by C T Mitchell
“But he said that he was once on Simon’s team, Jack.”
“Just innuendo Jo. He didn’t actually say he was gay. The team he was referring to was that they were once investment partners. It had nothing to do with Simon’s lifestyle. We need to get over to the Barrington-Smyth’s.”
CHAPTER 14
Jack and Jo arrived just as Amanda Barrington-Smyth was entering the front door. They quickly followed her in as she called to her husband from the bottom of the staircase. “Darling I’m home. Are you up there?” Jack and Jo looked to the upper landing, waiting for a response. But there was none.
“I don’t know where Andrew is detectives. He should be here somewhere. His car is in the garage,” Amanda said in a perplexed voice. Gripping her hands tightly together while looking around the house, she hoped Andrew would appear soon.
“We want to talk to your husband about the night David Tan was killed. A witness has come forward stating they saw Mr. Barrington-Smyth’s car leaving David Tan’s street at around 7 p.m. on the night he was killed. They later saw the same car outside the Happy Chopstix Restaurant getting takeaway. Did you have Chinese on that night Mrs. Barrington-Smyth?”
“Possibly. I don’t recall Detective.”
“That’s ok. I’ll have forensics go over your husband’s car with a fine-tooth comb. It’s amazing what they can pick up under those blue ultra-light scanners.”
“Andrew. Are you here?!” Amanda screamed out in a more troubled voice, her hands red as she tightened her grip. Her face told a similar story. Strain was everywhere.
Sensing that Mrs. Barrington-Smyth was under enormous pressure, Jack applied the thumbscrews even tighter. He decided to go for a low blow. One that most women would not appreciate; especially if it involved them and children. He was sure that this would get a reaction.
“You and Andrew never had children Mrs. Barrington-Smyth?” Jack asked in a false empathetic way hoping that this would cause Amanda to bite, enough to break her down.
“How very observant of you Detective,” Amanda responded in a curt tone, looking at Jo to get some support from a fellow sister. Jo was stonewalled. She never gave an inch. She didn’t necessarily like Jack’s questioning but she trusted him enough that he was taking this line of questioning for a reason, and that it would be the right reason.
“No children, Mr. Creed. Not for the lack of trying,” Amanda said with a smile, trying to unnerve Jack. Jack didn’t flinch. He could smell closure to this case. He sensed he was close. He needed to see Andrew.
“We tried lots of different programs, IVF, you name it, we did it. But nothing.” Amanda sighed, looking back up the staircase to the master bedroom. “Andrew, where the bloody hell are you?” Still no answer. Mrs. Barrington-Smyth became more anxious.
“Yes you couldn’t have children but Andrew could, couldn’t he Mrs. Barrington- Smyth. And that infuriated you, didn’t it?"
“First I knew of it was when that chef turned up here and told Andrew he was the father to his sister’s baby. We were both shocked. He threatened to expose Andrew’s affair and the baby if we didn’t pay him. We decided to pay up.” Amanda snarled.
“But why?” Jo asked. “Many people have affairs--babies. It’s not uncommon.”
“It would have ruined Andrew’s reputation as a broker in Hong Kong. Our brokerage house is an old established institution in Britain with a strong heritage in Hong Kong and Macau. The scandal would've tarnished our name and possibly break the casino deal. We couldn’t have that. There was far too much money at stake in the deal. Andrew will you please answer me? Darling where are you?”
“You see Detective, Andrew is a stickler for public image. We had to pay. He went around to Mr. Tan’s flat to pay the amount we had agreed upon. But everything changed. He wanted more. Andrew snapped. He went into a rage and struck the poor fellow with one of his knives.”
“It was quite vicious Mrs. Barrington-Smyth. Your husband struck Mr. Tan several times with a meat cleaver, almost severing his head,” Jack stated hoping the severity of his action may shock her into opening up more. Jo looked on sensing Jack was close, while keeping an eye on the rest of the house in case Andrew appeared.
“And then you met Mr. Tan’s sister and her baby, the baby your husband fathered, at the funeral,” Jack pried.
“Yes there she was. Young, beautiful. I could tell straight away the baby was Andrew’s,” Amanda sobbed as she recalled her first sighting. “All the effort we went to have a child and he gets some Chinese waitress pregnant first go.” Not fair Detective; it’s simply not fair. I’m going to have to go upstairs. Maybe Andrew’s asleep. Andrew, are you up there?”
“So Andrew had to stop Susan Lee before she told everybody that her child was Andrew’s?” Jo asked.
“Absolutely, but not Andrew,” Amanda smarted back gritting her teeth, her persona now moving from being scared to being angry. “There was no way I was going to allow her to blacken our name, 100 years of British history and a deal that would put Andrew and I on the beaches of the world, happily retired, drinking margaritas daily. Andrew wanted to protect his public image, but I was after the money, Detective. And she wasn’t going to ruin it because of a five-minute interlude with my husband.”
“And the baby?” Jack said with a sorrowful heart.
“No way could I be reminded of Andrew’s indiscretion for the rest of my life. Yes, the baby had to join her mother,” Amanda said with a sense of coldness, that even stunned Jo, thinking that all women held children close to their hearts.
Amanda snapped back into reality and raced up the stairs, mounting the risers two at a time until she reached the landing and opened the bedroom door. Jack and Jo were in hot pursuit after her.
“Aaahh, aaahh!” Amanda screamed, just as Jack and Jo burst into the bedroom to be confronted with Andrew Barrington-Smyth hanging by the neck from the ceiling rafter. Amanda Barrington-Smyth had frozen; the look of astonishment gripped her face. She was in shock. She would never have thought that her husband, the pillar of their marriage, would take his own life.
Jack moved between Amanda and Andrew’s body, placing his arms around her and quickly escorting her out of the room while signaling to Jo to call for an ambulance and back-up police.
“I’m sorry for your loss Mrs. Barrington-Smyth, but I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Susan Lee and her baby.”
With the police arriving to take over the final arrest and the coroner on the way, Jack signaled to Jo to join him outside.
“Might be a long night Jo. Can I buy you an early dinner?” Jack asked.
“Sure Jack, if you’re paying. Anything but Chinese though,” Jo quipped as she slid into the passenger seat of Jack’s Mustang. “I could actually go a good old Aussie burger for a change.”
DEAD LUCKY
By
C T Mitchell
CHAPTER 1
You don't get a prize-winning garden by sitting around on your bum. Carmen Brown, co-owner of the popular Stonehaven Manor Golf Club in Bangalow, New South Wales, stood, put her hands on the small of her back, and stretched her sore muscles. She didn't sit around on her bum when it came to tending her garden, but she did crouch far, far too much. Her poor muscles and bones were getting too old for this.
“But it's worth it in the end.” She ran her fingers across the heads of her petunias as if they were her own children. In a sense, they were. She tended them and raised them and was proud of them just like her own children. The only difference was they didn't pop off to her like her own children. “Ungrateful buggers,” Carmen sighed. She bit her lip and hurried to correct her mistake. “Oh, not you my lovely girls. My kids without petals. I never saw such an ungrateful lot in my--”
A shrill scream pierced the quiet, lazy afternoon. Carmen looked up, first on edge and then relaxing once she realized what direction the sound came from. It was just Kristie Byrnes. That girl was a screamer. Carmen learned that the hard way when she practically broke down her
manor room door after hearing her scream bloody murder only to find Kristie and her boyfriend Robert well...Carmen shuddered at the memory. The less she knew about her guests' private lives, the better.
The same shrill scream ripped across the air a second time. Carmen froze. One scream could just be 'oops, I got carried away’ but two? “Bugger that,” Carmen muttered. She threw down her gardening hat and gloves and raced inside.
Carmen's husband Peter met her on the staircase. “Did you hear that?”
Carmen covered her ears as another scream filled the air. Hear? How can I hear anything but that daft girl and all her racket?”
They took the stairs two at a time. Once on the second floor, Carmen ran to Room 205 and pounded on the door. Peter was just one step behind her.
“Miss Byrnes! Miss Byrnes! Open up!”
The door swung open. Kristie stood outlined in the sun coming in through the window that overlooked the garden and Carmen's prize petunias. Peter’s eyes lingered at the thirty-something petite frame, graciously gazing around every single curve and bump, but careful enough that Carmen wouldn’t pick up on his wandering eyes. It had been a while since he had seen such an inviting figure; and the sun was exhibiting it in all its natural glory. Peter was thankful for small mercies the Club sometimes offered.
“I'm sorry. Did I miss check out time?”
“Check out?” Carmen's mouth dropped open. Peter reached over and closed it with a click.
“What my wife means to say is we heard screams and came to check up on the situation.”
Kristie smiled; a serene glow of sunlight framed her, making her blonde hair shine like a golden halo. “Screams? I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe someone had the telly up too loud.”
“But we heard--” Carmen shook her head. It was no use arguing with the girl. She kept her secrets secret for a reason. “Well, as long as you're alright then, we should be going.”
“I'm perfectly alright,” Kristie said. “No need to worry about me. I'm more than alright I'm brilliant.”
Carmen thought the girl's eyes were a little too bright and her smile a little too forced, but it really wasn't her place to question things. If she said she was alright, she was alright. There was nothing they could do to prove otherwise.
“Oh, and Mr. and Mrs. Brown,” Kristie called when they turned to leave. “I think I'll stay another night. Just charge it on my card.”
“Of course” Peter nodded. “Good day, then.” Another day to catch a glimpse of this fine specimen of a woman; her stay should almost be free Peter thought.
She shut the door without answering.
“Ten years, Peter. Ten years, we've been running this residence and she has got to be the strangest bird that's ever come to roost,” Carmen complained as they walked downstairs. “She's hiding something. I just don't know what.”
“Not everyone has secrets like in those detective mysteries you read,” Peter reminded her. “Maybe she just wants to be left alone.”
“If she wanted to be left alone, she wouldn't invite that boyfriend of hers up to stay over.”
“She's a paying customer. She could bring the entire Bangalow cricket team into her room and we couldn't do much about it besides tell them to keep the noise down.” Carmen thought that Kristie might just be that sort of girl, but perhaps she was just being spiteful.
Carmen leaned against Peter. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her still-rattled nerves. “You're right. Let's just keep an eye on her anyway, shall we?”
Peter kissed the top of her head. “Anything you say, my love. This Club is just as much your dream as mine. Quirky guests come with the territory.”
“But do they have to be Kristie-Byrnes-level quirky?” Carmen sighed. “We should implement a questionnaire before guests are allowed to let a room.”
Peter laughed. “Now who’s being quirky?”
Carmen allowed another half a minute to collect herself before stepping away from Peter. “I'm going back to my garden. At least my petunias never cause trouble. Miss Byrnes could learn a thing or two from flowers.”
~*~
The next morning, Carmen watched the clock tick to 11 a.m. Check out time and still no sign of Kristie Byrnes. I'd love to charge her an extra day even if she's just slow to pack up her things, Carmen thought of her favorite guest. Besides how long does it take to pack a few pairs of lacy knickers? She put the 'Please ring bell for service' sign on the front counter and walked upstairs to room 205.
The door was slightly ajar. How strange. Kristie always came across a little uptight to Carmen; somebody with whom security would be at the forefront of their mind. Carmen knocked and the door swung open all the way. “Miss Byrnes? Kristie? It's Carmen. I just came to remind you of check out time. I'm going to have to charge you an extra day otherwise.” Carmen’s voice was a little apprehensive but mostly curious as to what this slip of a girl may have been up to.
The bed was neatly made and nothing seemed out of place. Did she skip out in the middle of the night? Now that wouldn’t have surprised Carmen. Such a doing would be typical of these ‘fur coat and no knickers’ types. But what would be so important to leave without letting anyone know?
Carmen made her way toward the bathroom. She tripped over something sticking out near the edge of the bed and went sprawling. As she climbed to her hands and knees, she glanced to the side and saw Kristie lying on the floor. Typical. She probably spent the night partying and passed out without even getting undressed and into bed.
“Time to get up, Miss Byrnes. Time to check out.” Carmen shook Kristie's leg–the 'something' she tripped over earlier. It was strangely cold. Carmen sat up straighter. “Miss Byrnes? Kristie?” She stood up and looked down at the sleeping guest. No. No, not sleeping. Kristie's eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling and her mouth frozen in a silent scream. Kristie Byrnes wasn't sleeping. Kristie Byrnes was dead.
CHAPTER 2
Carmen opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She scrambled backwards in a clumsy crab crawl till her back hit the legs of the single chair in the room. This had to be some sort of prank. This couldn't be real. Someone must be filming a reality show and they'd pop out at any minute to yell “surprise!” and joke about how they caught it all on hidden camera. Kristie would sit up, laugh, and wipe off her zombie death makeup. That's how it should be, Carmen thought. In a perfect world in a perfect town where nothing much out of sorts happens, this should be all one great, big joke.
But it wasn't. Kristie wasn't getting up off that floor any more than life would ever be the same for Carmen and Peter Brown and the Stonehaven Manor Golf Club; the Club they sunk their life savings into.
Carmen fumbled for her mobile phone to call for help, but came up empty-handed. Phone--phone--where was her phone? She caught the flash of a familiar hot pink mobile phone case under Kristie's knee. It wasn’t easy to miss her $9.95 cover she had bought from a local Chinese merchant in the mall some years ago; going totally against her husband’s more conservative black cover choice. Carmen shuddered at the thought of getting that close to Kristie again. She was not going anywhere near Kristie's body–even if it meant the difference between mobile phone and no mobile phone.
Carmen took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, and exhaled. She needed to get up and get out of here. Sitting on the floor wasn't doing anyone any favors.
“You can do it, Carmen,” she gave herself a pep talk. “Just stand up and walk out the door like you never saw a thing. Go downstairs. Tell Peter. He's so cool and collected in situations....and this is the situation to end all situations.” Carmen took another deep breath, held it, and exhaled. “One foot in front of the other. Come on now. You can do it.”
Carmen's knees wobbled when she pushed herself to her feet, but she didn't fall. She turned robotically toward the door and walked into the hall. Once out of room 205, she screamed loud enough to bring the house down.
~*~
“Drink your tea, dear,” P
eter reminded Carmen as she continued to just sit and stare at the cup in her hands. After half the Club and the golfers came running when she screamed, Peter had managed to get her downstairs and into the kitchen for what he called 'a soothing cuppa.' Carmen wasn't so sure anything would sooth her ever again–even a cup of her favorite Earl Grey tea, served in her favorite Royal Doulton china cup and saucer; a 21st birthday present from her mother.
“She's just had a shock,” Robert Walsh, a local reporter from Lismore’s Northern Star who booked a room conveniently adjoining Kristie's, said. “Give her time.”
“What about you?” Carmen turned on Mr. Walsh. “Kristie meant something to you, didn't she? I saw you together and here you are acting like you can't wait to rush off and write a story for the paper. You're not writing the story anymore, Mr. Walsh; you're part of the story.”
Robert bristled at the mention of Kristie's name. “Whatever you saw or thought you saw, you can just forget it. Kristie and I were friends. Nothing more.”
“Friends?” Carmen laughed. “Is that what they call it these days? Friends with benefits more like it I’d say. When I was your age, we called it--”
“If you must know, I was doing a story on her,” Robert cut Carmen off in a ‘I-don't-respect-my-elders-and-I-don't-care-who-knows-it way’. “The Northern Star was doing a piece on the aftermath of leaving an abusive partner and I was interviewing Kristie for it. We grew up together in Lismore and work–I mean worked–in the same office building. I see her all the time. We're friendly. There's no crime in that.”
“There might be if the police tie you as a suspect,” Peter warned.
Robert shrugged, unconcerned. “She left an abusive husband. He was harassing her. He called her so often she needed to change her phone number. Every time she changed it, he found out and started calling the new number. Does that sound like a man that's in control of his emotions and actions? From what Kristie said, she was afraid he'd snap and actually follow through with his threats. That's why she came here. She was hiding out waiting for him to either cool off or move on. The jealous ex-husband is the first place the police should look, not at me.”
