight to hell.”
Roxy couldn’t help laughing now. “Well, you’re both grown-ups, I guess you know what you’re doing. Anyway, I couldn’t care less about that. Did you at least get some goss on the Jed Moody investigation before you locked lips?”
“Yes, thank you, I did! But before I get into that, what happened at Sam’s place?” Her eyebrows nudged north from beneath her glasses.
Roxy said, “Unlike you, I behaved myself.”
She half wished she hadn’t. The dinner last night had been beautiful, the conversation effortless, yet she had torn herself away before she drank too much and ended up exactly where Gilda was sitting now. She had congratulated herself on her restraint, been impressed at the way she had avoided lingering eye contact with the man, and managed to flee before things got any cosier than they’d already become. She wondered now why she had bothered. Gilda, however, looked relieved to hear it.
“Good,” she said. “Keep your distance there.”
Roxy felt her hackles rise again. “He’s not a bad guy, Gilda.”
“Yeah, but you don’t really know that, do you?”
“What’s to know? He seems decent. He seems loyal and honest.”
“Er no, that would be his dog.”
Roxy glared at her. “You sound just like my mother.”
“Well somebody’s got to play devil’s advocate.”
“Why?” Roxy demanded. “Isn’t this what you all accuse me of time and time again? What I was constantly getting wrong with Max? Never following my heart, always using my head.”
“And your heart says him? Mr. Beard Guy who lives like a hermit in the bush? Really?”
“So that’s what you’ve got against him? The fact that he has three-day growth and lives all the way out here, so far away from you and Sydney and Pico’s wine bar. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? If Sam had a nicely trimmed goatee and wore an expensive Italian suit and lived in the heart of Sydney you’d be telling me to stop playing it so safe and plunge in.”
“Exactly! But he doesn’t wear a suit; he wears a checked shirt like some kind of country yokel. And he lives out here in Deliverance land and you don’t even know the first thing about the guy. How can you be falling for him so quickly?”
Roxy screamed. “I’m not falling for him! How many times do I have to say that! I just had dinner with him, jeez!” She groaned loudly then took a deep calming breath. “Look, Gilda, I know what you’re saying, but you’re reading ahead. I just like the guy, I enjoy his company, that’s all there is to it. I feel comfortable around him. Like ... I don’t know ... like I’ve known him my whole life, or something. Is that so strange?”
“No,” Gilda said, sighing. To her it sounded much worse than that. It sounded a lot like love.
They stewed in silence for a few minutes, neither woman meeting each other’s eyes, and eventually Gilda said, “Well, do you want to hear what Wiles had to say or don’t you?” It was a truce of sorts.
“Fine,” Roxy snapped, trying not to sound too keen.
But before Gilda could tell her, Bindi came shimmying towards them across the lawn.
“Good morning!” she sang out and Gilda gave Roxy a quick head-shake, suggesting that they would continue the conversation later.
“Morning,” the two women muttered back.
“How are we both feeling today?”
“Good, thanks,” Roxy said, hoping she’d scoot off again just as quickly.
“Did we sleep well?”
Roxy nodded. “Yep, yep.” Clear off, please woman, I’ve got some gossip waiting.
“You have, of course, missed the morning’s yoga session with Chaitanya, but I thought you might like to know she does run individual classes, if you’d like to give her a call.”
Gilda held a hand up firmly. “Not really our cup of tea, thanks, Bindi.”
The woman looked slightly put out. “It would do you the world of good.” Her eyes flittered across Gilda’s washed out face. “She has an uncanny ability to cleanse your inner chakras. To help you unwind and clarify what’s really important in life.” She gave Gilda another pointed look then went to walk away when she remembered something and turned back. “Oh, Ms Maltin. You had a phone call, a few hours ago. I put it through to your room but you didn’t pick up.”
Gilda vaguely recalled an annoying ringing sound at some ungodly hour that morning. So that’s what that was. “Did you take a message?”
“Yes, I did.” She fumbled at a hidden pocket in her flowing yellow kaftan. “Someone called Macker Rooney, I think?”
“Macker Maroney, really?” Gilda flashed Roxy a curious glance. “What did he say?”
She located a slip of paper and handed it over. “He asked you to call him, please, as soon as you get a chance.” She hesitated. “He sounded quite, er, anxious.”
“Like, busy-anxious or needing-the-services-of-Chaitanya anxious?”
She gave Gilda a strained smile then bowed her head and floated off across the lawn, back towards the homestead.
“Interesting,” Gilda said. “I wonder what he wants.”
“Yes, fascinating, but get on with it. I’m on the edge of my seat here. What did Wiles say?”
“What? Oh, well, Wiles is starting to gather a pretty good suspect list. Don’t get too excited, your boyfriend is still up the top somewhere, but Wiles is looking at a few other suspects as well, which is a good thing.”
Roxy’s heart leapt, but she just said, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Gilda smartly ignored this and said, “Wiles tells me the wiring work done on Jed’s amplifier was so dodgy, it doesn’t look like the handiwork of an experienced sparkie. Unless, of course, Sam was trying to shift the blame and deliberately did it badly.” She sat back as though only just considering this. “There is that.”
“No, no, I like the first theory. So who is Wiles looking at now?”
“He’s got his eye on a few people. He’s starting to consider the theory that Jed was killed to put an end to the festivals. Apparently there was a lot of animosity in the community about the plan.”
“So I heard. Houghton told me Mayor Kidlong was dead against it.”
“Yes, although Quick says the tide is turning on that. Apparently a new motion is being put forward at the next council meeting by one of the Greens councillors, and Kidlong may just get out voted.”
“I think I know who that councillor might be.” Roxy quickly filled Gilda in on the news Sam had told her last night, about the way Annika flirted to get what she wanted. “Sam tells me it was one of the young Greens guys that Annika was flirting with inside the house the night Jed died. Sounds to me like she was talking him around.”
“She was certainly doing something to bring him round.” Gilda shuddered visibly at the thought. “Okay, that makes sense. Anyway, it’s not the tree huggers Wiles is looking at.”
“Who then?”
“You won’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
“He’s looking at the Holloways.”
“The farmers next door? Nooo!” This case got madder by the day. “Why?”
Gilda took another, more confident sip of her coffee. “Look, it’s just a theory. One of many that Wiles is developing, and I don’t think he’s got a shred of evidence—”
“Get on with it!”
“Wiles has done some digging around and, well, they may play happy neighbours, but apparently the Holloways have been putting in endless complaints to council about Jed Moody, practically since he moved into the place.”
“About the noise?”
“About everything. There are sixteen official complaints.”
“Sixteen? You’re kidding me?”
She shook her head and began
ticking the points off with her fingers: “Noise, traffic, improper use of the creek, the main road, tree clearing.”
“Tree clearing? You’re serious? There’s barely a twig on their property.”
She shrugged. “The Moodys couldn’t do a thing right. You name it, the old couple complained about it.”
“They must have hated the festival idea.”
“Oh yes, loathed that one big time. Were prepared to take them to court apparently. This is all according to the local council staffers. I think they’ve had a gutful.”
Roxy eyed Gilda’s croissant. “Speaking of which, you gonna eat that?” She shook her head, looked ready to throw up, so Roxy grabbed it and began smothering it in jam. “So why do the Holloways keep going over to the Moodys’ place, acting all buddy buddy?”
“According to Annika, they rarely do go over, despite what it looked like. Wiles believes—and, as I say, he’s still establishing the evidence, I shouldn’t even be telling you this and don’t you dare share this with anyone—but he wonders whether that’s why they went that night.”
“To get rid of their annoying rock star neighbour once and for all.” Roxy replied, putting the pieces together.
“Exactly. They may have come back the next day, pretending to commiserate with the grieving widow, just to check they hadn’t left any evidence behind.”
“And let me guess, John Holloway has the know-how to fiddle with the wires?” Roxy asked, recalling the old work shed they passed when last at the Holloway property.
“Wiles believes so. Apparently Holloway repairs all his own machinery, generators, that kind of stuff. Wiles says he’s got the happy trio—means, motive, opportunity. He’s not a hundred percent certain, of course. It’s early days and there is still the rather important matter of evidence. I’m not sure he’s got any. Apart from all the nasty complaints to council.”
Roxy took a bite of the pastry as she shook her head. “Still, it seems a little out there to me. I would never have picked it.”
“You did, remember? When we met farmer John at the gate? You thought he was hiding something.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think he was a murderer.” She chewed quickly. “How often do people bump off their noisy neighbours? Seems like an overreaction to me.”
Gilda shrugged. “I’ve told you before, I’ve seen people kill for a lot less. Did I ever tell you about the time we arrested a guy for smacking his flatmate across the head with a cricket bat? Didn’t kill him, but he came close. You know what his problem was? He hated his flatmate’s taste in music.” She paused. “Of course, the flatmate was a big fan of One Direction, so there was grounds for an appeal...”
Roxy barely heard this; her mind was racing ahead now. Or rather, back, to the year before, to Sunny Forrest’s death. “John Holloway was the one who found Sunny’s body. Does Wiles think he killed her, too?”
Gilda held both hands up to stall her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Missy. He knows nothing about that. I’ve found no evidence on that score, either.” She finished off her coffee, poured another cup then offered the coffee plunger to Roxy who did the same. “I guess if you think really hard about it, which I’m trying not to do because my head is aching, big time, but if you think about it, Holloway could have killed Sunny in an attempt to put the blame on Jed. Or to try to scare him away...” Her voice trailed off, she didn’t sound convinced.
“Or maybe,” Roxy said, taking up where Gilda left off, “maybe farmer John had nothing to do with Sunny’s death but finding the poor girl really touched a nerve. He did say he’d lost his own daughter. Maybe it was the final straw. Or at the very least it added to a litany of reasons he wanted to see the guy dead. He either felt sorry for Sunny—yet another Moody victim—or he’d just had enough of all the chaos this rock star had unleashed on the neighbourhood. There was no way he could afford to take Jed to court over the festivals. Maybe killing him was the only option.” She sighed. “It must have been a very peaceful world before the Moodys moved in.”
“Boring, more like it.”
A distant cry caught their attention and they both looked back towards the B&B to find Bindi waving her hand frantically in the air. It looked like she was holding a telephone.
“Must be Macker again.” Gilda struggled to her feet.
“I’ll come with you. I’m done here.”
The two women rushed across the lawn and Gilda reached for the phone but Bindi was already handing it to Roxy, who cocked her head to the side and said, “Hello? Who is this?”
“You have really got to get a better phone system!”
She smiled and rolled her eyes at Gilda. “Hi, Oliver, how are you doing?”
“How am I doing? You’re the one I’m worried about. I had quite a time tracking you down. Does your bloody mobile ever work?”
“Not up here, it doesn’t. I’ve told you that before.” She didn’t mention that she was quite enjoying being out of reach. “What’s up?”
“Two things. First up, you never signed the contract.”
“Sorry?”
“Hello? Are you smoking too much of that Nimbin weed? The Moody Roos book, Ms Parker! I need that contract back so we can get started on it. I e-mailed it to you yesterday. Is this ringing any bells? At all?”
“Sorry, I got busy with Gilda. Damn. I’ll see if they’ve got a scanner here or fax machine or something.”
“You do that.” He paused. “You’re poking your nose into Jed’s murder, aren’t you?”
“No, no, I’m not. Not directly, anyway.”
“Look, you know you can’t muck around with that. The band is paying for this book, but they’re not going to want you digging about in the murder. It’s supposed to be feel-good.”
“Their lead singer just died. I’m not going to be able to avoid it.”
“Just focus on the positive, please. Focus.”
“Fine. So, what’s the second thing?”
He growled. “Ring your bloody mother.”
Roxy winced. “Been hassling you?”
“That’s one way of putting it. She’s back to her irate self. I don’t mean to sound politically incorrect, but I swear that woman’s got serious mental health issues. She can’t get through to your mobile, seems to think you’ve been chopped to pieces, the usual stuff. Once again, please give her a call. I implore you!”
“I will, Oliver, I’ll do it now.”
“Good.” He hung up and she turned to Gilda who was watching the exchange with a look of mild amusement.
“In the dogbox again?”
“It’s not funny, Gilda. It’s exhausting.” She sighed. “I’d better make some calls and get some work done today or I’ll be in more trouble. You’re going to have to continue with Sunny on your lonesome, I’m afraid.”
“That’s not my biggest concern right now.”
“Oh?”
Gilda nodded her head towards the front of the B&B. “I just spotted Wiles pull up.”
Roxy’s bad mood dropped away. “Oooh, that’s romantic! Couldn’t keep away, huh?”
Gilda responded with a death stare, then took a deep breath, ran a hand through her tussled hair and turned to face the music. Yet as Wiles strode through the front door, his lips set in a grim line, a solemn-looking Quick at his heels, it was clear romance was the last thing on the Sydney detective’s mind.
“I need your help,” he said to Gilda. “There’s been another murder.”
Chapter 34
Macker Maroney never knew what hit him.
Wiles and Gilda had a pretty good idea though. They found a bloodied axe not far from the dead man’s feet, no doubt discarded by the killer who had somehow managed to bludgeon the photographer to death while he was enjoying his morning smoke.
His cigarette packet was on the dirt beside him, just outside the back door of the ramshackle house he rented at Cooleys Shoot. His ghoulish eyes stared up at them now, a half-smoked ciggie close by. Macker hadn’t even had a chance to change out of
his flannelette pyjamas and terry-toweling robe, and Gilda felt he looked quite pathetic lying there; his arrogant bluster vanquished for all time.
“I don’t suppose we’re going to find prints on that,” she said, watching as Wiles placed the axe into an enormous evidence bag before handing it to Quick. Wiles shrugged. There was a wood-pile not far from where the dead man lay, and it didn’t appear as though the killer had brought his own weapon. Was it a crime of passion, perhaps, or of opportunity?
“Who phoned it in?”
“A woman who lives up behind those trees there.” Wiles pointed to a cluster of stringy gums. “Her teenage son found him, about an hour ago, he’d come down to give him some eggs.”
“Eggs?”
“It’s multiple occupancy, they share their shit, apparently.”
“How cosy. Don’t suppose this teenager spotted someone running off with a guilty look on their face.”
He smiled thinly. “No such luck. Can you rush that to the Tweed lab ASAP?” he called out to Quick who was about to hand the axe over to a uniformed offer. “I want you to make sure it gets there. Tell them it’s urgent.”
Quick looked annoyed by this, and marched away to where his car had been parked, at the top of the muddy driveway.
“He’s a joy to be around,” Gilda said.
“Oh, he’s okay. Mustn’t be much fun having your territory pissed all over by a bigger dog. So, I wonder what this is about.” He looked back at Macker’s lifeless body.
“He left me a message this morning.” Gilda said. “But I was still comatose, didn’t take the call.” She scrunched her face up, feeling pangs of guilt and regret.
“What did the message say?” Wiles looked at her, eyes wide.
“Nothing, just asked me to call him back. I’ll question the B&B manager again. She said he sounded anxious.” She groaned. “If only I’d been more compos mentis.”
“Look, about last night—”
Gilda shook her head. “It shouldn’t have happened and not only because you’re married.”
“But my wife isn’t —”
“It was bloody unprofessional of both of us, we’re in the middle of two investigations and now a man is dead. The same man who tried to reach out to me, maybe with some valuable information, before he was murdered. Arrgh! If only I had taken his call.”
Note Before Dying (Ghostwriter Mystery 6) Page 22
