The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  “None of that happened.”

  “She killed the goose just by disappearing, didn’t she? When Rochelle vanished, Leo became skittish, Luigi became skittish, and the club was cancelled. That must have hurt.”

  Sheena was very red in the face but managed not to respond.

  “You were right, and they were wrong – isn’t that right, Sheena? You knew it was a mistake to let Rochelle in, and you were correct. It was the end of the club. Rochelle killed the club. You’re probably still angry about that. Imagine where you could have been now if Rochelle hadn’t spoilt everything. Not doing hair in some two-bit salon on Beach Road, that’s for sure. I bet you’re angry about that.”

  It was enough. Sheena half rose from her chair, words bursting out of her.

  “Yes, all right. I wrote that stupid note. I was mad at Rochelle, and I was mad at all of you.” She jabbed her finger at Mick and Rosalind. “You forced me to let her in. I didn’t think Rochelle was dead. I thought she had swanned off to America.”

  She sank back into her chair, still fizzing with anger.

  “Did you think the note would never be found?” Eulalie asked.

  “I didn’t think about it. I found a spare egg in the secretary’s office and I grabbed it. I wished that I had killed her. I wished that everything could go back to the way it was, but without Rochelle. I didn’t think they were really going to dig those time capsules up. I thought they would forget about them.”

  “But why did you write the note?”

  “I wanted to have a secret that Rochelle couldn’t tell. Something that I knew about and nobody else. After I did it, I liked to think of my time capsule buried safe and sound with a secret inside it. And then I forgot about it. Life happened, and I forgot.”

  Eulalie looked around the table and nodded.

  “Thank you, Sheena. You will probably be asked to give a statement to a police officer just to clear up the mystery of the time capsule. We’re starting to think that you were right all along.”

  “You mean that Rochelle really did run away?”

  “Yes. That seems to be the most likely scenario.”

  Eulalie stood up as though the meeting were over. The other four stood up too. She thanked them for coming and they filed out the door.

  “Oh, Mr. Richmond,” she said as he was about to leave too. “Do you mind staying behind for a moment? I want to ask you a question about Queen’s Town High in the old days.”

  He turned back, looking relaxed. “Certainly.”

  They sat at the desk opposite each other.

  “Are those shoes Italian?” Eulalie asked.

  He stretched out a foot to admire the glossy black leather. “You have a good eye. Yes, they are.”

  “They are beautifully made. What size do you take?”

  “An 8. I sometimes struggle to find shoes that are narrow enough for my foot, but the Italians really understand shoe-making.”

  “You can thank your partner, Pastor Ellie, for helping me realize that the person who left that note hadn’t necessarily killed Rochelle.”

  “Really? I didn’t know she was interested in the case. But I always thought Rochelle had simply run away. That’s the kind of kid she was, unfortunately.”

  “You know I’m not a cop, don’t you, Mr. Richmond?”

  “Sure. You’re a private investigator.”

  “That’s right. I have no official standing at all. The thing is this. I know what happened to Rochelle, but I’ll never be able to prove it.”

  He almost smiled. “You already told us what happened to her – she ran away from home.”

  “No, that’s what I told the others. You and I know that’s not what happened. Rochelle’s death is the perfect crime. I didn’t think such a thing existed, but it does. There were no witnesses, no weapon, and no evidence. No one even suspected she was dead except for her father. There was no body, and so there was no murder. That’s the definition of a perfect crime, isn’t it? The one that isn’t investigated because no one knows it occurred.”

  Richmond’s posture remained relaxed, but his eyes were watchful.

  “What you’re talking about would take an incredible amount of planning and a very cool head. I wouldn’t expect to find someone like that in a small place like Prince William Island.”

  “I have the utmost respect for the person who pulled this off,” said Eulalie. “The fact that there is no way to prove it only makes me respect him more.”

  “You’ve mentioned evidence, but what about motive? Does the perfect crime have a motive?”

  “Oh, I know the motive,” said Eulalie. “I know why you did it, Mr. Richmond. That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be able to prove it.”

  He sat forward, less relaxed now. “I didn’t do anything. That goes without saying. But what would my motive have been? Hypothetically speaking.”

  “You were sleeping with Rochelle. I think that was the ‘community service’ you referred to when you caught her with drugs and alcohol. I think that’s when it started. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she was seventeen years old – under the age of consent. She threatened to expose you, and of course you couldn’t have that. She was a blabbermouth, as you’ve all mentioned before. And so, you killed her. A couple of years later, you got a slap on the wrist for sleeping with another one of your students. The only difference is that she was eighteen, so it wasn’t a crime.”

  He leaned back in his chair, trying to regain his air of unconcern.

  “You’re right about one thing, Ms. Park. You can’t prove a thing.”

  “Luckily, I don’t have to because we’ve got you on the murder of Roland Chirac.”

  “Murder? But he’s still alive.”

  “Not as of eleven o’clock this morning. Killing Rochelle might have been the perfect crime, but killing her father wasn’t. You left a trail of physical evidence, Mr. Richmond. Hair follicles, bloody footprints, your DNA all over the scene. Plus, a witness who will swear that it was your voice she heard shouting out that this was for Rochelle.”

  Richmond sat frozen in his seat.

  “If you hadn’t panicked and killed Roland in an attempt to frame him for Rochelle’s murder, I really think you would have got away with it. But now that Roland has died, we’re talking first-degree murder. That means life without the possibility of parole, Mr. Richmond. That means you will never see daylight again. There’s only one way you can help yourself, but I don’t feel like sharing it with you. I like the idea of you rotting in prison for the rest of your days.”

  His eyes dilated. He seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack.

  “What is it? Tell me what it is. You can’t do this to me. I’m claustrophobic.”

  “If you were to tell the police where you buried Rochelle’s body, they might take a life sentence off the table. You’d be eligible for parole in twenty years. Less, with good behavior. You could be out of prison while you’re still a relatively young man. You could have a life again.”

  “I want that. I want them to cut me a deal.”

  “You have to be prepared to lead them to Rochelle’s body.”

  “I can’t spend the rest of my life in jail. I’d die in there.”

  “Then you know what you have to do.”

  His breathing accelerated, until Eulalie thought he would start hyperventilating.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll show them where I buried her. It’s in the mountains. I want a lawyer.”

  Eulalie looked doubtful. “If you want this deal, you’ll have to cut it without a lawyer being present. Twenty years with the possibility of parole in exchange for admitting that you killed Rochelle Chirac and showing the police where you left her body. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it. I have to.”

  “Good,” said Eulalie. She reached into her pocket and switched off the recorder.

  Epilogue

  Eulalie and Chief Macgregor stood shoulder to shoulder and watched as a black labrador
roamed the hillside, nose to the ground, sniffing intently.

  “Where does this dog come from?” Eulalie asked.

  “It’s on loan from Johannesburg,” said Chief Macgregor. “He and his handler are being lent to us for the day. It turned out that Cole Richmond couldn’t lead us to the body. There are two bends in the road that look the same to him. At first, he thought it was the one, and then he thought it was the other. That’s when we knew we would need to bring in a cadaver dog.”

  Eulalie watched the dog walking in tight circles and zig-zags. It went back to its handler to be refreshed on the scent.

  “Are you sure he hasn’t been playing you?” she said. “Maybe he had no intention of leading us to Rochelle’s body.”

  Chief Macgregor thought about this. “I don’t think it’s likely. I’m not good at telling when people are lying, but I made sure there was a member of my department with me whenever I spoke to him. They all believed he was telling the truth. He is very anxious about the possibility of life imprisonment.”

  “Does he know that Roland Chirac is still alive?”

  “No, we haven’t told him yet. He still hasn’t asked for a lawyer.”

  “Where is Richmond now?”

  “He’s in a cell at the police station. Once he had pointed out the two possible bends in the road to us we took him back. When we find the body, it won’t matter whether he asks for a lawyer or not. We’ll have all the evidence we need, along with that recording you made.”

  The dog’s handler came over to speak to Chief Macgregor.

  “We’re going to try further away from the road, Chief. The course of the road has been altered over the last fifteen years, but your suspect was fairly sure that he walked into the bush for a few minutes before burying the body. There’s nothing here, so I feel confident about moving in deeper.”

  “Thank you, Constable van Wyk.”

  “Was this the first site that Richmond pointed out?” asked Eulalie.

  “Yes. He led us straight here, so I’m really hoping the body turns out to be nearby. He told us he buried her near a big ox tree, but he couldn’t find it.”

  Eulalie scanned the hillside, looking at the indigenous bush. “There’s no shortage of ox trees around here, and they’re all bigger and older than they were fifteen years ago.”

  “That’s part of the problem.” The dog handler wandered off to continue the search.

  “You still haven’t told me how you figured out that the person who wrote the note in the time capsule was not the same person who murdered Rochelle,” said Chief Macgregor.

  “It was Pastor Ellie who tipped me off,” said Eulalie. “I think she already suspected her partner of having been involved in Rochelle’s disappearance. Maybe even before I first interviewed him. I think she was worried about being in business with someone who was about to be arrested for murder. She put pressure on him. She asked him questions about his time as a teacher, trying to find out the truth.”

  “Is that why he tried to kill Roland?” asked Chief Macgregor. “I couldn’t figure out why someone who had got away with murder for fifteen years would suddenly decide to kill again, leaving us with fresh evidence and a witness?”

  “That’s exactly it. Pastor Ellie’s questioning sent him into a panic. He knew the police were looking at Roland for his daughter’s murder, so he decided to take him out of the picture while shouting out for the cleaners to hear that he was doing it for Rochelle.”

  “It was a clumsy attempt.”

  “Very clumsy. Not only did Roland not die, but Richmond left behind a bloody footprint. How useful is that, by the way?”

  “It’s an exact match to his shoe size. If we find a blood-stained shoe at his house when we search it, that will help even more. But between your recording of his confession, and his willingness to point out the body, it’s a tight case. It won’t stand or fall on one footprint.”

  “I told him he had left his DNA all over the scene,” said Eulalie. “Hair follicles, fingerprints, footprints.”

  “I know. It’s not against the law to lie to a suspect, especially since you had no standing as a police officer when you were questioning him.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  As though she were pulled forward by a string, Eulalie walked towards the cluster of police officers that were watching the dog and handler at work. They were now at least two hundred feet away from the road.

  Eulalie’s footsteps quickened as she got closer. Constable van Wyk looked up.

  “Please keep your distance,” she said. “He needs as few distractions as possible.”

  Eulalie didn’t seem to hear her. She kept walking - past the dog and handler, and deeper into the indigenous savannah that covered the mountainous part of the island.

  She couldn’t have said what it was that called to her. It felt like a compulsion – something that tugged her deeper and deeper into the bush.

  The ringing in her head and the buzzing in her ears got louder as she approached an old and overgrown ox tree. The sound made a crescendo in her head and the light around her seemed to become brighter.

  She stopped.

  Then she turned and called to the dog, whistling and clapping her hands.

  “Here, boy! Here.”

  “Wait!” called Constable van Wyk. “Don’t…”

  The dog turned and broke into a run, ears up and tongue lolling, until it skidded to a halt next to Eulalie.

  “What do you smell, boy? What can you find?”

  The dog alerted strongly, and began to dig in the soft, yellowish earth. It alerted again and turned towards its handler who was approaching them at a jog. Then it began to dig again, wildly this time.

  Eulalie looked up as Constable van Wyk and Chief Macgregor reached her at the same time.

  “We found her,” she said. “We found Rochelle.”

  FIONA SNYCKERS WILL RETURN WITH A NEW MYSTERY SERIES

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  The Cat that had a Clue

  The Cat that got your Tongue

  The Cat that Played the Tombola

  The Cat that Wasn’t There

  The Cat that was Bigger than You

  The Cat that got the Cream

  About the Author

  Fiona Snyckers is the author of the Trinity series of young adult novels, as well as the suspense novel Now Following You and the high-concept thriller Spire. She has published various short stories in magazines and collections. The Eulalie Park Mysteries is her latest series of murder-mystery novels with a touch of adventure. Fiona has been nominated four times for the Sunday Times Fiction Prize. She lives in Johannesburg, South Africa, with her family.

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