by Grace York
"I'm finally going to have a sister," she'd said to Addison at the time.
"Sister-in-law," Addison had corrected.
"Technicality. She's going to be my sister, and I can't wait."
As far as Addison knew the two girls were in regular contact through social media and messaging, and she was so pleased. Now, having finally met Emily for herself, she was even more delighted. Emily was going to make a lovely addition to their family. She was sure her late husband would approve, too. Rob would have loved her.
Olivia handed Addison her cup of tea and they both took seats at the kitchen table as Adam re-entered the kitchen with his laptop. He already had it open before he sat down.
"Right," he said, fingers flying over the keys. "Let's make a list of everything we know."
"Why?" said Addison, although she suspected she already knew what he was up to. Adam had been boarding with Addison for two months now, and in that time a murder had occurred at the beach house. Adam and Addison had put their heads together then and helped the police to solve the crime. As devastating as it was to have a murder in her own home, Addison had to admit it was exciting putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She felt that buzz again now, and suspected Adam did too.
"You said Detective Wilcox was sick," said Adam. "And we know they're understaffed. So I figured we could use our collective crime knowledge and help him out."
"Our collective crime knowledge?" said Olivia.
"Yeah. You're studying forensics and criminology, right?" Olivia nodded. "And your mum and I are crime writers," he added.
"It's not really much of a qualification to investigate real crimes though," said Addison. "And Olivia's only in her first year. She can't have learned too much yet."
"I've learnt a bit," said Olivia, sipping her tea.
"We've done lots of research," said Adam. "I bet you know more about murder than you think you do. Besides, it's not really about what we know or don't know. It's about the way our minds work. I bet the three of us could have a real crack at solving this case if we put our heads together."
Addison didn't need any further convincing.
"Okay," she said, making herself comfortable. "Where do you want to start?"
8
It was after ten on Saturday morning by the time Addison pulled into a parking space outside Hazel's cafe. She was late but she'd rung ahead, and Hazel said she didn't mind. It was Easter Saturday, and everyone seemed to be having a sleep in.
Addison was late because in addition to baking for the cafe, she'd put on a pot of chicken soup. She had a big container full ready to present to Isaac, in the hopes he'd let her help with the murder case.
Adam had been right last night – between the three of them they did have a lot to offer the investigation. They'd run through each of the carnival workers Holly had mentioned then brainstormed possible motives for each of them to murder Frankie. Some of their ideas may have been outlandish, but sometimes you had to consider the outlandish to get to the reasonable.
Besides, it had been an interesting way to spend the evening.
Once she'd delivered her latest batch of hot crossed buns and cinnamon scrolls to Hazel, Addison grabbed the bag with the container of soup out of her Rav 4 and headed across the road to the police station. The bell above the door tinkled as she walked in, and soon enough Isaac appeared at the front desk.
"Good morning," he said, not sounding at all like it was a good morning for him. "What can I do for you, Addison?"
"I've brought you some chicken soup," she said, placing the offering on the bench. "For your cold. How are you feeling?"
"I'm holding up okay," he said, although from the looks of him he could barely stand.
"You should be home in bed," said Addison. "Where are the rest of your staff?"
Isaac lifted the barrier that stood between the front desk and the rest of the station, and Addison walked through. She followed him to his office, and they took seats on either side of his desk.
"Short and Diaz are back out at the carnival site, taking more witness statements."
"Have they sent you any extra help?" Addison asked.
"Nope," said Isaac. By the look on his face it was a sore point. "I'm not getting any extra resources, apparently. They sent Diaz last time, and we were lucky enough to convince them to let him stay. But the force is short-staffed across the board. Too many budget cuts. This station should be run with at least four uniformed officers as well as myself, but…"
"Goodness me, what does that say about the state of things?" Addison was appalled.
Isaac shook his head. "I don't have time to worry about appearances. I've got a murder to solve."
"Not before you get your strength back," said Addison. She reached into the bag and pulled out the container of soup, plus a bowl and spoon. Isaac looked like he was about to protest, but she shot him a stern look. All the fight went out of him and she served him up a bowl of piping hot chicken soup.
"This is delicious," he said, slowly lifting spoonful after spoonful to his mouth. By the time he'd finished the bowl, Addison was pleased to see a little colour return to his cheeks.
"Thank you," he said, pushing the bowl aside. "I didn't realise how hungry I was."
"You can't go around chasing thieves and murderers on an empty stomach," said Addison. "Especially not when you're already sick." She took a tea towel out of her handbag, wrapped the bowl and spoon, and put it and the empty soup container back in the bag she'd brought for the job.
"Right," she said when everything was squared away. "Where are you up to with this murder then?"
"Addison," Isaac began, but she held up a hand to stop him.
"I know what you're going to say. You can't tell me anything about an ongoing investigation, blah blah blah. I've heard it before, Isaac. But you need help. The three of you can't be expected to handle this on your own. Not with so many potential suspects. Not to mention witnesses."
Isaac folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "So what are you suggesting?"
"Let me help. At least use me as a sounding board to talk things through. Surely you're allowed to speculate out loud?"
His eyes narrowed, and Addison thought she might actually be convincing him.
"I helped you solve the murder at the beach house, didn't I? And the fire at Layla's art gallery."
Isaac's head tipped slightly to one side. "I can't argue with that…"
"Well then. It's settled. You run your theories by me, and I'll help you work through them, and no-one who's anyone needs to know a thing about it."
Isaac sighed and uncrossed his arms. He rested both of his sizeable palms face down on his desk. "You had a police check done when you applied to run your boarding house, right?"
"I did, yes. I wanted to give my potential boarders peace of mind."
Isaac rummaged around in his filing cabinet, and eventually found what he was looking for. He handed her a form.
"Fill this in," he said with a sly grin.
Addison read the top of the form out loud. "'Volunteers in Policing'. What's this for?"
"When they said I couldn't have any more officers, they suggested I recruit a volunteer to help out around the station."
Addison scanned the form. "It says here a volunteer does things like community liaison and administrative stuff."
"That's a list of possible tasks," said Isaac. "It's not all-encompassing. The way I understand it, the role of a volunteer in policing is to assist the police officers with whatever tasks they need assistance with. In a small community like this… well, that could be all manner of things."
Addison's smile finally matched Isaac's. "I see. Well I'd better fill this out then."
"We'll do it by the book. I'll need to fingerprint you. Are you okay with that?"
"Of course. Let's get to it."
They spent the next half an hour going through the forms and making sure Addison was correctly processed as a police volunteer. It was quite exciting, r
eally. She'd have to have proper training, which would need to be signed off on by someone higher up than Isaac, but for now they'd got the ball rolling, so Addison could help with the investigation.
They were fudging things a bit, of course. He wasn't really supposed to tell her anything about the murder investigation. But as long as she kept any details of the case to herself, they were certain they could proceed without too much risk to Isaac's job.
"Now, what did you find out yesterday?" Addison asked once all the paperwork and fingerprinting was complete.
Isaac stood and crossed his office in two long strides to where a whiteboard rested against a wall. He turned it around, and Addison smiled. It was covered in photographs and written notes and looked just like the ones she saw in her favourite crime shows on television. She was going to like being a detective's assistant.
9
Addison listened intently as Isaac explained the results of their investigation so far. Frankie Hammond had indeed been stabbed in the back with one of his own knives. The frustrating part of the case was that any one of dozens of people could have done it.
Frankie was a man of routine. He woke around ten am, lounged around for the rest of the morning drinking coffee and annoying the other performers, before talking one of the younger, newer staff members into making his lunch for him. They usually woke up to him once they'd been around for a while, but the high staff turnover of a travelling carnival meant there was always someone new who was eager to please one of the performers.
After lunch Frankie would practice throwing his knives for a couple of hours, although lately he'd taken to practicing magic tricks instead. Then he'd take a nap in the afternoon before getting ready for the nightly performance.
"He was taking his afternoon nap when he was killed," Isaac finished.
"And because it was part of his regular routine, everyone knew that's where he'd be," Addison surmised.
"Correct. Coupled with your information of a person in a red shirt going in and out of his trailer within the time frame of the murder, and the fact that an outsider in that area of the camp would have stood out, I believe the killer was part of the carnival. But that only narrows it down to thirty-seven people. Thirty-eight if you count Bob Carter."
"What's Bob got to do with it?" Addison asked. She knew Bob was the local responsible for bringing the carnival to town but didn't understand why he'd be a suspect as well.
"Bob was at the carnival at the time of the murder. And because he's so heavily involved with it all, the Hanley's gave him a staff shirt. He's been wearing it all week."
"Right. Okay, so we have thirty-eight possible suspects. Can we narrow that down at all?"
"Yes. Short and Diaz have managed to rule out twenty staff members who were manning their positions during the window of time in which Frankie could have been murdered."
"So that still leaves eighteen possible suspects. How long is that window?" Addison asked.
"Not long at all. Less than half an hour. The blood was still running when Short got to the body. The forensic pathologist who attended the scene said he could only have died within half an hour of the body's discovery at the most. It was possibly less."
"Which fits with your idea that the Ferris wheel breakdown was a diversion."
"Yes." Isaac pointed to a picture on the whiteboard. Addison recognised the face as belonging to the young man who'd been in charge of the Ferris wheel yesterday. "This is Nabil. He's not a suspect in the murder because he was manning the ride the whole time. But he could be an accomplice, if he rigged the wheel to fail at a certain time."
"You questioned him yesterday," Addison noted.
"That's right. He was adamant he had no idea why the Ferris wheel had stopped. He said there was no-one hanging around the mechanics of the ride when it happened. He had to call one of the Hanleys to fix it. That's why you were up there for so long."
"So even though none of us were hurt, it was enough of a diversion to cause many of the staff to come over."
Isaac nodded. "Harriet Hanley – Harry – told me that rides do break down from time to time. When it happens it's standard procedure for any off-duty staff to come and lend a hand, whether it be to help fix the problem or deal with the patrons. But she said there's no urgency about it. Someone sends word back to the staff camp, and anyone who's not doing anything comes to help."
"So, whoever killed Frankie knew this would be the case," said Addison, thinking it through. "You think they somehow rigged the Ferris wheel to stop at the time of day Frankie usually took his nap. Then when word came into the camp to go and help, they snuck into Frankie's bunk, stabbed him with one of his own knives while he slept, then snuck back out and joined the crowd at the Ferris wheel."
"That's the way I would have done it," said Isaac.
Addison let that all sink in. "Do you have a coffee machine here?" she asked. In her hurry to get to the station this morning she'd declined when Hazel had offered her usual caffeine fix.
Isaac shook his head. "We can't even afford staff. I usually suffer with instant, or go across to Hazel's."
"I'll be right back," said Addison, digging her purse out of her handbag.
As she crossed the road, everything Isaac had said so far ran through her mind. The theory of the diversion made sense. Hopefully Short and Diaz would be able to find out more about the Ferris wheel today, so they could determine whether it had indeed been sabotaged.
If that was the case, they were looking at premeditated murder. Knifing Frankie in the back while he slept isn't something a person does in anger, or in the heat of the moment. It's a planned attack.
Business in the café had picked up by the time Addison arrived, and she had to wait to be served. Her stomach growled, and she realised it was lunch time already. She'd told the kids she'd be home after dropping the baking at the café and the soup to Isaac. That was hours ago. She checked her mobile phone, but there were no messages. Justin had said something about going to the beach, so hopefully they were making their own fun. She sent off a quick text to let them know she'd be home later.
"What's brought you back?" Hazel asked when Addison reached the front of the queue.
"Oh, hi again. Um, I just got chatting with Isaac and lost track of time," said Addison before realising how that sounded. She shouldn't be keeping the detective busy when he had a murder to solve.
Fortunately, Hazel was too busy to pick up on anything. "You want your usual coffee?"
"Yes please. Actually, make it two. And a couple of chicken salad sandwiches."
That raised Hazel's eyebrows.
"I'll just drop one off to Isaac before I go home," Addison added. Hazel smiled, and Addison realised she'd have to explain herself to her friend later. For now, though, there were too many customers for Hazel to start asking questions.
Coffees and sandwiches in hand, Addison returned to the police station to find Isaac sitting at his desk staring at the white board. He didn't stir when the bell over the door jangled. She had to call out to him to come let her through to his office.
"Sorry," he said, lifting the divider again. "I was miles away."
"Did you make any progress?" Addison asked, placing a coffee and sandwich on his desk for him. She started to unwrap her own sandwich.
"Sort of. I've been looking at the eighteen remaining possibilities. All of them were wearing a red shirt and blue pants and were close enough – or could have been close enough – to Frankie's bunk at the time of the murder."
"Eighteen is still a lot. Any way to narrow it down further?"
"I'm hoping Short and Diaz will be able to do that after their second round of questioning today. They should be back soon. In the meantime, I thought we could look at motive."
"Good idea," said Addison. She took a sip of the coffee. It was nice and strong, just the way she liked it. "I was thinking just now – this was premeditated, wasn't it?"
Isaac nodded. "Thanks for this," he said, holding up his coffee as if he
were saying cheers. "Yes, there aren't many spur-of-the-moment back stabbings while the victim is asleep. We're looking at a planned murder."
"So who would want to kill the knife thrower at a travelling carnival?" Addison asked.
"Well that's the thing. According to pretty much all our interviews about this particular knife thrower, the answer is – just about everyone."
10
Addison tucked into her sandwich as Isaac ran through the suspect list. He started with the magician and his assistant.
"Paolo and Gianna," he said, pointing to their pictures on the white board. "Apparently the victim, Frankie Hammond, wanted Paolo's job."
"That's what Holly said," Addison agreed.
"Holly?"
"She works at the carnival. On one of the food trucks."
Addison took another bite of her sandwich while Isaac checked his notebook. "Ah, yes. Holly Rodriguez. She's been ruled out – was serving fairy floss with another girl at the time of the murder, at least two hundred metres away from the staff camp."
Addison finished her mouthful. "That's good. I can't see Holly having anything to do with it."
"So, she spoke to you about the victim?" Isaac asked.
"Yes." Addison explained how she'd met Holly through Hazel at the cafe, and that she'd joined them for the barbecue last night. She tried to remember everything Holly had said, wishing she'd thought to write it all down. Then she remembered Adam had written it all down on his laptop. She made a mental note to check with him later to see if she'd missed anything.
"Did you interview Paolo and Gianna?" Addison asked.
"I did. They say they were in their own trailer and didn't hear anything until someone came asking for help at the Ferris wheel. Gianna knocked on Frankie's door as they walked past his bunk to get him to come and help too, and the door swung open. She saw the knife in his back and started screaming."