The Borrowed Kitchen

by Gilmour, SJB

  Insulted, I withdrew from her rapid-fire little mind as if I’d accidentally let my hand get too close to a flame. Then she was gone. Off into the throng of people to gossip her bitchy little heart out. Then Nayani came in. Her arrival surprised Sally and Mitch more than it did me, but still I’d not expected her to arrive.

  ‘Really? A police presence at a private party?’ Sally’s tone was amused but her thoughts were far from it. Huh? What’s she doing here? It’s like the woman’s obsessed with the place. Or, is it Mitch, she’s obsessed with?

  Easy, Salls, I thought. You’re a bit paranoid now. It’s understandable, but she’s a policewoman. You can trust her.

  Nayani’s smile was wide, flashing those big white teeth in such beautiful contrast with her glowing cinnamon skin. Then she glanced about and waited until there was a brief moment in me when only she and Sally were there.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sally,’ she said with genuine feeling. ‘Detective Thomson wanted to come himself.’

  ‘How’d he hear about this party?’

  Nayani laughed. ‘Sally, everyone’s heard about your party. We’ve even got cars out on the corner taking number plates. You’re in a house where two murders were committed, you’ve been attacked by a mad woman and broken into by a rapist priest who may or may not have had something to do with the murders as well. Who knows what could happen next? Thompson wanted to come to see if anyone unexpected turns up, just on the off-chance the priest is telling the truth. I told him a local would have a better idea about who that may be, so he sent me to do it. Like my dress?’ She held one hem out, thrusting a hip out. Then she looked around. ‘Is Kelly safe? I don’t see her.’

  Sally nodded. ‘She’s upstairs, online and plugged in behind a locked door. Mitch gave her a phone too. I took her some food. She’s as happy as Larry.’ Then she looked at Nayani’s dress and considered her movements. She blinked and realisation dawned on her. Maybe it’s not Mitch she’s got an eye one. I’ll ask Megs if I’m right. Then she began to feel alarmed. ‘Do you think there’s a risk?’

  What? She didn’t look like a lesbian the way Megs and Kate did. She was too pretty, even if she was a little stocky. I tried to reach into Nayani’s mind but I must have been too distracted. I couldn’t penetrate her at all.

  Nayani smiled again, but she paused for a split second before answering.

  ‘Not that I’ve seen—’

  Sally raised one eyebrow.

  Nayani shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s nothing,’ she admitted. ‘But the first thing every cop thinks in any kind of case is “follow the money.”’

  ‘Money? What money?’

  Nayani nodded out through the hall to the lounge at a man I’d not noticed before, but recognised instantly.

  ‘Neill Coates. He’s the brother of Mrs Owen. He inherited the estate, as well as two lots of life insurance.’

  Grumpy and affronted as I’d been, I hadn’t noticed Neill come in. He never came into me, so I never got the chance to search his mind for the reasons my brother would be at the house. He didn’t hang around long either. I saw him talking with Frank Webb, the editor of The Gumleaf, and Sally’s friends Megs and Kate. The only snippet of his conversation I managed to hear was perhaps the most disturbing. He had cornered Frank Webb’s wife in the hall.

  ‘He’ll have a great story. Certainly for his column. Maybe even another book.’ Frank Webb’s wife was nodding enthusiastically. It was clear the woman had no idea Neill was my brother. What a twit. ‘Frank’s trying to get him to sign on to do a piece, but we’ll probably just have to run with the serialised column.’

  ‘Why do you want an extra story from Mitchell? Haven’t your guys got the story covered?’ Neill seemed surprised, but I noticed the tightening around his eyes. Now, I know my brother. He was never as good at keeping a poker face as he thought he was.

  Mrs Webb nodded. ‘Not only was he part of it, but he’s got access to the entire case file.’

  ‘Why would he need that?’

  ‘It’s the whole history of the thing,’ she told him in a conspiratorial manner. ‘The Greenwood woman came to the house because she thought Kelly could identify her and maybe Mitch and Sally had dug up evidence proving she was the Owen woman’s murderer. This case goes back years.’

  ‘What about the priest?’

  Mrs Webb shrugged. ‘Well, he came along too didn’t he? I mean it looks like he’s as guilty as she is.’ She shrugged. ‘If it was’t him, then it sure as hell was one of his groupies.’

  ‘Did they find any evidence of his involvement? What was he supposed to have done?’

  ‘Well, she killed the woman, he killed the husband, or had him killed. He’s denying it, of course, but everyone knows it. And, Mitch will have the exclusive because he’s got the files.’

  I didn’t get to hear any more. Neill pled off, saying he wanted another drink, and Mrs Webb went in search of her drunken husband. The next time I saw Neill was when he walked down the drive, through the gate to get into his diesel Nissan Patrol. The party was noisy, but my hearing is excellent. My curiosity turned to worry when I heard him take off in such a hurry. I don’t know how much he’d had to drink — maybe two or three glasses of wine, but to drive like a lead-foot, at night on a dirt road I knew he wasn’t familiar with… Why, he was driving almost as badly as David Forbes, chewing through the gears like that.

  And why would he be in such a hurry anyway? I’d have thought he’d be happy to know there was finally going to be a result. Marcy had confessed to my murder in front of cops, and, from what I gather, again repeatedly at the hospital. I took myself back into my larder where it was darker and quieter so I could ponder. In the morning, I’d sift through Mitch and Sally’s memories to see what they’d made of my brother crashing their party.

  I stayed in my larder until well after the guests had all gone home. Would have stayed there longer too, had Mason not shown up. The abrasive old spirit was at his insufferable best.

  ‘Interesting night at the constabulary,’ he gloated. He eyes were bright with smug glee.

  I groaned. ‘Alright, Mason. Give. What happened?’

  ‘Tut tut! You didn’t say the magic word?’

  I gave him several. Some, I’d never used before.

  ‘Well, I never! To think an upright, church-going lady such as yourself—’

  ‘I’m getting less lady-like every day Mason, and if Father Brain’s the kind of leech they employ, the church can jump in the lake. What happened at the police station?’

  ‘They arrested your brother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Seems the young fellow was mildly intoxicated. Well, enough for them to want him out of his vehicle at least. As they were doing this, they received a call from the young dark lass. Apparently, she thought he wasn’t invited to the soiree and observed him asking questions related to the case.’

  ‘So? What’s so unusual about that? Everyone here was talking about it. I’d be curious too, if I’d been alive and he’d been murdered. I’m his sister!’ I was having a great deal of trouble keeping the anger from my voice. Evidently Mason noticed, which only served to cheer him on in to goading me further.

  ‘Ahh, Eugenie,’ he chided, waggling one long bony finger, ‘you’re missing the point. The detective from Melbourne? The strange one with the mutated mind? Thompson, I believe his name is. He has a theory about different kinds of offenders. Some commit the crime and just move on to the next one. Some abscond and begin anew in fresh pastures, and some, like the one he thinks your sibling may be, like to eavesdrop on investigations of their own crimes. They can’t help it. Some overwhelming desire to feed their psychosis with tid-bits from the case while keeping abreast of just how close the gendarmes are to their apprehension.’

  For the second time in minutes, I swore at Mason.

  ‘My brother is no killer, and he’s not crazy,’ I stated when I’d run out of profanities.

  Mason nodded. ‘So the detective was forced to admit. His ali
bi holds true. He wasn’t anywhere near this house when your husband met his demise. They checked it again. Once they’re happy he’s sober, they’ll release him. Some time this morning, no doubt.’

  I couldn’t help it. I was now beginning to feel curious.

  ‘Oh? How do you know about his alibi?’

  ‘I heard the call, madam. I was right there above Constable Hewitt’s desk. He rang the young lady in question and asked her again. She replied she’d been with him the entire evening. They’d dined at Monroe’s in Yarra Junction and then he’d driven her home. They’d had a nightcap and then proceeded to enjoy relations.’ He grimaced. ‘She was quite frank about it. Most unbecoming.’

  I’d heard enough. ‘Go away Mason. I need to think.’

  Laughing to himself, the obnoxious spook drifted away.

  ‘Does that mean me too?’ Alec asked from the hall. He floated into me and sat on my stove. ‘Nobody came near her. I just went in and checked her. Do you know she can sleep with her headphones on? Sally took them off her and she didn’t even wake up.’

  ‘Thanks Alec. Yes, if you don’t mind, I think it does mean you too. There must be plenty of places you can haunt now. You’re free. Your death’s been solved.’

  He blinked. ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said you were thinking about moving on.’

  He gave a humph. ‘Not like that. I mean moving on. You know… Crossing over? I’ve done my job.’

  Oh, I had to hear about this. ‘How?’

  He shrugged. It’s like I’ve always had this thing that I had to do, right? And now I’ve done it and in its place… Instead of me wanting to do that thing, I’ve just got this question. Do I stay or do I go? I’ve just got to make a choice.’

  ‘So what are you going to choose?’

  He slid off my stove and stood in the middle of my floor.

  Grinning, he declared. ‘I’ll go.’ He nodded determinedly, his spectral eyes gleaming brightly. ‘I’ll go!’

  There was no flash of light or chorus of angels. He simply vanished. Where to, I have no idea.

  ‘Be well, Alec Riley,’ I murmured to myself in the darkness. ‘Be well.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Mitch came down first. His head was sore and his mouth felt furry. Water. Need water. And aspirin. He put the kettle on and downed two glasses of water and a couple of aspirin while it boiled. Then he started making breakfast. The sound of water in the pipes told me Sally was having a shower. Mitch guessed the same thing. A party like that calls for a big greasy breakfast.

  From my fridge, he took out eggs, butter, a packet of bacon, a block of tasty cheese, a red capsicum, a red onion and three mushrooms. Time for omelet ala Mitch. He grated a small pile of cheese, shaved a few slices from the glorious purple onion and sliced the mushrooms finely. Next he diced the tomato and half the capsicum as finely as he could, also placing them in neat little piles on the chopping boards. The eggs, he cracked into a bowl and beat lightly with a fork until they’d gone a nice pale yellow.

  With all his ingredients ready, he set the bacon to grill in my oven and then spooned at least two tablespoons of butter into one frying pan, and a sploosh of olive oil into another. He sliced the mushrooms into the second pan and set it on low.

  Sally came in, also looking a little worse for wear. ‘Shower’s free, smelly man,’ she told him, squeezing his butt. ‘Go. I’ll just sit here and await your return so you can pamper me!’

  Mitch grinned and leaned down to kiss her forehead. He inhaled, shutting his eyes.

  ‘Mmm, you smell nice.’

  Sally pushed him away. ‘You don’t. Go wash!’

  Mitch laughed and went to shower, leaving Sally, sitting at my bench, gazing out the window. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly from dreading the cleaning up, even though there wasn’t much to be done, and just how peaceful everything looked outside. How could such a nice place have such awful people in it? Well, these two people are gonna balance that out, dammit.

  Mitch returned about five minutes later, clean and fresh. Sally grinned at him.

  ‘Last night was fun.’ Her big blue eyes glowed warmly at him.

  Mitch nodded as he checked the bacon under the griller.

  ‘Bit tame though. No fights. Nothing got broken, no impromptu strips…’

  ‘No murderers or mad rapist priests either.’

  Mitch turned to her and nodded again, his face serious.

  ‘I know Salls. I’m sorry. I don’t know why this happened to us here. We can leave if you want—’

  ‘No fucking way!’ Sally came around and hugged him, burying her face into his chest. ‘I don’t care about these crazy hillbillies. So we got broken into by a pair of local nutjobs... I’m not going to let that kind of shit get to me, and you shouldn’t either. This is a fantastic place, Mitch. I don’t want to go. I wanna stay here. I want my goats in the back paddock, fruit on those trees and pumpkins growing. I… I want kids, Mitch. I want Kelly to stay too. I know it’s only been a short while, but I really, really like her. She has to stay with us.’

  Mitch blinked and held her by the shoulders, holding her out a little so he could see into her eyes.

  ‘Kids? Now? Are you sure? It’s soon, Salls. I mean, I’m keen, but I thought you wanted to wait.’

  Sally’s mind was made up. Her look told Mitch so immediately. Ooh, I know that look. It’s the Sallynator.

  ‘Now?’ he asked her, reaching down to grab her bottom.

  Sally squirmed away from him with a wide smile. Yes!

  ‘After my breakfast, mister!’

  Mitch grinned and put on the “breckie” playlist on their iPod. The mellow soul and jazz music from a Blue Note album filled the air. He turned the bacon down, which was now beginning to crisp up nicely and turned on the heat under the pan with the butter in it.

  Kelly arrived, sleepy-eyed and with shaggy bed-hair. The smell of the bacon doing its magic on her brain.

  ‘Smells good! Can I help?’

  Mitch grinned at her. ‘Hey, sleepyhead. Want an omelet?’

  Kelly nodded eagerly and sat next to Sally. The two of them and I watched him create three beautiful cheesy omelets, complete with fresh tomato, capsicum and onion and sauteed mushrooms. Somehow in the rhythm of his cooking, he also managed to re-boil the kettle, grind coffee beans and produce a large plunger full of strong black coffee.

  I touched Sally’s mind briefly, just to get a whiff of the smell. Bacon, eggs, and coffee. The smell was heavenly, but I couldn’t dwell on it. Something Mason had said much earlier that morning had bugged me, and the smell of food reminded me about it. He mentioned Monroe’s. Ashleigh was killed on a Friday. Monroe’s was owned by a local Jewish family. The restaurant was closed Friday night and all day Saturday.

  As much as I hated to interrupt their beautiful morning, I had to get either Sally or Mitch to get in touch with the police. The reason for it made me feel absolutely wretched — more so than I’d felt since I discovered I was dead. I decided to use Mitch. I just couldn’t bring myself to disrupt Sally’s train of thought that morning.

  As Mitch chewed his breakfast, I brought the thoughts into his head slowly. What was that guy doing here last night?

  ‘Did you see that bloke last night? Neill something or other?’

  Sally nodded. ‘Nayani pointed him out. He’s the brother of the woman who used to live here.’

  Mitch shook his head sadly. ‘Can’t blame him for wanting to snoop about. I’d want to know who killed my sister too.’

  There! Despite not wanting to disturb Sally, I had to.

  She made a thoughtful face. ‘Nayani said something about cop instinct telling her to follow the money. He had most to gain from the deaths.’

  ‘But the cops checked his alibi. I’ve got the file, hang on.’ Mitch put down his cutlery and took his coffee out in the direction of his office. He came back a few moments later with a manila folder. He flicked through it. ‘Can’t believe that cop let me have all this,’ he mutt
ered. ‘Normally, they’re all cagey about this kind of shit… Here we go.’ He pulled out a sheet of paper and read it. ‘Says here, the alibi claims he was with her all night. They went to dinner at that joint in The Junction, and then went home.’

  ‘What joint?’

  ‘Monroe’s. You know, the kosher place? Great lamb. We went there.’

  Sally’s eyes narrowed as I held the idea of checking the dates in her mind.