A Time for Murder

by Stacey Alabaster

  “Don’t stress,” I said, taking a seat again. “Anyway, you never answered my question.”

  Matt shook his head. “I never heard of another Alyson.”

  I frowned. “So it wasn’t a family name or anything? Then who was I named after?” It wasn’t something I had ever asked about before, at least not that I could remember. As far as I was concerned, there was only one important thing when it came to my name—and that was that it was spelt with a Y. Sometimes I gave my full name out like that. “It is Alyson with a Y.” That was why a lot of people just called me ‘Y’ for short.

  “I suppose Mum just liked the name. She picked it out,” Matt said as he went over to the cupboard. I assumed he was putting his cleaning supplies away, but instead he pulled out another bottle of cleaning liquid, this one specially made for glass, and headed toward the windows. I will say this for my brother. He must be the only guy I’ve ever met who was this obsessed with cleanliness and with impressing his parents. I don’t know where he got if from. Both J and I were pretty much content to live in a pigsty, and I pretty much just rode the wave of being the favorite child. I never tried to impress anyone anyway.

  Matt was only one year older than me, so I wasn’t sure how accurate his memories of the events surrounding my birth could possibly be. How did he know Mum picked the name? I decided to look into it.

  I checked the time. “The plane should be getting in right about now.” There was no airport in Eden Bay, certainly not an international one, So we’d have to wait for Mum and Dad to arrive at the Sydney airport, get through customs, and then take the train to Eden Bay, which took about an hour. So we still had a couple of hours before they got in. But it was getting close.

  “Where is J?” I asked, looking around. Matt and I took turns having J stay with us. Even though it wasn’t a strict schedule, we usually took one week on and one week off. It was Matt’s week to have J. It had been school hours when I arrived so I hadn’t thought anything of J not being there, but now it was after four o’clock.

  “On a play date with that girl Mandy from school that she became friends with last week.” Oh, right, Mandy, the girl who she’d been ‘enemies’ with up until a week ago but was now her best friend for life. It could get a little tiring trying to keep up with it all. Then again, I couldn’t really judge. I remembered how I had been at her age. It was actually the same age—J was almost nine—that Claire and I had first met and become best friends. And to be honest, my first impression of Claire was that she was a bit of a snob. Almost two decades later and that opinion still hadn’t changed, actually. But she was still my best friend.

  “You’ll need to pick her up soon so that she can be here when they arrive.”

  Matt shook his head. “She’s staying at Mandy’s for dinner. She insisted.”

  I was surprised to hear that. Surely J knew what day it was? “Isn’t she excited to see her grandma and grandpa?” J always loved seeing them after they had been away. They always bought her presents, for one thing. And it was unusual for her to go so long without seeing them. My parents actually lived in the next town over these days, in Rushcutter’s, but they had rented out their house while they had been away for six months and the tenants were still there for another week or two. As far as I knew, they would be staying at Matt’s house until they could move home. Matt was going to have J stay with him the entire time as well so that they could all catch up and have quality family time.

  Matt finally put the bottle of cleaning fluid down and frowned. “It’s weird. She was acting a little strange when I was talking to her about Mum and Dad staying here. Distant. Like she wasn’t that excited about it.”

  I shrugged. “Well, that’s kids for you. She’ll be over spending all her time with Mandy soon enough and she’ll move onto the next thing.”

  I returned my attention to the letter and re-read it.

  Matt eyed it carefully. “I think you should put that thing away,” he said, grabbing a broom from the closet. “It’s got bad vibes.” He shivered a little. Ah yes, if only it was as simple as putting the letter away and it just disappearing.

  But he was right. It had bad vibes all right.

  Claire could say that it was none of our business all she wanted. Maybe it was none of her business. It wasn’t addressed to Claire Elizabeth Richardson. But from the clues, it seemed as though the victim was going to be someone I knew and cared about. And the implication was that it was all going to be my fault.

  I thought about that again—someone I know and care about. And my family were all arriving in town that night.

  3

  Claire

  Ah, the sweet smell of dandelions in the late afternoon. And some sort of vanilla essence. The lobby always smelled like there were cookies baking somewhere nearby. A nice way to be welcomed home after a hard day. The walls were painted an expensive-looking navy matte blue, and the desk and vases were white. Quite nautically themed, really, like most places in Eden Bay. But this place was decorated in far better taste. There were times that I walked into the lobby and thought for a moment that I was still in Sydney.

  I smiled at Jeff standing behind the desk, waiting to greet me the same way that he greeted all the residents of the Turtle Dove Apartment Complex.

  It was the only place in Eden Bay that had a doorman to greet you when you got in. I liked the touch of luxury.

  Jeff was a tall man with a slightly balding head and tanned skin, who always wore a navy suit that matched the walls. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was always darting about, grabbing the door and mail for the residents, he would have camouflaged right in. “Hello there, Miss Elizabeth Richardson.” With his tone of voice, he always made it sound like I was an old friend.

  Oh. He had mistaken me for someone with a double-barreled surname. Elizabeth was just my middle name, not part of my surname. But I didn’t stop and correct him. I kind of liked how it sounded.

  “Any mail for me, Jeff?” I asked. He used his white-gloved hands to reach into my mailbox, number 55, and searched. I’d only been in the apartment building for a week, but that was plenty of time to have received mail. I was a little bit thrilled when he dug around and produced three or four different items for me. It had taken me a little while to decide whether or not I belonged in Eden Bay again after having fled for Sydney when I was nineteen and getting a high-powered job as a movie producer. For several months after ‘moving’ back to Eden Bay, I’d stayed in a motel called The Dolphin (F)Inn. All very temporary and transient. But now I had a place of my own and having mail officially delivered to the address just sealed the deal. I was back in Eden Bay. Really back.

  “Thank you.” I beamed at Jeff and leafed through the stack.

  Ugh. Just bills. Disappointing. But then again, what had I hoped for? A letter from fifty years in the past, threatening to kill someone I knew in five days’ time?

  “Everything all right, miss?” Jeff asked me. He must have seen the look on my face as I’d thought about the letter.

  “Yes, just a long day. Have a wonderful evening, Jeff.”

  “You have a wonderful evening too, Miss Elizabeth Richardson.”

  It was an uneasy feeling, for sure, knowing that threat was there, written in ink. Even though I was one hundred percent positive that the letter was not real, it still played in the back of my mind.

  The threat was directed at someone Alyson knew. I was someone Alyson knew.

  I decided I was not going to think about that at all that night as I took off my shoes and relaxed on my sofa, intending to open a bottle of Bordello. If I could just be bothered to get up that was. I hadn’t brought much with me to Eden Bay. My apartment lease in Sydney had come with furniture and appliances, so none of that was mine to take. And I still hadn’t been out shopping for any kitchen items or anything, so the apartment was pretty bare except for the absolute basics: a sofa, a bed, and my laptop. Alyson had told me that I could find whatever I needed on the street if I just went out during the ha
rd rubbish collection nights and had a good forage. Could you believe that? Getting furniture off the street? It was bad enough that I had let her convince me to allow that hideous recliner with the sunken cushions in the shop.

  I was close to dozing off for a nap when I was awoken by a knock on my door. I was startled and sat up. I caught sight of the face I was making in the mirror on the far side of the wall. The whole reason I had chosen the Turtle Dove was because there was no chance of random people knocking on my door and disturbing me. I was on the fifth floor, no chance of anyone off the street just knocking on my door to ask for favors. I wasn’t like Alyson. I didn’t like neighbors turning up for a chat and a cuppa. And unlike Alyson, I never humored door-to-door salesmen by listening to their pitches for twenty minutes. I was more the sort of person to turn the lights off and pretend I wasn’t home.

  No, this was not good enough, especially not for the monthly rent I was paying on the place.

  I sat up feeling livid. Then quickly phoned Jeff.

  “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth Richardson. I trust you’re doing well and having a pleasant…”

  I immediately cut him off. No, I was not having a pleasant time in my new apartment. Not one little bit.

  “Why is there someone knocking on my door? I thought everyone had to be approved by you before they could come up to my floor, and I haven’t given my permission for anyone to visit me tonight.”

  I hadn’t meant for my tone to be quite so pointed. I just couldn’t understand how this trespass had possibly happened, and I needed someone to be held accountable for it. I couldn’t afford to live somewhere where the security was quite so lax. Eden Bay looked like a cozy place from the outside, but a lot of crazy stuff had happened recently, and there were people writing letters threatening to kill other people.

  “I didn’t let anyone up without your permission, miss…” Jeff sounded alarmed, defensive now that I had gotten so angry with him. “If there is someone knocking on your door, it is someone from your floor. Perhaps your next-door neighbor is just paying you a friendly visit…”

  I walked over to the peephole and saw a blonde woman who looked to be in her late fifties standing there with a beaming smile. She looked vaguely familiar to me. A woman I had seen in the lobby a couple of times as I was coming and going. “Oh.”

  “Is everything okay now, miss?”

  “Sorry my earlier tone was so abrupt, Jeff.”

  I hung up the phone and vowed to buy Jeff a gift basket to drop off in the lobby the next time I saw him.

  So there was no random door-to-door salesman at my door. But now I was stuck with another problem. I just wanted to relax that evening and have a glass of red wine. Could I—metaphorically, because there was no way to see into my apartment—turn the lights off and pretend not to be home?

  I slunk away and hoped that she would get the hint.

  She knocked on the door again and called out, “Hello?”

  I sighed. It looked like this woman was not one to take a hint then. “I heard the door open and shut a little earlier, so I thought I’d come over and introduce myself…”

  Fine.

  “I’m Nancy OMalley.” She had blonde hair in curls, possibly a perm. She was wearing a pastel pink suit and too much blush on her cheeks and bright pink lipstick. Possibly false eyelashes, but it was difficult to tell.

  I had lived in an apartment block in Sydney quite similar to this one, and in the two years I had been there, I had never spoken to the people who lived next door to me, not once. But this was Eden Bay. Where—even if you paid top dollar for the most private housing—people were still going to stick their noses in your business.

  Nancy smiled at me again. “Can I come in?”

  Uh, no?

  But she had already pushed her way in through the door and was oohing and ahhing as she looked around my threadbare space

  “This layout seems a little bigger than mine…” she said, spinning around almost toppling over. She wasn’t a large woman, but she was a little round. It probably looked bigger than it was because of the lack of furniture. She eyed me suspiciously. “How much are you paying per week?”

  I bristled a little. It wasn’t the polite thing to do, to ask how much other residents were paying. The exact price was kept private on the real estate listings and was only given to people who seriously inquired about renting. To be honest, the only reason I could afford the place at all—on a bookshop owner’s salary—was because I still had savings from my movie producer’s job and my annual leave and sick leave payouts.

  When I didn’t answer, she just shrugged and started to pull out drawers next to my kitchen sink.

  “Excuse me,” I said, racing over to shut the drawers. There was nothing in them as of yet, but that was beside the point. It was a gross invasion of privacy.

  “Something to hide?” Nancy asked with a little giggle. She was only joking, but I did not find it funny.

  “I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything,” I said, hoping the bordello would remain hidden in the pantry next to the fridge and that Nancy wouldn’t go snooping in there. I also hoped that she would take that as her cue to leave.

  “That’s okay,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa. I only had the one spot to sit so I just stood at my kitchen counter a little awkwardly and wondered how long she was going to stay. And what would be the most tactful way to ask her to leave. She sighed. “I’ve already had my dinner and several glasses of water this evening, so I’m full.”

  She was settled in and had her feet up by this stage. I felt like I had to ask her a few questions just to be polite. I hate awkward silence.

  “How long have you lived in Eden Bay?” I asked, assuming she must have been relatively new to the town if she lived in this place. Even though it was for permanent residents, it really catered to people like myself, people who had just moved to town and/or were young professionals.

  “Oh, all my life,” she said, surprising me. She waved her hand. “Born here and I’ll probably die here.” She let out a jolly laugh to show me that she wasn’t being too morbid. She just couldn’t have known that it wasn’t a subject I particularly wanted to joke about on that day.

  “Oh. I didn’t see you at the birthday celebrations yesterday.” She was the kind of person who would have been hard to miss with her big hair and bright clothes.

  She made a sad face. “Yes, I was a little under the weather yesterday.” She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose, then sneezed as I stepped back. I’m not a full-blown germaphobe, but I definitely don’t like them. It was bad enough that she came into my apartment uninvited, but now she was getting her infection all over the place.

  “I’m thinking of getting an early night,” I said pointedly.

  Nancy looked a little disappointed and I immediately felt guilty as she stood up. “Unless you would like to stay for a glass of red,” I said, feeling like I should try and make things right with my new neighbor.

  She patted me on the arm. “No, no, dear, I can tell when I have overstayed my welcome.”

  “Really, you haven’t…” But she had already wished me good night and was heading out the door.

  When she was gone, I tried to phone reception to apologize to Jeff. But I only got a voice message saying that reception was closed now and they wished all the residents of the Turtle Dove a very happy night.

  4

  Alyson

  Mum and Dad’s plane had been delayed yet another day, much to my disappointment, and Matt was distressed that the house was going to get suddenly filthy again in the next twenty-four hours. But it was finally time and I was actually doing the unthinkable and running a brush through my hair. I even put a nice jacket on over my knitted crop top. Matt was getting antsy when he stopped by my place and told me to hurry up or we were going to be late to greet them.

  “All right, all right, hold your horses,” I said, pulling the door shut. “They aren’t going to self-combus
t if we are five minutes late. It’s just Mum and Dad you know, not the king and queen of England.”

  “England doesn’t have a king,” Matt muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Just hurry up. I think you need some more tutoring lessons, by the way.”

  It wasn’t a very long walk from my house to the station, about eight blocks. Neither Matt nor I had a car, so we were going to get a cab from the train station so that we didn’t have to lug all the luggage back by foot.

  I almost got hit by a car while crossing the road because I was re-reading the letter. Again.

  “Put that away,” Matt said. “It’s only going to upset Mum and Dad if you start yammering on about that.”

  I rolled my eyes and shoved the letter in my purse. Even though Matt had picked a ‘shortcut’ for us to get to the train, he had chosen the wrong route as far as keeping me in line was concerned.

  Because if we had gone the longer route, we never would have passed the police station.

  And I had a sudden compulsion as I pulled the letter out of my pocket again.

  It just seemed like the sort of thing that I should get cleared up before I saw Mum and Dad. Otherwise, it would be on my mind and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from spilling the beans and ruining the homecoming. Matt wouldn’t be able to see it at the time, but this was for the best, long term.

  “Where are you going?” Matt called out.

  “Don’t worry!” I said. “I’ll be there later for the party!”

  I had been in the police station recently for another matter, and the sergeant behind the grating recognized me from some of my earlier…let’s say, ‘misadventures’ with the law. I’d never actually broken it, of course. Just come close.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Just watched me steadily as I walked in, making me feel like I was doing something wrong. I’d already had enough of a guilt trip from Matt, I didn’t need it from this guy as well.