by Morgana Best
This time, I thought I might be in luck. When I last checked on her, Jezza-Belle was still sleeping off a bad hangover. While Jezza-Belle could no doubt hold her drink, it was quite another thing for Mum’s body to do so.
Liliana Buckley had informed me that her father, Hector, had died from a chronic illness. The gossip around town had informed me that Hector had made his fortune in real estate. He had bought up considerable amounts of what was then considered to be waste land near various isolated Queensland beaches decades earlier, and then in recent times subdivided the land and put each tiny house block on the market for over half a million dollars. I had also heard that Liliana was a terrible spendthrift.
I was showing Reverend Brown from my office when Liliana arrived. She was wearing designer clothes, clutching a designer purse, and was dripping with diamonds. The Reverend expressed his condolences. Liliana inclined her head. “It was expected, although that doesn’t make it any easier.”
I left them talking, and popped back into my office. “Ernie,” I called. “Ernie, are you there?”
He materialised in front of me. “Ernie, could you please keep an eye out for my mother? I don’t want her to disrupt the funeral.”
Ernie looked aghast. “She hasn’t kicked Jezza-Belle out of her body, has she?”
I shook my head. “Not as far as I know, but I’m worried that she might do just that and then turn up at the funeral.”
Ernie pulled a face. “Are you any closer to finding out who killed Jezza-Belle?”
“There are more suspects than there are answers,” I told him. “There are the two band members, although Lotti seems the more likely, given that she has the motive of Jezza-Belle stealing her boyfriend. I can’t really see what motive the other band member, Delilah, would have.”
Ernie walked over to sit on the edge of my desk. “What about the boyfriend?”
“He does have a serious gambling problem, and it seems he owes money to the wrong sort of people. Still, I can’t see what good killing Jezza-Belle would have done him.”
“But she was pressing him to pay the money back,” Ernie said.
I shrugged. “Still, it doesn’t seem like much of a motive to me. Now, this funeral is for Liliana Buckley’s father. Liliana is married to Phil Palmer, who I’m quite sure murdered his first wife five years ago. He was the one who got Jezza-Belle to falsify the hospital records of his first wife.”
“Do you think there’s a connection with Jezza-Belle’s murder?” Ernie asked me.
“Quite possibly.” I rubbed my temples. “And then there’s Daisy Fairchild, and her husband, Donnie. Daisy paid Jezza-Belle to transfer money from Donnie’s account into her account. She’s planning to leave him, but she’s afraid of him. We saw him with his young, attractive mistress at the charity sale. Daisy told us that Donnie has a terrible temper. Jezza-Belle told me that Donnie threatened her when he found out what she had done.”
Ernie nodded slowly. “I see what you mean. Lotti seems the least likely one to me, but I could see any of the others being the murderer.”
I agreed. “I have to go into the chapel now, but could you please keep an eye out for Jezza-Belle, or Mum, whoever turns up first?”
The funeral proceeded fairly normally, as funerals usually do. I wondered when I would have the next themed funeral. They were certainly a lot more fun than the standard funerals. I stood at the back of the room, doing my best to look unobtrusive, as funeral directors always did. After a while, I slipped out to the anteroom to make sure everything was in order, that the water was boiling in the urns for tea and coffee, and that the cupcakes and little sandwiches cut into quarters were spread at intervals over the tables.
When I slipped back into the chapel by the side door, I was surprised to see Daisy and Donnie Fairchild sitting over the far side of the room. Then again, they were wealthy, as had been Hector Buckley, so I figured that all the wealthy people in town knew each other. What didn’t make any sense was that Daisy appeared happy to be with Donnie, and was smiling at him.
At least there was no sign of Jezza-Belle, or of Mum for that matter. At the close of the service, Reverend Brown invited everyone to go into the anteroom. I walked around the chapel to make sure everything was in order, and then I saw Harper speaking to a group of men.
Jezza-Belle walked into the chapel and stood at the back of the room. I hurried over to her. “Mum?” I said tentatively.
She shook her head slightly. “Jezza-Belle.”
“Phew. I’ve been watching Harper speak to those men. They’re all laughing, so he obviously doesn’t owe them money.”
“Not yet anyway.”
I looked at them again. They all looked like local businessmen, not dodgy moneylenders. I pointed this out to Jezza-Belle, and added, “Why is Harper even here?”
“Harper is always looking for someone to play poker with, so he must be here to mingle with the town’s wealthy people. He’s a fairly good poker player, so he makes money that way. Ouch, what do you do for a hangover?”
I took a long look at Jezza-Belle. Her face was pale and she was hunched over slightly. “How much did you drink?”
“Not that much,” she said. “I could always hold my drink before. I could drink anyone under the table.”
“But you’re in Mum’s body,” I reminded her. “Mum’s never had a drink in her life, which she’s told me a million times.”
Jezza-Belle shrugged. “I figured that, but I thought it would be like a case of Multiple Personality Disorder.”
I had no idea what she meant, and I told her so.
“In Multiple Personality Disorder, one personality can have clinical Type 2 Diabetes, and the other personality can be Diabetes free. That’s just one example. Haven’t you heard that?”
I shook my head. “I can’t say that I have. Anyway, this isn’t a case of Multiple Personality Disorder—this is a case of possession.”
We had walked to the door of the anteroom, and I looked inside. Daisy was laughing with Donnie and patting his arm. I was about to point this out to Jezza-Belle, but she had clearly already seen it.
“Wow, that’s a bit suspicious,” she said.
“That’s what I was thinking. Anyway, I’ve been doing my best to avoid Donnie, given that I threatened him. I don’t think we should go inside.” Before I could leave, Daisy caught my eye, and walked over in my direction. I ducked back into the chapel behind a huge vase of lilies, so Donnie wouldn’t see me, too.
Before Daisy could speak, Jezza-Belle rounded on her. “You’re acting awfully friendly with your husband, for someone who’s supposed to be so afraid of him.”
I shot Jezza-Belle a look to stop her saying any more, but Daisy did not appear to be offended. “I always have to act friendly with Donnie in public,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “If I don’t, he goes into a rage.”
“You really need to leave that man,” I said. “Sooner than later, at that.”
Daisy nodded, and looked over her shoulder once more.
“How well did you know Hector Buckley?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “We always went to the same functions, that sort of thing. We weren’t close.”
“So you aren’t friends with Liliana Buckley or Phil Palmer, either?”
If Daisy thought my question strange, she showed no signs of it. “No, but I’ve known them for years, too.”
“I thought Liliana and Phil only got married about four or five years ago.”
Daisy looked around before speaking. “They were having an affair for months before Phil’s first wife died.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, the poor thing. Phil’s wife was awfully young to die in her sleep, wasn’t she?” I said in what I hoped was a nonchalant tone.
Daisy nodded. “Liliana had better be careful now that she’s inherited money.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Forget I said that. That was mean-spirited of me.”
“Please tell me what you meant,” I said.
; Daisy’s cheeks flushed red. “I was just being spiteful, given that I don’t like Phil. He’s a good friend of my husband’s.”
Jezza-Belle gasped. “So that’s how Donnie found out that I, I mean Jezza-Belle, did that hacking work for you.”
Daisy screwed up her face in confusion, so I hurried to explain. “Phil was a hacking client of Jezza-Belle’s, too.”
A look of realisation passed over Daisy’s face. “That explains it! I told Jezza-Belle that I didn’t confess to Donnie that I’d hired her. Phil must’ve told Donnie that there was someone in town who could do that sort of thing.” She looked back into the anteroom. “Well, I’d better get back to Donnie.”
Jezza-Belle tapped her chin, and waited until Daisy was out of earshot before speaking. “You know, all this time I thought Daisy really had confessed to Donnie that she’d employed my services as a hacker. Do you think Donnie murdered me?”
Ernie materialised beside us. Jezza-Belle let out a shriek, and I jumped.
“You scared me!” Jezza-Belle said.
“I’m a ghost; you’re a ghost. How could I scare you?” Ernie said scornfully.
“You were supposed to be on watch,” I admonished him. “You were supposed to tell me if Mum was on her way.”
“Well, she wasn’t, was she? I knew it was Jezza-Belle. Anyway, I was listening into your conversation. I think Phil did it.”
“Did what?” Jezza-Belle asked him.
Ernie shot her a look. “Keep up, will you? I think Phil murdered you. How’s the investigation going?” He addressed that question to me.
“We’ve investigated everyone apart from Delilah Divine,” I told him.
“I suggest you investigate her, simply to exclude her,” Ernie said. “I don’t think she did it. My money’s now on Phil. Or maybe Harper,” he added as an afterthought.
Chapter 14
“I’m not sure why we have to speak to Delilah,” Jezza-Belle said. “I know she didn’t do it.”
“What was that?” I was annoyed with the driver in front of me. He had been going way under the speed limit when there was no opportunity to overtake, yet as soon as there was an overtaking lane, he sped up. Every time I drew level with him, he hit the accelerator and left me in his dust, so to speak.
Jezza-Belle repeated herself. I nodded, and resigned myself to staying behind the irritating driver. “And I’m sure it isn’t Lotti or Harper,” Jezza-Belle said for the umpteenth time.
“Well, somebody had to tell you to go into that alley,” I said. “Think about it. Someone stole a car for the sole purpose of running over you and killing you. It’s highly doubtful that the murderer thought he or she would follow you around until the opportunity presented itself.”
“What are you getting at?” Jezza-Belle asked me.
“Isn’t it obvious? The murderer stole the car and was waiting in the alley for you to go outside the club. Did you often go into that alley?”
“No, I don’t think I ever did.”
I shot her a look. “Are you sure?”
Jezza-Belle thought for a moment. Finally, she said, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Then it stands to reason,” I said, “that whoever murdered you, did something to make you go into that alley at that time. I know we’ve been through this before, but refresh my memory. Who were you at the club with?”
“Lotti and Delilah,” Jezza-Belle said.
“And you’re sure no one else you knew was there? Not Harper?”
Jezza-Belle shook her head. “Like you said, we’ve already been through this, Laurel. Harper wasn’t there, and it would have upset Lotti if he had been. No, I’m sure the only people I knew at the club were Lotti and Delilah. My memory is sketchy, but I remember that much.”
I slammed on the brakes as a lyrebird ran across the road. “Sorry,” I said, followed by, “Wow! You hardly see any of those!”
“That gave me a fright.” Jezza-Belle’s hand flew to her throat. “I thought it was a kangaroo.”
“I don’t like driving down this road with so much bush either side,” I said. “You just don’t know what’s going to run out in front of you. Anyway, are we lost?”
Jezza-Belle clutched her stomach. “Can you pull over? The winding road’s making me feel a bit sick so I don’t want to look down. If you pull over I can get out and get some fresh air and then I can look at the map.”
I did as she asked, pulling over at the first available place. We were on the edge of the rainforest now, where the tall eucalypts gave way to the magnificent trees of the rainforest. “Do you hear the bellbirds?” I asked Jezza-Belle. “Don’t they make the most incredible sound!”
“I can’t see any.” Jezza-Belle looked around her.
“They’re usually very hard to see,” I said. “They’re a very plain brown bird, which is strange because they make the most incredible, clear, tinkling bell-like sound. Anyway, do you know where we’re going yet?”
Jezza-Belle pointed back the way we had come. “Yes, we missed the turn back there. Turn around and head back to Walcha.”
I sighed. “Are we completely lost?”
“It depends what you mean by completely,” Jezza-Belle said.
After taking the scenic route, we ended up back on the outskirts of Walcha. “Are you sure Mum hasn’t taken over your body again?” I asked Jezza-Belle.
“No. Why would you say that?”
“Because you share the same navigating ability, or lack thereof. You took us at least an hour and a half out of our way.” I stopped in the main street of Walcha, and managed to do a reverse angle park despite several angry motorists lined up behind me. They apparently thought cars could magically reverse into a 45 degree angle parking spot without blocking their way for a few moments.
“It’s not my fault that Delilah wanted to meet us at a café instead of at her home,” Jezza-Belle complained. “I know where she lives.”
I got out of the car and looked at her over the roof. “Didn’t it occur to you that a café would be in town, not out in the middle of nowhere?”
Jezza-Belle crossed her arms over her chest. “Ginger’s Creek Café is out in the middle of nowhere. I thought this café might be, too.”
I had to admit she had a point. “Well, let’s go inside. Delilah sent a rather terse text when I told her we were lost.” As an afterthought, I added, “Do your best not to let Mum come out, won’t you? That could be a terrible disaster.” I looked at Jezza-Belle, and then did a double take. “Are you crying?”
Jezza-Belle hastily wiped her eyes. “No,” she said gruffly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“How about being dead, for a start? Not knowing who murdered you, and being in your mother, of all people.”
“Oh, that.” My heart went out to her. I would hate to be in her shoes.
I spied Delilah immediately. In a room of people sensibly dressed, as my mother would say, she stood out like a sore thumb. She was wearing a tight fitting vinyl bodice top from which a sea-blue tutu emerged. Her black fingerless gloves were topped by bracelet after bracelet. The farmers in the room could not take their eyes off her.
Delilah afforded us a thin lipped smile when we approached her table. I noticed an empty coffee cup and an empty plate in front of her. “I’m so terribly sorry we’re late,” I said over the noise of the crowded café. “Mum is not the best navigator.”
“So it seems,” Delilah said through pursed lips. “I’m not sure why you wanted to meet me?”
Jezza-Belle and I had already decided what to say. While we had convinced Harper that Mum and Jezza-Belle were old friends, Jezza-Belle said that would never work on Delilah. To our advantage was the fact that Delilah and Harper disliked each other intensely, so they were hardly likely to compare notes. Jezza-Belle had advised me to tell Delilah the truth, or as close to the truth as possible.
“I don’t usually get involved in murder cases when I’m the funeral director for murder victims,” I said. Okay, so I wasn’t
starting with the truth, after all. “However, in this case, I don’t think the police have a clue. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about what happened the night that Jezza-Belle was murdered.”
“Why do you want to get involved?” she asked me. “What’s it to you?”
“It’s my mother,” I said, nodding to Jezza-Belle. “She’s terribly upset that the murder hasn’t been solved. She lives right next to the funeral home, you see, and she’s distraught that we buried a murder victim whose murder might never be solved.”
Jezza-Belle nodded. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all, and it’s affecting my health. I’ve already had an overnight stay in hospital over it.”
Delilah appeared to be thinking it over. “I suppose I can answer some questions. After all, I’m here anyway. I come to this place now and then to buy those candles.” She gestured to a well-known brand of scented candles, my favourite, actually. I could smell the fragrance of the coffee and vanilla ones.
I thanked her. “Do you have any idea who could have murdered Jezza-Belle?”
Delilah shook her head. “Of course not. If I had, I would have told the police.”
“Do you know why Jezza-Belle went into the alley that night?” I asked her.
“I already told the police all about that,” Delilah said.
“Would you mind repeating it to us?” I asked her. “Sorry, I know it’s a terrible bother, but it would make my mother feel better.”
Delilah looked from me to Jezza-Belle, and then back to me. “The three of us were drinking, and then Jezza-Belle said she had to go outside. She said she’d be back in five minutes.”
“Did she go out with anyone else?” Jezza-Belle asked her. “Or was she alone?”
Delilah looked at her watch and fidgeted. “She was alone.” I was about to ask something else, when she added, “She went out just after she had a phone call.”
“You know who it was from?” I asked her.
Delilah shook her head. “That was it. The call came on the club phone. She was surprised that someone would call her on the club phone, and when she came back, that’s when she said she had to go straight outside.”
