by Morgana Best
“True, true,” Aunt Dorothy said in a conciliatory tone. “How is your story coming along?”
Lila narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”
I sure hoped she wasn’t going to give the Bed and Breakfast bad press on my account. Although it wasn’t that type of magazine, I’m sure she could still paint it in an unfavourable light.
Aunt Maude had already reported that she had called around the motels and no one had anyone by the name Lila Sanders booked for the night of the murder, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t booked under another name.
Linda also said she had never met Lila before, but I still wondered if Lila had met Paul. I couldn’t think how that was possible, unless Lila had at one point done a story on Paul’s taxidermy business. That seemed unlikely, but remained a possibility. However, I had already googled Paul and no such story had come up.
The first course was eaten in uncomfortable silence, although the aunts tried to make conversation from time to time. Finally, I could stand it no longer. “Linda, was Paul always a taxidermist?”
Linda looked up, startled. “No, he took an early retirement and then went into taxidermy, more as a hobby than anything else. His parents were wealthy and he had no siblings, and when they both died in an accident, he had more money than he knew what to do with. That’s when he quit his job and opened the taxidermy business. He always had an interest in it.” She shuddered. It was clear she didn’t share his interest.
“What was he before he was a taxidermist?” Aunt Agnes asked her.
“He was a journalist, actually an editor, of a small paper.”
Everyone’s heads snapped to Lila. “Did you know him?” I asked her.
Lila’s face paled. “Yes, I met him years ago,” she said, her voice shaking.
I silently cheered. I just knew she was hiding something, and it was not simply because I didn’t like her.
“I didn’t know him very well,” she added hastily.
“So Paul was an editor, was he?” I asked Linda, and she nodded. I could see she was looking at Lila with new interest.
“Did you work for him?” I asked Lila.
She shot me a look of pure venom. For a minute, I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but she did. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. He was a lovely man.”
Linda choked on her wine and had to set down her glass. When she stopped coughing, we exchanged glances. It was clear that Lila was lying; no one could possibly describe Paul Williams as a lovely man.
“Did you say it was a newspaper or magazine?” I asked her.
Lila looked around the table. “Just a local newspaper.”
I thought it strange that my Google search hadn’t turned that up. “Linda, did Paul ever go by another name?”
Linda nodded. “That was before I met him. He used to be called Bob, short for Robert. Robert was his middle name, and it always irritated him that he had been called Robert from birth, so he eventually changed to his first name, Paul. His mother had always intended to call him Robert.”
I had zoned out by now, but Aunt Agnes apparently found the matter intriguing. “Why did his mother give him Robert as a second rather than first name, if that’s what she wanted to call him?”
“Apparently, she liked the sound of Paul Robert better than Robert Paul. Paul said it always irritated him, caused him no end of red tape.”
The doorbell made me jump, as it usually did, being loud and shrill. Lila looked longingly in the direction of the door, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing—was this Lucas?
“Why don’t you get it this time, Dorothy?” Aunt Agnes said. I’m sure Dorothy was more than happy to answer the door, considering Aunt Agnes usually would not allow anyone else to do it.
This time, it was not Lucas, but the detectives. “Sorry to intrude on your evening,” Detective Oakes said, “but we would like to speak to Mrs Williams for a moment.”
Linda pushed her chair back from the table. “Here?”
The detective nodded. “If we could go to another room?”
I was relieved that Linda wasn’t being arrested and taken to the police station. I shot her what I hoped was an encouraging look.
“At least the detectives came between courses,” Aunt Agnes said. She stood up and started to clean the table.
“I’ll help,” I said. Aunt Agnes protested, but I insisted.
When we were in the kitchen, and away from prying eyes, I whispered to Agnes, “I’m just going to google to see what newspaper Paul Williams used to run.”
“Good idea. Now, I don’t think we should have dessert until Linda comes back, do you?”
I would have liked to point out that more important things were afoot, but thought the better of it. “We should wait.”
I had left my purse in the kitchen, so I fished out my phone. It didn’t take me long to find that Paul, under the name Robert, had been the editor of a small newspaper in country New South Wales. I googled Lila’s name, which of course I had done previously, but not in connection with this newspaper. It didn’t turn up much.
I wondered if the police knew this, but I certainly intended to tell them. Why had Lila tried to keep this from us? Had she been sacked? Or had he done something to her to cause her to be resentful towards him? I was sure there was something to it, but I didn’t know how to find out.
“Did you find anything?” Aunt Agnes asked me.
For a moment, I had forgotten she was standing there. I handed her the phone so she could read it for herself.
“We just need to find out what happened at that newspaper,” Aunt Agnes said.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Did you see how Lila acted funny about it? She wouldn’t have done that if they had just been amicable colleagues.”
Aunt Agnes sighed. “Now, what should we do with the dessert? Do you think the police will be long?”
“No idea,” I said. “I suppose we can give it, say fifteen minutes? If Linda’s not back by then, perhaps we can serve dessert.”
“Good idea.”
I followed Aunt Agnes back into the dining room, where she announced to the others that we would wait for Linda. I half expected Lila to make an excuse to leave, but she sat there.
Something occurred to me, but I didn’t know if I should say it. I thought it over for a moment, and then considered I had nothing to lose. “Do the police know that Paul fired you from your job at the newspaper?” I asked her.
Aunt Agnes’s eyebrows shot skyward, but she soon recovered.
Lila picked up her dessert spoon with her right hand, and clenched it hard until her knuckles turned white. “What’s that got to do with anything? It was years ago.”
I silently cheered. She had fallen for my bluff. “Of course,” I said soothingly, “but you know what the police are like. If they think you’ve kept something from them, they’ll become suspicious of you.”
Lila glared at me. “I wasn’t even in town when he died.”
“Yes, everyone knows that. Still, anyone can google it and find out that there was a big drama when he fired you,” I lied.
Lila’s face was now an ugly shade of red. “He falsely accused me!” she screeched. “He said I’d stolen money from his desk, but he was lying. I wasn’t able to get a job in newspapers after that. In fact, it took me years to get the job I’ve got now.”
I almost felt sorry for her. It seemed that Paul was the sort of man who would do that, but of course I had no way of knowing the truth. “Oh well, you have nothing to worry about,” I said. “You’re lucky you didn’t come a day earlier, though.”
Lila remained silent, but was that a guilty look that had just passed across her face? Had she arrived a day earlier? And if so, how would I find out?
I had not come to any conclusions by the time the detectives and Linda returned to the room. Linda gave me a small nod, which I hoped was a good sign.
“Thanks for your time, ladies,” Detective Oakes said. “Sorry to disturb your evening.”
“The cottage isn’t a crime scene any longer,” Linda announced.
Aunt Maude leant across and patted her hand. “You’re most welcome to continue to stay here,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t want to go back there.”
“If you’re sure that’s all right?”
Aunt Maude nodded vigorously, but I could see Aunt Dorothy looked none too pleased.
“Did they say if they’re close to arresting anyone?” I asked her.
“No. In fact, I think I’m still high on the list.”
“It’s ridiculous they haven’t arrested someone by now,” Lila snapped. “That’s the trouble with small towns, everyone is incompetent.” Perhaps she thought she had gone too far, because she twisted the rings on her hand.
Aunt Agnes hadn’t returned, so I stood up. “I’ll just go and help Aunt Agnes with the dessert.”
By the time I reached the kitchen, Aunt Agnes was cutting into a huge lemon meringue pie. “Valkyrie, would you go to the dining room and see who would like cream and ice cream with theirs?”
I did as I was asked. “I don’t want either, thank you,” Lila said through pursed lips. “I like to keep my figure trim.” She looked me up and down as she said it.
I walked back to the kitchen with the orders, wondering how I could find out if Lila had been in town the time of the murder.
Chapter 16
The following morning, I had breakfast in my cottage. It was a beautiful day, and I was sitting in my office looking for cheap furniture online. It was hard not to be distracted and look out the window at the seagulls.
I was pleased with my progress. I had found bargains and made a long list. I was surprised that I had not yet been interrupted. I kept glancing down at my phone to make sure I had not missed any calls. I stood up, intending to have a snack, when I saw Linda coming through my gate. I walked to the front door to let her in.
“Do you own that cat now?” she said, nodding at the black cat that sat at my feet.
I laughed. “The aunts would say she owns herself, but I have no idea where she lives.”
“Looks like she lives with you now.”
I shrugged. “Yes, she seems to. I’ll have to take her to the vet’s later and see if she has a microchip. If she does, then I’ll contact the owner and see if they don’t want her any more. Anyway, come in.”
“No, I just called by to see if you could give me some help. I’m about to go through Paul’s stuff to see if there’s anything that gives me a clue to his murder.”
I bit my lip. “But won’t the police have done that already? Surely they would’ve found anything incriminating?”
Linda shook her head. “Paul must’ve been up to something, something to do with the fact that he was a werewolf. Why else would he and Lucas argue? As far as I knew, they hadn’t met before we came here. The police wouldn’t notice anything to do with that.”
I thought it through. “But would Paul leave something incriminating lying around the cottage?”
Linda bent down to stroke the cat. “He had a locked briefcase, and he had a diary. Who knows what’s in there?”
“Okay then. When do you want to start?”
“Now?” Linda quirked an eyebrow.
“Sure. I was just about to take a break, anyway.”
The bedroom in the cottage was a mess. Linda exclaimed angrily when she saw it. “I thought the police only made a mess in searches in movies!”
“What if it was the murderer?” I asked her.
She stepped around some items strewn on the floor. “You’re right. I’ll call the detectives later and ask them.”
I surveyed the mess with dismay. “Gosh, I don’t know where to start.”
“His briefcase,” Linda said. “He kept it by the desk.”
The cottage smelled as if it had been locked up for a week, when it was only a few days. Still, I expected the humidity added to it, given that the cottage had been locked and all the windows shut all that time. I opened every window and turned on the fan in the living room and in the bedroom to try to get some air flow.
“You know, this needs a good smudging,” I said.
Linda nodded. “When we’re finished here, we’ll get some white sage and give it a good going over.”
“And we’ll need lots of salt and eucalyptus oil for the floor wash,” I added.
When I finished looking around, I saw that Linda had lifted a bulky briefcase onto the desk and was struggling to open it. “I can’t find the key anywhere,” she said.
I crossed to the briefcase to look at the lock. I hadn’t seen a locked briefcase in ages, but this looked like any standard lock. “I’ll have to find something to bust it open,” I said. “Do you have a screwdriver?”
Linda shook her head.
“I’ll just pop over to the shed and get one.”
“Don’t let your aunts see you,” Linda cautioned me. “We don’t want them to come in here and help us search through stuff, in case they find out Paul was a werewolf.”
“Okay, I’ll see if there’s a knife or something here that’ll work.” I went to the kitchen drawers and fetched the most solid looking knife I could find. I stuck it under the latch and moved it around, but nothing worked. “This might need a hammer,” I said. “I’ll slip home and get one, that’s safer than going to the shed.”
This time, I went out the back door of the cottage in case the aunts were looking in that direction. I skirted around behind the cottages until I came to my cottage. The cat stuck her head through the cat door and meowed. “If you don’t tell me your name, I’m going to have to think of one for you,” I said to her.
The cat narrowed her eyes at me in the typical cat smile. “Okay then, I’ll think of a name for you.”
I unlocked the door and let myself in. I had a decent tool box in Sydney—after all, every single girl has to fend for herself—but of course, I couldn’t bring the unwieldy thing with me to Lighthouse Bay. I had been meaning to replace it, but I did know that there was a hammer in the laundry cupboard. I fetched it, and turned it over. It was an old one with a wooden handle, with plenty of dents where someone had missed their target, but it looked strong enough. I tucked it into the back of my shorts and then covered it with my shirt, just in case I ran into the aunts on my way back to Linda’s cottage.
As I skirted behind Lucas’s cottage, I saw no sign that he had returned, but I saw no sign of Lila at her cottage, either. I let myself through the back door into Linda’s cottage and pulled the hammer from behind me. “I hope this does the trick,” I said.
Her normally pale face was red with exertion. “I’ve tried everything. This just won’t open.”
It occurred to me that she could transform into a werewolf and rip it apart with her claws or fangs, but I didn’t know the social niceties for mentioning such a thing, so I thought it prudent not to bring it up.
“This should work.” I wedged the claw of the hammer under the section next to the lock and pulled. Nothing happened. After the fifth try, the lock broke.
Linda opened the briefcase. “It’s stuffed full!”
I eyed the contents with some trepidation. “It’s going to take ages to sort through all that.”
Linda agreed. “Still, it’ll be worth it if we find something.” She upended the briefcase on the dining table. “Will we do half each?”
“Why not?”
Linda halved the paperwork with one sweeping motion and then pushed a pile towards me.
It soon became apparent to me that Paul was a hoarder. “Why would he take your electricity and phone bills with him on a holiday?” I asked her.
Linda simply shrugged and kept looking through papers. After a while, she looked up. “How about I fetch us a cardboard box each and we can throw the old paperwork into that, to make it easier?”
I said that was a good idea. By the time Linda returned with two cardboard boxes, I
had already looked through several receipts for petrol, restaurant meals, and so on. I expected that Paul had intended to write off his holiday here as a tax deduction. While that might be of interest to an accountant, it certainly didn’t provide any help in the matter of his murder.
My eyes were sore from all the close work, so I rubbed them. “Do you want to take a break?” Linda asked over the top of some papers.
“Not yet, but maybe soon if we don’t find anything,” I said. I threw the bills in the cardboard box and pulled another load of papers towards me, and as I did, the papers uncovered a little brown book with a clasp. “Linda!” I picked up the book and waved it at her. “Is this his diary?”
She shook her head and reached for it. “No, I looked through his diary when you were gone and couldn’t see anything at first glance, but we could look through it again later. I don’t know what that is.”
“What is it with Paul and locks?” I asked her. “Any sign of a key?”
Linda shook her head.
“I’ll fetch the hammer,” I said with a sigh. When I returned with the hammer, I thought the claw might be too big to wedge in the narrow space. I tried a few times, but it didn’t quite fit. “I’ll go and get a knife.”
“No, give it to me.” Linda brought the hammer down on the clasp with a mighty thud. The clasp shattered, sending little bits of metal flying everywhere.
I leant over her shoulder as she opened the book. “I wonder if the police have seen inside this?”
Linda pointed to a little key lying between some papers. “Probably.”
We both laughed. “And the police probably have the key to the briefcase, too,” Linda said. “I remember them saying they had some stuff I could pick up from the police station.”
“Oh well, it’s open now,” I said with a chuckle.
“This seems to be some sort of a diary,” Linda said. “A diary about werewolf stuff.”
“If the police saw it, they probably thought it was just notes for some sort of a novel,” I said.
“True.” Linda flipped through the pages. “There are dates.”
“Quick, go to the last entry,” I said.
