by Grace York
"It's nearly ready, actually. I… I wasn't able to concentrate yesterday. But maybe I'll get back to it today. After we've done the baking, of course. Plus, I'd like to go for a run."
Amelie was by far the most sporty of Addison's house guests. After helping Addison with the morning's baking, she usually set off for a run along the beach. She'd enquired about joining a gym, but the closest one was in Riverwood. As she didn't have a car, she'd decided to just stick to her beach runs for the time being.
"It's a beautiful day to get out and about," said Addison. This was encouraging. She'd dreaded the thought of Amelie spending days or weeks moping about the beach house. She was entitled to grieve, of course. They all were. But Addison had been around enough grief after the loss of her husband two years ago, and then her cousin Jenna and Uncle Dennis earlier this year. She didn't think she'd cope well with more sadness surrounding her.
"What are we making today?" asked Amelie. Addison told her what they'd be baking as she went through the fridge and pantry retrieving ingredients. Soon they were underway, happily measuring and mixing and taking their minds off things. Well, for about fifteen minutes, before Amelie brought up the subject of Patrick's death again.
"Patrick wasn't doing drugs," she said. "I don't believe a word Ivy says." After Ivy had dropped her bombshell last night, Addison had quickly put an end to the discussion. It was late, and as much as she wanted to find out who killed Patrick and why, she couldn't afford for her boarders to start arguing. Friction in the house was the last thing they all needed.
"Let's not get into all that now," said Addison. "If there were drugs in Patrick's system, I'm sure the pathologist would have found something. That's for the police to deal with, not us."
"Yeah, okay. But I don't like Ivy saying things like that about Patrick. He's not here to defend himself."
"I know." Addison tried to distract her with the muffin mix. It was short-lived.
"I overheard Patrick arguing with Adam, you know."
"Oh? When was that?" As much as she wanted to keep things light and happy, Addison had to admit she was curious.
"A couple of days before he died. Adam was pushing him to look at his manuscript, like he said last night. Patrick had tried to be polite about it, but Adam wasn't taking no for an answer. So Patrick got angry."
"Was that something that happened a lot? Patrick getting angry?"
"Not a lot, no. But then I only knew him three months. I do know he could snap if he was pushed hard enough."
"And Adam pushed hard enough?" asked Addison.
Amelie nodded. "I think so. I was in my room above Patrick's, but my window was open and so were the doors to his room. The argument got quite heated."
"In what way?" Addison didn't like the sound of this. She'd known Adam for a month now, he'd been the first boarder to answer her advertisement. He was a good young man, for the most part, but he could be brash and unreasonable when he wanted. He certainly had a way of pushing people's buttons.
"Adam accused Patrick of being too much of a big-shot, said he should be willing to help out a struggling fellow writer. Patrick told him to back off. I think there may have been some pushing and shoving."
"Was this on Tuesday?" Addison asked. Now that she thought about it, she had sensed some tension between Patrick and Adam on Tuesday night.
"Yes. I tried to ask Patrick about it, but he shut me out. He went straight to his room after dinner."
Addison cracked an egg into her mixing bowl. "I remember that. He said he had a headache."
"I think Adam was his headache."
Amelie passed Addison the mixture of warm milk, yeast, and sugar she'd prepared, and Addison poured it into the bowl. Her mind wasn't on the job, though, and she slopped some of it onto the counter. It dribbled down the cupboard doors and onto the floor.
"Oh, shoot, look what I've done."
"I've got it," said Amelie, already pulling a couple of sheets of paper towel off the roll. She cleaned up the mess while Addison poured some extra milk into the bowl, hoping she hadn't well and truly stuffed up the recipe.
Addison finished mixing the dough for the cinnamon scrolls and turned it out onto the counter. As she kneaded, she thought over what Amelie had just said. She knew Adam had been keen to get Patrick's opinion of his work, that had been no secret in the house. She also knew that Patrick had resisted, and she understood why. It was all very well asking someone for feedback, but you had to be prepared to receive it. And she had the feeling Patrick would be the kind of writer who would be completely honest.
No-one likes receiving negative feedback, and no-one particularly likes giving it, either. In a professional setting amongst peers it was a necessary part of improving one's craft, of course. But when you lived in the same house, things could get tricky. Addison was sure Patrick was resisting Adam's requests because he didn't want things to get awkward between them if Adam's work had not been something Patrick thought highly of.
But it sounded like Adam was having trouble taking no for an answer. Was their disagreement truly about Patrick's refusal to read Adam's work? Or was there more to it?
"You're going to overdo that," said Amelie, bringing Addison out of her reflection.
"Oh, you're right. Sorry, I was miles away then."
"That's okay. You were thinking about Patrick and Adam, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Me too. Adam seems like a nice young man, but…"
"But he has a bit too much bravado about him at times," Addison finished for her.
Amelie nodded. "You don't think he could have been the one to hurt Patrick, do you?"
Addison was about to say no, but she couldn't quite get there. Adam was in the house at the time, and Wilcox had been pretty clear that everyone was a suspect until they could be ruled out. Someone killed Patrick, and Addison realised she hadn't known any of these people for long enough to be able to rule them out.
"I don't know," was all she could say. She focused her attention back to the task at hand. She finished kneading the dough for the scrolls and put it aside to rise, then started gathering the ingredients for scones.
"I think I'll go for my run now," said Amelie. She'd already put a batch of orange and poppyseed muffins in the oven, and set up another tray of chocolate chip ready to go.
"Thanks for your help this morning," said Addison. "And try and get this business out of your head. We'll all go crazy trying to figure it out. Let's leave it to the police."
Amelie nodded as she pulled off her apron, but Addison knew neither of them were going take her advice.
12
The next hour for Addison passed by in relative peace. She made the batch of scones first, and then the cinnamon scrolls. When the last tray of treats was in the oven she made herself a coffee and plucked one of Amelie's orange and poppyseed muffins from the cooling tray. She broke off a piece and smiled as the steam rose from the fluffy middle of the cake.
She settled herself at the table with the delicious muffin, her coffee, and her mobile phone. It was past eight o'clock; Detective Wilcox should be up by now. She found his number in her phone and placed the call.
"Wilcox," he said gruffly. Someone hadn't had his morning coffee yet.
"Good morning, Detective," said Addison brightly, before confessing about the existence of a master key to all the bedrooms in the beach house.
"And where is this master key kept?" Wilcox asked.
"Well, that's the thing. I can't remember. I know I put it in a safe place, but…"
"But you can't remember where that safe place is." Wilcox sighed.
"You've probably heard that before, haven't you?"
"Once or twice. Where have you looked?"
"Everywhere in my office, which is where I was sure it would be. But it's definitely not in there." Addison popped another chunk of muffin in her mouth and made a mental note to tell Amelie how good they were.
"Is it possible it was there, but someone removed it?" asked W
ilcox.
"I guess so," said Addison, not liking where this was going. "You don't think someone stole it and used it to lock Patrick's room after they killed him, do you?"
Wilcox said nothing. Addison could hear him breathing on the other end of the phone. The man needed to get his sinuses checked.
"Detective?"
"I'm still here," he said. "Look, it's clear from the crime scene that whoever killed Patrick wanted us to think he'd committed suicide. So the disappearance of your key is concerning. If the killer took it, they could have locked the door to the bedroom on their way out to help with their suicide set-up."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that."
"It's very important we find that key. What about your bedroom? Did you look there?"
"Yes, but I wasn't as thorough in there. I'll go and take another look."
"Please do that, and get back to me as soon as possible. If you can't locate it, I'm going to have to ask your permission to search the whole house. Including all of the bedrooms."
Addison paused, a chunk of muffin halfway to her mouth. "Don't you need to ask permission from the occupants of the rooms?"
"No. It's your house. Your permission is enough. I can get a warrant, but I'd hope that wasn't necessary."
"I'll go look in my room now and call you back," said Addison. She ended the call and left the last of the muffin on its plate. Suddenly she wasn't hungry.
She was halfway up the stairs before her phone rang. It was Olivia. They'd spoken yesterday morning about Patrick's death, but Olivia had had to cut the conversation short.
"Hi, sweetheart," Addison answered. "Is everything okay?"
"Hi, Mum. I'm fine. How are you? Do you want me to come home?"
"I thought you had a group assignment to do this weekend?"
"I do, but I'm worried about you. This thing at the beach house… your boarder. I feel like I should be there with you."
"Nonsense. It's okay, really. Layla is here, and the others. I'm fine. We just need to get to the bottom of it." Addison reached the top of the stairs and turned into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
"What do you mean, get to the bottom of it?" asked Olivia. Addison could hear the frown in her daughter's voice. "I thought he committed suicide?"
"Ah, no." Addison didn't believe in hiding things from her children. They were grown-ups, both of them, and deserved to be treated as such. She'd spoken to Justin at length on the phone last night, but hadn't wanted to disturb Olivia. Now she filled her in.
"Oh, wow. That's pretty heavy, Mum."
"Yes, it is. But Detective Wilcox and his team are on the case. Oh, that reminds me – do you remember where we put the master key? The one that opens all the bedroom doors? I searched high and low in the office, but I can't find it."
"That's because it's in the bottom drawer of your jewellery box. In your bedroom."
Addison almost slapped herself in the forehead. "Of course." She went to the jewellery box and found the key. They'd originally planned to keep it in the office, but then Layla had pointed out that anyone could go in the office and find it. They'd decided Addison's bedroom was a safer place for it.
"You got it?"
"Yes, it's right here where we left it. Thank you, darling. What would I do without you?"
"Spend all your time looking for things?" Olivia suggested.
Addison smiled because it was true. They chatted for another ten minutes, mostly about Patrick and what the police and everyone else thought about his death. The media were reporting it, of course, as Patrick was a reasonably well-known Australian author. They were still saying it was suicide, though.
"I'd better go, Mum," said Olivia when she was all caught up on the case. "Hey, you're not conducting your own investigation again, are you?" Olivia had been most displeased when Addison had made enquiries regarding the death of her cousin a couple of months ago.
"No. Well, not really. It did happen in my house though."
"Mum…"
"I'm not getting in the way of the police. Now off you go and finish that assignment."
"Bye, Mum."
"Goodbye, sweetheart. Love you."
"Love you too."
Addison walked to the window. She'd chosen a bedroom at the back of the house as her own, mainly because she thought the front rooms with their views of the beach would be more appealing to boarders, but also because she liked the garden view over the backyard. When she wanted to see the water, she could sit on the front verandah.
She pushed the window open to let the morning air in and called Wilcox back.
"Did you find it?" he asked immediately.
"I did. And hello to you too."
"Sorry. Hello. So you found it? Where was it?"
Addison explained her hiding place for the key, and the reason behind it.
"So you think it was there all the time? No-one could have borrowed it, and put it back without you knowing?"
"Well I can't be certain, but I don't think so. None of the boarders even knew it existed until last night. Only myself, Olivia, and Layla knew there was a master key before Patrick was murdered. And I don't think anyone has been in my jewellery box. Nothing seems missing or tampered with."
Wilcox sighed down the phone, and Addison felt sorry for him. This case was terribly confusing.
"Are you getting anywhere with any of your suspects?" she asked. "Have you been able to rule me out, at least?"
"Not technically, but I'm pretty sure you didn't do it."
"Why would I? I can't see it being terribly good for business having a boarder die here, whether he committed suicide or not."
"Exactly."
"So what have you got?"
"I can't—"
"I know, I know, you can't discuss an ongoing investigation. Can you tell me anything?"
"Well, there is something you should probably know. We've been doing some background checks on your boarders. The other young man you have staying there, Adam O'Loughlin, what do you know about him?"
Addison stared out the window for a moment. Should she tell Wilcox about the argument Amelie overheard? Did it really matter? Of course it did. This was a murder investigation, and like it or not, her boarders were all suspects. She relayed the morning's conversation with Amelie to the detective.
"I see. That makes what I'm about to tell you even more enlightening. But you have to keep it to yourself, Addison. I shouldn't be disclosing this, but as the young man is living in your house I feel I have a duty."
"What is it, Isaac? What's Adam done?"
"He's had an arrest for attempted murder."
13
"Attempted murder? Are you serious?" Addison backed away from the window and sat on the edge of her bed.
"I wouldn't joke about something like that," said Wilcox.
"No, of course not. When?"
"To be fair it was quite some time ago. From the records we've been able to uncover, he was only nineteen at the time. It looks like a bar fight that got out of hand."
Addison pulled both legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard. She hadn't been prepared to hear something like this.
"Was he charged?"
"Initially, yes. He spent a couple of days in lock-up, but then all the parties came to their senses and charges were dropped."
"Still, attempted murder is very serious."
"Yes it is. We didn't find anything else on him, so it looks like he's cleaned up his act since. Or else he hasn't been caught again. But I'm not sure I like the idea of you having someone with a history of violence in your house, Addison."
Addison was surprised at his level of concern. Isaac Wilcox was a nice man once you got past the gruff, no-nonsense policeman exterior, but after only three months in Getaway Bay she barely thought of him as a friend.
"Well, thanks. I think. But do I really need to be concerned? I mean, if there's been nothing since, maybe it can be put down to youthful exuberance?"
"May
be," said Wilcox, but he obviously wasn't convinced.
"I'll have a word with him," said Addison. Adam probably had a reasonable explanation for such a charge on his record. It didn't mean he was a bad person.
"I'm not supposed to have told you that." Wilcox sighed again. "I think it's best if I come over and speak to him first."
"Okay. Whatever you need to do."
"Thank you. Does ten o'clock this morning suit?"
"Fine," said Addison. "I'll make sure he's up. Oh, that reminds me – is it okay for us to clean up Patrick's room now? All that black dust, and the broken door…"
"Yes, go ahead. If you package up all his things, I'll make sure they get to his family."
Addison wanted to ask what family Patrick had, but Wilcox said goodbye and hung up before she got the chance. Oh well, she could ask him when he came over. She checked the time, it was almost nine. The rest of the household should be up by now. She put her phone in her pocket and headed back downstairs to the kitchen, where Layla was making coffee and eying the chocolate muffins she'd taken out of the oven.
"Oh, shoot. I forgot about those!" said Addison, rushing over to inspect the muffins.
"They're fine," said Layla. "The timer went off just as I got down here. Relax."
Addison took a deep breath. Wilcox's news about Adam had upset her more than she'd thought. But she couldn't tell Layla about it just yet. Better to let Isaac bring it up with Adam first. Then maybe she could ask him herself.
"Thanks," she said, sticking a skewer into one of the muffins to make sure they were cooked through.
"I already did that," said Layla, frowning.
"Oh. Sorry, can't help myself. I'd better get these packed up and take them in to Hazel. She'll be waiting." Addison got out the containers she used to transport her baked goods to the cafe and started loading them up. "Detective Wilcox is coming over in an hour or so," she added. "Amelie's out for a run, but she should be back by then. Can you make sure everyone else is up and about if I'm not back in time?"