Drowned Vanilla (Cafe La Femme Book 2)

by Livia Day

  ‘Hey Tish,’ said Bishop, sounding tired. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘With Xanthippe and Ceege and Stewart,’ I said, which was true if lacking in essentials. ‘I’m heading back to Hobart soon, though.’ That was completely the truth. I was tired. Jason had two caring (if shouty) parents protecting him. He had lawyers. Hell, if Greg Avery really wanted to do something to improve the town, he could hire a team of therapists. Psychoanalysis for everyone!

  They didn’t need me.

  ‘You know, we got a search warrant to go over the Avery house,’ Bishop said conversationally. ‘It was strangely empty of Averys.’

  ‘Um,’ I said as the word ‘busted’ scrolled across my vision. ‘I think they had car trouble. But they’ll be home soon. For a given definition of soon.’

  ‘Good to know. Might be a bit late, though. What was that noise?’

  I glanced over to where my friends were negotiating terms with each other. ‘Xanthippe wrestled Stewart to the driveway and is trying to make him eat his own shoe.’

  ‘Sorry to miss that,’ said Bishop.

  ‘It’s quite a show.’ I frowned. ‘What do you mean, a bit late?’

  I could hear more yelling from the other side of the house, and a vehicle. I hoped they had warned the RACT that there were siege devices in play, or cleared the damn things from the driveway. Wouldn’t do to strand the bloke with the tow truck. I hurried around, to see Jason and his dad going at it again, while Shay and Pippa avoided making eye contact with each other.

  I was just in time to see the police car, with Constable Heather driving and Bishop in the passenger seat, come up the driveway and over the caltraps. They jolted to a stop, looking around in surprise. And then Bishop saw me.

  To wave, or not to wave? I settled for an innocent, apologetic smile. I suspect it was less than convincing.

  Bust-ed.

  Greg Avery reacted to the police presence by smoothing his jacket lapels, transitioning from angry father to shiny civic leader in just a moment or two. ‘Officers,’ he said, all tension disappearing from his voice.

  ‘Mr Avery,’ said Bishop as Constable Heather walked around her car, distracted by the damage. ‘We met last night, I’m Detective Sergeant Bishop of the Special Crimes Unit.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Avery, trying to smile. ‘Can we help at all? My family is about to return home. I’m afraid we got caught by the same prank as you did — local kids messing around, I expect.’

  ‘Effective kids,’ Heather muttered, eyeing the collection of sabotaged cars. ‘Didn’t any of you think of clearing the bloody things off the driveway?’

  A fair question. We had been distracted.

  ‘We’ve been looking for you, Mr Avery,’ said Bishop, calmly avoiding the issue of the cars. How was he doing this super calm thing? He never used to be this calm, even on the job. Maybe it was the promotion. ‘We have warrants to search all of your properties, including this one.’

  He might not have been looking directly at Jason when he said that, but I sure as hell was. I saw panic cross the kid’s face, and he shifted slightly as if — I don’t know, to bolt back to the house, or down the driveway. Shay latched on to his sleeve, not letting him budge. I met Shay’s eyes and nodded approvingly. No matter what had happened, no matter what it was that had put that look on Jason’s face, if he ran now it was all over.

  Though, admittedly the police wouldn’t be able to pursue him in their vehicle immediately. It would still be a terrible idea.

  Xanthippe sidled around the side of the building, followed by Ceege and a limping Stewart, who still had not retrieved one of his shoes.

  ‘Of course,’ said Greg Avery. ‘We have nothing to hide, Sergeant.’

  Oh, I think you do. Avery was sweating in the searing sunlight, which was a perfectly good excuse. But still, there was something very non-innocent about him. I didn’t know if it was his lack of faith in Jason, or something else.

  ‘We’ve been following some leads based on your financial records,’ Bishop said pleasantly. ‘Were you aware that regular instalments of cash have been made from one of your household accounts into a bank account owned by Annabeth French, beginning January of this year?’

  Greg Avery looked at his wife. Just a flicker of uncertainty, which she reflected right back at him. Jason looked genuinely astonished, for once.

  ‘Phillipa Avery,’ Bishop said formally. ‘We would like to question you about the death of Annabeth French.’

  ‘Me?’ said Pippa, eyes wide.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Greg blustered.

  Shay had dropped Jason’s arm.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Pippa, looking from her husband to Bishop and Constable Heather. ‘What money?’

  ‘The payments indicate a pattern of blackmail,’ Heather said to Pippa, sounding genuinely regretful. ‘We’re going to need an explanation that fits with the relevant dates, or this can be counted as evidence that you had a reason to do harm to Ms French. The final payment was very large, and made only a few hours before she was killed.’

  ‘Blackmail,’ Pippa repeated, and either she really was surprised, or she was one hell of an actress. Sadly, I had no doubt about the latter. ‘What on earth could Annabeth have been able to blackmail me about…’ And then she went white, looking at Greg. ‘My husband knows about my past,’ she added fiercely. ‘I have nothing to hide from him.’

  ‘We’ll be wanting to question Mr Avery as well, of course,’ Bishop said politely.

  ‘Are you suggesting the … young lady was blackmailing me about Pippa’s lack of judgement in her chosen lifestyle before our wedding?’ Greg said dangerously.

  ‘Don’t talk about it in front of Jason,’ Pippa said quickly, and then bit her lip as she realised that gave lie to her pretending she had nothing to conceal from the world.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Jason probably knew of her past as a Gingerbread cookie, given the detective work he had been attempting on his desktop. None of my business.

  ‘I don’t want to be interviewed here,’ Pippa said sharply. ‘Can we go to the police station?’

  Constable Heather looked at the torn remains of her tyres and made a small noise.

  ‘Of course,’ Bishop said calmly. ‘We’ll call for a couple of cars.’ He nodded to Heather who walked away muttering, but pulled out her phone and looked around for the best place to get a signal. ‘When you’ve done that, start searching the shack,’ he called after her, and she nodded.

  Bishop turned his attention back to Mr and Mrs Avery, the perfect gentleman. ‘We can drive you both to the local station at Huonville, and conduct formal interviews there. I’m sure Jason and his friend can get a lift home, unless you’d rather he joined us?’ Bishop glanced over at me for a moment, and I tried to look like the trustworthy type you would totally let your nineteen-year-old son drive home with while you were questioned about being blackmailed by a woman who had pretended to be his dead ex-girlfriend.

  It was a tricky expression to pull off.

  ‘Interviewing my wife is completely unnecessary,’ said Greg Avery, stepping forward. ‘I authorised those payments to Annabeth French.’

  ‘What the hell?’ Jason demanded. ‘She was blackmailing you?’ He looked at his father with genuine fear.

  ‘Don’t be more of a dickhead than you can help, Jason,’ his father said impatiently. He set his chin, meeting Bishop’s gaze. ‘It had nothing to do with blackmail. I paid the girl to leave the state. I believe she spent most of the cash on acting school. She received regular instalments to cover her tuition, rent and expenses. No threats or extortion were involved. It was a gift.’

  The words hung in the air for just a moment, and then Jason lunged for his father. Shay reacted a moment too late, and I ran over to join him, dragging back on Jason’s other arm.

  ‘Let me go,’ the boy roared. ‘You?’ he demanded of his father. ‘You were the other bloke? Like marrying someone barely older than me wasn�
�t bad enough, you had to fuck my girlfriend too?’

  ‘He didn’t say that,’ I hissed in Jason’s ear, dragging him back. Indeed, Greg Avery looked taken aback at his son’s assumption. Pippa was veiling whatever thoughts she had on the subject.

  ‘Yes he bloody did,’ Jason snarled.

  ‘No, he said he paid her to go to acting school. He didn’t say he was the boyfriend.’ I looked at Shay, who looked just as bemused as the rest of us. Then back at Greg Avery. ‘There never was a rich older boyfriend, was there? She just said that in case anyone asked where the money came from. You gave her the money.’

  ‘Not — blackmail,’ Greg Avery said again, disgust evident in his tone. ‘If the little bitch had tried something like that, I would have turned her straight over to the police.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Bishop. ‘So the payments were for…’

  Greg folded his arms, and looked mutinous. ‘For her to leave, of course. To get her the hell away from my son.’

  ‘What?’ Jason said, and the anger had been replaced by something numb that prevented him from trying to act like someone in a mobster movie. I didn’t let go of his T-shirt, though, and neither did Shay. ‘But she was always going to leave. That was her plan.’

  ‘Not far enough,’ Avery said in a clipped voice. ‘That girl was never going to stick to university, anyone could see that. She would have dragged you with her wherever she went. Off to the mainland, chasing her flighty little dreams. I need you here. I have plans for this town, and my son is part of that. So I gave her the opportunity, and she jumped at the chance.’ There was a note of pride in his voice now. ‘I told you she wasn’t serious about you. She didn’t even think the offer over — she took the money in an instant.’

  Jason was staring with his mouth open. Possibly I was too. ‘You paid off my girlfriend so I wouldn’t leave town? That’s — sick.’

  On the bright side, it looked like Avery Senior hadn’t been sleeping with her. Possibly that was little comfort to Jason right now.

  ‘She was more than happy to take the money,’ Greg sneered. ‘Which only goes to show what kind of girl she was.’ He turned away from Jason, addressing his remarks to Bishop. ‘I had expected her to release my son from their relationship long before she returned to Flynn for the holidays, but she did not. That final payment was given on the understanding she would end what remained of their arrangement.’

  ‘She picked a fight with me,’ Jason said, wondering. ‘That day. She checked her bank balance at the ATM, and then she turned around and picked a fight with me for no reason, and I got mad and yelled at her about lying about where she was living, and the other bloke … but that wasn’t true? None of it was true?’ He shook his head, looking gutted. ‘The last thing I said to her was that I couldn’t stand to look at her. She was dead a couple of hours later, and that’s the last thing she ever heard me say. Because of you, Dad.’ His whole year was unravelling, making less sense the more closely he looked at it.

  I knew what it was like, to have everything you thought you knew come apart. To find out something you valued was based on a lie. And, oh bloody hell, I was doing the same to Bishop. Wasn’t I? Pretending everything was okay, that we were okay, that I hadn’t been freaking out about whether or not we were getting too serious, or not serious enough. And the second I wasn’t with him I had thrown myself at one of my best friends.

  ‘I have a question,’ said Shay French in a quiet voice. ‘If my sister didn’t have an older boyfriend on the side, then who was the bloke in the lake?’

  Good question, Shay. Excellent question. ‘I have a theory,’ I said, but no one heard me because Constable Heather came marching back out of the house, looking even more pissed off than when her tyres were torn out. ‘You know that search you wanted me to do?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, that would be good,’ Bishop said impatiently. ‘Any time now.’

  ‘No, I’ve done it.’

  He didn’t look around. ‘You were only gone five minutes. Do it properly.’

  ‘Well, I already found the spade used to inflict head wounds on Annabeth French and Malcolm Drake before they died, a set of clothes with bloodstains, and this.’ She held up an evidence bag containing a gun. ‘Not that I’m not willing to look for more evidence, but I think that makes a good start, don’t you?’

  21

  From: Darlingtabitha

  Would it be possible to create a scone with jam and cream entirely out of ICE CREAM?

  From: Nincakes

  Why are you planning ice cream catastrophes at four in the morning?

  From: Darlingtabitha

  It’s when I get some of my best inspiration.

  From: Nincakes

  GO TO SLEEP I HATE YOU

  Bishop turned very slowly, and stared at Constable Heather. I’d never realised before that she had such a dark sense of humour, but it didn’t surprise him.

  Of course, just because she saw the humour in the situation didn’t mean she was actually joking.

  ‘The spade and clothes are still in the shack?’ Bishop said finally.

  Heather nodded.

  ‘I have a call to make,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, Sarge. Thought you might.’

  It was still a shock to the system, hearing Bishop called Sarge. There was a small quiet hurt inside me that my dad hadn’t lived to see his protegé finally get that promotion he’d been working for.

  My dad really loved Bishop. I don’t know if that helped or hindered us getting together in the first place, knowing how much he would have approved (probably) of us being together. It was definitely a factor in me keeping my crush good and (mostly) hidden for the first decade we knew each other.

  I can’t help thinking that either Dad or Bishop or both of them would have pushed me a lot harder to resolve the ‘girlfriend’ question, in that particular alternate reality. But maybe that wasn’t being fair to either of them.

  Jason Avery’s life was falling apart in front of my eyes, and I was wrapped up in thoughts about my love life. Way to go, Tabitha.

  Bishop moved away and punched numbers into his phone, speaking in a low voice. Heather, caught between a desire to supervise us, and her duty to protect the evidence inside the house, hovered in the space in between.

  ‘Excellent searching,’ Xanthippe said cheerfully.

  ‘I thought so,’ said Heather with a hint of smug.

  ‘Do they send you on a special course for that?’

  There was a crash inside the shack. Heather swore, and ran back into the house. Xanthippe ran after her, and after a moment’s hesitation, I followed. I heard Bishop giving strict orders for the others to stay where they were, before he came after us.

  We entered a main rumpus-style room. There was an old couch there, but it was obvious no one house proud had been living here for some time.

  There was a hole in the ceiling, and French Vanilla lay crumpled on the floor, her skin bone white. She wasn’t blonde any more, her hair a more natural looking brown, though it had to be a dye job — you don’t lose blonde that fast. Also, she had possibly broken her leg.

  ‘Hiding in the crawl space in the roof,’ Xanthippe said knowledgeably. ‘Don’t blame yourself for missing her, Heather. All that evidence at once would distract anyone.’

  ‘It did make me kind of giddy,’ said Heather. ‘Alice Conway?’

  She had a last name. And the police knew what it was. How could I not be impressed?

  ‘Yes?’ Alice said in a small voice, her whole body shaking. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘You’re wanted for questioning in regard to the deaths of Annabeth French and Malcolm Drake,’ Heather said gently. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Alice. Xanthippe came over to hold out an arm, and Alice managed to stand. ‘I think I’m okay. Ow!’

  ‘If we were to ask you why you were hiding in the roof,’ said Bishop, behind me. I respected the fact that he wasn’t taking over Heather’s arrest, but standing ba
ck and letting her take point. ‘Would we like the answer?’

  Alice pulled one hand through her curly brown hair. ‘I don’t know. What do you want me to say?’

  ‘Leave the difficult questions until later,’ I suggested. ‘She’s shaken up and has a distinct lack of lawyer.’

  Bishop frowned, but he allowed Xanthippe and Heather to help Alice limp outside. Alice had tears streaming down her face, and by the time she stepped out on the gravel driveway she only had eyes for one person. ‘Jason, I’m so sorry,’ she said.

  Jason sat on the ground, head in his hands, and I saw it, finally. The reason a kid of nineteen sits at the edge of a steep drop, gunning his engine and thinking about letting everything go.

  There had never been any mystery here, and I was just too wrapped up to see it. The evidence only pointed one way.

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ Jason said quietly, looking utterly hollow.

  Shay stepped away from his mate so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. Stewart went to Shay, hand on his arm, talking in a quiet voice.

  ‘Don’t say a word, Jason,’ said Greg Avery. ‘Our lawyers…’

  ‘Did you kill Anna?’ Shay asked, his voice ragged, shaking with disbelief. He stared down at his mate as if he was looking at a stranger. ‘Jase, did you drown my sister?’

  Jason looked up, eyes wide. ‘No. No way. I never — I would never.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Shay muttered, more to himself than to Jason or the rest of us.

  ‘He did it,’ said Jason. ‘That bloke. Drake. He killed her.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone that?’ Shay demanded. ‘You knew what happened to her, and you never … were you there?’

  ‘I killed him,’ Jason said in a whisper. ‘I didn’t mean to … but I did.’ He made a noise that was almost a laugh. ‘Can’t take it back.’

  Greg Avery turned on Bishop now, howling and blustering about how he couldn’t possibly take this admission as evidence. The boy was upset and confused.