“Rita!” He called urgently, shaking the newspaper he held in his hand. “Have you seen this?”
“The newspaper? No, why?” I asked curiously.
“That body you found has been identified! It’s all over the morning news. Look…”
Clive handed me his copy of the Adelaide Daily Gazette as Pouf melted into a puddle at his feet and gave one of his legs an affectionate lick. “Wow, he really likes you!” I exclaimed as I unfolded the paper to the bookmarked article.
“Animals love me. I’m Dr. Doolittle,” he declared as I smiled briefly before delving into the article:
WEALTHY WIDOW’S BODY FOUND IN NATIONAL PARK
Corinne Foster, widow of the multi-millionaire jeweler John D. Foster, was found dead yesterday in Warrumbungle National Park. The manner of death is as of now undetermined, but police are calling the case a homicide. Police believe the victim was murdered in her home in Adelaide. Foster’s opulent residence bears signs of a struggle but not of a break-in, say police. Chief William Patterling asserts that “the body was transported to Warrumbungle National Park and discovered by a foreign photographer.”
I paused and gulped, realizing that I was the “foreign photographer.” At least they didn’t print my name, but the detail still gave me chills. I bit my lower lip and continued reading:
Police maintain that the motive for the murder was likely robbery. Chief Patterling elaborates, “Mrs. Foster’s body was found without any jewelry or a wallet and numerous valuable pieces are missing from her home in Adelaide. We’re currently working with her family to inventory the missing pieces and we urge anyone with any information to come forward immediately. The family is offering a reward of 500,000 Australian dollars for information leading to the arrest of the perpetrator or perpetrators.”
Corrine Foster, who was 86 at the time of her death, leaves behind four children, twelve grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. She was born and raised in Adelaide and remained active in the community until her death. According to her eldest daughter, Wendy, Foster selflessly volunteered at the local hospital and animal shelter in her spare time.
My heart ached as I learned about the charitable deeds of the slain woman. And she was an animal lover! What a sweet soul who didn’t deserve this fate. Underneath the article was a black and white photo of a petite, smiling lady who looked to weigh no more than 95 pounds or so. Even in the pixilated murkiness of the newspaper photograph, the old lady’s eyes were alight with the spirit of life. Unexpectedly, teardrops surfaced on my eyelids and I felt a lump rise in my throat.
“It’s so sad,” Clive commented gravely as he bowed his head.
“It’s awful! How could someone harm that sweet old lady?” I shook my head in outraged disbelief.
“I don’t know. It’s really a shame. Her family has lost a great matriarch, it seems,” Clive mused as I handed him the newspaper. “Listen, I need to apologize for disappearing so abruptly yesterday. It’s just that I was a bit disturbed by that photograph…and I really don’t want to get involved in a murder investigation. As a teacher, I need to keep a squeaky clean reputation. And news travels so fast these days…”
His explanation sounded reasonable if not borderline neurotic. But I had worked in the corporate arena since college, so I couldn’t judge. Teachers were held to higher standards than magazine photo editors, to be sure. Their words and actions were constantly under a microscope on social media. “Don’t worry about it. I probably would have reacted the same way if someone showed me a photograph like that!”
Clive smiled amiably and asked, “Do you have any plans for breakfast? Maybe you’d like to grab a bite?”
As he spoke, he gesticulated towards the hotel’s breakfast bistro as I noticed faint scratches on his left forearm. The article had explicitly asserted that a struggle had ensued before Corinne Foster had been killed. Could it be that Clive was the killer? The thought jolted me like a painful electric current. He was certainly strong enough to have carried the woman’s body into the bush. And as a teacher, he probably didn’t make much money, so maybe he wanted to cash in on Foster’s jewels. But no, he seemed so sweet! I didn’t want to believe that he could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The scratches probably originated from his frisky feline, Jangles. Or maybe Clive had gotten tangled in some branches during his hike. He just couldn’t be the murderer!
“Thanks, but I’m a little tired this morning. I think I might just order room service,” I politely declined the man’s appealing invitation. Chemistry definitely sparked between us, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do anything about it. Besides, what would be the point? We lived on different continents 6,000 miles away from each other. The last thing I needed was to indulge in a vacation fling and go home with a hollow heart.
“Alright, no worries. But I’ll be heading back to Sydney in a few days, so if you think you might like to grab lunch or something, just let me know.” Clive smiled a little tighter than before and walked towards the hotel’s breakfast bistro. Pouf barked in Clive’s direction, clearly upset that his new friend was leaving.
I knelt down and scratched Pouf’s head as he squeaked happily. Going back to Sydney sounded like a brilliant idea. Instead of taking pictures of the Outback, maybe I could photograph the cityscape instead. There were plenty of photogenic attractions in the waterside city of Sydney. But I wasn’t ready to leave the rural area just yet. Even though I knew I could be putting my life in mortal danger, I felt compelled to help solve the murder of Corrine Foster.
Chapter 5
Later that morning, with a pencil and pad in hand, I jotted down a list of suspicious people I had encountered since arriving in the Outback. First there was that gawking guy Paul who made my skin crawl. But he didn’t seem like a logical suspect at all. No, I had to consider the people I had met in the Outback. There were the two American sisters, Karen and Jenna, who seemed eager to befriend me. They had looked rather silly in their designer duds, but they didn’t fit the profile of jewel thieves and murderers. Clive was a bit of an enigma, but he seemed too candid and kind to have anything to do with the murder. Plus, Pouf had taken an instant liking to him and no one has better instincts about people than pets. Then there was that neon-green clad maniac who had darted out of the park like a vampire bat exposed to sunlight. I needed to report him to the police; he was definitely a suspicious character.
Next on the list were the people I hadn’t met, namely the many members of Corinne Foster’s family. Perhaps one of her children or grandchildren craved an early inheritance and murdered the elderly lady. Of all her progeny, there had to be a bad apple in the bunch, right? Investigating the family could unearth some rotting skeletons, but first I needed to contact the police and tell them about the zany fluorescent guy.
“Where’s my cell phone?” I muttered, suddenly aware of the fact that I didn’t have it on me.
I jumped off the bed, lifting the sheets up and feeling around for the phone. But all I felt was a lumpy mattress. Dumping the contents of my purse onto the armoire, I searched frantically for my phone. Lipstick caps rolled over the furniture onto the grimy floor as Pouf played an improvised game of Fetch. “Stop, Pouf!” I reprimanded as he clenched my favorite rose lipstick between his teeth. He didn’t listen, of course, stubborn little darling.
Grabbing my duffel bag, I emptied everything onto the bed and rummaged through the contents for my cell phone. “It’s not here. And neither is my camera!” I gasped to realize that two of my most personal possessions were missing. Had I forgotten them in the Jeep? Leaving Pouf to play with my make-up, I shot out the door and down the stairs.
My heart thumped loudly as I held my breath and ran to the vehicle. The seats were empty as was the glove compartment except for a road map and an envelope of documents from the rental agency. I checked underneath the seats just in case my phone and camera had fallen. But they were nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, I wondered if someone had stolen the objects. In my enti
re life, I had only lost my cell phone once and I had never misplaced my camera. Nothing was more important to me than my camera; it would be one of the first things I would try to save in a massive fire, next on the list right after Pouf.
Doubtingly, I headed back to my room to perform an exhaustive search. Pouf was still toying with my cosmetics, romping around on the carpet with a tube of mascara. Ignoring the feisty pup, I proceeded to turn the room upside down. I yanked open every drawer, threw the bedding on the carpet, and barreled through the closets. By the time I had finished, still empty-handed, it looked as though a group of drunken frat boys had trashed the place.
Chewing my fingernails anxiously, I pondered when my stuff could have been stolen. The only logical explanation is that someone had broken into my hotel room while I was walking Pouf. Those few minutes were the only time I had been without my cell phone and camera. But who could have done it? Dashing out of the room once again, I stomped downstairs to the front desk, unnerved to see Paul flipping through a magazine and munching on an apple. When did he get here? What happened to that sweet old guy?
“G’ morning!” He said in an aggressively loud voice just as I was about to turn and go back upstairs.
“Good morning,” I said tightly. “Where’s the old man?”
“Huh? Oh you mean, Freddy? He works the graveyard shift. I just got here for my morning shift. You enjoying our country?” He asked with a smirk.
“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I mumbled. “See you later.”
Dodging Paul’s unwelcome innuendo, I pretended I didn’t hear when he called after me, “Hey, what’s the rush? You Americans are always in such a hurry! Slow down!”
His words only made me move faster to the relative safety of my hotel room. Slamming the door shut and latching up the chain lock, I rushed to the bed and picked up the landline. But there was no dial tone. Dread seeped through my veins as dead static air droned through the receiver. Verifying that the phone was plugged into the wall, I pressed a few buttons and jiggled the ancient model. “It’s like the Twilight Zone,” I mumbled unhappily to myself. Across the room, a slimy bug resembling a scorpion crawled towards me. “Okay, Pouf, that’s the last straw, we’re out of here.”
Leaping off the bed, I quickly reorganized the room as best as I could before packing up my bags and ensuring that my other personal belongings were intact. Passport? Check. Wallet? Check. Sanity? Left it somewhere in Santa Monica spinning around on the iconic ferris wheel…
Pouf misinterpreted my frantic haste as the genesis of a new adventure. Yapping excitedly, he jumped up onto my legs as I bent down to give him a quick head rub and kiss. “We’re going back to Sydney,” I announced resolutely. “The only thing we have on our side right now is the daylight. Everything else seems to be working against us.” My voice cracked in my throat as frightened tears swam to my eyelids. This expedition was rapidly turning out to be the dumbest mistake of my life. Wistfully, I thought of my dull old job back in California. Suddenly my cubicle didn’t seem like such a terrible place to be.
Double checking that I hadn’t left anything behind, I led Pouf out of the hotel room and hurried down the stairs. Paul was still at the front desk, leafing through a magazine and stuffing his face with trail mix. Discreetly, I lay the brass key on the opposite side of the desk from where Paul stood. I cringed as the heavy jingling key echoed in the near-empty lobby. The clerk swallowed a chunk of dried papaya and demanded, “Are you leaving us so soon?”
“Yes. Bye,” I clipped, hastening away from the desk.
“You need to settle your bill first!” He grumbled.
“You have my credit card on file. Just charge whatever you need. I signed for the room when I checked in, so there shouldn’t be a problem,” I spoke at a spitfire pace before clamoring out the door.
Let the jerk overcharge me. I could dispute any false credit charges once I got back to California. For now, I just wanted to violate the speed limit all the way back to Sydney. Not having a phone at my disposal for the lengthy trip was a scary thought but not as scary as staying in that ramshackle hotel another minute.
Piling into the Jeep with a euphoric Pouf, I tried to calm my breathing as I powered up the engine. “I’m so glad you’re here with me,” I murmured to Pouf as he blinked lovingly and pasted a strange Mona Lisa smile to his furry face. Then, he turned towards the passenger window and avidly watched the burnt sienna and soft heather landscape fly by.
Listlessly, I turned on the radio, surprised to hear waves of static humming back at me. I furrowed my brow pensively, wondering if the phone in my hotel room didn’t work simply because the place was located so far out in the boondocks. But no, that couldn’t be possible. Radio stations often failed in rural areas as did cell phones, but land lines? No, land lines were supposed to be pretty foolproof. Still, I questioned whether I had been too rash in checking out of the hotel. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye to Clive, which was probably for the best anyway.
Rolling down the window to clear my head, I was greeted by a sultry breeze that only deepened my mental fog. Switching on the air conditioner, I considered my next move. I wanted to investigate Corinne Foster’s murder and survey her property in Adelaide, but it was too risky of an enterprise. I had already taken enough uncalculated risks; it was time to be prudent and return to Sydney.
Without warning, Pouf started growling low in this throat, a guttural vibration that warned of imminent danger. “What’s wrong, boy?” I asked as though the fluffball could answer me. He growled again as fear turned my sweat to icy water. Pouf had supremely keen instincts, even for a dog. If he was growling, then something was about to go very wrong.
From nowhere, a car pulled up behind me as the driver repeatedly honked the horn. I barely had time to react before the driver tailgated and rode the bumper of my Jeep as though intentionally trying to cause an accident. Pouf barked urgently as I swerved the car away from the narrow two-lane road and blindly dove straight into a sandy ditch.
Chapter 6
My seatbelt dug into my chest and my lower back stiffened with tension. Pouf whined in a confused way as I slammed my foot on the brakes and pulled the key out of the ignition. Although perturbed, Pouf appeared otherwise unharmed. I was a bit scratched up, with a nice little cut taking up residence next to the goose egg I already had on my forehead from running into a tree. But I was lucky that the SUV didn’t flip over. Yes, physically, I would be fine, but psychologically was another story entirely. Tremors rocked me from head to toe as I craned my neck to look up out of the ditch. I could no longer hear the engine of another car, so I assumed that the person had kept driving after deliberately knocking me off the road.
“Someone’s trying to kill me,” I whispered in shock.
Pouf kept whining as he climbed into my lap and licked my hands to comfort me. Stroking my pet absently, I tried not to panic as I faced the harsh reality of my circumstances. Without a cell phone, I had no way to report the homicidal driver, whose face I hadn’t glimpsed anyway. Everything happened so fast that I couldn’t even say whether the driver had been male or female. Cars only passed sporadically on these roads, so it was unlikely that someone would pull over to help me. Pedestrians were non-existent on these lonely back roads and the nearest shop was probably several miles away. My best hope was to try to maneuver the Jeep out of the ditch myself.
Cautiously, I wedged my way out of the vehicle to inspect the damage. I was mollified to see that the Jeep only suffered a few minor dents and would probably still be in reasonable driving condition. Gaining momentum to ascend out of the ditch was another matter. I climbed back into the car and locked all the doors. Taking a deep breath, I fired up the engine and pressed relentlessly on the gas pedal as the wheels spun defiantly. This wasn’t going to be easy. I experimented with the steering wheel, turning it left and right while stepping firmly on the gas. If I could just gain an inch of traction, then I could get out of this dirt-filled hole in the earth!
&
nbsp; Pouf’s screechy barks cheered me on as I gnashed my teeth and rotated the steering wheel left until one of the tires begrudgingly moved. Clenching my jaw even harder, I straightened out the wheel then veered left again and repeated the arduous process until the Jeep lifted out of the ditch and careened back onto the road. “They don’t call these off-road vehicles for nothing!” I shouted triumphantly as I straightened out my positioning and intuitively curved onto the right side of the road. “Left side, Rita!” I scolded myself as I crossed over the faded divider. “You’re not in California, girl!” On the verge of hysteria, I turned to Pouf and joked, “That’s right, Toto. We’re not in Kansas anymore either!”
Shockingly, the remainder of the ride passed like the smooth flowing waters of a stream rather than the raging river 99% of my trip had been. Desperate for any morsel of familiarity, I programmed the GPS to take me to the Pacific Cove Hotel. Cruising into the parking lot hours later, I leaned my bruised forehead wearily into the steering wheel and exhaled several shaking breaths.
“We made it,” I announced with a dry mouth. “Come on, baby, let’s take you for a quick walk and hope they have a room for us!”
After Pouf did his business, we filed into the hotel as I immediately spotted Heidi at the front desk. “Hey Heidi!” I said cheerfully, feeling as though I was greeting an old friend.
She gave me a quick once-over before her eyes flickered with recognition. “Hi there! Rita, right?”
“That’s right. Do you guys have any rooms available?” I inquired, hoping my voice didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.
“Let me check the computer…what brings you back here so soon?” She asked as her eyes settled on my forehead. “Ooh, what happened there? That’s quite a bump!”
“I ran into a tree,” I mumbled nonchalantly as though it happened to me every day.
“Ran into a tree? Yes, I’d say so. You could have a concussion. Did you have a doctor check it out?” She asked in a scolding manner as my lips twisted into a grin.
Murder in the Outback Page 3
