Words Can Kill (Ghostwriter Mystery 5)

by C. A. Larmer

  “Max, actually,” she corrected her. “And he’s not really my boyfriend, he’s Caroline’s brother.” She reached for her phone and showed them Max’s mugshot. “You never saw him around here, did you?”

  “Now I can’t say I have, but you best show that to Vern when you see him tomorr’a, he’s got a better eye for faces than I do. What about you, guys?”

  Roxy presented the picture to the other couple but they, too, shook their heads.

  “Are you saying your friend also went missing? From Riomaggiore?” Beryl asked, trying to keep up and Lily-Anne nodded her wobbly chin.

  “It is confusin’, all these O-cees disappearing off the face of God’s earth. Now listen, what do you think’s happened to your darling friend Matt?”

  “Max,” Roxy corrected again. “We honestly don’t know. But he was mates with Candy so we’re worried he might have ...”

  She didn’t need to finish that sentence, Lily-Anne’s hand was already at her face, a look of horror in her eyes. “No!”

  “What is it?!” gushed Beryl.

  “She thinks the poor man may have gone over the cliff with your friend Candy. Ain’t that right, sweet pea?”

  Roxy nodded, there was no point pretending otherwise any more. But hang on a minute. She looked across at Beryl. “You knew Candy Marlow?”

  The Irish woman half smiled, looking almost apologetic. “Ai, but we weren’t the best of friends. Just enough to say hello to, that kinda thing. We often saw each other on our trips here, occasionally we got talking.” She put her wine glass down and explained: “Candy owns a place here, ye see. And, like us, she prefers to visit in the quieter seasons when she gets the cliff walks all to her—” Beryl stopped, realising what she had said and her husband put an arm around her shoulder while Lily-Anne tutt-tutted beside her.

  “Terrible, terrible tragedy,” the American said, her eyes squinting as she turned them upon Roxy. “Now tell me, have the police found any signs of your dear friend yet? Any signs at all?”

  Roxy shook her head. “He’s been missing now since Friday, but his stuff is still in his hotel room and his car’s still in the parking station so ...”

  “Oh dear,” said John. “It does not look good for your young fellow.”

  “Oooh now, hush!” said Lily-Anne. “Enough of all the negative talk. What can we do to help, my darlin’? There must be somethin’ we can do.”

  “Well actually there is,” Roxy replied, turning her eyes upon Beryl again. “You can tell me everything you know about the Marlows.”

  Chapter 25

  Candace and Donald Marlow had been married just four years when Candy disappeared, she on her first husband, he his second wife. They had no children between them but a stack of cash thanks to a large inheritance left to Candy by her wealthy elderly parents. Donald wasn’t exactly a pauper, though, and made good money, or so he told everyone, on his real estate investments back home in Western Australia. Despite this, it was Candy’s real estate—the sweeping seaside apartment in Riomaggiore—that brought them to the region each year.

  “Candy must have bought the place some years before she met Donald,” Beryl explained. “She told me she’d been coming to this part of the world since she was a wee lass. Always loved it, had fond memories of the place, so didn’t hesitate when an opportunity to buy an apartment came up.”

  “Good on her,” said Roxy. “And didn’t I read that she co-owns it with someone?”

  “That’s right,” John said. “I don’t know what the story is now, but back then, foreigners couldn’t own property outright in Italy, ye see? They had to be sponsored by an Italian national. She didn’t care, she’d do anything to own a little slice of Riomaggiore.”

  “Still,” chimed in Beryl, “it’s sad that the place she loved so much became the place that killed her.”

  And they all reflected on that for a moment before Roxy’s brain began ticking over. “So now she’s gone, do you think Donald will sell his share of the apartment, or keep coming back?”

  John shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s his to sell, dear. Candy co-owned it with an Italian local, so it’s up to her, I’d say.”

  “Her?” Roxy’s eyes widened. “Who are you talking about? Who did Candy own property with?”

  “Why, Maria, of course,” said Beryl.

  “Maria? From Ted’s?”

  Beryl blinked a few times. “Aye, dear, she and Candy were the best of mates. Knew each other back in Australia, I believe, although Maria was born here. She moved to your country when she was a young lass and only came back about a decade ago to take over the restaurant when her father passed. Renamed it, of course, tried to make it sound more Western, I don’t know why. Anyway, she had a little money to spare so went halves in the apartment with Candy. Now you have to remember, this was quite a few years back and I believe they got a very good deal. This town has gone through the roof since then, apartment must be worth a pot of gold now.” She sighed. “Poor Maria, she really is most distraught.”

  I bet she is, thought Roxy. The plot had just thickened up.

  ********

  “Hang on, I am so confused,” said Caroline, who was sitting up in bed when Roxy returned, gooey green gunk covering her face, thick white cream in her hair and the latest copy of Grazia by her side. Despite the gunk, or perhaps because of it, she looked much improved, her eyes brighter, the tears now gone. “Are you saying Maria and Candy owned a place together? Here in town?”

  “Yep, they were more than best friends, they were business partners. This opens the whole thing wide up.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Think about it. We’ve been suspecting Donald Marlow all along, but what if he had nothing to do with it? What if it was about money, not sex? I mean, it works to Maria’s advantage to bump off Candy because then she gets to have the apartment all to herself. It sounds pretty swanky. It’s huge, which is unusual for this tiny, cramped village, and it’s right on the sea, has a fantastic view, or at least that’s what Beryl says.”

  Caroline was making her way to the bathroom to wash the mask off. She stopped at the door and said, “Except surely Candy’s half reverts to her husband now she’s dead?” She raised her creamy eyebrows a few times and sang, “Yet more reason to suspect Doooooonald.”

  As she disappeared into the bathroom, Roxy dropped down into the sofa and gave it some more thought.

  “They have to be in it together!” called out Caroline.

  “What?!” Roxy called back.

  “Donald and Maria! Obviously in cahoots.”

  Two minutes later she was back, patting softly at her face with a fresh towel. The goo had all been removed and her skin was glowing. She looked like a new woman and Roxy was impressed. Apart from a regular soaking in the tub, Roxy didn’t spend a lot of time pampering herself, yet it obviously worked wonders on Caroline, who was now reaching for some moisturiser and applying thick globs to her arms and décolletage.

  “So we’re back to square one,” Roxy said. “Donald did it, with help from Maria, so they could continue seeing each other and get the inheritance.”

  “Double motive,” Caroline added.

  “Yeah, it is starting to stack up.”

  Roxy recalled the first time she had seen Donald, two nights ago when he sat with Maria at the back of her café, talking in strained, almost intimate tones while Maria had patted him gently on the back. Now what had he said before she’d hushed him up? Something about having no idea how he’d got there. Or something like that.

  If only she could remember.

  A shrill ringing sound shook Roxy back to the present and she sprang on her handbag to retrieve her phone. “It’s Holly!”

  “Who?”

  Roxy frowned at Caroline as she took the call. “Hi Holly. How’s things in Berlin?” She gave her friend a pointed look.

  “Yeah, not bad,” Holly replied down the line. “Pigs have still got the tape around Max’s door, which is sooo creepy, I just wish
they’d solve this thing and leave us all in peace, you know? I don’t s’pose you’ve found him yet?”

  “Sadly, no, and we’re getting more and more worried. Do the police have any idea what happened to Jake? Do they still think Max had something to do with it?”

  “Well, actually, the crazy loons seem to think the opposite now.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Look, it’s the reason I’m calling so late. I thought you might want to hear this.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a load of bollocks, of course, but they now seem to think Jake had something to do with Max’s disappearance.”

  “Why would they think that?” Roxy dropped back into the sofa again as Caroline watched her, her eyes wide as if to say, ‘What?!’

  “Well, Reggie—that’s the bass player from the Angry Euros, right—he told the coppers that Jake rang him just before he bussed it down to Italy to meet Max.”

  “So he did get the bus to Milan! I knew it.” There was no doubting it now. Jake was the man who had shown up with Max at Ola’s Villas on Wednesday.

  “Yeah, well, according to Reggie, Jake said he’d be back for Saturd’y’s gig, right, but that he was going to Italy to clear his debts with Max once and for all.” She hesitated. “Reggie reckons Jake said, ‘Once I get this out of the way, I won’t have to worry about Max ever again.’”

  Roxy felt a shiver run through her body. That sounded ominous. “What do the police say?”

  “I haven’t spoken to them, right? I just ran into Reggie, you see, and he’s been telling me all this.”

  “Okay, so what does Reggie say?”

  She hesitated. “You might not want to hear this.”

  “It’s fine, Holly. Just say it.”

  She hesitated again. “Reggie reckons the cops think Jake must have owed Max quite a few quid and so he met up with him in Italy and, well, got rid of ’im, so to speak.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word “kill” and Roxy was glad. She didn’t really want to hear it now. Once again there was a kind of logical sense to this, at least from a time line perspective.

  “Still doesn’t explain who then killed Jake.”

  “That’s what I said but Reggie reckons they’re working on some double-crossing theory.”

  “Huh?”

  “Cops insinuated, right, that Jake might have been in it with some Italian geezer, that the two of them robbed Max at the same time. Reckon they might’ve pinched his good cameras and cleared out his bank account, that kinda stuff, and then they either got into a fight when they got back to Berlin or this Italian bloke double-crossed Jake, killed him and took off with everything. Reggie says they’re checking Max’s bank accounts to see if he’s had large amounts of cash removed, that kind of thing.”

  Roxy was shaking her head at the phone now. No way, she thought. Max didn’t have that much worth stealing, plus it was all too complicated, it just didn’t add up. Why not just kill him at home in Berlin? Unless, of course, they thought the anonymity of Riomaggiore was preferable. The shiver intensified.

  “Look, sorry but I gotta go, this is costing me a friggin’ fortune. I really just wanted to see how you guys are holdin’ up. You oright?”

  “We’re okay, thanks, Holly, we appreciate your call. And please call if you hear any more. Or send me a text and I’ll call you back.”

  She promised to do that and hung up, then Roxy looked across to Caroline, unsure how much to reveal.

  “No secrets, remember?” Caroline said as if reading her mind, and so Roxy repeated what Max’s neighbour had said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she spat. “It’s just plain ludicrous.”

  Roxy thought about it some more. Eventually she said, “It might not be as ludicrous as we think, you know.” Before Caroline could protest again, she added, “I mean, we’ve worked out why Max came to Riomaggiore: he obviously fell for this Candy woman”—funny the way she struggled to use her name, it reminded Roxy of the way her mother referred to Max—“but that doesn’t explain why Jake came along.” She sighed. “It brings me back to an earlier theory of mine.”

  “Oh really, which theory was that? I’m having trouble keeping up.”

  Roxy ignored her sarcasm. “The theory that Max rang his flatmate to say, ‘I’m heading to Italy’ and Jake begged a lift. Only he didn’t do it for the fun of it, he did it because he saw his opportunity to get rid of Max and clear his debts once and for all.”

  Caroline looked incredulous. “So what about Donald and Maria? Where does that leave them?”

  Roxy shrugged. “Maybe they have nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Then—duh!—why is Candy dead?”

  Roxy groaned. “I don’t know! Maybe that’s a whole separate crime. Maybe that’s our problem, we keep linking the two deaths together, but maybe they’re not connected. Maybe when Max called the police, he was worried about Jake, not Donald. Maybe that was the ‘crime’ he was talking about—he suspected his flatmate was up to something.”

  Caroline was shaking her head. “I just don’t buy it. Not one bit. They have to be connected, they just have to.”

  Roxy sat forward suddenly. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way around! Maybe Candy was the one who got in the way when Jake was trying to kill Max. Maybe she stumbled upon them having a fight on the cliff top and that’s how she ended up over the edge.”

  “What, like collateral damage?”

  “Exactly. She was the one who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  The words hung like heavy drapes across their hearts and the two women didn’t speak then, not for a long, long time. All the benefits of Caroline’s makeover had dissipated and her face looked strained again. Roxy, too, was chewing at her lower lip, trying to connect so many seemingly unconnected dots.

  It all seemed so senseless yet there was a kind of evil logic at the same time.

  *******

  A firm tap sounded at the apartment door and at first Roxy thought she’d imagined it.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  There it was again. She struggled to sit up, her limbs entwined in the sheets, and tried to find the switch for the lamp. It was still dark outside, only a slight glimmer of light coming through the shutters from the street below. She peered at her watch. It was 5:03 a.m.

  Tap, tap, tap! Louder this time.

  “Coming!” Roxy croaked.

  “Wha—” said Caroline, her head lifting sightly from her pillow, completely covered in a mess of blonde hair.

  “Someone’s at the door.”

  “Wha—”

  Roxy groaned and got up, found Caroline’s silk bathrobe on the edge of a chair and wrapped it around herself, then padded across to the front door and said, “Who is it?” Thinking, “At this hour, it’d better be bloody good.”

  “Officer Giuseppe!”

  Oh God, she thought, anyone but him.

  She stepped back, her heart in her stomach again. She looked across at Caroline who was now sitting up in bed, hair all over her face, the sheet pulled up to her chest. She had the same terrified look in her eyes but gave Roxy a nod.

  They would face this together, come what may.

  Roxy unlatched the lock and swung the door open to find Officer Giuseppe standing down one step. He was not in his usual uniform, had a thick blue sweater and blue trousers on, and a stern look on his chiselled face.

  “Do not be alarmed,” he said, clearly reading the panic in her eyes, “but I need you to come with me, now. We have found something.”

  Chapter 26

  The Converse sneaker was looking soggy and unloved. The shoelace was missing and the front was fraying just slightly, but other than that it was a dead ringer for the one in Max’s hotel room.

  The two women stared at it forlornly for a few minutes before Caroline burst into tears.

  “Oh my God,” she spluttered. “He’s gone!”

  Roxy leaned across and wrapped an arm across her back. Sh
e felt oddly cold, strangely unmoved. “It’s just a shoe, Caroline. Loads of people misplace shoes on their walks—”

  “It’s his shoe! It has to be!” She buckled over, sobbing again.

  Rossi coughed. “Are you saying, Miss Farrell, that you believe this shoe belongs to your brother, Max Farrell?”

  Caroline sniffed and then blew her nose into a tissue that Carmela had handed her across the table. They were back at the police station, in the small interrogation room, and both detectives were wearing dark tracksuits, their eyes droopy, coffee mugs close by. Rossi’s hair was wisping up on one side as though he, too, had just been dragged from his pillow.

  “There was a matching one in Max’s hotel room,” Roxy explained. “Just the one.”

  “Yes, we saw that one, too,” Carmela said. “Giuseppe has gone to retrieve it now. We will check for the size, but ...”

  “We’re pretty certain this belonged to your brother,” Rossi said to Caroline.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “It washed up just near the jetty. One of the local boys found it very early this morning, caught in some fishing line.”

  Roxy thought about this. “But didn’t you say Candy was located miles away?”

  “Yes,” said Carmela. “But the tides have been all over the place this past week. It would have been easy for things to scatter.”

  Roxy stared at the shoe again. It was in better condition than you’d expect after a week floating about in the tides. “Did you find anything else?”

  “Just the shoe.”

  Caroline sobbed again at the mere mention of it and Roxy patted her back gently.

  “We are organising the helicopters to do another search today,” Rossi informed her. “We will find his body.”