How to Get Ahead Without Murdering Your Boss

by Helen Burton

  "Well that seems to wrap it up then. Death by misadventure if I'm not mistaken, but we'll have to wait and see what the coroner says." Samuel eased back in his chair and Davies turned off the tape recorder and started to shuffle his papers together.

  Lou didn't realize it but she sighed aloud.

  Samuel looked at Lou. "Is there something else?"

  Lou wondered whether she should say anything. She only had a theory and in the tough light of day it all seemed a bit silly somehow. But.

  She placed her hands on her knees and looked straight ahead at Samuel. "Well I just wondered if he could have been pushed. If it wasn't an accident," Lou looked from one impassive face to the other, trying to gauge their reaction.

  Samuel leaned forward over the desk. His voice was low and expressionless. "And what makes you think that?"

  "Well, he was obviously hated by all his staff," she began.

  "Yes I think we worked that out. Go on."

  "And they all had a reason to want him dead. And Arnold was alone last night. Anyone could have slipped out of the lodge or their cabin." The sentences came out more quickly than she would have liked. Lou licked her lips.

  Samuel leaned back and looked at his notes. "You and Mr Handy and the chef were in the lounge, and Ms Perfect, Ms Humann, Mr Senior and Mr Clearview were in their cabins."

  Lou nodded.

  "And you think that someone snuck out in the middle of a cyclone, got Mr Strong outside his cabin and then gave him a push."

  "Well when you put it like that it does sound a little paranoid but I just have this feeling…" Her voice trailed off and she looked into Samuel's eyes and saw what was reflected there. He was looking at her with pity. God, he thought she was nuts!

  "It's been a tough couple of days for you here. I can understand your reasoning," said Samuel in a voice which suggested that he didn't think she was being reasonable at all. He continued to pack up his notes. "Why don't we just wait and see what the coroner thinks, okay?" The police both stood up and put on their jackets. "Now how about a drink before you drive us back to the boat?"

  24

  "I'm getting used to spending time in this shed in the dark with you. It's almost like we've got our own song." Less than an hour after the police had left, the power had gone out again, and Paul and Lou were back at the utilities shed.

  "You're crazy," Lou laughed.

  "Yes I am," said Paul. "But at least I'm not the one running around trying to prove one of my guests is a murderer." Paul saw Lou's face cloud over. "Okay Sherlock, what makes you so sure?"

  "Well all of them had a motive." Lou ticked them off on her fingers. "Kylie because she was being demoted and sent off to Darwin, Nathan because Arnold was making his life a misery, Yasmin because she found out that Arnold wasn't leaving his wife and Ed because he was going to get the sack."

  Yeah. All reasons to hate him, but to kill him?" Paul shook his head. "Sounds pretty far-fetched to me."

  "They all had motive — and they all had opportunity. Everyone was in their own cabin last night — alone!"

  "Except for you and me unfortunately," muttered Paul.

  "Sorry?"

  "I said — there's no more I can do tonight. Another dinner by candlelight I'm afraid."

  "Damn."

  "Sorry." Paul began putting his tools away.

  "No, it's fine, it's not your fault. You've been great." Lou sighed. "We'd better get back and break the bad news. Luckily the stove runs on gas so we'll at least have something hot to eat."

  "Yeah." Paul looked thoughtful as he zipped up his coat. "You know there is one thing about this whole Strong thing."

  "What's that?"

  "You're assuming that someone killed him, but what if he just decided to take some pills and end his miserable existence? He underestimated the effect they'd have on him and he changed his mind. Tried to get to the lodge in the dark but just fell down the steps."

  "Strong's not the suicidal type." Lou was emphatic.

  Paul stood up and stretched his creaking knees. "You seem sure about that. How do you know?"

  Lou paused for a few seconds before replying.

  "You're right. I don't." Lou turned away from Paul. "Ready?"

  "Just a minute. I don't know whether I should show you this but it seems like you're determined, so..." Paul fished around in his pocket and pulled out some twisted fishing line.

  "What's that?" Lou took it out of his hands.

  Paul leaned back against the wall, taking the time to choose his words carefully. "I found it in the garden near Arnold's body."

  Lou looked at him quizzically. "And?"

  "You disappoint me. A top notch detective like you." Paul sighed. If you look at the bottom of the railing at the top of the steps, you'll notice a little bit of paint has been chipped away."

  "As if a piece of fishing line has been tied around the posts..."

  "To create a trip wire yes."

  Paul looked at Lou's widening eyes. "So someone tied it last night, waited at the bottom of the steps, called Arnold out and then watched him fall and drown…"

  "Or helped him drown by holding down his face in the water. And then cut away the line but accidentally dropped it."

  Lou stood in silence twisting the line around her hand.

  "But of course, it could also be some random piece of fishing line that blew into the garden from, well, anywhere, considering the weather," said Paul.

  Lou sighed. "So what do we do now?"

  "That's up to you, Sherlock. I'm just your faithful Dr Watson."

  "The police already think I'm barmy."

  "Hmmmm," Paul smiled and nodded.

  "So if this really is a trip wire, then who could have done it?" said Lou.

  "My money's on Yasmin. Always be wary of a woman scorned."

  Lou gave him a withering look. "That's so helpful."

  Paul stood straight and stretched. "Maybe they all did it. They all hated him as you said. I suggest we get back to the nest of murderers and have a strong drink."

  "The nest?"

  "Well what is the collective noun for a group of murderers? A flock? A herd?"

  Lou laughed and joined in. "A chorus? No we shouldn't laugh."

  "No we shouldn't." They looked at each other for a moment in silence and then burst out laughing again.

  Lou tried to open the door but a gust of wind slammed it shut.

  "Here let me." Paul leaned over her to grab the door but was still for a moment. "Listen," he whispered into her hair.

  "What?" Lou turned towards him and their faces were suddenly only a few inches apart. She felt his breath on her face. Her hand was on his chest and she felt the pounding of his heart.

  Paul spoke slowly. "There's only you and me and the wind. We're alone and all the problems of this weekend are on the other side of the door." He started to slip his arms down her back and hold her close. "Let's just stay here for a little while longer."

  "From what Detective Samuel was saying, I might not be safe in here with you. He thinks you're trouble."

  Paul squeezed her a little tighter. "I am. I need reforming. Do you want the job?"

  His fingers started to trace around the edge of her face.

  Lou looked up into his eyes. She realized for the first time that his eyes were sea green, deep and soft. "And how do I know whether to trust you?"

  Paul smiled. "You're the detective. I'm sure you'll work it out." He leaned towards her and she closed her eyes. The world outside the door could wait.

  25

  The gas stove was working so Clara was able to serve up a delicious final dinner for the guests, and Lou brought out some of her best wines. But the bubble had burst; the group had all left for their cabins by nine o'clock. Lou was going to stay up but by ten she, too, had gone back to her cabin and fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  After breakfast the next morning, the Medivalue team wasted no time in gathering outside the front of the lodge. Lou started to load her g
uests into the van and Paul helped with the bags. Clara came out with a box of bottled water and some bulging brown paper bags. "Lunch for the trip," she said, handing them to Lou.

  "Thanks Clara. Do we have your famous szechuan pepper chicken, rocket and swiss cheese sesame rolls?"

  Clara grinned and nodded.

  "Your chicken. Yes your szechuan chicken. That's what you were famous for, wasn't it?" The question came out of the blue. Yasmin stepped up to Lou and Clara and smiled. "Arnold took me to this restaurant in Sydney that he owned and you were the chef weren't you?" Lou glanced at Clara who had a look of what? Fear? Anger? She couldn't make it out. Yasmin stood there looking at Clara and smiling. "I liked your chicken very much," she said a little uncertainly when she saw Clara's stormy face.

  "Yes thanks," said Clara and turned away to go.

  Yasmin babbled on, a little puzzled now about Clara's reaction. "I didn't think it was fair, what Arnold did to you." Clara stopped and turned around.

  "What did Arnold do?" asked Lou, looking at Clara's hands clenching and unclenching.

  "Well basically took over the restaurant, and then…," Yasmin hesitated.

  "Go on," said Clara taking a step forward. "You were going to say he screwed me out of my business, sacked me and left me broke, with my reputation in ruins."

  "Well, yes," said Yasmin, lowering her eyes. "I am sorry. I know that later on he regretted what happened."

  "Yeah I'm sure it kept him awake nights," said Clara and turned and stalked away.

  "Well he put in a word to get you the job here, didn't he?"

  Clara didn't reply.

  Yasmin turned to Lou and shrugged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset her. I just suddenly remembered where I'd seen her before."

  Lou steered her towards the van where Paul was standing with the door open. He had heard the exchange and raised his eyebrows at her. "Don't worry about it. We're all a bit frazzled at the present." Lou glanced back at Clara and saw her disappear behind the lodge.

  Lou climbed into the driver's seat. "Are we all strapped in?"

  With smiles and nods all round Lou put the van into drive and set off for the jetty.

  Thirty minutes later she and Paul were gladly waving her charges good-bye.

  "The water's still pretty rough. Some of them are going to be re-visiting their breakfasts," said Paul, with some pleasure.

  Lou ignored his comment. She couldn't help saying what she had been thinking. "So now do you think I'm crazy?"

  Paul looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Barking."

  Lou turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "Clara has a motive. I don't know what she told the police but I'm sure she wouldn't have told them that she knew Strong."

  "Well look at it this way," said Paul grabbing her shoulders and steering her back to the van, "you can radio the police and tell them about your suspicions."

  Lou remembered the look of pity on Detective Samuel's face and shook her head. "No way."

  He held open the driver's door for her and graciously helped her in. "Or you can believe that Arnold Strong was a nut, who went walking in the middle of a cyclone because he was so full of testosterone and whiskey that he managed to fall down some slippery steps and land in a puddle." Paul walked around to the other side and climbed in. "Or you can believe that you have a murderer on your staff, who has access to a lot of very sharp kitchen knives and who bears grudges against her former employers."

  "That's not funny," said Lou she turned the ignition.

  "It's a little bit funny," said Paul. "What would be funny is if the police find that several plump backpackers have disappeared in the area, and tonight Clara decides to serve us… mmmm… Chilli con carne with extra spices from the fresh meat that has suddenly appeared in the freezer.

  Lou started to laugh. "No. I'm not listening."

  "She's got very powerful arms. She could easily chop up a few limbs. Maybe tomorrow night we'll have spare ribs? Liver and onions?"

  Lou's laughter could be heard over the roar of the van as they headed back to the Edge.

  Postscript

  Twelve months after the incident, the coroner finally determined that Arnold Strong's death had been an accident, due to his impaired judgment from excessive alcohol and medication, as verified by many witnesses. Kylie was promoted to CEO and successfully negotiated the deal with the company's Chinese buyers. Nathan and his wife had a baby girl and they moved to Townsville, where Nathan took over the running of a small charter boat company taking trips to Magnetic Island and the reef. Yasmin started working in the HR department of Medivalue and is doing so well that Kylie is keeping her in mind for future promotions. Ed resigned, as he said he would, and has moved to Tasmania to be near his daughters and their children. He works a few days a week in a small hotel near the Salamanca markets.

  Paul insists on volunteering for all of the maintenance call-outs to the Edge. He and Lou are happily in a relationship and as soon as he can work up the nerve, he's going to ask her to marry him. Lou negotiated with Kylie to buy out Medivalue's share in the Edge and has sworn never again to have another business partner. Clara left the Edge several months ago after receiving a job offer in Townsville at a new three star restaurant. She plans to turn it into four stars. In light of all that had happened, Lou wrote her an excellent reference — and gave her a bonus.

  26

  "So there you have it." Paul sat back and started looking around the lounge. There appeared to be a general stirring amongst their fellow travellers.

  "Have what?" David was leaning forward. "You still haven't told me who did it."

  "Well, the coroner ruled death by misadventure."

  "Yes, but…." David looked around trying to get a grip on what he had been told. "But are you saying that Arnold wasn't murdered? Haven't you got anything else you can tell me?"

  Paul looked back at him impassively. "Now that I think of it, I do have a final piece of the puzzle." Paul paused for effect. "R."

  "Are what?"

  "No, R. R for RESULTS."

  David sat back and shook his head. "You're talking about my career again."

  "Of course. The last few hours will have meant nothing if you don't plan for the results you want, take action to get them and then make sure you set up a system to make sure you don't ever get yourself in the same situation again."

  "And what situation is that?"

  Paul leaned forward and spoke quietly. "The situation where you are so miserable in your current job that you nearly start sobbing into your beer to some stranger in a transit lounge."

  There was a moment when David caught Paul's gaze. What he had heard in the last few hours certainly gave him food for thought — he had a lot of reflecting to do. How had this badly-dressed… yobbo… managed to change his whole approach to his future? He smiled and offered his hand. "All I can say is I'm glad I met the right stranger. You wouldn't have a free copy of your book for a mate, would you?"

  Paul grabbed his hand and shook it hard. "Wouldn't do it for just anyone…" They both laughed.

  "What's so funny?" The voice was warm and curious, and unmistakably female. David looked up to see a smartly dressed, thirty-something woman smiling down at them. Something about the way she rested her arm on Paul's shoulder told him who it was. He stood a little unsteadily and offered his hand. "You must be Lou."

  "Yes, I am," she shook his hand and frowned at Paul. "Have you been giving away free copies again?" She took in the empty bottles on the table in front of them with a raised eyebrow.

  Paul stood up quickly and offered her a seat, taking the duty-free bags she was carrying. "I've been telling young David here about your book, and the weekend we met." Lou settled herself on the couch and signaled for the men to sit down. "I thought I told you that you had to stop torturing business executives with our stories."

  Paul grinned. "But it's my only form of recreation when the footy season's over."

  Lou looked over at David's puzzled face and
smiled. "Don't mind us, David. We can go on like this for hours. Paul likes to pretend that he's ignorant about business and that I wrote the book entirely on my own, but the truth is he's quite astute and insightful when he wants to be." Paul looked over and winked at David. "See, mate, now you know why I married her."

  Lou put her hand on his knee. "I'm sure you were just about to get your poor shop-weary wife a drink?"

  "Yes, dear." Paul rolled his eyes, stood up and headed for the bar.

  Lou turned her attentions to David. "I hope Paul hasn't been boring you too much."

  "No, not at all," David said. "In fact, he has been offering me some great advice about my career, based on your book. He told me about how you met, and the cyclone and the murder, well, I still don't know if it was a murder." He glanced sideways at Lou — "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what you think happened?"

  Lou played with the edge of her jacket. "What happened is that after that weekend, I sat back and rehashed the events so many times that certain themes started to emerge for me. I realized that all of our guests were struggling with their careers, even if they didn't know it. And part of that resulted in what happened to Arnold." Lou chose her words carefully. "I'm not suggesting that if you don't take control of your career you'll end up dead but," her eyes scanned the room, "you will certainly be unhappy and you will affect the people around you in lots of different ways."

  "And so then you decided to write a book about it?"

  "About my theory, yes."

  "SEEFAR," said David.

  Lou looked surprised. "I see Paul has been giving you the full story."

  David chuckled, "I suspect that once your husband has decided to give someone the full treatment there's not much that can stop him."