by Grace York
Of course they were. If he'd been murdered between four and five pm, and they were the only people in the house at the time… one of the people at this table must be a killer.
Short moved onto Ivy. "Your room was right next to the deceased," she said. "What were you doing during the hour in question?"
"I was in my room with Dan," said Ivy. "My brother. We were catching up, we haven't seen each other for a while."
"I'm from Cairns," said Dan. "Like I told you yesterday I have some business in Riverwood. Addison was kind enough to invite me to stay for dinner last night."
"Your wife and children went to the Gold Coast yesterday," said Short.
"That's right. They left early in the morning. I did some work, then came to see Ivy. I arrived here around half past two, three o'clock. Something like that."
Wilcox leaned forward in his seat. "What kind of business are you in?"
"Cyber security," said Dan. "I mostly work with small businesses, make sure their systems are secure against hacking."
Wilcox nodded to Short, who continued questioning Ivy. "So the two of you were in your room, which is right next to Patrick's, for the hour between four and five pm?"
"Yes," said Ivy.
"Did you hear anything? A struggle, perhaps?"
Ivy shook her head. "We put some music on, I'm afraid. I didn't think we'd be disturbing Patrick from his work, I know he likes to write with headphones on. We didn't hear anything from his room. Well I didn't." She turned to her brother. "Did you?"
"No," said Dan. "We were out on the verandah for a time," he added. "But we kept to Ivy's side. She was adamant we shouldn't disturb Patrick. She said he was working on something new. We were very careful to keep away from his room."
"I wish we hadn't been now," said Ivy. "Knowing what he did…"
"Except he didn't," said Adam. All eyes turned to him. He sat back, hands perched on his head. "Well he didn't kill himself, that's what they've said. That's why we're here."
"Oh. That's right," said Ivy. Her eyes widened at Wilcox and Short. "How can you be so sure? I mean, we found him there like that…"
"We're sure," said Wilcox.
"Where were you?" Short asked Adam.
"In my room. I was editing, which I like to do with headphones. I listen to heavy metal while I edit. It helps me weed out all the rubbish."
"So you were listening to heavy metal through headphones from four until five?" Short clarified.
"Yes. Sorry, I'm no use to you."
"And you?" Short asked Amelie. "Your room is right above Patrick's, correct?"
"That's correct. I'm painting the scene from my window; I can see the beach from there. That's what I was working on yesterday afternoon."
"Did you hear anything from downstairs?"
Amelie shook her head. "All I could hear was Ivy's music."
Short continued to ask questions of the group, switching her attention between each of them, sometimes repeating questions she'd already asked. Addison did her best to focus, but was distracted when Layla arrived home with the groceries. Instead of the planned trip to Riverwood, she'd just been to the local store for a few essentials. Addison watched her cousin take the supplies through to the kitchen, then join them at the table.
"You weren't here at the time of the murder, correct?" Short asked Layla.
"That's correct," said Layla. "I was at the gallery site going over the plans with my contractor. I didn't get here until after it had happened."
Addison was still struggling to comprehend that a second person had been murdered in Getaway Bay in just a few short months, let alone that this time the killer might be here in her house.
"What about an intruder?" she asked Wilcox. "Surely you can't rule that out."
"Not at this stage," he replied. "But it does seem highly unlikely. If Jason was out the front the entire time, then an intruder would have had to come in through the back door. But Louie was out in the backyard, he should have been able to see any intruder out there."
"I was inside the shed for most of the time," said Louie with a shrug. "Someone could have slipped by me."
"It's possible," said Wilcox. "But then they would have entered through the kitchen, where Addison was busy cooking for all except ten minutes of that hour."
"Could someone have killed Patrick in those ten minutes?" asked Layla.
"It's possible," said Wilcox again. "But it would have taken either some extremely good planning on their part, or else a lot of luck, to get in and out without being seen."
"Plus, it doesn't answer the other big question," added Short.
"Which is?" Addison asked.
"How did the killer get out of Patrick's room when both doors were locked from the inside?"
6
"That's right," said Ivy. "I couldn't get in. Patrick's balcony door was locked, and so was the door to his room. Dan had to kick it down."
"He usually worked with the balcony doors open," said Addison. "I wonder what made him close them yesterday."
"They were open earlier," said Jason. "I noticed both sets of French doors were open when I first went out to the front garden."
"Did you see when Patrick's were closed?" asked Short.
Jason shook his head. "No. I was working on the flower bed right in front of the verandah. The balcony was above me, so I couldn't see onto it for most of the afternoon. I heard the music coming from Ivy's room, that's how I knew her door was open."
"If only we hadn't been playing that music," Ivy said to her brother. "We might have heard something."
Dan's head tipped to the side. "We weren't to know, Ives. Don't blame yourself for this."
The table fell silent, and Addison didn't know what to do. Surely none of these people could have killed Patrick? She was desperate to find out what made Wilcox so sure it was murder rather than suicide, but he wasn't going to give his reasons in front of a table full of suspects. Maybe she could get him alone and see if she could squeeze the information out of him.
"I think that's all we need for now," said Wilcox. "We're going to take another look at Patrick's room."
"Can I fix that door yet?" asked Jason.
"No. It's a crime scene, and we need to get forensics back in here. I'll have to ask you all not to touch anything before they get here."
The group dispersed, but Addison remained seated. She took a deep breath. This was all too much.
"Let's move into the kitchen," said Layla. "I'll make you a coffee."
Addison nodded and followed her cousin, leaving the scones still on the table. She could throw them out later.
"Are you all right?" Layla asked. She turned the coffee machine on and got the milk from the fridge as Addison settled herself on a stool at the bench. She'd never sat on this side of the kitchen before. Her kitchen.
"It's all… I don't… Oh, Layla. How can this have happened? It was bad enough thinking Patrick had taken his own life here in my house, but… murder?"
Layla grimaced.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Addison. "This must be hard for you, after Jenna."
"We'll get through it together." Layla finished making the coffee while Addison tried to pull herself together. If one member of her household was a murderer, then the rest of them needed her more than ever.
The doorbell Jason had installed a few weeks ago rang, and Addison went to answer it. Wilcox got to the door at the same time.
"It'll be the forensic team," he said. Addison nodded, and Wilcox opened the door. A man and two women in overalls carrying bags of equipment trooped into the house, and Addison nearly lost it all over again. It was like a scene from one of those television crime shows.
Wilcox told the forensic team where to go, and the three of them took the front staircase up to Patrick's room. Wilcox made to follow them, but Addison held him back.
"Do you really think one of the people in my house killed Patrick?"
"I'm struggling to find another explanation at the moment," he said.
"But let's wait until we've got all the facts."
"And you're sure it was murder? Not suicide?"
Wilcox nodded. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but yes. I'm sure. The pathologist confirmed it."
"How?"
"I can't—"
"Don't give me that, Isaac. This is my house. These are my boarders. I need to know."
"Why? So you can launch into another private investigation? Like you did with the Jenna Dallimore murder?"
"That's not fair. She was my cousin, and you were blaming Layla. I didn't do anything to get in the way of your investigation, did I?"
Wilcox shrugged. "I guess not. But I can't be giving you information in this case, Addison. You're too close."
"You mean I'm a suspect?"
"Until I can rule you out, yes. I'm afraid so."
Addison opened her mouth but nothing came out. She closed it again and walked away, leaving Wilcox to trudge up the stairs after his forensics crew.
Back in the kitchen Layla was preparing a salad. "Is anyone coming over tonight?" she asked as Addison walked back in.
"I don't think so," Addison replied. For the last couple of months some of the locals had been gathering at the beach house on Friday evenings for a barbecue. It started after Jenna's funeral, and despite the circumstances that night Addison had enjoyed hosting so much that it soon became a regular thing. Hazel and her husband, Martin, always came, as well as Mrs Jones and her dog Bella. Jason was usually working on the house on Friday afternoons, so he often stayed, and sometimes Juliet and Josie Porter joined them as well. With Addison, Layla, Olivia when she was home from school, and now the house guests, they usually ended up with a lively crowd. Addison put on simple barbecue meat and salads, plus everyone brought something to share, so there was always plenty of food. Tonight though, knowing that Patrick's death would be all over town by now, she didn't think anyone would expect the barbecue to be on.
"Let's just cater for the household," said Addison. "Plus we'd better count Ivy's brother. I think he's still here somewhere."
"They've taken Charlie for a walk on the beach," said Layla. "Amelie and Adam are in their rooms. There's an extra tray of sausages in the fridge, we can always pull that out if anyone else shows up." She looked up from chopping salad items. "Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Addison plonked herself back on the kitchen stool. "No ghosts. I've just been told I'm a suspect in Patrick's murder too."
Layla put down the knife she'd been holding. "It's not a very nice feeling, is it?"
Addison shook her head. "I kind of know what you felt like now, with Jenna…"
"It's going to be okay, Addison. I'm sure it's just a formality where you're concerned. You were here in the house when it happened. No-one saw anything, so technically you did have the opportunity to do it. And I'm guessing you have a key to Patrick's room?"
Addison hadn't even thought of that. Yes, she did have a master key that unlocked all the bedroom doors. But she'd never used it. She couldn't even think right now where it was.
"There's a master key somewhere. I'd better tell Wilcox about it," she said.
"It might be a good idea. You don't know where it is?"
"It might be in the drawer in my office."
Addison was about to go looking for the key when she saw Mrs Jones's familiar figure climb the stairs to the back verandah. She reached over to open the door, and Bella the dog came trotting in before her mistress.
"Hello, ladies," said Mrs Jones, taking off her hat and slipping onto a stool beside Addison. "What are you doing on this side of the counter?"
"To be honest I'm having some trouble dealing with Patrick's death, Mrs Jones. We're all still in a state of shock."
"We're taking turns falling to pieces," Layla added. "I had my meltdown this morning. It's Addison's turn now."
Addison had a little giggle at that. It was true, they had propped each other up at various times today.
"So what are the police saying?" asked Mrs Jones. "I assume they're back here, with all those vans parked outside."
"The forensics people are going through Patrick's room looking for evidence," said Addison. "Wilcox says Patrick was murdered."
"But I thought… didn't you say he killed himself?"
"That's what it looked like to us when we found him yesterday," said Addison. "But apparently the autopsy showed he was murdered, although Wilcox won't give me any details."
"Murder," said Mrs Jones, a hand splayed across her chest. "That is sure going to set Eleanor Moffett off. She's been on at me already today, you know. Gossip-mongering, that's all she ever does. I've been telling her to get a life and stop meddling in other people's business for years. She won't have it, though."
Addison smiled. Hazel and Layla had both filled her in on the town busybody, Eleanor Moffett. Apparently, she'd been perpetually peeved at Mrs Jones because Mrs Jones had run the local post office, and as such she knew a lot about everybody's business. Not that that was what upset Eleanor Moffett. No, Eleanor was upset because Mrs Jones never chose to share the details of everybody's business with her.
On the surface, Hazel had explained, Eleanor and Mrs Jones were great friends. They were roughly the same age, and when Mr Jones had been alive Eleanor and her husband Lionel had frequently socialised with them. Underneath it all, though, there was a rivalry that went back decades. Word had it that Eleanor felt she had the upper hand in the gossip stakes these days, now that Mrs Jones had retired from the post office. But somehow Mrs Jones still always seemed to know what was happening in the town before Eleanor did, and without gossiping herself. It apparently annoyed Eleanor Moffett no end.
As for Lionel Moffett, these days he spent a lot of time in the local pub. Not that he actually drank much, according to Hazel. He liked to bring in the newspaper after lunch, and sit at his usual table in the back corner reading and sipping on one beer. Then he drank lemon squash and talked to the tourists until it was time to go home for dinner.
Addison had enjoyed listening to Hazel and Layla's stories of the characters that inhabited Getaway Bay. The more time she spent here, the more it felt like home.
Until a young man was murdered under her roof. How could the beach house ever feel like home again?
7
Addison half-listened as Layla and Mrs Jones talked about Eleanor Moffett and the gossip around town about Patrick's death. So far everyone still thought the young writer had committed suicide, but the presence of the forensics vans would soon put paid to that. Addison realised she should call Olivia to explain before her daughter saw the tragedy on the news.
"What do you think, Addison?" Layla asked. Addison realised the two of them were staring at her.
"Oh, sorry. What did you say?"
"We were talking about how Patrick's room was locked from the inside. If Wilcox says he was murdered, then how did the killer get out of the room?"
Addison shook her head. "I have no idea. There are no windows that open, only the French doors. They were definitely locked, although I don't know why. Patrick always wrote with the doors open. It was a lovely afternoon, so the weather wasn't an issue."
"And the internal door to his room was also locked?" asked Mrs Jones.
"Yes. Ivy couldn't get in. She was screaming hysterically when we got there, turning the handle, trying to get the door open. It was locked. Dan had to kick it in."
"There was definitely no-one else in the room when you busted in?" asked Layla.
"No. Unless…"
"Unless what?"
Addison's face involuntarily screwed up at the thought, but it had to be considered. "Patrick was hanging from the wardrobe door," she said, the image of his lifeless body still very much burned into her brain. She'd always thought a hanging victim had to be suspended above the ground, their feet dangling in the air. But Patrick was in a kneeling position in front of the wardrobe, the noose around his neck tied to the door. She'd searched online last night, and
found it was possible to die that way because the weight of the upper part of the body was enough to cause asphyxiation.
Layla and Mrs Jones were still waiting for her to explain.
"So the wardrobe door was closed. Dan and Adam got Patrick on the ground, but we didn't open the door. Someone could have been in there." Addison shuddered at the thought.
"Then what did you do?" asked Mrs Jones.
"Jason and I made everyone go downstairs while I called the police. We all went into the great room. If someone was in the wardrobe, they could have then escaped down the back stairs into the kitchen and out the back door."
"So it could have been an intruder," said Mrs Jones.
"Yes," said Addison. "Or…"
"Or what?" asked Layla. "Who wasn't there when you found the body?"
"Louie," said Addison. "He came in later, when we were all at the dining table." She ran through the events of yesterday afternoon in her head again, this time checking the theory that Louie could have been the killer. "He would have had to sneak upstairs while I was out the front with Jason," she said, talking it through. "Then kill Patrick, set up the noose and the body, hide himself in the wardrobe behind the body, and wait for us to break the door down."
"It's possible," said Layla. "I mean, whether it was Louie or an intruder, the theory works. I would imagine none of you would have even considered looking in the wardrobe when you just found Patrick's body hanging from it."
"No, of course we wouldn't. It was the perfect hiding spot. We should tell Wilcox."
"Tell me what?"
Addison spun on her stool to find the detective approaching the bottom of the kitchen stairs. "Can you wear louder shoes or something?"
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Tell me what?"
Addison explained her theory of an intruder, or possibly Louie, hiding in the wardrobe and escaping once the rest of the household were seated at the dining table. Wilcox narrowed his eyes and nodded a few times as she spoke.