Broom for One More

by Morgana Best

  “There’s more than one golf course at Sanctuary Cove,” she said, “but yes, you’re right. Actually, this house interior is too dated for me. I’m thinking of selling it. Now that there’s just me, I intend to buy another house at Sanctuary Cove, something far more modern.”

  I nodded. From the outside, the house looked like a new build, but from inside, I could see it was around ten years old, but had been built by someone with much older tastes.

  Oleander elbowed me, so I grimaced and added, “I’m a real estate agent from Melbourne, and my boss sent me up here to manage his office in Southport. If you ever need help with buying or selling a home, please consider me.” I opened my handbag and put my card on top of the blue and white striped Ottoman in front of me.

  “I might take you up on that,” she said from the kitchen. “I think you and I have the same taste.”

  I could see she meant it as a huge compliment, so I beamed.

  She returned, carrying three cups of coffee on a tray. She carefully put the tray on top of the ottoman. “All right, I’ll come straight to the point. You told me the police are going to freeze my assets until my husband’s murder is solved. They didn’t tell me that when they were questioning me, though.”

  Her voice held no hint of suspicion, but I hurried to say, “They did tell me that, so perhaps they were keeping it from you.” I felt bad lying to her, but I had visions of the Southport watchhouse.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. I have seen that sort of thing on TV shows. Maybe they do think I did it.”

  “I’m sure they have several suspects,” I said. “Do you have any idea who could have killed your husband?”

  “It could have been that dreadful Georgia Garrison,” she said. “She had been having an affair with my husband.”

  “When did you find out?” Oleander asked her.

  She shrugged. “I found out a few weeks ago. I didn’t really worry too much about it, mind you. I didn’t particularly like my husband, not that I would say that to the police. I was glad when he was out of my hair all day. He always played golf every weekend.”

  “He wasn’t on call for emergencies and stuff like that?” I asked her.

  Bree chuckled. “No. There was an emergency vet clinic twenty-five kilometres away that he always pushed people onto after hours and at weekends. He played golf every weekend, and he wasn’t home much, so I could do my own thing.”

  “So you didn’t mind him having an affair with Georgia?” I asked in disbelief.

  She frowned. “Of course I minded! It was rude, if nothing else. I thought it showed a complete lack of respect for me on both their behalves. I would have happily divorced him, but I don’t think he was serious about Georgia. He had a lot of affairs back when we lived in Sydney as well. He told me he’d changed his ways and I believed him, but you know, you can only take so much. After a while, I just stopped caring. We were more flatmates than anything else. We got on well; don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I hadn’t been in love with him for years.”

  “Do you think Georgia shot your husband?” I asked her.

  She made small circles with her fingers at the tops of her cheekbones. I wondered if she was doing some sort of facial aerobics. “You know, I do suspect her, it’s just that she seems too spineless to do anything like that. Perhaps she asked him to leave me, and he refused. He probably wouldn’t have cared about leaving me, but he certainly wouldn’t want to take up with her, so that might have upset her.” Bree tapped her chin hard. “That’s only hypothetical though, because I don’t know if she did ask him to leave me. It’s just an assumption. That’s the only thing I can think of. I can’t see what other motive she could have had.”

  “Did your husband have any enemies?” Oleander asked her.

  “Well, there was that angry dog owner. What was her name again, Martha? Mary?”

  “Mabel,” Oleander supplied. “I know she was upset, but would she have been upset enough to murder your husband?”

  Bree shook her head. “I’ve seen so many people upset with the size of vet bills, but I’ve never known a vet to be murdered over it. That’s not to say it couldn’t happen.” She held both her hands, palms upward, to the ceiling.

  We were not getting far with the questioning. I had thought it would have proceeded much better than this. “Is there anyone else you can think of?” I said in a pleading tone.

  “There is Adrian Young, of course,” she said. “He had been stealing money from the clinic and Chase was about to confront him.”

  I shot a look at Oleander. “Really? He’d been stealing money?” I said. I already knew, but I wasn’t about to admit it to Bree.

  Bree nodded. “Yes. Chase only found out about it last week. The money hadn’t been adding up and he knew it was a staff member. At first I thought it was Georgia, but my husband wouldn’t hear of it, so I told him to install a nanny cam.”

  “A nanny cam?” Oleander repeated.

  “You know, a hidden camera. He trained a hidden camera on the cash register, and sure enough, we saw Adrian slipping money out when no one was around. Chase was going to confront him about it. Still, Adrian wasn’t working there the day that my husband was shot.”

  “Does Adrian own a rifle?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “How would I know? I suppose the police would have found that out, but they still seem to be questioning me.”

  “And me, too,” I said. “So really, your husband didn’t have any enemies at all?”

  “No. The only people I can think of who might have murdered him were Georgia, Adrian, you, me, and Nico.”

  “Hasn’t Nico been good buddies with your husband since they were young?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “Yes, they grew up together. They went to high school together and then they both went to Sydney University. My husband went to the Sydney University Veterinary Hospital, and I really can’t remember what Nico did. I find him boring and opinionated. To tell you the truth, I’ve never taken much interest in him. Nico moved up here to Hope Island. He was the one who talked my husband into moving up this way after he sold his practice.”

  “Would Nico have any reason to murder your husband?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, like I said, they’ve always been best friends. My husband always spoke well of him. I think Nico was always jealous of my husband, but if he was going to murder him, he would have murdered him years ago.” She broke off with a nasal laugh. “I haven’t been helpful, have I?”

  “Oh, you’ve actually been quite helpful,” I lied.

  My spirits fell. It seemed I had run out of suspects. Chase Evans had been murdered, and no one seemed to have a motive. I only hoped those gunshot residue results would be back before I was thrown in the Southport watchhouse.

  Chapter 14

  I could not get the thought of the Southport watchhouse out of my mind. The police had watched me the whole time at the funeral, and I could see they still thought I was a suspect. I knew they wouldn’t be able to turn up any evidence that I had met Chase before, considering the fact that I hadn’t, but I had been the one to discover his body. In their eyes, that seemed to elevate me on their list of suspects. I figured I had no choice but to take Persnickle back to the vet clinic so I could get some more information out of the deceased Chase Evans.

  I managed to tempt Persnickle away from the TV and from his little friend, Paddy, and put him in the car. When I arrived at the vet clinic, Persnickle was quite reluctant to get out of the car.

  “You’re not going to the vet, I promise,” I told him, but at the mention of the word vet, he shuddered and made strange wombat sounds in the back of his throat.

  By the time I wrestled Persnickle out of the car, I was exhausted. The police tape had been taken down, so I walked with Persnickle around to the back of the building just outside the vet’s office window. I did not want the police to catch me inside the building, and at any rate, I was sure it was locked.

  “Is anyone there
?” I called out, not too loudly in case a living person was nearby, although I did not think that likely.

  To my relief, the ghost appeared immediately. “It’s about time you came back,” he said, waving his hands in an agitated manner.

  “Do you remember who killed you?” I asked him.

  Even in his ghost state, he looked most put out. “Remember? That implies I knew in the first place. I told you whoever it was came up behind me.”

  I sighed. “Let me rephrase that. Have you given it some thought, and have now come up with a suspect?”

  “I don’t like to point the finger at anyone,” he said, “but I can’t think of anyone who would have a reason to murder me.”

  “But you’re dead,” I pointed out.

  “I’m dead,” he repeated with a rueful grin.

  “I don’t want to offend you, but the suspects I’ve come up with are your wife, your lover, Adrian Young, and your best friend, Nico North. Do you know of anyone else?”

  “Yes, there was that dreadful woman who falsely accused me of giving her dog the wrong treatment,” he said. “I can’t remember her name, Martha? Mabel? Mary? I really can’t remember. I can remember her face, that’s for sure!” He pulled a face. “Most disagreeable dogs. She had a lot of them.”

  “Mabel Wraith,” I supplied. “I heard she accused you of overcharging her and misdiagnosing her dog.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. Both accusations were false, mind you.”

  I folded my arms, and then unfolded them to swat at a particularly loud mosquito. “Still, would that be enough reason to shoot you?”

  “I had to do a couple of house calls once and she had rifles hanging above the fireplace,” he said, tapping his chin. “She used to live on a farm.”

  “She did?” That was news to me. I hadn’t seen any rifles hanging on the wall, and I hadn’t seen a fireplace for that matter, but then again, she was a hoarder and it was hard to see the walls in her house. “How long ago was that?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Earlier this year. I’m not too sure. It would be in the records.”

  “I don’t have access to the records,” I said, and then jumped as a voice boomed behind me.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I swung around and to my horror, there was Detective Power. He had his hands on his hips and was glaring at me. Detective Walters was standing behind him.

  “I was talking to my wombat, of course,” I told him.

  “You said you didn’t have access to records.” His tone was accusatory.

  “So? Do you see anyone else here?” I tried to think fast. “Persnickle is fond of Starsky and Hutch, and he likes, um, music, old-fashioned music.” I tried to think of someone from the era of Starsky and Hutch. “He likes Bob Dylan! He likes Bob Dylan’s earlier music and he likes to listen to him on vinyl, so I told him I didn’t have access to anything like that.”

  Walters was doing his best to smother a laugh, while Power continued to glare at me. “And what are you doing here again at the clinic? Don’t tell me you’re trying to do that aversion therapy thing again.”

  “It’s immersion therapy,” I said, “and no. I was still worried about Persnickle eating that shoe, so I wanted to see if the vet clinic was open. I thought there should be a replacement vet here by now. After all, this is the only vet clinic in East Bucklebury.”

  “You’re not more than twenty minutes from the closest vet clinic, I’m sure,” Power said. “What is the real reason you’re snooping around here?”

  “If I was snooping, I wouldn’t have brought a wombat,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “I would have worn black and come at night, like a ninja.”

  Power rubbed his forehead. “All right, Ms Bloom, you’re going to need to come back with us to the station for questioning.”

  “Why?” I protested. “I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s perfectly legal to take a wombat to a vet clinic. How did I know it wasn’t open?”

  He took a step towards me. “Be that as it may, you’re going to need to accompany us to the station right now, Ms Bloom.”

  “All right then, I suppose you’ll follow me home again so I can take Persnickle inside.”

  “Yes. And don’t try anything funny.”

  I didn’t have a suitable comeback for that. Did he really think I was going to make a run for it? I was beyond irritated. This had been a consummate waste of time considering I hadn’t found out anything from the vet’s ghost. Chase was sure that no one had any reason to kill him, and that was strange in itself. What was I missing? The vet was a clever man, and he had no idea who killed him.

  I headed back home with Persnickle, muttering rude things under my breath about Detective Power. I was half inclined to call Max, but thought it best not to get him involved. Instead, I called Oleander and gave her the heads up.

  “Call me as soon as you get out,” she said. “You’ll have to take Persnickle back to speak to the vet again.”

  “But how?” I was barely able to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “It’s not possible! You know there’ll be no way I can go back to that vet clinic again. Power is already overly suspicious and I’m about to get the third degree. Why, they might even arrest me.”

  “I’m sure Chase just doesn’t hang out around the vet clinic,” she said.

  That hadn’t occurred to me. “You know, you’re right!” I said. “He could easily be present at his wife’s house, or maybe even Georgia’s. Look, I’m home now so I’ll call you as soon as I get out of the police station. If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, that means I’ve been arrested.”

  I pulled the key out of the ignition, which accidentally silenced Oleander’s reply over the Bluetooth, and got Persnickle out of the car. He was quite pleased to get out of the car this time. He almost bowled over Detective Walters, who had been assigned to go into the house with me, presumably so I wouldn’t try anything funny. Luckily, the kitchen wasn’t in view of the front door, and I made a habit of covering the coffee machine every time I went out.

  I opened the door and let Persnickle in. “I just have to turn on the TV for him,” I said.

  Walters raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding!” Before I could respond, he let out a shriek. “There’s a giant rat in there!”

  “He’s a pademelon,” I told him. “I’m minding him for a few days.”

  I half expected Walters to ask me if I had a licence to mind a pademelon, but thankfully he didn’t. “All right, be as fast as you can.”

  I marched over to the TV, turned it on, took a carrot out of my pocket and threw it in front of Persnickle, and then went back to the front door. “I hope you can let me drive myself to the station this time.”

  “Of course,” he said. “We’ll follow you.”

  Did they really think I was a flight risk? It seemed too ridiculous for words. Still, I had no choice but to do as he said. I was glad that Detective Power hadn’t been the one to take me to the house, because I’m sure he would have insisted I ride to the station in the police vehicle.

  It was a good half hour to the police station, so I called Oleander back. She didn’t pick up. I figured she had gone over to Athanasius’s apartment to fill him in.

  My stomach churned when I reached the police station. I parked a little way down the road, and Walters hopped out of the police vehicle. Power drove off, presumably heading for the police parking area.

  Walters escorted me straight through the waiting room, through the swinging door and down a long corridor before taking a sharp left into a pale blue room. It had recently been cleaned, judging by the overpowering smell of cheap pine disinfectant.

  I wondered if they were going to videotape the interrogation again. This was a smaller room and looked more like an office than an interview room, apart from the fact the table was bare.

  “Have a seat,” Walters said, not unkindly. He walked around and sat opposite me. An uncomfortable silence descended on us and it seemed like a fu
ll five minutes before Detective Power showed up, although it was probably a lot shorter than that. Power went through the usual formalities. I had to state my name, age, and address for the record. I was getting to be an old hand at this, and that was disturbing in itself.

  “Now, Ms Bloom, tell us in your own words what you are doing at the vet clinic today.”

  “I already told you,” I said, taking heart from the fact that he hadn’t asked to record or even video the interrogation. “I’m still worried about my wombat eating that shoe, so I took him to the vet clinic to see if it was open.”

  “If you were so worried, why didn’t you take him to another vet in another suburb?” Power’s eyes narrowed into slits.

  “Well, I would have if you hadn’t come along and interrupted me,” I said.

  “Why were you lurking around the back of the building?” Power countered.

  “I wasn’t lurking,” I said, doing my utmost to keep my tone even. “Persnickle needed a bathroom break.”

  “He just seemed to be just sniffing around and eating grass,” Power said.

  It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “You don’t have a dog, do you? That’s normal behaviour. They have to find the right spot.”

  Power rubbed his cheeks with both hands, and then pulled his hands down his face so hard that I could see inside his bottom eyelids. “Ms Bloom, we are trying to solve a murder. If you know something, you need to tell us. There are laws against withholding information from the police in a homicide investigation.”

  “If I knew something, obviously I’d tell you!” I said, my voice rising. “Do you think I like you following me around and treating me like I’m some sort of a criminal? If I knew anything, I would tell you.”

  He appeared unconvinced. “And you still allege that you had never met the victim before the day you discovered his body?”

  “That’s exactly right,” I said sternly. “You can ask those Dutch runners. One of the runners, um, fell over, and Persnickle ate his shoe. He ate the whole shoe and that’s why I took him to the vet. I could hardly have set that up, now could I? Do you think a Dutch runner is in it with me and pretended to fall over, and somehow we magically made Persnickle eat a shoe in front of a bus load of Dutch health nuts just so I could go to the vet clinic?” I fixed Power with my best glare as I said it.