by Grace York
"Even so," said Layla. She sank further in her chair, looking more shocked than Addison had predicted.
"Everyone makes mistakes," said Addison. "Adam was young at the time. I'm sure it was nothing. I can't see him as a killer."
Layla pointed to Addison's notebook. "You'd better write it down, though. While we're compiling a list."
Addison made the notes, then reached for a second chocolate biscuit. She drew a line under Adam's entry, then wrote Amelie next.
"She was in love with Patrick, but the feeling wasn't mutual," said Layla.
Addison wrote 'unrequited love' next to the first bullet point.
"Patrick thought she was stifling his creativity," Layla continued.
"What does that even mean?" asked Addison.
"I don't know. Maybe she was a bit stalker-like?"
Addison couldn't see it. But then Amelie and Patrick had only been at the beach house for two weeks. Did she really know much about either of them?
"Ivy seemed to be getting close to Patrick in the week before his death," said Addison. "I wonder if that could have contributed to Amelie's unhappiness."
Layla shrugged and drained the last of the tea from her mug. "It's all very confusing. I can't see how any of the boarders could have done this."
Addison agreed. "I really hope not. I'll speak to Jason tomorrow about Louie."
"Even he seemed like a decent person," said Layla. "Can we really discount the intruder theory?"
"Isaac says it's unlikely."
"Unlikely isn't the same as definitely not."
"True," said Addison. "Maybe we're looking at this all wrong. Maybe we should be looking at Patrick, rather than the suspects. Why would anyone want to kill him?"
"And also, we should be looking more at how it was done," said Layla. "Whoever killed Patrick planned it enough to make it look like suicide. What was the noose made from?"
"Um, I'm not sure." Addison had tried to block the sight of Patrick's lifeless body from her mind. "Hang on." She closed her eyes, and it didn't take long for the image to come floating back. "It was a piece of rope."
"So not something that would have been lying around Patrick's room, then."
"No probably not. The killer must have brought it with them. You're right, whoever did this planned to make it look like suicide. Which means they planned to kill him."
16
Addison was awake at six on Sunday morning. She'd tried to sleep in, as it was the one day of the week she didn't have to get up and bake for Hazel's cafe. But she couldn't get Patrick's murder off her mind. She wasn't going to sleep well again until the mystery was solved.
And what a mystery it was. The short window of opportunity meant the suspects were restricted to the people in and around the house at the time. The problem was, Addison couldn't see any of them as potential murderers. They all seemed so nice.
Adam, Amelie, and Ivy – her boarders. She'd allowed these people to live in her house. Her home. She shouldn't forget Ivy's brother Dan, he'd been here too. But he was also really nice. He'd fixed the problem with Addison's computer and refused to charge her anything. And he was a family man in town on business, keen to catch up with his sister in his spare time.
None of them were murderer material.
Then there was Jason, who Addison had already proved wasn't a killer. They'd become friends while he worked on the beach house, and in the wake of Jenna's death. No, Jason couldn't have killed Patrick.
Which left Louie Liu. Addison didn't know much about him, but he seemed like a good guy and a good worker. She had to admit he was her most likely suspect out of all of them, but what possible motive could he have?
That was the big question. Why? From what Addison knew of Patrick, he was a quiet man who mostly kept to himself. He enjoyed a drink of an evening, but certainly wasn't a drunk by any means. From what Layla said he didn't return Amelie's affections, but there was no question of him ever hurting her physically. Or anyone else, for that matter.
What makes someone want to kill a quiet, talented writer?
That was what they needed to get to the bottom of, if they were going to solve this murder. If she was going to get on with the new life she'd built.
Addison threw the covers off and headed for the shower. She resolved to try harder to get Isaac to talk to her about the case. It felt like her life was on hold while all this was going on. She'd come to Getaway Bay for a fresh start, and she'd loved hosting the artists and writers she'd welcomed into her home. She wasn't going to let go of it without a fight.
Down in the kitchen Addison found Ivy making herself a cup of tea and some toast.
"Good morning," said Ivy as she poured the boiling water into her cup.
"Good morning," Addison replied. "You're up nice and early today."
"It's such a beautiful day. I thought I'd take a walk on the beach, then Dan's picking me up to go and spend the day with Annette and the kids. I haven't seen them in so long. And to be honest, I think I need a day away from… all this."
Addison nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm going to talk to Detective Wilcox today and see where their investigation is up to. I hope they can get to the bottom of this soon."
"So do I. Hey, did you check your bank accounts like Dan said? Make sure no-one managed to get in and steal your money?"
"I did," said Addison, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Everything was still all there, thank goodness. I'm so pleased I asked him about my computer. Goodness knows what could have happened."
"He's pretty good at that sort of thing. I have to admit I ask him to sort computer stuff out for me from time to time. I'm clueless when it comes to technology." Ivy's toast popped, and she set about applying butter and honey. "When did you log in and check your accounts?"
"Friday night, right after everyone went to bed. Why, do you think I should check again?"
"It wouldn't hurt," said Ivy. "That way you can be sure. Sometimes bank transactions can take a couple of days."
"Good point." Addison retrieved the laptop from her office and set it up on the kitchen table. Ivy's toast looked good, so while the computer went through its start-up process she popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster for herself.
"How old are your niece and nephew?" Addison asked while she waited.
"Oh," said Ivy. "Um, Dylan is twelve, I think, and Jasmine has just turned ten. Annette made this amazing birthday cake for her party. I didn't get there, obviously, but she sent a lot of photos."
"Can I see them? I love birthday cakes."
"Sure. They're on my phone. Oh, it's upstairs charging. Remind me to show you later."
"Okay." Addison's laptop was ready, so she logged in and opened up the page for her bank accounts. A quick look and she was relieved again. "All there, no problems," she said.
"Excellent," said Ivy. "Dan must have got rid of the virus in time, or else it wasn't targeting your accounts in the first place. But better to be safe than sorry."
"Indeed." Addison opened her email application. Might as well check those while she was at it.
Ivy finished her tea and toast and put her dishes in the dishwasher. "I'm off for my walk before Dan comes. If I don't see you later, I'll be back for dinner. Would you like me to pick anything up?"
"No thanks, I think we're all good. Unless you come across a nice bottle of wine in your travels." In the three weeks she'd been there Ivy had proven to have excellent taste in white wine. Well, it matched Addison's tastes, anyway.
Ivy smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Bye."
Addison buttered her toast and settled down at her computer to read her emails. There was nothing interesting, just a bunch of messages from email lists she'd subscribed to at some point. Half of them she didn't even remember joining. She went through and deleted them all, most without reading, then opened her favourite news website.
The news had finally broken that Patrick's death was not suicide, but murder, and it was front page. Or more accurately top of scr
een. Addison clicked on the link to the story and was confronted with a picture of the beach house. She couldn't remember seeing any photographers over the last couple of days. Where had they got the picture? It was recent, because it included the flower beds Jason had finished planting on Thursday afternoon.
Addison suddenly realised what was going on. She grabbed her tea mug and went through into the great room at the front of the house. Layla had just come down the front stairs, and the two of them looked out the window to see at least three news vans parked across the road.
"The world knows it was murder then," said Layla.
"It's the top story on the news websites," said Addison. "My goodness, look at them all. There goes our privacy until Isaac and his team get to the bottom of this."
"They can't come on the property," said Layla. "They'll have to stay over there."
"That hardly matters. They can see everything from there. Ivy had the right idea, getting out of here for the day. Maybe we should do the same."
"And go where?"
"I don't know. I need to speak to Isaac. Surely, they've found something by now. What about that forensic team? All that black fingerprint dust. They must have some idea about all this." Addison's patience was running out. It had only been three days, but the whole experience was getting to her. The idea of a murderer in her house, amongst her friends, was doing her head in.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw a familiar car approach. Isaac Wilcox parked in the driveway, followed by two other police vehicles. Addison noticed the camera crews across the road spring to action as Wilcox, Short, Diaz, and three overall-wearing forensic crime scene officers all got out of their vehicles and approached the door.
Addison had the door open before they could knock. "What's—"
She didn't get the chance to finish the thought before Wilcox held out a piece of paper. "We've got a warrant to search the property," he said, all business.
"A warrant? What do you need that for? I would have—"
He held up a hand to cut her off before turning to Short and Diaz. "Please gather all the occupants of the house in the living room. Don't let them touch anything on the way."
Short and Diaz started up the stairs. The crime scene officers spread out downstairs and started their search.
Addison plucked the warrant from Wilcox's hand and opened it. It authorised him to search the entire property, looking for evidence related to not just the murder but also a robbery of some sort. Addison didn't understand.
"What's this about a robbery? What's that got to do with Patrick?"
"Someone broke into the police station overnight," said Wilcox. His voice was stern, his brow furrowed.
"What did they steal?"
"Patrick's laptop."
17
Addison was livid. How dare they barge in here with their warrant, and in front of all those cameras. She was particularly unimpressed with Isaac. Surely he knew her better than that? She would have allowed them full access to search, if only he'd asked.
After an hour of sitting in the living room with Layla, Adam, and Amelie, not being allowed to touch anything, Addison was finally granted permission to get in her kitchen. She clashed around pulling pots and pans and mixing bowls out of cupboards. Hazel might not need any baked goods on Sundays, but Addison needed to blow off steam.
"What are you making?" asked Layla, joining her in the kitchen.
"I have no idea," said Addison.
"That's a lot of mess for no idea. Can I help?"
Addison shook her head and stopped clanging about. "Sorry. It's just frustrating. I need to do something productive."
"I agree. But let's do it without destroying the entire kitchen, huh?"
Addison smiled; she was lucky to have her cousin with her. "What am I going to do when you move out?"
"The gallery is months away from being finished," said Layla with a wave of her hand. "And even then, I'll only be a few minutes away. Just like before."
"Yes, I suppose so." Addison pulled her recipe folder down from the shelf above the fridge. "What do you fancy?"
She flicked through the recipes until Layla reached out a hand to stop her. "There, that one. Can you make one of those?"
"Baked Lemon Cheesecake Pie." Addison quickly scanned the ingredient list. "Yes, I think we can manage that. I'll make a start on the pastry, you get the other ingredients together."
They worked side by side, and Addison slowly calmed down. By the time the pie was in the oven most of her negative energy had dissipated. Which was just as well for Isaac Wilcox, who finally joined them in the kitchen.
"You want to tell me why you needed to get a warrant?" Addison asked him. The rest of the team had packed up and left, no doubt again drawing the attention of the news crews across the street.
"I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice. Now that the media are across this case, I'm getting pressure from higher up. The chief wants this one done by the book, hence the warrant. For what it's worth I know you would have granted us permission to search, but I didn't want you in the middle of things if there was resistance from any of the suspects."
"You mean my boarders."
"Yes." Wilcox took a seat next to Layla at the bench. "What's cooking? It smells delicious."
"Baked lemon cheesecake pie," said Layla, handing him the recipe.
"Yum."
"We might save you a piece," said Addison. She folded her arms. "Is there anything you can tell me about the case? Are you even getting close to finding out who killed Patrick? I'm not sure I can take much more of this."
Wilcox let out a big sigh. "I suppose it couldn't hurt… do you mind if I make myself a coffee? I haven't eaten all day."
"I'll get it," said Layla. "Do you want a sandwich?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you so much."
Layla got to work in the kitchen, and Addison got to work on Wilcox. "So come on then, spill it."
"Well, like I said, the police station was broken into overnight."
"That's pretty ballsy," said Layla. "Sorry," she added after a stern look from Addison.
"You were saying?" Addison prompted Wilcox.
"Yes, right. I agree, breaking into the station is pretty b… ah, bold. We think there must have been something on Patrick's laptop that incriminated his killer in some way."
"If that's the case, why not take the laptop when they killed him?"
"Perhaps they couldn't, or else they didn't know the evidence was on there until later. Either way, they managed to get into the station last night and take it."
"Your chief mustn't be impressed with that," said Layla. "A break-in at a police station. Can't imagine that went down too well."
Wilcox's lips straightened into a thin line. "No, it didn't. But we're a small-town station. There are only three of us, and we mostly deal with petty crime. The station is the last place we thought anyone would break into. Nothing of any real value is kept there."
"Except evidence in a murder case," said Addison. She couldn't help herself.
"Yes, well. No doubt there'll be a review of security at the station in the near future. But in the meantime, we're left with a big hole in our evidence locker. And we're no further along in figuring out who killed Patrick Wilde."
"You hadn't found anything on his laptop then?"
"No. Kendall – Senior Constable Short – had a look through it, but there was nothing obvious. We were going to send it to the city tomorrow for further analysis."
Layla finished making Wilcox his sandwich and coffee, and he tucked in gratefully. Addison ran through the details of the case in her mind as she watched him eat.
"The thing I keep coming back to," she said, as he took the last bite of his sandwich, "is why? I can't understand what possible motive anyone could have for killing Patrick."
Wilcox pushed his plate away and lifted his mug. "Thanks for that," he said, taking a long sip of coffee. "Just what I needed." He turned to Addison. "You're right
. Motive is what's eluding us, too."
He put down the mug and sat with both hands palm up on the bench, as if weighing up invisible items in each hand. "Everyone in the house had the opportunity, if we ignore the issue of the locked room. That is, everyone had access and enough time unseen by others to have got into Patrick's room and committed the murder. How they got out is another story, but that doesn't differentiate between suspects."
"What about means?" asked Layla. "Motive, means, and opportunity, that's what they say on television. We can't find a motive for anyone. You've illustrated opportunity for everyone. What about means?"
"That is whether each suspect was actually capable of committing the act," he said. "I'm not supposed to disclose the way in which Patrick was actually killed…"
Oh for goodness sake. "He was strangled, right?" said Addison.
"Ah… how do you know that?" asked Wilcox.
"I didn't. I guessed, and you just confirmed it. I mean it's pretty obvious. If I was going to kill someone and then pretend they'd hanged themselves, I'd strangle them. Well, in theory. If I was writing about it in a book, for example. I'd never do it in real life."
"Okay," said Wilcox, eyes narrowed at Addison. He paused, examining her face, before he went on. "Yes, he was strangled. So back to means – could all the suspects have done it?"
"I'd imagine it takes considerable strength to strangle someone," said Layla.
"Indeed," Wilcox agreed. "Patrick was an average-sized adult male. He wasn't a big guy, but he wasn't small, either. So we're probably looking at either a male killer, or at the least a strong female."
"So that means either Adam, Louie, or Dan," said Addison.
"Those are the three we've been concentrating on, yes. But Amelie is quite fit and strong, too. It's amazing what a human being can do when emotions are running high. We can't rule her out."
Addison tried to think of a reason to discount Amelie, but couldn't. Wilcox was right. Emotions were a strong driver for people to do crazy things. She'd seen that enough from Rob's cases. The ones he told her about, anyway.