by Morgana Best
“I’ve been looking into it,” Basil said. “Invite me into your apartment, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“You’re not a vampire. You don’t need a special invitation,” Ernie said, breaking what might have been a moment.
“I’m just trying to get away from Laurel’s admirer there.” Basil jabbed his finger in the direction of Frank, who was still smiling at me in rather a too friendly fashion.
Ernie took a step back and bowed with a flourish.
I unlocked my apartment door, and once Basil was through it, I leaned back against it with a sigh of relief. “The story of my life lately,” I admitted. “Locking and unlocking doors.”
“At least this door keeps out unwanted visitors and all evil,” Basil said.
I nodded. “Yes, Mom doesn’t have a key.”
Basil chuckled. “No, I meant ghosts, with all the wards you have around your apartment.”
I had to laugh. “Glass of wine? We can sit in front of the big window and watch the storm.”
Minutes later, Basil and I were sitting on my soft couch, sipping wine and watching the lightning. It was a magnificent display. The huge window had been expensive, especially as the builders had to remove most of the wall, but I was pleased with the way it had turned out. In the daytime, it afforded a beautiful view of the pastures, on which grazed Basil’s two pet sheep, Arthur and Martha. Mom’s house could not be seen at all, and that was the way I liked it.
I hadn’t been sure how to decorate my apartment, as my style in Melbourne had been Hamptons, but here in the country, in the mountains, that was hardly the thing. I had gone for a mix of industrial and shabby chic. It wouldn’t win any design awards, but it was mine.
“I hate to break the mood,” Basil said softly, “but I’ve been googling hat pins, ever since we found out that the police had confiscated your mother’s. Do you want to hear about it?”
“Not particularly,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.
He put his arm around me and laughed. Apparently, he thought I was joking. “In Victorian times, in England, they passed laws deeming hat pins to be concealed weapons if they were found in someone’s pocket or purse.”
I had no response, so I kept silent, liking the feel of his arm resting on my shoulders. Undaunted, Basil pressed on. “I came across old reports of a serial killer by the name of Jabber Jerry. He used hat pins to kill his victims in Los Angeles.”
“Was he a doctor, or something?”
Basil shrugged. “No idea, but from what I’ve read, killing somebody with a hat pin doesn’t require special knowledge. Hat pins have killed many people, even by accident. In 1910, hat pins were thirteen inches long.”
I sat upright. “You know, we saw that vintage hat box in Jenny’s room. She has a vintage store. I wonder if she sells hat pins? We could google her.”
“Her store isn’t online,” Basil said. “I checked. She doesn’t have a website.”
“What about Facebook? Instagram?”
Basil shook his head. “Nope.”
I leaned back into Basil again. “It’s only circumstantial evidence, I suppose,” I said. “Mom has hat pins, Jenny probably has hat pins.”
“Yes, but we know your mother didn’t do it,” Basil pointed out.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I must be more tired than I thought. What do we do now, tell the police that Jenny has a vintage store and sells hat pins?”
“We don’t actually know she sells hat pins,” Basil said, “but I think it’s worth us snooping around her store and asking questions. If we find out she’s been here in town without James at any time, that’s all the more reason to suspect she might have met Frank before.”
“Surely Frank wouldn’t keep that information from us,” I said. “He said he didn’t know any of the guests, or the builder for that matter. And besides, any one of them could’ve snatched that hat pin from the laundry room. It doesn’t make sense that Jenny killed Frank with her hat pin. She would’ve used one of Mom’s to cover her tracks.”
“Or it could be that Jenny killed him with her hat pin, and did exactly that: stole one of your Mom’s hat pins to throw suspicion on her,” Basil said. “If you really want to help your mother, I think we need to go to Melbourne and ask questions of whoever is running Jenny’s store while she’s here.”
Chapter 14
“Here we go again,” I sighed, leaning back into my seat.
“Are you all right?” Basil asked, touching me lightly on the arm. I looked over to see him smiling at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back, in spite of my nerves.
Basil and I were on our way to Melbourne to visit Jenny Thorogood’s store in search of clues. We had flown to Newcastle Airport first and had just caught our connection straight to Melbourne. I was sitting by the window, nervously clutching my arm rests as other passengers took their seats. Flying had never been my strong suit, and I especially wasn’t looking forward to the airport at Tullamarine in Melbourne.
The airport itself was nothing offensive, as such, but it was as chaotic as any airport in a major city. Getting through security took ages—though I wouldn’t have to worry about it when I landed, Basil and I were also flying back at the end of the day, so it was something on my mind. More than that, the airport felt enormous, and then there was the fact we had to get all sorts of public transport just to get where we were going. It was daunting. Perhaps I had turned into a country girl, after all.
The trip was exhausting, which was exacerbated by my extreme dislike of flying. Rationally, I knew that the chance of dying in a plane crash was next to zero, but that didn’t help calm me down much when I was thousands of feet in the air. Basil was always cool and collected, and seeing him helped soothe my nerves a bit.
As the plane made its way to the runway proper, I felt myself clutch the hand rest again. Basil looked over and placed his hand on mine.
“Do you want some water?” He handed me a bottle. I nodded gratefully and had a swig, wishing it was something much, much stronger. Take off was always the worst part for me, as I hated the feeling of being pushed back into the seat. It was made worse when coupled with the feeling of my stomach dropping as the plane lifted from the ground.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to control my pangs of nervousness and the pounding of my heart as the plane gathered speed. We were in the air before I knew it. I opened my eyes to see that my knuckles were white, clenched tightly over Basil’s hand. He was wincing, but didn’t say anything.
“Sorry,” I whispered, releasing his hand.
He massaged it gently as soon as I let go. “It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It should heal with barely any surgery at all.”
I forced a smile, but I was too nervous to laugh. I saw flight attendants walking around, which always calmed me down. I figured that they knew more about flying than most, so if they were calmly walking around, then we weren’t in much danger. Then again, maybe they were new.
The flight was only a little over an hour, so by the time we were in the air and level, the attendants started serving snacks. Neither of us wanted one, and almost immediately the plane commenced landing procedures. I always felt a bit calmer knowing we were starting to land, even though it just meant we were heading towards the ground, which was exactly what I was worried would happen.
We finally landed, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was exhausting to be so worried, and a bit frustrating when I knew it wasn’t really dangerous. Still, I was beside myself with excitement to be on solid ground again. The only thing that worried me was that we still had two flights left in the afternoon before we were home.
Basil and I walked through the airport and made it to a shuttle bus at a brisk pace. Due to the fact that we were only visiting on a day trip, we didn’t need any luggage, which saved us a huge amount of time. Basil and I bought a return ticket from the airport to Southern Cross station—one of the central train stations in Melbourne—and sat next to a window ha
lfway down the bus.
It wasn’t long until we were moving, as the buses always filled immediately from all the people at the airport. It was a strange feeling to see Melbourne again after being away for so long. On the one hand, I missed it terribly. It was a huge, vibrant city, packed with people who loved art, culture, and more importantly, excellent coffee. On the other hand, cities were absolutely exhausting. Traveling anywhere always involved a series of vehicles and navigating huge crowds, which was something I liked to avoid even on the best of days. On top of that, I had to admit that the city wasn’t much of a looker, either. It was largely drab and gray, though that did make the large works of public art—or graffiti, depending on where it was painted—all the more striking.
We arrived at Southern Cross in about half an hour and caught a train to Prahran, a fairly high-class suburb not far from the central business district. Jenny’s store wasn’t far from the train station, so it would be easy enough to visit the store and make it back for our return flight.
I couldn’t help but be a little sad that we couldn’t spend more time in the city where I had lived for years, but I was still very much looking forward to getting home. Still, with all the time taken to get a train, then a bus, then get through airport security, we actually wouldn’t have much time at all before we had to start the return journey. I wondered if it would all be worth it.
Basil and I stepped off the train at the station and commenced our walk to the store, which was about ten minutes away according to my phone’s GPS. It was cold, as it usually was in Melbourne. I was more used to it than most, but I found myself shivering a little. The wind was typically severe as well. Basil and I leaned heavily into it to try and trudge forward. It was easy to see that, while I did love Melbourne, it wasn’t always my favorite place in the world, and I couldn’t wait to get inside.
We walked through the busy streets, past outdoor tables of happy, trendy people sipping coffee and looking at their tablets, and finally arrived, after spending several minutes looking for the store. It turned out that my GPS was off a little, which meant we couldn’t quite see the exterior of the shop when we arrived at the destination. After a little bit of hunting around, we found the sign hanging out front, This Means Closet. I thought the name quite strange. I figured it must be some sort of play on words, but I couldn’t figure it out. At any rate, name aside, it was Jenny’s vintage clothing store, and I felt a tingle of nervousness and excitement at finally arriving.
I assumed it would be easy enough to see if Jenny’s store stocked the kind of hat pins that were used in the murder, but it might be harder to dig up any more concrete information on her other than that. I steeled myself, glanced at Basil, and the two of us walked inside.
It was a fairly small store, cluttered with clothes of all sorts that lined old brick walls. It looked as if it should have been musty or uncomfortable, but there was a pleasant freshness to the air as well as plenty of light through the huge windows, and relatively modern music playing. The tall, spiky indoor plants were bright green and thriving.
There was only one person working there. She was a middle-aged woman, busying herself behind the counter and not paying much attention to us as we entered. I guessed she had plastered the entire contents of a bottle of patchouli essential oil on herself, given the heavy aroma that pervaded the store.
I sneezed, and she fixed her attention on me. I decided it would be best to look around a little before talking to her so as not to seem suspicious. I decided to find some hat pins before I pressed her for information on Jenny.
I nodded to Basil and the two of us split up, looking around the store for hat pins. It only took a moment for both of us to find some, as the store was positively littered with them. If Jenny had been the murderer, it was a wonder that she’d only used the one hat pin, as she clearly had some kind of affinity for them.
“Do you need a hand?” the store assistant asked from behind, causing me to jump. I had smelled her coming, but I was otherwise preoccupied with all the hat pins. I turned around to see her smiling at me politely, clearly uncaring as to whether I really needed a hand or not. Not that I blamed her—it wasn’t fair to assume she would be deeply invested in the wants and needs of every customer who walked into the store.
“Oh, yes, I’m actually an old friend of Jenny Thorogood’s,” I lied. “Is she in today?” I knew full well that she wasn’t, of course, but I couldn’t think of another reason why I’d be in her store asking after her.
“I’m afraid she’s gone on a vacation with her husband,” the woman explained. “She won’t be back for some time. Is there anything I could help you with instead?” She did at least seem more interested this time.
“Oh, yes!” I said, perhaps a little too dramatically. “She went on that writing vacation with four other people, right? Oh, and with James, her husband, of course.”
The woman smiled at me. “That’s right.”
I thought it was a bit of a strange thing to add that Jenny had gone away with exactly four other people, but I hoped knowing that fact did at least add some degree of credibility to my story. “Are they doing okay?” I asked. “Jenny and her husband, I mean. Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything, but I just wanted to make sure everything’s all right between them.” I had decided that suggesting some kind of past problems would make me seem like a good friend of Jenny’s, and if this woman had no idea what I was talking about, then she could just chalk it up to being private information.
“They’re still not great,” she admitted, as Basil and I exchanged a glance. “Last I heard they were getting along fine, though. It’s not really my place to say.”
“Oh, of course,” I nodded. “Well, since I’m here, do you have any other hat pins?” I knew it was a stupid question as soon as I asked it. There were so many hat pins in the store that she couldn’t possibly know what I meant by ‘other.’
“Just what’s on display,” she explained politely, demonstrating a mastery of retail diplomacy. “Jenny has quite the personal collection, as I’m sure you know, but ours are all fairly similar. Were you after something like the ones she has, or something more plain? I can call her if you like?”
“Oh, oh,” I stammered. “Perhaps I should have a think about it and come back later.” I nodded goodbye and all but pushed Basil out the door. “What do you think?” I asked him.
“Well, it sounds likely,” he nodded. “She had a hat pin or two…”
“Or fifty,” I interjected.
“Right, or fifty. It also seems as though her marriage was going through a rough patch, for whatever reason. It’s possible that she hired the escort, and if she did, then she almost certainly would have had a hat pin on her person. She’s quite a likely suspect at this point.” Basil scratched his chin. “I’d say she’s my main pick.”
“But why would she kill him?” I asked. “Hiring an escort behind her husband’s back is one thing, but murder is something else entirely.”
Basil shrugged. “I can only assume it was a spur of the moment thing. Maybe Frank threatened to tell her husband, or something.”
I nodded in agreement, as we started our walk back to the train station. I thought of what was coming, all for a few moments’ worth of information: the train, the bus, then the plane, then security, then another plane.
I sighed weakly. “This day has been a waste of time.”
“I wouldn’t say that. We got to spend the day together.” Basil suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me urgently, though briefly.
Chapter 15
The escort agency was in the next biggest town, according to Google maps. Brothels had been legal in this state for some time now, so we didn’t have to go all Special Ops to find its location.
It was on the edge of town, near a bushland reserve. The building itself was unassuming, and looked as if it had once been a barber’s shop. It was white fiber cement siding, known in these parts simply as fibro, and the awning was red, white, and blue stripes. It had no str
eet appeal, but I supposed that didn’t matter to clients. The whole street was old, dated, and entirely unassuming.
Basil drove down the narrow lane between the escort service and a rather hideous, old building in unpleasant shades of dirty cream and faded green, narrowly missing a huge Lilly Pilly tree.
The narrow lane opened onto a wide parking lot, around which was abundant bamboo screening.
“I’m a bit nervous about this,” I said to Basil.
“You and me both,” he muttered.
Basil opened the front door for me, and it was all I could do not to gasp. What a contrast to the exterior! Everything was electric blue, from the carpet, to the paint on the walls, to the lighting, even the plush furniture. A tall, potted palm in a corner radiated a reddish-purple tinge. Five large couches in the Chesterfield style, all blue, were placed around the room.
The woman at the front desk looked up at us with a smile.
“May I have your names, please?”
She looked like a normal, every day receptionist, but I didn’t know what I was expecting. I’d never been in a brothel before, and it was making me quite nervous.
Before we could answer, she tapped some keys on her computer. “I didn’t know we had a couple’s booking today.” She looked at me over the top of her glasses.
I hurried to explain. “Oh, we’re not clients. We just wanted to come for some information. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the loss of Tom, err, I mean Frank Wright.”
“Right, right,” she said hurriedly.
I was grateful that Ernie wasn’t there. “I’m Laurel Bay. My mother had booked him, and he died in my mother’s house.” I gave myself a mental slap for not thinking this through. How could I explain that Mom had wanted him as a GPS rather than the reason people usually want escorts? I decided it wouldn’t matter, anyway.
“I’m Ellie Ponds,” she said, standing up and offering her hand. I shook it, and Basil did likewise. I noticed she was quite conservatively dressed, black pants and a blue floral shirt. At least, it might have been a white shirt, and the lighting made it look blue. She was wearing a string of pearls over the buttoned-up shirt, and matching pearl earrings. Her hair was cut in a stylish short bob, but made her look older than her years. “Poor Frank was very popular around here. I hope the police catch whoever did that to him.”
