“If he has seen the photos, he knows we were all abused. He may think we all had something to do with their murders?” Simone offered as an explanation.
Audrey knew she had Ben’s written confession torn from Greta’s notebook. He had confessed to their mother’s murder. He had not confessed to their father’s. She knew that would be a problem. “We do not have to talk to the police. We have the right to remain silent, no matter what. If the detective questions us, we can ask for an attorney. Unless he can prove we had something to do with their murders we cannot be implicated.”
“Won’t he think we have something to hide if we ask for an attorney?” Simone asked. “Personally, I think we should just say that we had nothing to do with it.”
“If he insists on questioning us, I agree. But if he brings us to the station for questioning, I agree with Audrey. We should ask for an attorney. Who knows what evidence they have. Maybe we will all be locked up.” Becka knew she was to blame for her mother’s death. What if they knew? But how could they?
“I always suspected Ben killed them,” Simone confessed. “The night they died, the police took him down to the station and questioned him for hours. He came back to my place afterwards and looked devastated. You were all asleep. I asked him if he had done it. He said he was working, making deliveries. Hadn’t even been there. I wanted to believe him. The police wouldn’t leave it alone. They hounded me. Audrey, you remember? They questioned you for hours, too.”
“I wasn’t there,” Audrey lied. “I arrived home after the police turned up. But you were there, Becka?
You helped Ben clean away the evidence? You must have left before the police arrived.”
“I told the police I knew nothing. I think they suspected Ben. Only because he was the oldest. They couldn’t prove anything. If the police have seen the photos, they may think we all had a motive. I leave for London in a couple of days. Hopefully I can avoid talking to them before I go.”
“I think we should head home tomorrow. We need to get Piper back to school anyway. Don’t communicate by phone or email in case the police have us bugged. Tell Honey not to talk about it either. Hopefully Matt will let the subject drop. I don’t think Honey can cope with a relationship and the past being dredged up. Poor Honey. She suffered the most. Didn’t she? Daddy’s little girl, what bullshit!”
“They deserved what they got. I don’t blame Ben for doing what he did,” said Becka.
Audrey poured another glass of wine as her sisters bade goodnight. Fuck the detective. Why couldn’t he leave it alone?
C H A P T E R 3 7
Matt couldn’t sleep. An online search had revealed the whole gruesome story. Newspaper articles from thirty years ago gave all the details. He looked at the photo of Honey’s parents on the front page of The Christchurch Press. He read how the police suspected Ben. I wonder if Greta knew? I hope she wasn’t blackmailing him, too. Now he knew why Audrey had kept Greta’s notebook. He knew it couldn’t have got mixed up with Ben’s stuff. Audrey must have suspected she knew. Did she remove any evidence? Did Ben confess before dying? Was Greta afraid of Ben? Maybe her death wasn’t a result of natural causes.
Why would the detective mention Honey’s father’s photos? He obviously wanted him to tell the women. But why? What were the photos of? Why were the girls so upset when he mentioned them? His mind was spinning. He looked over at Honey’s cabin and saw that her light was still on. It was after midnight. He missed sleeping with her. She was so soft and warm. He missed the smell and feel of the woman. He grabbed a bottle of wine from his fridge and headed over to her.
It was obvious she had been crying. He took her in his arms and she sobbed on his shoulder. They were standing in the doorway. He wiped away her tears and took her hand. “Come, let’s talk,” he said, steering her towards the sofa in the corner of the cabin.
“Was it the photos that upset you?” Matt asked.
She nodded.
“What are in the photos that upset you so much?”
“I can’t say.”
“Is it something to do with your parents’ deaths?”
She nodded.
“Do you know who killed them?” he asked
“Please don’t ask me. I can’t talk about it,” she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything. I am here for you. Would you like me to stay here tonight so you are not alone?”
She nodded.
He held her until the sun rose. She tossed and turned throughout the night. He knew it was bad, whatever it was. His poor Honey. What had they done to her?
C H A P T E R 3 8
Detective Constable Higgins knew he should bring in the Brown sisters and confront them with the new evidence to see if they would talk. He had their father’s incestuous photos and the crime scene photo of their schoolbags in the hallway proving they were in the house before or during the murder. Although being victims of child molestation and incest didn’t make them murderers, the presence of their schoolbags in the hallway needed to be explained. Did they witness their brother killing their parents? Did they participate in the killings?
He had not wanted to discuss it yesterday at Audrey’s. Matt Walters was there and he was surprised to see Deacon James there too. Something fishy going on, he was sure of it. He would prefer to have Audrey and her sisters come in to the station where their interview could be recorded and documented officially.
He needed to act quickly before Becka flew back to England. Audrey had said she was leaving soon. He needed to bring them in to the station today. He picked up the phone and called Audrey.
“I’m sorry detective. You have missed them all. They left first thing this morning.”
“Has Becka left for London?”
“Her flight is tonight. She is driving down to Auckland. She’ll be back in England in forty-eight hours. If you wanted to talk to us why didn’t you do so yesterday when you were here?”
“I prefer to hold the interviews at the station,” he replied.
“Interviews? Now it is an interview? We have nothing to say, detective. Nothing that we didn’t say thirty years ago.”
“I think you might want to see what new evidence we have uncovered.”
“Does this evidence implicate any of us?” she asked.
“Well, actually it does involve you, Honey and Becka,” he replied.
“Can’t you just tell me what it is?” Audrey’s voice didn’t waiver, but her heart was beating loudly in her chest.
“It is proof that all three of you were in the house when the murders took place.”
Fuck! What the hell! “You must be mistaken. We did not go into the house at all that afternoon. The police wouldn’t let us in. We stayed at Simone’s that night. I can’t imagine what evidence you think you have?”
“I can’t divulge that over the phone. You need to come in to the station. Could you make it this afternoon?”
“I’m sorry detective, that is impossible. I have to prepare all the cabins for guests who are arriving later today. I have nothing to say to you. If you keep insisting I will have to get an attorney. Please do not harass me anymore. Good day, detective.” She hung up. Fuck him. He is bluffing.
Well. So Audrey is threatening to lawyer up. Why, I wonder? What does she have to hide? He only had circumstantial evidence. Nothing that would enable him to obtain a warrant for her arrest. He needed help. Someone on the inside. And he knew exactly who that could be.
C H A P T E R 3 9
Audrey couldn’t warn her sisters. They had agreed not to communicate, at least not until all of it had died down. She wished she could tell them the detective was on a mission. He would track them down, she was sure of it. She did have a code she could text them. She sent it: Hope you got home safely. Anodyne to anyone else but a warning they should be careful. She hoped it would be enough.
All six cabins were fully booked tonight. Her sisters had helped her prepare their cabins before they left. She just had
to provide fresh linen, flowers, and wine and write the “welcome” notes. Audrey took pride in her business. Her website was overflowing with guests’ favorable comments. “Loved our stay at Tiromoana”; “Our cabin was divine”; “Audrey is a wonderful host”; “Highly recommend Tiromoana Cabin Resort – the best accommodation in Northland.”
Guests began arriving in the late afternoon. Honeymoon couples, fishermen, a wonderful elderly couple, and a family of four. It was almost eight o’clock before Audrey could settle down to a movie and a glass of wine. She breathed a sigh of relief. Always preferring a solitary lifestyle, she found it exhausting to welcome and entertain guests and play hostess. Tonight she had some much-needed alone time. Tomorrow a few of the guests were checking out. It would be another busy day.
C H A P T E R 4 0
Eric Chapman was surprised to get the call. He hadn’t heard from Higgins since he had turned private eye. They used to work together. Higgins got promoted to Detective. Chapman preferred the freedom of being self-employed. They both had gone their separate ways.
“Higgins. Bloody Higgins. What can I do you for? Long time no hear.”
He was pleased to get a job. It had been a while. Higgins gave him a complete run-down of what the job entailed. Surveillance and reporting. All expenses paid and a healthy commission upon results.
He made the reservation and headed up north, radio blaring, windows down and a couple of dozen beer in the back seat. Life was good!
The Hihi Motor Camp was busy. He had reserved one of the furnished motel units on site. The camp was across the road from Hihi beach. Grabbing a beer and ignoring the “no alcohol” sign on the beach; he sat on the sand and watched the setting sun. Tomorrow he would start clocking the hours. Tonight he would take a trip into Mangonui and grab some fish and chips and a beer.
He looked up the gravel road towards the peninsula. He was told it was only about a mile walk along the road. When the tide was out he could walk along the rocky beach. Either way he would need to be discreet. Maybe take a fishing rod and gear. He could catch a snapper while he was at it.
C H A P T E R 4 1
Becka had not moved from the old wooden bench for over an hour. Whenever life became unbearable, she found peace in her childhood memories of the Christchurch Botanical Gardens. The familiar curved bridge leading into the gardens from the car park overlooked the Avon River where Becka sat watching the ducks bobbing in and out of the clear water. She wished she had bread to throw into the water as they did when they were children.
She had such few happy childhood memories. She would daydream that one day her “real” family would knock at their door and explain she had been mistakenly given to the wrong mother at birth. But that never happened. Instead, she had murdered her mother and – as soon as she could after that – she had left for London.
She felt in her pocket for her return ticket to London. She hadn’t told her sisters about her plan to visit their hometown. They presumed that she had flown from Auckland to Heathrow. It was better they never knew. It was time to revisit the past.
She parked across the road from the familiar quaint old bungalow. It hadn’t changed over the years. She was seventeen years old when she had fallen in love with David. He was a senior at high school and one year older than she was. If Ben had not gone crazy that night, she would most likely have married David. But after her parents were murdered and the constant publicity had turned their lives into a nightmare, David didn’t want anything to do with her. She had gone to see him the next day and he wouldn’t even look at her.
Then he stopped talking to her altogether. He had broken her heart.
Someone was in the kitchen. A woman. She waited. A car pulled into the driveway and a middle-aged man with a big belly and baggy sweats appeared carrying an old gym bag. She took her chance. “David? David Knowles?”
It was with complete disinterest that he turned towards her. “It’s Becka Brown,” she said. “Long time no see.”
“Well fuck me! I thought you were living in England!”
“I was. I am,” she said. “You may have heard, my brother, Ben, died recently and I came for the funeral.”
“Yeah. Read it in the paper.”
“So you are married?” she asked, looking towards the house.
“Yes. I think you knew her. Mary Morris. You were in the same class?”
“I didn’t know you even knew Mary,” she said, surprised. “She was one of my best friends.”
“Oh, was she? She didn’t tell me that. In fact, she said that you were not close at all.” He looked at her with spiteful contempt. “What can I do for you, Becka?”
“I was in the old neighborhood and wondered if you still lived in the old house.”
“Yes, my parents passed away not long ago and Mary and I moved into the house. I always loved this old house.” He ran his hand over his thinning hair and turned as his wife appeared on the front porch.
“Mary, come here. It’s Becka Brown. Remember, from high school.”
“Of course, I remember Becka,” she said smugly.
“You had the hots for my David. Sad thing about your parents being murdered. Did they ever find out who did it?”
Becka ignored the question. “Well must be off. Have heaps to do before I head back to London.”
As she returned to the car she watched the couple walk inside and shut the front door.
It wasn’t until almost midnight when the fire brigade was called to 311 Pine Avenue. The old wooden heritage home was burned to the ground. Two bodies were discovered in the ashes. No one knew how the fire started. Only the family cat had escaped.
C H A P T E R 4 2
She didn’t mean to stare. The man fishing off the rock, her rock was beautiful. He was perfect in every way. Audrey didn’t like fat men, short men or men with big heads. They were repulsive to her. This man, whoever he was, was tall, lean and muscular. He was completely oblivious to her presence. The gravel road from Tiromoana to the water’s edge was hidden from the shore. She had chosen to take a walk rather than drive her Rav4 to the beach. She stood at the opening between the pohutakawa trees admiring the stranger on her shore.
Audrey was pleased she was wearing her favorite summer dress and yellow sandals. Her skin was bronzed from the summer months. A wide floppy hat and sunglasses were her usual accessories achieving both anonymity and protection from the blistering sun. She knew she looked good. She sat on the grassy slope careful not to soil her pale yellow dress. Wrapping her arms around her knees she waited patiently for the gorgeous man to turn in her direction.
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t see you there. Where did you come from?” He began winding in his line.
Audrey apologized. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Catch anything?”
“Nope. Not a thing. But I can’t complain. It’s such a beautiful spot.” He grabbed his tackle box and climbed down the rock towards her.
“Are you from around here?” Audrey presumed he was either staying in one of the holiday homes or at the motor camp. He was too clean cut for a local guy.
“From Auckland. Came up for some fishing and to get out of the city for a few days. You?”
“I’m a local.” He was standing so close to her she could smell him. A mixture of sea air and musk. It had been a while since she had been with a man. Audrey hadn’t known she was bi until her relationship with a woman a year ago. It didn’t end well.
“You are not dressed for fishing or walking on the rocks,” he said looking at her ridiculously strappy sandals. “How did you get here?”
Audrey laughed. “You are right. I came down the road behind me.”
“There is a road?” He sounded shocked. “I thought the only way to the fishing spot is by walking half a mile along the rocks. Now you tell me there’s a road?”
“Well it’s not a public road. It’s private property. But I know the owner.” She smiled as he sat down beside her and stretched his long legs down the bank.
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br /> As they talked the tide came in and the water began to lap at their feet. “You won’t be able to return back to the main beach now the tide is in,” Audrey said. “I guess you will have to trespass on private property and take the road back.”
“Are you sure the owner won’t mind?”
“No. If you stick with me you will be fine.” He offered his hand as they climbed up the bank to the gravel road. She wished she had worn more sensible shoes for climbing the steep incline. As they reached the top of the road she opened the gate and together they walked along the long grassy ridge, past the cabins, to the gated entranceway on the far side. “I didn’t know this place existed,” the man said. Looks like a nice place to stay.”
“It is,” she said as they reached the driveway to the main road. “I’m sorry, it is quite a walk down the road to the Hihi beach but it is a lot easier than walking along the rocks.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Appreciate it.” He threw his rod over his shoulder and, with tackle box in hand, headed off towards the Hihi Township below.
He’d left and hadn’t even asked her name. She was disappointed. There again, she hadn’t asked for his. Two strangers on a rocky beach on a sunny afternoon. He obviously wasn’t attracted to her. Damn. He was gorgeous.
Audrey turned on the six o’clock news. The lead story was about a fire in Christchurch. Two bodies discovered.
“The names have just been released of the two bodies found following a fire at 311 Pine Avenue in Papanui, Christchurch. They were David and Mary Knowles, a married couple who had recently moved into their deceased parents’ home. The police have determined the fire was deliberately caused and they are now treating it as an open homicide case. They are asking anyone who might have seen anything untoward or noticed anyone acting suspiciously early last night to please contact their local police station.”
Murder In The Family Page 7
