Murder In The Family

by Leonie Mateer

  Passengers descended from the small plane and walked in single file across the tarmac to the small arrivals area. Audrey watched intently as every female came into view. She heard her before she saw her: “Audrey, you haven’t changed a bit. Still have a good appetite I see.” Yep. Nothing has changed.

  “Hi,” she responded. “Welcome to sunny Northland. You must be dying to get out of all those black heavy clothes. Here, let me take your suitcase.” The offer was partly necessitated by the frail frame of her half-starved sister and partly by the role she automatically assumed when luggage was involved. Even guests would watch politely as Audrey carried their suitcases, implying it perfectly acceptable to have a middle-aged woman assume the role of porter.

  Once in the car and heading north, Becka began a barrage of questions. “Did you get a chance to talk to Ben before he died? What the hell happened to Greta? Have you organized everything for the funeral? Are we responsible for Greta’s funeral too? Does she have any family? Audrey answered best she could under the circumstances. “We have an appointment at the funeral home tomorrow to go over all the final details,” she said.

  “Has Honey arrived yet?” Becka wanted to know. Audrey nodded.

  “I haven’t seen her for donkey’s years. How does she look? She was always Dad’s favorite. He used to take her everywhere.” Becka looked out the window at the rolling green hills. “It is so great to be home. I had forgotten how beautiful it is here. It is so cold in London. “ She removed her wool scarf and unbuttoned her jacket. “Maybe I will stay in New Zealand, there is really nothing to go back to.”

  Horrors, thought Audrey. “You would miss city life,” she responded.

  “I guess so. I do live a cultured lifestyle. London is such a cosmopolitan city. I would miss the theater, concerts, art galleries, museums, restaurants….” Becka yawned. “I am absolutely exhausted.”

  “We will be there soon. Why don’t you lie back and take a nap?”

  Becka didn’t take much convincing. The forty-minute drive back to Hihi was pleasantly silent except for her sister’s occasional ladylike snore.

  C H A P T E R 9

  The man stood back from the crowd at the burial site. He hadn’t known his aunt very well. He had seen the notice in the paper:

  Whangarei. Greta Baywater died Wednesday, 17th February 2016 at the home of Ben Brown where she was a long-time resident and caregiver.

  Born in 1938, Greta was a professional nurse, housekeeper and caregiver during her many years of community service.

  She was a very private person who enjoyed crossword puzzles, hymns and knitting, often donating garments she knitted to the Salvation Army. She was an avid churchgoer and regularly played the organ at the Whangarei Baptist Church.

  The Whangarei Funeral Service has been entrusted with arrangements.

  He didn’t know how she had died but presumed it was by natural causes. However, her death was a surprise as he had just received a letter from her, asking if she could come and visit him. The request had sounded urgent. He was her only living relative. By the time he received news of her death, the family of Ben Brown had already made the funeral arrangements. He didn’t want to intrude. He was surprised so many people had turned up at her funeral.

  “Are you a relative?” Startled by the man standing behind him, he swung to face him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m Detective Constable Higgins. I was wondering if you were a relative of Greta Baywater’s?” he repeated.

  “I am her nephew, Matt Walters,” he responded.

  “Did you know her well?” the detective asked.

  “Actually, no. I haven’t seen Aunt Greta for years. Funny though, I just received a letter from her asking if she could come stay with me. Do you know how she died? “

  “Natural causes as far as we can tell. I understand she had a bad heart. The shock of Ben Brown’s dying must have been too much for her.”

  “Ben Brown is dead? When did he die?”

  “The same night. He died only a few hours before your aunt died.”

  “Strange. In her letter she wrote it was urgent she leave the house. She sounded almost afraid. She asked if she could stay with me for a while.”

  “Do you still have the letter?”

  “I do.” He reached into his pocket, extracted a small pink envelope and handed it to the detective.

  Removing the hand-written note, Higgins read:

  Dear Matt,

  I know it has been a long while since we had the pleasure of dining at your dear Mother’s house before she passed away. I miss her so and think of her often.

  I do hope this letter finds you in good health.

  A situation has arisen and I find myself in need of temporary accommodation. I must leave immediately and would be most grateful I could visit with you for a few days until I can find new lodgings.

  I plan on taking the 7 p.m. bus to Auckland on Thursday and will telephone you upon my arrival.

  Yours gratefully,

  Greta Baywater

  “When she didn’t turn up at the bus terminal, I was worried. I didn’t have her telephone number and it wasn’t until I saw the notice in the paper that I realized what had happened.” Matt explained.

  “Mind if I take a copy of the letter?” The detective said as he folded it and placed it in the envelope.

  “Why. Do you think her death is suspicious? You said it was her heart?”

  “Most likely she died from natural causes but I would like to do some more investigating.”

  “I am staying at the Casa De La Vista on Tui Street. You can return the letter to me there. Do you know anyone from Ben Brown’s family? I would like to thank them for handling all of Greta’s funeral arrangements.

  The detective looked at the dispersing crowd and pointed to Audrey Wetherby. “The lady with the red scarf is Ben’s sister. She found your aunt and her brother on the night they died. Let me introduce you.”

  C H A P T E R 1 0

  Audrey saw the detective walking toward her with a man she didn’t recognize. “Ms. Wetherby, let me introduce Matt Walters. He is Greta Baywater’s nephew.” The man held out his hand and shook hers with a strong determined grasp.

  “Thank you for looking after all the funeral arrangements. Please, let me reimburse you for the trouble.” He reached in his pocket and removed a card and handed it to her.

  Audrey took the card without looking at it. “It was no trouble. Greta was like family to us. She took care of my brother for over fifteen years. It was the least we could do for her.” She looked intently at the well-dressed man in front of her. “We were unaware Greta had any family.”

  “I should have been there for her. I travel extensively and have been over in Europe for many years and just returned a few months ago. In fact, I received a letter from Greta requesting to come and stay with me. Such a shame we left it too late to reconnect. I am sorry for your loss. I understand your brother also passed away.”

  Audrey was preoccupied. A letter. Greta wrote him a letter? Was that why her suitcase was packed? Why she had a one-way ticket to Auckland? What had she written? “Yes, his funeral is tomorrow. He was very sick. We will miss him terribly.”

  “I would like to pick up my Aunt’s belongs if that is alright. I don’t want to cause more work for you but she is all the family I had and there might be some things I can keep as mementoes.”

  Audrey’s mind was spinning. “Yes, of course. I packed them in boxes and they are in storage at Tiromoana in Hihi. If you stop by after Ben’s funeral tomorrow afternoon we are having tea on the lawn at three. Just take the road past the Hihi motor camp and up Peninsula road. Tiromoana is the first entranceway on the left. You are welcome to join us. She looked at the detective. “You are also invited.” It was a half-hearted invitation but she figured he would attend Ben’s funeral anyway. He was such a nosey son of a bitch. She needed to keep an eye on him.

  The men moved towards the graveside as Audrey stumbled across the cemeter
y lawn in her inappropriate high heels. Bloody men. Now I have to go to Ben’s and pack up Greta’s stuff. There is no way that man is going to nose around the villa. She stopped to remove her shoe that was firmly stuck in the dirt. Bloody hell!

  C H A P T E R 1 1

  Piper let out a whistle. “Wow, this is where Audrey lives? It’s fantastic.”

  A sign, “Tiromoana” painted white on native wood and nailed to a tree marked the entrance to six cabins and Audrey’s cottage overlooking Doubtless Bay. Tall pine trees swayed in the warm sea breeze as the family headed down the long gravel driveway towards the opening to the ocean.

  As they pulled into the car park Simone gasped. “Oh my God! What a view!“

  Becka and Honey were spread out on the lawn like brown bunnies. They turned when the car approached and waved.

  “Oh Mum, this is great! I’m going to go swimming immediately.”

  Simone and John removed their luggage from the rental car and headed towards the cottage while Piper ran to her aunties and fell down dramatically beside them. “I’m Piper,” she said. “You must be my wonderful aunties whom I have never met.”

  Audrey was in the office. She looked completely shocked to see her oldest sister and her husband standing in front of her. “I didn’t think you were coming,” she said. “Becka and Honey thought you both had work commitments.”

  “That was before Ben actually died. I didn’t want to get involved in a pointless family discussion about things in the past. But of course we would come to his funeral. He was, after all, my brother.” Simone looked hurt.

  Audrey grabbed a key and walked with them to the Morepork Cabin on the far ridge overlooking Hihi harbor. It was the largest of all the cabins and would easily accommodate all three of them. She had watched their teenage daughter join her sisters on the lawn and envied her youth and vibrancy. Two attributes Audrey could no longer claim as her own.

  For tonight she planned a BBQ on the front lawn. Becka had made a spinach and caper salad. Honey was responsible for desert and had magically produced a combination of fluff and puff delights. Her sisters had already started on the wine and were on their second bottle by the time Audrey returned from Ben’s with a carload of Greta’s possessions.

  During the packing process, Audrey had discovered another side to Greta. She professed to be a good Christian and had half a dozen bibles to prove it – and yet, it would appear, she had a morbid interest in the occult. Books with titles including the words: Magic, Witchcraft, Demonology, Wicca and Tarot were stacked in boxes under her bed. Audrey found a diary containing dates of psychic readings complete with names and dates of clients. What the hell? Greta was a fortune-teller? She laughed. Shame she couldn’t predict her own fate. Looking through the entries, Audrey realized that Greta had kept a record of her clients’ secret fears and past indiscretions. She searched for an entry about her brother, Ben. Her heart stopped beating as she read the lines about her brother’s truths and regrets. Greta knew. Greta knew everything. The last entry had been written the day her brother died. Had Greta told anyone what she knew? Her nephew, perhaps? Audrey placed Greta’s bibles and her bland, matronly outfits neatly into cardboard boxes for her nephew to collect tomorrow. She made sure she included some jewelry and a few select novels and biographies from her literary collection. Her nephew would believe his aunt had been a nice, god-fearing woman. Now, this was not an attempt to put Greta’s memory in a good light, but rather to avoid any lingering interest in the woman. The other, more interesting items, she placed in a box and marked it carefully, “Ben’s books.”

  C H A P T E R 1 2

  Honey was dressed to kill. She had an opinion about funerals. They were a time of remembrance and celebration and the color black had nothing to do with either. She wouldn’t expose her ample cleavage as a point of respect but a wide-brimmed hat, a tight-fitting bodice and hip-hugging polka-dot skirt worked perfectly with her new red shoes. Now, if a nice single man just happened to be at the funeral that would really top off the occasion. There was nothing Honey liked better than men – except, of course, for Mr. Fluffy and Tinkers.

  Last night had been really strange. She had spent the afternoon getting sloshed with Becka while Audrey ran around like a chicken with her head cut off having insisted on attending Greta’s funeral. Honey felt that paying for the bloody funeral was good enough. “Ben would have wanted that,” Audrey had insisted. Then later her sister returned with a carload of Greta’s belongings, saying her nephew was collecting it all after Ben’s funeral. Bloody hell, who knew the old lady had a nephew?

  When Simone, John and Piper arrived, it was pretty much a full house of strangers pretending they were family. Or was it the other way round? Whatever it was, it was a disaster. No one wanted to talk about Ben or dredge up the past. They were all in bed by nine o’clock.

  The funeral home in Kerikeri had arranged for cars to pick them up. Honey, Becka and Audrey piled into the first car. Simone and family into the second. It was a private event. They had avoided putting his death notice in the newspaper for fear that someone from their past should spot it. By tonight it would all be behind them. Ben would be six feet under and they could return to their busy lives.

  “Honey Brown?” Honey turned to see a ghost from the past staring at her. He hadn’t changed a bit. Still tall, gaunt and reeking of booze and tobacco. “Uncle Steve! What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you had moved to Australia. How is Aunt Betty? Is she here too?” Honey looked around and caught Becka’s eye. Becka looked shocked when she saw whom Honey was talking to and walked over to join them.

  “My wife passed away many years ago. Goodness gracious, is that you Becka? My, how you have grown into a beautiful woman. Are you still in London? Ben told me you’re married and have two boys.”

  “I didn’t know you were in contact with Ben?” Becka was shocked.

  “I wasn’t until a few days ago. His housekeeper called me and said that Ben was in distress and wanted to talk to me. During our conversation he mentioned that you had moved to London and married an artist. A painter, I understand?”

  Their conversation was cut short as Audrey approached the group. “Uncle Steve, I see you made the funeral. I thought you and my brother were not on speaking terms.”

  “We are family.” The old man looked uncomfortable at the accusation.

  “You must join us for afternoon tea at Audrey’s,” Becka offered awkwardly. “It’s only a forty-minute drive from here. Here, let me give you the address in case you get lost.” Or want to stop at a pub or two on the way.

  “Thank you, I think I will,” he looked at Audrey. “We need to have a talk, you and me.”

  Audrey knew her father and Uncle Steve had a falling-out shortly after a young girl’s body had been found on the stony banks of the local Waimakariri River. The police had interviewed her father as a person of interest in the girl’s murder. But Audrey had always wondered if it was her uncle who had committed the crime. A car was seen at the scene that matched her father’s Hillman Hunter. The neighbors had reported him to the police when he was seen changing the color of the car shortly after the body had been found. She remembered her uncle borrowing the car and going fishing the day the girl was killed. No one was every held responsible for the crime. She always knew they had had something to do with it.

  Audrey wondered what her uncle wanted to talk to her about. She worried about what Ben may have said to him.

  Too many secrets left unspoken. Had her uncle learned something that implicated Audrey? Is that why he wanted to talk to her?

  C H A P T E R 1 3

  Detective Constable Higgins looked on from afar as the family stood at the graveside. Who was that woman in the big hat? He guessed she was one of the sisters. He watched as the group walked away from the grave in silence and returned to the waiting cars. An elderly, unkempt man remained. Higgins walked over to him and introduced himself. “Detective Constable Higgins. I am sorry for your loss.
A friend of yours?”

  “He was my nephew, my brother’s son. Steve Brown,” he introduced himself.

  The detective was standing downwind of the man and turned to avoid the stench of alcohol. “Were you close?”

  “We hadn’t talked in years. That is, until a few days ago. He was extremely distraught, wanted to talk about my brother’s death – terrible thing. But, I’m sure you know all about that. What with the case still being open.”

  Detective Higgins had no idea what he was referring to but didn’t miss a beat. “Wanted to get something off his chest before he died, did he?”

  “Oh, it was nothing important. Just family stuff.” The man replied obviously regretting his indiscretion. “Gotta go. Audrey is having some sort of reception at her place and I’m invited. Never miss a free drink and a feed.”

  The detective followed the man back to the car park and tried to press him for more information, but to no avail. Although he was also invited, he had no intention of attending the reception. Instead he began making calls. “I want a search on Ben Brown, his family, everything. Now!” he shouted into the phone.

  Damn, I knew there was more to these deaths.

  C H A P T E R 1 4

  Shit, shit, shit. Audrey was pissed off. She sat in the back of the sedan next to her sisters in silence. What the hell was he doing here? What the fuck did Ben tell him? Now the shithead wanted to talk to her. About what? Did he know? Surely not? Ben promised no matter what, he would never tell anyone who’d been there that night – least of all Uncle Steve, the drunken bastard.

  As they pulled into her car park, she saw Greta’s nephew, Matt, waiting in his car staring out at the view across the bay. Simone and family pulled in behind them. As the sisters poured out of the cars in unison, Matt walked over to greet them.