Mary hadn’t told anyone she had gone to see Greta that night. She lived only a few houses from the Brown residence. She saw Deacon James’ car parked in the driveway and she waited until he left. She walked around to the back door and found it open.
She wanted to have it out with Greta. Tell her to stop blackmailing her. She had no money. She was a single mother who had put her son through law school. She hoped that Greta would feel remorse for what she had done.
When she walked into the house, she saw a pot boiling on the stove. She walked down the dark corridor and found Greta packing clothes into a suitcase on the bed. Greta had turned to face her with a snarl on her face. “What brings you here?” she said as she continued folding clothes neatly into the case.
“We need to talk. This has to stop,” Mary pleaded.
The talk did not go well. Greta told her to leave. “I will not be bothering you anymore,” she said, slamming the lid of the suitcase shut. “I am leaving, going away. Get out of my house!”
Mary had seen a different side of Greta. No longer was she the sympathetic listener Mary used to tell her secrets to. Instead she was a mean, shriveled old woman who had tormented her. Mary almost felt sorry for the old woman. Good riddance to her. As she left by the front door, she saw a woman walking around the side of the house towards the back door. She presumed it was one of Greta’s clients.
Mary had taken her revenge by passing on Greta’s blackmailing threats to the police. She wanted them to know how evil the woman was. Now she wished she hadn’t got involved. She wondered if Deacon James had returned that night. If Deacon James was guilty of killing Greta, her son would be implicated in the scandal.
Craig’s cell phone rang. Thinking it was Deacon James, she answered.
“Detective Bromley here. I am looking for Craig Hastings.”
“He is not here. Can I take a message?”
“Do you know where I can reach him?” he asked.
“Yes, he works at Bartlett, Broomfield and Dickenson, the law firm on Main.
“I see. Thank you.” The phone went dead.
Damn! Craig left his phone at home so he wouldn’t be hassled by the Deacon’s constant calls. She had told him to leave it with her. She wanted to talk to Deacon James. Now she had really messed things up. She picked up her bible and sighed. It is in God’s hands now.
C H A P T E R 9 7
Naomi James returned to her office the next morning. She wasn’t one for avoiding trouble. She had made a career out of winning legal battles and she was ready to fight this one. No matter what. When Detective Bromley walked into their offices, she presumed he was coming to see her. He was surprised to hear him ask for Craig Hastings. What the hell would he be wanting with their new young lawyer? She watched as they went into their conference room and shut the door.
She wondered if he was the “Craig” the woman had referred to in the phone call. Did Craig know her husband? What was their association? Thirty minutes later the detective left and Craig picked up his briefcase and followed him out of the office.
Naomi called Steve at home. There was no reply.
Her office phone rang. “There is a detective here wanting the keys to your Mercedes. They said they have a warrant.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why won’t they leave us alone? “You can come in and get them,” she said to the receptionist. “Ask them if I will have my car back by the end of the day.”
Why would they want to search my car? What could they possibly expect to find in it?”
Naomi wondered if she was becoming a suspect in the murder of Greta. She remembered that night. She had told Steve she was going out of town. But it was a lie. She just wanted some time to herself. Her family owned a little seaside cottage half an hour out of the city. She had gone there and stayed until the following morning. She had no alibi. She had taken their four-wheel drive as the country road was steep and had left her Mercedes at home. Had Steve taken it that night? Is that why they were interested in it? Was he guilty after all?
She tried calling Steve again. Still no reply.
C H A P T E R 9 8
Deacon James finally received a return call from Detective Bromley.
“We released your friend Craig an hour ago,” the detective advised. “He is not a person of interest in the death of Greta Baywater. We just wanted to confirm his whereabouts at the time of the crime. You will be pleased to know he said he was with you at the Madison Hotel from seven fifteen that evening until seven the next morning. The hotel has confirmed this. Furthermore,” the detective added, “we have a witness who saw a woman entering Greta’s house later in the evening. We are following up this lead.”
James gave a sigh of relief. “Then it is over?” he asked.
“As far as you and Craig Hastings are concerned, it is over,” the detective confirmed.
“So there is no need for anyone to know about our relationship?” James asked hopefully.
“You are both adults. What you do is your business. We certainly have no plans to divulge any information regarding your relationship.”
“Thank you, Detective. That is good news.” Deacon James felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. “So I can pick up my cell phone and computer?”
“Yes, any time. Oh, there is just one more thing. Whose car is the Mercedes?”
“It is my wife’s car. Well, actually her firm’s car. Why do you ask?”
“It was not at your home at the time of the search.”
“Oh, yes, my wife had to take it in for a service.”
“I see. Thank you.” The detective hung up.
Deacon James knew it was over with Craig. The fact that he had not returned any of his calls and that his mother was aware of their relationship pretty much said it all. Sooner or later his sexual preference would be a topic of conversation amongst his congregation. It was time for him to leave the church and find a new career.
He also knew his marriage to Naomi was over. He would move out tomorrow and file for divorce. No more secrets. No more lies.
Deacon James was packing when he heard the home phone ring. It was Naomi. “You set me up!” she screamed into the phone. “You bastard!” The phone went dead.
C H A P T E R 9 9
The arrest shocked the city of Whangarei. The six o’clock news captured the attention of Northland viewers. Audrey was no exception. She watched, as Naomi James was lead away from her law office to a police car.
“Detective Bromley, the lead investigator has just released a statement,” the announcer said as the detective’s familiar face appeared on the screen.
“We have made an arrest in the murders of Greta Baywater, Eric Chapman and Detective Higgins. Earlier today we found evidence that strongly implicates a local lawyer, Naomi James as the perpetrator of all three crimes.
“At this time we cannot go into details but we can say we expect this case to go to trial. Mrs. James has been remanded in police custody and her case will be heard in the Whangarei District court tomorrow when the judge will make a decision on whether she will be released on bail until her trial.
“The arrest of Mrs. Naomi James was the result of hard work on the part of our team of the Northland police force from Mangonui to Whangarei.”
Reporters surrounded Deacon James’ home. As he walked outside to his car, carrying a suitcase, they converged on him. “Deacon James, did your wife kill Greta Baywater because Greta was blackmailing you?
“Why did she kill the detective and the private investigator? What are you hiding?”
“I have no comment,” he said.
A pretty blonde reporter called out,”Did you know your wife was a murderer, Deacon James?”
“No comment” was all he said.
Audrey’s phone rang. It was Honey. “Did you hear? Shit!! It was the deacon’s wife, Naomi, who murdered them all. I can’t believe it, Audrey. I wonder what evidence they found? Wow!”
Audrey heard a man’s voice in the background. “Is Matt there
?” she asked.
Honey laughed. “Yep. Guess what Audrey? We are engaged! Matt and I are getting married!”
“Oh, Honey. Congratulations. I am so happy for you.”
They said goodbye. Audrey wondered if they would stay in touch. Somehow she felt they would return to their separate lives. It was murder that separated them and murder that reunited them. A bond they were destined to share again.
Audrey did not expect to hear from Becka. She knew the evidence found in Naomi’s car was a joint effort. Without Becka’s help, she wouldn’t have been able to frame Naomi for Greta’s murder, too. Did Becka know she was responsible for Greta’s death? Or was Becka only looking after her own interests? Protecting herself? Audrey would never know.
She made a call to Simone. She hadn’t talked to her since Simone left Tiromoana. Simone sounded pleased now that the emphasis had shifted from their parents’ death to Greta Baywater’s death. As usual, she seemed somewhat uninterested in it all. “Did I tell you? Piper is going to spend next year in France on a foreign student exchange.”
“That’s wonderful, Simone. Give her my love.” Audrey said goodbye.
It was time for a celebration. Audrey opened up a bottle of her favorite champagne, Tattinger Brut, poured a glass and sat at her computer. She opened up Greta’s bank account information. A quick transfer of $200,000 into her overseas account put a smile on her face. She poured herself a second glass of champagne and fondled her mother’s pearls.
“To family,” she toasted.
T H E E N D
THE AUDREY MURDERS
The Murder Suite Book One
The Cabin by the Sea Book Two
The Murder Trail Book Three
Murder in the Family Book Four
The Murder Trap Book Five
The Murder Trap
Sample Chapters
CHAPTER ONE
Checking her cell phone Audrey confirmed what she already knew. It was three thirty. The cottage was in complete darkness. A power cut meant no running water, no hot cup of tea, no heat, no middle of the night TV movie and her laptop computer was low on battery. She turned on the computer to drain the last few breaths of power with Leonard Cohen’s “I’m your Man” and looked out the window into the moonlight. A fishing boat was lit like the fourth of July - its bright colored lights shimmered across the dark waters of the bay. The last couple of days had been stormy, rainy and cold. She presumed the weather had enticed the boats to take shelter inside the bay.
Audrey’s chosen lifestyle of living in rural isolation came with its disadvantages. Fallen trees, hillside slips and storm damage caused regular power outages. She hoped her guests were sleeping through the inconvenience.
The sound of whirring broke the dark silence as electrical devices stirred into life. Audrey was too stimulated to sleep. She made a cup of coffee and checked her email. There it was. He had replied.
CHAPTER 2
Grant Pratt’s life had taken a downward spiral – financially, emotionally and physically. He had a choice to make – to install insulation or take a trip up north. The winter had been cruel to his arthritis but it was almost spring with a promise of warmer days. He couldn’t say the same for his love life.
Her email was encouraging - a possibility even of solving his problematic lifestyle. She owned a rural resort in the far north. He was invited for a visit – a champagne lunch on the front lawn. It sounded rather extravagant and enticing. They had been communicating for a couple of weeks. He had found her on a dating site.
Grant’s appearance was tall, lanky and rugged. His personality was in stark contrast. The man was weak and small-minded. He preyed off others scrounging for unwanted belongings and handouts. Today would be no exception. He rode his old bicycle to the local pub and waited for Bob to take his usual seat by the bar - a lunchtime ritual for the locals who came from neighboring farms for the infamous fish chowder special.
“Could you do me a favor mate?” Grant asked as he accepted the offer of a beer from his good friend.
“What’s that?” Bob guzzled his beer thirstily and wiped the froth with the back of his hand.
“I need to borrow a car for a trip up north.”
“Watcha got up north that is so important?”
“Found myself a lady – a good one. She lives up in Hihi.”
“What would a lady want with you?” Bob said with half-hearted humor. ”Does she know what you look like?”
“Yep. Sent her a picture. She owns a fancy cabin resort. I’ll be back tomorrow night. Just a trip up and down.”
“All that way for a visit. She hasn’t invited you to stay then?”
“Would you mind if she did? Do you need your car for the next couple of days?”
“Nope, can use my truck. My wife has her own car. Stop by my place and I’ll get you the keys. But look after her, eh? She’s got a lot of miles on her but still runs pretty good.”
When Grant picked up the old jeep he dropped off a bag of spuds from his garden. He hoped the jeep was full of petrol. He figured it would cost about three hundred in gas for the round trip. Grant had one hundred and twenty dollars. Maybe he only needed to get there one way and Audrey would invite him to stay. He could see himself helping the nice looking blonde run her country resort. He certainly wouldn’t miss his run down cabin in the Thames rural outskirts. He turned on the key and watched as the petrol indicator read almost empty. Fuck! He wished he hadn’t parted with the spuds. Bloody cheap shit! He would need to borrow a couple of hundred dollars now to make the trip. He returned to the pub hopeful.
Murder in the Family
Copyright © 2016 by Leonie Mateer. All rights reserved
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If you enjoyed this book, I would love you to write a review on Amazon. Thank you.
Leonie Mateer
www.leoniemateer.com
Murder In The Family Page 16
