by Morgana Best
“I’m sure he will. He seems to be sobering up.”
Persnickle rolled onto his side, stood up, and then proceeded to roll over again, kicking his legs in the air and making strange gurgling sounds. “He certainly seems happy,” I said.
As soon as I sat opposite Max, for the first time that night I felt a little awkward. Butterflies went crazy in my stomach every time I was around him, but there was nothing to show that it was reciprocated.
“Have the police been giving you a hard time?” Max asked me.
I nodded and then shrugged. “Yes and no. After what happened to Oleander, I was afraid I’d already be in the Southport watchhouse.”
Max frowned deeply. “I wouldn’t let that happen, Goldie.”
I waved my finger at him. “Thanks for the sentiment, but you would probably be powerless to stop them if they set their minds to it. They have been rather incessant with their questioning, but I do think they’re probably more suspicious of Georgia Garrison. After all, she was having an affair with the victim, and I don’t think they’ve been able to find any evidence to disprove that I hadn’t met him before.”
Max nodded. I looked at the way his casual shirt hung on his muscled shoulders. With some difficulty, I dragged my eyes away and forced myself to focus on the Japanese Peace Lily in the corner.
“In your favour is the fact that the gunshot residue results are expected in a few days,” he said. “That will prove that you didn’t have anything to do with it, and Georgia for that matter, so the police are probably loath to make any moves when they have that hard evidence only a few days away.”
“Thank goodness for the gunshot residue test,” I said. “It’s a pity it takes so long.”
Max shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t take so long in all states,” Max said. “But never mind, the results will be back soon.”
“Who do you think did it?” I asked him.
Max shot me a look that was full of suspicion. “Goldie, you’re not trying to do any sleuthing on your own, are you?”
“Of course not!” I protested, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I could. “You can’t blame me for being curious, though. I was the one who found the body.”
Max tapped his chin. “I would think perhaps Georgia’s husband, but he wasn’t even in the country at the time, and I’m sure even Detectives Power and Walters would have checked up on that alibi. That only leaves Georgia and the male vet nurse, what’s his name again?”
“Adrian Young,” I supplied.
He nodded. “Yes, Adrian Young. I don’t know what his motive could be, though. And then there is Bree, the victim’s wife, and her motive could be the money, or for the fact that she was angry with him for having affairs.”
“Bree told me that Adrian was stealing money from the vet clinic, small amounts, and that her husband was about to confront him,” I said.
His eyebrows shot up. “When did you speak with her?”
“We had a long conversation at the funeral,” I said. That wasn’t exactly lying, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. Georgia had also told me, and even Adrian had confessed it, all being under the influence of the truth spell. I felt bad keeping everything I knew from Max, but then again he wasn’t on the case, and I knew he would scold me if he suspected I was investigating.
“Who do you think did it, Goldie?”
“I don’t know. I would say Georgia, but I saw how stunned she was. I know she’s licensed to have a rifle, but she did look really shocked. Then again, she could be just a very good actress.”
Max nodded. “You’d be surprised. Murderers can be good actors, and she would have known she had to pretend to be very upset, so she would have had plenty of time to prepare.”
“I suppose. There is also Chase’s best friend, Nico, although I don’t know what his motive could possibly be.”
“Yes, but just because we don’t know what a motive is, doesn’t mean someone hasn’t got one,” Max said. “I’d better check the lasagne.” He stood up.
I stood, too. “I had better check Persnickle.”
As we walked into the kitchen, Persnickle wobbled out. He was none too steady on his feet. He walked over to the television and then looked around at me.
“I don’t suppose you have any DVDs of Starsky and Hutch?”
“No.” Max’s eyebrows shot skyward.
“Never mind.”
Persnickle had already fallen asleep. He snored loudly. Soon Max and I were sitting at his dining room table, enjoying a glass of red wine and overlooking the sea. “It’s a beautiful view from here,” I said to Max.
He agreed. “It is, but I must say I do miss the surf. That’s one of the drawbacks of living at the North Gold Coast; it’s all broadwater and no surf.”
“I didn’t know what the broadwater was until someone explained it to me when I first moved here,” I told him. “It’s that bit of sea between here and that huge island over there. All the surf breaks on the island, so all the water between here and the island is flat. They call that flat water the broadwater.”
“Yes, and that’s Stradbroke Island,” Max said. “The male vet nurse—I can never remember his name—works there once a week, tomorrow, in fact.”
“There’s a vet clinic out on the island?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “No, he works at the one of the resorts. Stradbroke Island mainly has resorts and holiday homes. Not too many people live there permanently. The only way across is by boat and it takes about an hour. He works there every Saturday morning.”
“That’s tomorrow,” I said, a plan forming in my mind.
Max nodded. “I do like the north part of Gold Coast, as I said, but it would be just perfect if there was surf. There’s nothing like the sound of the surf, and the lovely beaches.”
I agreed. “When I was told I’d inherited a beachside house, I imagined waves and surf and big, golden, sandy beaches like they have at Main Beach and all around Broadbeach, Surfers Paradise, Mermaid Beach, Miami, Burleigh Heads—all down the coast like that.”
“So you’ve seen those beaches already, have you?” Max asked me.
I shook my head. “Hardly at all. I haven’t really done any exploring since I’ve been here.”
“We’ll have to remedy that,” Max said, “How about you and I…”
He was interrupted by a knock on his door. “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he said.
Max crossed to open the door, and said a surprised, “Hello?” as a man pushed into the room.
I remembered him as the man who had taken Max from my house the other night.
“You again,” he said in an accusing voice.
“What of it?” I responded rather rudely before I caught myself.
“What are you doing here?”
I was about to ask him what business it was of his, when Max spoke. “Ms Bloom was out walking her wombat, when he destroyed my garden gnome.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Max looked out the door and I apologised, but he couldn’t speak to me because he was watching The Bachelor. Persnickle—that’s my wombat—went into Max’s kitchen and drank his cask wine and now he’s drunk.” I pointed to the snoring wombat.
“And now Ms Bloom has to wait until her wombat sobers up before she can walk him back to her place,” Max said.
The man’s jaw hung open further and further as our tale progressed. It was clear he did not believe Max, but still, what business was it of his?
“That has to be one of the most far-fetched stories I’ve ever heard,” he said. “Greyson, I need a word with you.”
They both went outside. I could hear raised voices, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The voices even woke up Persnickle, who jumped up and headed for the Japanese Peace Lily. I hurried over to him and clipped on his leash. Clearly, the evening was ruined by the mysterious stranger, and Persnickle wasn’t going to behave himself while I finished the dinner with Max.
As I opened the front door, both men
stopped speaking abruptly. Both their faces were bright red.
“Thanks for dinner, Max,” I said, glaring at the other man. “Persnickle just woke up and headed for your potted plants, so I thought I’d take him home. Now he seems none the worse for wear.”
I pushed between them and hurried on my way.
Chapter 17
Athanasius, Oleander, and I were all at the Hope Island Marina, about to catch the ferry across to North Stradbroke Island. They were none too pleased, even though I had offered to pay for their tickets.
“I get seasick,” Oleander complained, “even if the boat rocks ever so slightly.”
Athanasius wiggled his eyebrows. “So do I. It’s all right for you, Goldie! You’re a sea witch.”
I sighed. “Yes, and it would help if you would tell me more about what sea witches can do.”
Oleander and Athanasius exchanged glances. “I’m afraid you’ll have to discover that for yourself, Goldie,” Oleander said. “Besides, Athanasius and I are not sea witches. I’ve already told you everything I already know about sea witches.” Her eyes flickered strangely when she said it, so I suspected she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
“It’s only about fifty minutes,” I said, “and the ferry is big. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s often a rough crossing,” Athanasius countered. “Are you absolutely certain Adrian Young is catching the ferry today?”
I nodded vigorously. “Max told me he was. He said he works at one of the resorts on Stradbroke Island every Saturday morning.”
“Well, he hasn’t shown up yet,” Oleander said. “Let’s give him another five minutes and then we can go home.”
I rolled my eyes. “I thought you two would be happy to help me investigate a suspect.”
“We are,” Oleander said. “We just don’t want to get tossed overboard and eaten by sharks. There are Bull Sharks and even Great White Pointers here in these canals.”
I rubbed my forehead. Oleander was certainly being overly dramatic. “Look, I’m sure he has to start work at nine which means he’ll be along any minute,” I said in what I hoped was an encouraging tone. “Don’t forget the plan. We’re going to pretend we’re having a nice tourist day on the island, and we’ll engage him in conversation.”
“I hope it works,” Athanasius said. “Try to stay composed, won’t you, Goldie?”
For a minute I didn’t understand what he meant, but then I remembered that I could brew up a storm. Something occurred to me. “You know, I think I could make the crossing calm.”
“What do you mean?” Oleander asked me.
I took a deep breath before answering. “If I can make a storm happen when I get angry or upset, surely if I concentrate, I can make the sea calm.”
Oleander looked doubtful, but said, “I suppose so. It’s certainly worth a shot. Oh look! Here he comes now.”
We all hurried into the ticket office and I bought our tickets before Adrian could get a good look at us. The ticket seller told us we could go ahead and board the ferry. He also told me all about his health problems, in more detail than I ever wanted to know.
I was glad the ferry wasn’t already fully booked, because when I was googling it, I noticed that it did recommend advance bookings. Of course, as we didn’t know the time that Adrian would be catching the ferry, it would have been a waste of time and money to book ahead. I’m glad it all worked out. Surely this was a good sign for the rest of the day.
The sea was blue-green and inviting. As we took our seats, I said to Oleander, “I wonder if we’ll see any dolphins?”
She shook her head. “More like snakes and goannas.”
I was shocked. “What do you mean?”
“Stradbroke Island is well known for snakes and goannas,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But surely no tourists would go over there if there are snakes?” I asked her.
“There are three main towns on Stradbroke Island, but most of it is still a wilderness,” she said. “Trust me, there are lots of snakes on it.”
That didn’t sound good to me. I wasn’t overly fond of snakes, especially not the venomous ones.
Adrian walked in. I plastered a fake surprised expression across my face. “Hello!” I said. “Are you having a nice day out at Stradbroke Island, too?”
“No, I work there every Saturday at one of the resorts,” he said.
I smiled and nodded. “I’ve never been there, as I only arrived in town recently, but Oleander and Athanasius said it’s a beautiful place to visit.”
“There are lots of snakes at this time of year,” he said.
I clutched my throat. “Are you serious? Or are you just trying to scare me? It’s not one of those jokes like the mythical Drop Bears that everyone likes to scare overseas tourists with?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. There are lots of snakes at this time of year, and goannas, but the goannas are harmless. That is, of course, unless they think you’re a tree and run up you, causing nasty, seriously deep scratches,” he said as an afterthought.
I rubbed my forehead. The day was going downhill rapidly.
“The snakes and the goannas don’t go anywhere near the tourist areas, though.”
I beamed at him. “That’s a relief! So you said you work on a resort?” I asked. “There’s a vet clinic on Stradbroke Island?”
Of course, I already knew the answer, but I was trying to draw him into conversation, and for once I was in luck, because he was sitting next to me. It looked as though I would have a long time to speak with him and interrogate him.
He chatted for a moment about Stradbroke Island, and then said, “Are those gunshot residue results back yet?”
I must have looked startled, because he hastened to add, “I don’t suspect you, not at all. I know you hadn’t met Chase.”
“That’s a relief, to tell you the truth,” I said. “For a minute, I thought you thought I did it.”
“I thought so, too,” Athanasius added, leaning across.
“Who do you think did it, Adrian, if you don’t mind me asking?” Oleander asked him.
He went to speak, but then appeared to catch himself. “It’s hard to say. I mean, it’s hard to believe anyone would have murdered Chase. It just doesn’t seem real. I still can’t accept that it’s happened.”
“What’s going to happen with the vet clinic?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I expect Bree will sell it.”
Athanasius clutched his seat as the boat started out into the canal. I gave him a look of reassurance. If the waters got choppy, I was confident I could calm them. Don’t ask me why, but I was certain.
“If Bree sells the clinic, it’s likely that Georgia and I will keep our jobs,” he said, “unless the new vet brings staff along. I don’t know why a vet would want to move to East Bucklebury, though.”
“I suppose there is no competition,” I pointed out.
He laughed and nodded. “There is that.”
I waved one hand at him. “I’m sorry—you were telling me who you thought did it, and then I interrupted you and changed the subject.” That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but I hoped he would swallow the bait.
“I don’t know who did it,” he said. “I suspected a couple of people, but it just doesn’t seem real.”
“Someone did it, though,” I said.
“That’s true. At any rate, I hope the new vet puts me on full-time, because it’s exhausting holding down two jobs. Well, I really only have one job at the moment, don’t I, and it’s part time.”
“I wonder what Georgia will do if she loses her job,” I said.
“I can easily get more work as a kitchen hand, but she’s not trained for anything else, only acting,” he said.
“Acting?” I echoed.
He laughed. “And we know that’s not a steady job. Yes, she trained at NIDA—you know, the National Institute of Dramatic Art in Sydney. She studied acting. Then she got married, and the
y moved to East Bucklebury, so she trained as a vet nurse because she and her husband love animals so much.”
I nodded and looked out to sea. The water was choppy, so I shut my eyes and focused on the water being calm. As I did, I felt everything flow smoothly. There were no words to describe it—it had to be experienced.
I opened my eyes, and Athanasius and Oleander were beaming at me.
“Are you all right?” Adrian asked me. “You don’t like the sea?”
“To the contrary, I absolutely love the sea,” I told him. “I love being near the sea. I don’t know how I managed to live in Melbourne all those years. I know it’s technically coastal, but nothing like here. My house is directly on the broadwater and I’d love to spend more time in a boat.”
“The water is awfully calm today, I must say,” Adrian said. “Sometimes the sea gets quite choppy. You know, if you bought a boat, it would be quite close for you to get across to South Stradbroke Island. It’s only a hop, step, and a jump across from East Bucklebury.”
“I thought that when I looked at the map,” I told him. “I wonder why there isn’t a ferry across from East Bucklebury to South Stradbroke Island?”
He laughed. “I think people would rather catch the ferry from the Runaway Bay Marina or the Hope Island Marina rather than drive up north to East Bucklebury.”
“I suppose. I’d love my own boat,” I added. “I’ll just have to make a lot of money in my job.”
“What is your job?” he asked me.
“A real estate agent,” I told him. “I have to manage an office in Southport. I start next week.”
“That sounds like interesting work,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take a nap. I always like to take a nap on the ferry.”
I hoped the disappointment didn’t show up on my face. I hadn’t found out a single useful piece of information.
I had to concentrate on making the sea calm a few more times before we reached the island, and to my relief, Adrian woke up just as we were approaching Stradbroke Island.
“Did you have a good sleep?”
“Yes, I did, thanks,” he said.
