by Morgana Best
I was about to admonish Carl for being so forthright, but Miriam laughed. “Goodness me, no. If he was going to murder Stan, he would have murdered him years ago.”
Something had been niggling at the back of my mind, and I just now remembered what it was. As Stan’s personal secretary, Miriam was involved in his personal life as well as his business life. “Miriam, who’s going to inherit Stan’s estate?”
“Minnie. A shame he didn’t leave it all to charity.”
“So she’s the sole heir?”
“I’m afraid so, the ungrateful little wretch.”
Carl spoke up. “Are you absolutely positive?”
Miriam’s eyes opened wide. “Do you think she did it?”
“I have absolutely no idea who did it,” I answered honestly. “I suppose the obvious thing is to look at who stands to gain from the victim’s death, and in this case, it seems to be Minnie.”
Miriam shook her head. “But that would be like killing the goose that laid the golden egg,” she said. “That girl wanted for nothing—he gave her whatever she wanted. There was no reason for her to kill him.”
“Is that just a figure of speech, or did he actually give her everything she wanted? I mean everything?” I asked her.
“I see what you mean.” Miriam nodded slowly. “He did refuse to buy her that Ferrari.”
Carl made a strangling sound. “You’re kidding! A Ferrari!”
“Yes, now you’re getting the picture of what sort of girl she really is. Now I come to think about it, he actually didn’t give her everything she wanted, not from her perspective, if you see what I mean.”
I caught Carl’s eye, and we stood up. “Enjoy your chocolates,” I said to Miriam.
When we were back in my shop, I turned to Carl. “What did you make of that?”
He sighed long and hard. “I don’t know, Narel. I thought it was Craig, but after we spoke to him, I thought he was innocent. I thought it was Peaches, but after we spoke to her, I thought she was innocent. And the same goes for Miriam. I suspected her, but after speaking to her, I don’t really think she did it. I don’t think I’m cut out for this detective work,” Carl said sadly.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s look at what we do know. We know there were two big public scenes, and that they were probably distractions so someone could slip poison into the chocolate. And don’t ask me why there were two distractions, because I don’t have a clue. You keep saying if we knew why someone poisoned Stan for the second time, then that would lead us to the identity of the murderer.”
Carl nodded. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I think the murderer did it to throw suspicion onto someone else.”
“Like Mick? Or Daphne?”
“Actually, what you have just said is making me think.”
“Think what?” I asked him, hoping he wouldn’t draw out the answer like he usually did.
“I’m wondering if the murderer wanted to frame Mick, because Mick was actually at the party for some time and had access to the chocolates.”
“Good thinking!” I said. “And everyone saw Daphne come in, yell at Stan, and then leave, and she didn’t go anywhere near the chocolates, whereas Mick was there a lot longer before Stan saw him.”
Carl scratched his chin. “If only I had my whiteboards here. Okay, if, and it’s a big if, someone wanted to frame someone, then they were trying to frame Mick, and not Daphne.”
“That makes perfect sense. But why have Daphne come in at all? Why the need for the second distraction? Whoever did it would have known that Stan would make a scene as soon as he saw Mick.” I thought it over some more. “I think I’ve got it. What if Daphne was the distraction, and Mick was invited solely to be a suspect in Stan’s murder? What if they were trying to frame Mick? That way, any scene would have been incidental, as they wouldn’t have known in advance just how Stan would react to him. On the other hand, whoever told Daphne would have known she would create a huge scene. I think we have narrowed it down, Carl. We have to find out who told Daphne that Stan was dating Peaches.”
Chapter 18
“I don’t know how you talked me into this, Carl,” I said, as Carl’s car sped out of town. We were on our way to Stan Wellings’ house.
“We need to question Daphne as soon as possible,” Carl said. “It was your idea, Narel. Weren’t you listening to yourself?”
“I didn’t mean we had to speak to her right now,” I pointed out.
“We have far too many suspects, so we need to narrow them down. Anyway, time is of the essence, because I’ve invited The Purr-suader to your place for dinner, Narel.”
I groaned. “This day is just getting worse, Carl. The only thing that’s been keeping me going all day is the thought of having a lovely long, hot bath, putting more herbal patches and liniment all over me, and then falling asleep on the sofa while watching The Voice.”
“But I’ll cook dinner,” Carl said. “You know that.”
“Yes, that’s good of you to cook dinner when you invite someone over to my place without asking me first,” I said dryly, “but it’s just the thought of having to entertain someone when I’m so tired and when everything hurts.”
Car laughed. “We won’t be entertaining him, Narel. We’ll be questioning him.”
“But I thought we didn’t suspect him any longer?”
“There’s something that still niggles at me,” Carl said seriously. “We haven’t found out why he’s in town. He is very well known, and this is a small country town. Why would anyone in their right mind come to this town?”
“You have a good point there.”
“Yes, I know,” Carl said. “So I’m planning to ask him exactly what he’s doing in town. While I don’t actually suspect him, I need to know the answer to that question to discount him as a suspect once and for all. You have to admit, it’s fairly suspicious that he just happens to be in town right when Stan is murdered, and Stan stole his wife from him.”
“We’ve already discussed that,” I pointed out. “Surely he would have killed Stan years ago.”
Carl ignored me, and pressed on. “And he did have access to the chocolates.”
“But Mongrel likes him,” I said.
Carl nodded. “Yes, and as we know, Mongrel is a very good judge of character. That’s the only reason why The Purr-suader isn’t at the top of my suspects list, because everything else fits. Do you think Mongrel is just luring him into a false sense of security?”
I looked over at Carl. “Are you out of your mind?” I said incredulously.
“Quite possibly.”
“Kangaroo!” I yelled.
Carl slammed on the brakes, and a large grey kangaroo hopped in front of us. “Slow down, because that roo’s friends might be right behind it,” I cautioned him.
Carl did as I asked.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good idea to find out why The Purr-suader is in town, because then we can truly exclude him as a suspect,” I conceded. “I only hope he goes home early, because if he doesn’t, I’m going to fall asleep right in front of him.”
“I sure hope he isn’t allergic to the smell of oil of wintergreen,” Carl said. He drove out of the cover of trees, and we both gasped.
“I didn’t even know this house was here,” I said to Carl.
He shook his head. “Me either.”
In front of us was a grand two storey Edwardian mansion. I knew there were grand homesteads just out of town; I had just never encountered one before. This was nothing short of magnificent. The red brick of the impressive building contrasted with the delicate white iron lacework. A five-storey central tower dominated the façade and overlooked the circular entrance driveway. It was just like something out of a movie.
“Wow!”
“I agree,” I said. “Wow! They say the two main motives for murder are love and money. There sure is a lot of money involved here.”
“I’ll say!” Carl edged the car forward slowly. “I wonder where Daph
ne’s house is?”
“I don’t want to run into Minnie again,” I said with dread.
Carl cut to the left of the mansion and followed a dirt track which wound its way beside a small creek. “There.”
In front of us was a small Victorian cottage. It was cute, pale grey and charming. Climbing roses trailed along the wire fence, and wisteria climbed all over the gum trees that framed the cottage. “Someone lives there,” Carl said.
“It must be Daphne’s house. You know, Carl, I’m more anxious about this visit than the others. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
“But she can’t be the murderer; you said so yourself,” he pointed out. “At no time did she have access to the fly agaric chocolates.”
“You’re right. It’s probably just all the oil of wintergreen fumes getting to me. I hope she doesn’t order us off the place.”
I approached Daphne’s front door with trepidation. While Carl was always happy to play it by ear, I liked to have a solid plan. Carl knocked on the door, and Daphne opened it at once.
“Yes?” she said.
I sized her up. She wasn’t overtly aggressive, but she had a manner about her that suggested she would brook no nonsense. I handed her the box of chocolates and she took them, probably by reflex.
“What are these?” she asked.
“I’m Narel Myers and this is Carl Camden,” I said. “We’re friends of Miriam Moreton’s.” This time I didn’t feel guilty for the exaggeration. I don’t know whether or not that was a good thing. “Miriam asked me to provide all the handmade chocolates for Stan’s retirement party, and the police confiscated them all. I felt so bad about it that I’m taking everyone some of my best handmade chocolates and delivering them in person.”
I wondered if that was believable—I don’t think I would have believed it.
“I wasn’t invited to the party,” she said after a slight hesitation.
“Miriam said that you should have been,” I lied again. “She was quite distressed that you weren’t.”
I looked at Carl, and he nodded furiously.
Until now, Daphne had been looking at us through the fly screen. She pushed it open. “Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, please,” Carl and I said in unison. In the country, it was a grave insult to refuse someone’s offer of a cup of tea, whether you wanted one or not.
Daphne’s house was small and cluttered, although spotless. She busied herself spooning tea leaves into a large pot, poured in the boiling water, and then put a tea cosy over the top.
“That’s an absolutely gorgeous Edwardian mansion,” I said to Daphne in an attempt to make conversation.
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, it is. Stan and Minnie only live in one part of it, though. It’s too much work to keep it all running.”
I noticed that she spoke of Stan in the present tense, and was grateful that she hadn’t realised it. That probably would have upset her too much. “Do they run tours?” I asked her.
She shook her head, and then rattled around in a cupboard, soon producing a packet of biscuits. “Stan was thinking of it, but Minnie said she didn’t want people going through her things. Of course, I did tell him that he could section off the private living quarters. I grew up in England, and that’s the way things are done there. You don’t have tourists nosing around someone’s private living quarters.”
She continued talking about her childhood in England, but I was only barely listening. I did notice that she showed absolutely no animosity towards Minnie. To the contrary, she spoke of her fondly. When she paused to take a breath, I spoke. “I truly am sorry about what happened to Stan, and I hope Minnie is managing okay.”
Daphne shook her head. “That poor girl. She has no relatives left alive now, not with her poor father gone.” She wiped her hands on her apron.
“But she has the big mansion,” Carl said.
I glared at him.
“She’ll sell it now,” Daphne said, after shooting Carl a hard look. “It’s too much work for just one girl.”
Carl continued on in his tactless way. “Will she sell your house, too?”
Daphne did not seem concerned. “Yes, of course. It’s all on the same property. There is this house, and then some old shearers’ quarters out the back that have been renovated, and then a whole lot of other outbuildings as well. It will all go together. I’ll give the poor girl a bit more time to grieve, and then I’ll suggest she gets a good stock and station agent to do a clearing sale before the place goes on the market.”
“Wise advice,” I said in a monotone.
I was mentally moving Minnie to the top of Carl’s whiteboard. She had the opportunity, and she certainly had the motive. Her father’s death would leave her a millionaire several times over. She could certainly buy more than one Ferrari. Yet if she was the murderer, why create the two distractions at the party?
I needed to ask Daphne who told her that Stan was having an affair. I didn’t want to make her angry, and it looked as though she was the type of person to get angry quite easily. In fact, I had seen an example of her anger only the other night. Of course, those were extreme circumstances, but I didn’t want to provoke her.
“Please don’t think I’m speaking out of turn,” I began carefully, “but I’m awfully sorry about the whole thing with Peaches. There is nothing worse than a cheating man. Who told you about Stan and Peaches?”
I held my breath and carefully watched her reaction. Finally, she spoke. “It was my son, Jake. He never liked Stan. He always said, ‘Get rid of that loser—he’ll never marry you.’ In fact, Jake constantly nagged me about it, so much so that I was even relieved when weekends came about, because Jake always worked at the gym all weekend.” I tried to think of something to say, but she continued. “But it turned out that Jake was right, after all. Stan was always promising that he would marry me, but he never publicly acknowledged me as his girlfriend.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange?” Carl asked her.
“Things are always obvious in hindsight,” I hastened to add.
Daphne nodded slowly. “I should have listened to Jake. I did think it was strange that Stan never brought anyone from work home, only Miriam on occasion for dinner, but when I asked him about it, he said he liked to keep his work and personal life separate.”
“But how did he plan to keep you and Peaches apart, given that he was retiring?” Carl asked, again tactlessly.
Daphne frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. I have no idea, to tell you the truth. I’ve just had one shock after the other lately, first finding out that Stan was two-timing me, and then he was murdered.”
“Well, hopefully the police will arrest the murderer soon and put your mind at rest, at least on that score,” I said.
“The police!” she spat angrily. “Fat lot of use they are! They’ve questioned me every day. They even made me go down to the station, and they treated me like a common criminal.”
“Why, that’s ridiculous,” Carl said. “You couldn’t possibly have done it.”
“Tell that to the police!” Daphne said in a raised voice.
Just then the fly screen banged and Jake stormed into the room. “Why are you upsetting my mother?” he yelled at us.
“They’re not upsetting me,” Daphne said. “The police were the ones who upset me. Why are you always causing trouble, Jake? You always go off like a bull at a gate without thinking first.”
Jake’s face went bright red. “The police? What do the police have to do with it?” He grabbed a knife out of the nearby butcher block and brandished it at us. “Get out of here!” he bellowed.
Carl and I didn’t need to be told twice. We jumped from our seats and ran to the front door, Daphne calling out apologies after us.
Carl’s wheels spun in the gravel, and he took off down the driveway at a far greater speed than he had driven in. “It’s him; it’s him,” he said over and over again while tapping the steering wheel with one hand.
/> “But he had an alibi,” I said. “He must be in it with someone else.”
“Who?” Carl said. “Minnie?”
I took long slow breaths to calm my nerves. The scene with Jake had been terrifying. “Miriam didn’t think that Jake and Minnie were seeing each other,” I said. “Who told us that they were dating? Mick, wasn’t it? Do you think Mick and Jake are in it together?”
Carl shook his head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If Mick and Jake are in it together, then Mick wouldn’t have told us that Minnie and Jake were seeing each other.”
“This whole thing has just put me in a head spin,” I lamented. “None of it makes any sense. Do you think Jake and The Purr-suader are in it together?”
Carl shot me a look. “You know, Narel, that might not be as crazy as it sounds.”
Chapter 19
Carl turned into a side road.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“We’re going to follow Jake. I’m sure he’s the murderer, Narel. I’d bet anything that he’s in it with someone who was at the party that night.”
“So you think two people were involved in murdering Stan?”
Carl nodded. “Yes, I do.” He slowed down and then turned the car back the other way. “He won’t see us from here if he drives straight past.”
A curious black and white cow came and stared over the fence at us. Carl leant out the window. “Shoo!” he said. “You’ll give the game away!”
I had to laugh. “Carl, Jake won’t notice a cow staring at something. Cows always stare at something.”
“Cows are welcome to stare at whatever they want, so long as it’s not me,” Carl said with a pout. “I hope this dust settles down, because it’s a dead giveaway that someone has driven down this road.”
“Even if Jake sees the dust, he won’t think it’s us hiding under a tree, with a cow staring at us, waiting to follow him to his accomplice,” I said. “And back to the subject—if Jake was involved, it only stands to reason that the other person was at the party that night, because Jake had an alibi. Daphne said Jake told her that Stan was having an affair, and that also fits. Daphne went to the party and created a scene, giving whoever Jake’s accomplice was the chance to poison the chocolates.”
