Evil Under the Stars

by C. A. Larmer

  There was still some time before the body of Arlena Marshall would be found at the sandy cove, but she felt it intensify. It was silly, really. She knew the death was coming, could recite the scene off by heart, and yet her nerves were feeling a little frayed.

  Not so others in the crowd, however.

  The hipster couple, who were now lying down on their rug, two empty bottles beside them, had been kissing for some time but were now so amorous it was causing much irritation among the audience around them. Alicia’s eyes were dragged from the screen again as she watched the family man scoot forward and growl something at the couple.

  The younger man looked around with wide-eyed innocence, then snorted with laughter while the elderly ladies tsked loudly and the tattooed blokes chuckled. They had clearly been enjoying the off-screen entertainment.

  The hipsters behaved themselves but only momentarily. Within minutes they were back to their old tricks, but this time they had slipped underneath their blanket, and while still smooching, it was not as obvious, and the cranky father returned to watching the movie. Alicia noticed that his teenage son still seemed interested in the blanket antics, however, and was sneaking surreptitious glances at them from time to time.

  By the time intermission hit and the surrounding fairy lights twinkled back to life, the passionate duo had been forgotten again as the gripping storyline played out in front of them. The flighty leading lady had finally been discovered lying, lifeless, at Pixy’s Cove. It was a captivating scene—a dark moment on such a bright and sun-drenched day—that there were audible groans when the plot was put on hold for a short interval.

  “Snack anyone?” Missy called out cheerily, not at all perturbed by the interruption. “I noticed sushi, kebabs and what looks like the most delectable crepes.”

  “We’ll come and grab something with you,” Anders announced before turning to help Margarita to her feet.

  “Alicia?” Missy asked. “Anything?”

  “I’ll stretch my legs in a second, thanks,” she replied, wanting to keep some distance between herself and her ex.

  As the group plucked their way towards the well-lit snack bar, Lynette stood up and stretched her long, lean body like a cat, catching the eye of the tattooed men nearby. They said something to each other and then continued staring, sly smiles snaking onto their lips, but, as usual, Lynette was oblivious to the attention. Alicia, less so. She wanted to reach over and smack them about the head with their cruddy old caps.

  “So, she’s your classic nightmare,” Lynette said, nodding her head in Margarita’s direction.

  “Sorry?”

  “Miss Barcelona 2017.”

  “What about her?”

  “She is painfully good-looking, don’t you think?”

  “Hadn’t given it much thought,” Alicia said, now batting her eyelashes up at her sister. “Why do I care?”

  Lynette dropped her head to one side. “If it helps, I think she’s a fraud.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Paid escort.”

  Alicia laughed. “Oh for goodness’ sake. I’m the one who’s supposed to have the overactive imagination.”

  Lynette reached down and pulled the lid off Jackson’s esky. “Think about it for a minute. That woman is hot and pretty damn sexy. No way Anders would score her under any other circumstances.”

  “I’ll try not take that personally, thanks, Lynny.” She shook her head. “Besides, Anders is a good-looking man.”

  “Sure, but he’s not hot and sexy. And where did she come from suddenly? He was dating you about five minutes ago. She’s appeared out of nowhere.”

  Alicia said, “I think your theory is insane, but, once again, what do I care? We broke up by mutual consent, remember? I have a boyfriend, yes? And he’s not too shabby either.” She frowned. “What are you looking for?”

  Lynette had been rummaging frantically. “Where’s the champers?”

  “We just brought beers.”

  “To a moonlight cinema? How dull! Shall we go and see what we can get at the bar?”

  Alicia nodded. She could do with a stretch. Allowing her sister to help her up, she glanced around again and noticed that most of the crowd were now standing or moving about. The hot-blooded hipsters had disappeared, hopefully to sober up, as had the two elderly ladies and most of the young family, just two kids left, sleepily munching homemade Vegemite sandwiches. Alicia did spot the heavily pregnant woman, huddled under her blanket, one arm wrapped across her stomach, looking bleak, while the two men were now checking out a teenage girl in a denim skirt to their right.

  Alicia cringed as she reached for her purse.

  By the time they got to the bar, the queue had swollen, and they were in for a long wait. Alicia wasn’t sure she even wanted to bother until raised voices caught her attention at the front.

  “Let’s just get some water, babe. I think we’re done.”

  “You’re soooo boring!” came a slurred reply.

  The sisters peered through the crowd to find the amorous couple at the counter, the woman with her purse out, the man shaking his head.

  “Hey hon, come on now. If we drink any more, the old farts around us will attack.” He turned to the young waiter. “A couple of mineral waters, thanks.”

  “Noooo,” the woman scoffed. “Bugger them all! I’m allowed a drink or five.” She snorted with laughter at this and then swept upon the barman with a flirtatious, “Hello there! We’ll have a giant bottle of your finest champagne!”

  The barman flicked his thick black fringe from his face and gave her a stiff smile. “We only have sparkling wine, madam. And we do it by the glass.”

  “Spoilsport! Okay then, give us a glass of your finest sparkling wine.”

  “Ah, no, thank you,” her partner interjected. “Just the mineral water, thanks.”

  “Oh piss off!” the woman replied, her tone less flirty and more irritated now. “When did you get so booooring?”

  “Honey, shhh.” The man glanced around as though he had only just twigged that the entire queue was watching, enthralled by the mid-movie entertainment. “Seriously, we’re done. Remember what your sponsor says.”

  “Piss! Off!” she said more clearly this time, sweeping her long blond locks from her face and turning back to the bewildered barman. “Well, let’s have it! What do you want me to do? Beg?”

  The barman scowled openly now and glanced from the woman to the man and back again before reaching for a bottle of Australian sparkling wine and pouring it into a fresh plastic flute.

  “Keep going, keep going, keep going!” she cried, causing the barman’s scowl to deepen and the partner to reach a hand to hers.

  “Kat…,” he began, but she shook him off.

  He smiled apologetically at the barman and lowered his voice. “Come on, babe, we were having fun, but enough’s enough.”

  “Shut the hell up, Eliot!” she spat back at him, grappling through her purse for some money.

  The man’s patience had worn off, and his expression had turned sour. “Seriously, Kat, now you’re just being a bore. If you buy that drink, I’m out of here.”

  She snorted at that. “You’re not going anywhere, baby. I’ve got the car keys, remember? You’ll be walking home. Ha!”

  She located a fifty note and thrust it at the barman, who looked deeply unimpressed and then reached for some change.

  Realising his partner was not about to acquiesce, the man sighed heavily and then turned away, backing through the queue and out.

  “Good riddanth!” she slurred after him as she plucked her glass from the counter and snatched the change from the barman’s hand, saying, “Victory!”

  A few people laughed as she stumbled off in the direction of the snack bar, but Alicia did not find it amusing. The woman’s partner was right. She’d had enough, and now she would be drinking alone.

  It was silly of her, really, but at least it meant no more smooching loudly under the blanket—an upside for everyone else.<
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  By the time the sisters had purchased some drinks of their own and returned, they noticed the handsome hipster had parked himself on the grass just on the other side of Claire, now a good distance from his wife.

  Alicia met his eyes, and he gave her a slight smile, but it was full of sadness and something else, a kind of weary resignation, perhaps. She imagined the couple’s reunion at the end of the night, pictured him plucking the empty champagne flute from his wife’s hand and helping her uneasily to her feet. She expected all would be forgiven eventually and was in no doubt they had danced this waltz many times before.

  Relationships were extraordinary, she thought now. It’s a wonder anyone ever left the dance floor together.

  As the lights lowered again and the crowd all settled back in to watch the second part of the film, Alicia noticed the drunken woman return unsteadily to her blanket, the glass of sparkling wine already drunk, a half-eaten satay stick in one hand. She ripped the last of the chicken off with her teeth, dropped the stick into the glass, then dumped it on the rug behind her, before collapsing beneath the blanket again.

  At least alcohol has a debilitating effect, Alicia thought. She’ll settle down now and stop being so annoying.

  The eldest Finlay would come to regret that ungracious thought.

  Chapter 4

  After the distracting first half, the second part of the evening was relatively uneventful, and the crowd was mostly mesmerised by the unfolding mystery they’d come to watch. People did get up from time to time though, and Alicia noticed that the Booze Bar to her right maintained a fairly healthy trade, but for the most part the crowd was captivated.

  By the time Poirot had assembled the hotel guests in the decorative lobby to perform the “big reveal,” there was not a stray eye or a wandering foot.

  Alicia smiled to herself. She adored the final summation, the chance for Poirot to prove his brilliance and point the finger from one trembling suspect to the next before finally settling on the real culprit. Or culprits as the case may be.

  Evil Under the Sun had a particularly wonderful twist at the end, and even though she already knew whodunit—as did most of the crowd, no doubt—it still brought a gasp from her lips. It was as captivating now as it had been the first time she’d watched it. She felt suddenly gloomy, wishing she could have shared it with Jackson.

  When the credits finished rolling and the lights flickered back on, Alicia joined in as the audience applauded loudly and cheered the darkening screen.

  “She’s just brilliant, isn’t she?” said Claire, and they all agreed.

  “I love it when she turns the facts on their heads,” added Missy. “Yet makes it all seem so annoyingly obvious.”

  “You know, the nasty daughter kills herself in the book version,” Margarita said, and they all stared at her.

  Where had that come from? Alicia thought.

  “Actually, it’s only a suicide attempt,” Missy replied. “She does survive, but that’s so typical of Ms Christie, don’t you think? She was always so unpredictable.”

  “Heartless, I reckon,” came a voice nearby, and they swung around to look at the bearded hipster who was still squatting near Claire. “I’m glad they cut that bit out in the film. Hate it when they hurt kids.”

  “You have kids?” Margarita asked, and he scoffed.

  “With that woman?” He indicated towards where his wife was still snoozing under her blanket. “You think I’m a sucker for punishment?”

  He laughed, then added more seriously, “I don’t think you have to have kids to feel empathy for them.”

  “Not at all!” agreed Claire, and now he turned his eyes to her, smiling as he swept them across her stunning face.

  “You’re an interesting bunch. Are you work colleagues?”

  Missy beamed. “No, we’re the Agatha Christie Book Club!”

  He stared at her blankly for a moment as if waiting for a punchline, and when one was not forthcoming, said, “Brilliant! I love that. I must tell Kat. Agatha’s her favourite, which is the whole reason we’re here.” His smile slipped a little. “Pity she missed most of it.” He forced his lips upwards again. “Can she sign up? For your club?”

  “Oh, well… ahh…” Missy looked around desperately for Alicia, who had been watching the exchange quietly.

  She felt her own stomach lurch. After the disastrous “miserable housewife” from the first book club, she was not sure they wanted to enlist another.

  “We’re a closed group, so no can do,” Lynette said unapologetically, and Alicia offered him a sympathetic smile.

  “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want the young lush either.”

  “No, it’s not personal—” Alicia began, but he was getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

  “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy the rest of your evening, guys.”

  He smoothed his hair back under his fedora, then stepped around their blankets and the blanket of the family who were now scrambling about gathering their things, to reach his own.

  Half the crowd had already fled, but many, like the book club, had chosen to remain until the rush was over and were finishing off their food and drinks.

  Alicia was considering whether she really needed to polish off the final beer from Jackson’s esky as she watched the man approach his wife. She continued watching as he reached down and gave her a gentle nudge, then leaned in closer and shook her again, more firmly this time.

  A shiver ran down Alicia’s spine. Something was off.

  The man pulled the blanket down a little and then recoiled, scrambling backwards as though he’d just seen a ghost.

  “My God,” he cried, his whole body shuddering.

  Then, “No… baby… nooooo!”

  Chapter 5

  A passing couple was the first to reach the husband’s side, followed soon after by a barman and then the two elderly women who were seated just nearby.

  “What’s going on?” someone called out while the young barman cried, “We need a doctor! Is there a doctor in the house?”

  Alicia’s eyes swept to Anders, who was obliviously chatting with Margarita, deep in conversation, one hand expressing something languidly.

  “Anders!” Alicia called out, and he looked up, a glint of expectation in his eyes.

  She waved towards the red blanket. “Someone needs help!”

  He followed her gaze and looked confused for a moment before it sunk in. He scrambled to his feet and strode quickly across.

  The rest of the book club watched the scene unfold from their rugs, not keen to crowd the poor woman who, Alicia initially thought, must have passed out from all the alcohol. But Anders’s behaviour soon put paid to that.

  He spent a moment leaning over the woman, but instead of helping her up or, at the very least, putting her in the recovery position on her side, he swiftly pulled the blanket back over her body and then, more tellingly, her face.

  Alicia knew exactly what that meant, but the husband clearly didn’t or wasn’t accepting it, because he barked something at Anders and went to pull the blanket back before Anders grabbed his arm and tugged him firmly away. He must have told him the terrible truth because the man cried out in anguish and then fell to the ground again, his head in the palms of his hands.

  As he shook his head over and over, Anders took a step away and reached for his mobile phone.

  “Must be calling paramedics,” Lynette said, but Alicia knew better.

  She knew there was no point.

  The way he was holding the husband back, the way he glanced around furtively as he placed the call, she knew he was phoning the police.

  As he did so, he caught Alicia’s eyes and, using his free hand, waved to her.

  “I think he needs help,” she told her sister, and together they swiftly made their way across.

  Anders was now moving the gathering crowd back, begging them for some space, while the husband continued sobbing beside his wife.

  “What on earth happened?”
the distraught man was asking. “What happened? What happened?”

  “Not sure yet, mate,” Anders said gently, pulling the Finlay sisters aside as they walked up. “Where’s Jackson?”

  “He left ages ago,” Alicia said, surprised he hadn’t noticed.

  “Can you get him back?”

  “I can try. Why? What’s going on?”

  Spontaneously he reached a hand to his throat. “Can’t say exactly, but it looks suspicious.” Then he lowered his hand and his tone. “There’s contusion marks around her neck. I think she’s been strangled… murdered.”

  Alicia gasped and reached for her iPhone.

  Liam Jackson smiled when he noticed Alicia’s number pop up on the screen of his smartphone and hesitated for just a moment, shaking his head. His first reaction was that she wanted to implore him to return to the park, then he had another thought—she was being her trademark nosy self and wanted the dirt on his current crime scene.

  He looked across the desolate rooftop, towards the man who was sitting up against the concrete wall, his legs spread out in front of him, his sinewy arms to his sides, one with a leather strap around it. The man’s chin was down, his oily hair covering his face, and if it wasn’t for the tourniquet and a nearby syringe, you would think he was just a drunk, fast asleep in an old car park. There were various crime scene officers hovering nearby, one taking photographs with a large, external flash, another pulling on plastic gloves and chatting to a similarly dressed woman to his right. Various officers were spread throughout the roof, all with their heads down, searching the immediate environment, and he watched them as he took the call.

  “Hey, Alicia, what’s up?”

  “We need you here,” she replied.

  “Can’t live without me?”

  “At least one person can’t.”

  He tore his eyes from the scene and said, “What was that?”

  “There’s a deceased woman here. Anders says it looks suspicious. Can you come back?”