Evil at Echo Point

by Grace York

  "I'd love to," Layla said when Addison phoned her at the gallery. "I'm just showing some pieces to a young couple from Brisbane right now. Shall I meet you at the pub in half an hour?"

  "Perfect," said Addison. "That'll give me a chance to get some steps in beforehand."

  For Christmas Olivia had given Addison one of those fitness wristbands that counts how many steps you do, and set her a target of walking five thousand steps per day. Addison was sceptical at first, but she'd found it very encouraging to see that number rise every time she walked anywhere. She was determined to keep it up, not because she had much weight to lose, but because keeping active long into her retirement was a high priority for her.

  She headed towards the town square. The planter boxes were in full bloom, and Addison recalled the chaos last year when the dog show had been held in the square. The dogs had run amok and ripped up all the freshly-planted flowers.

  There'd been a murder back then, too.

  Addison shook her head of the memory and concentrated on the present. The mix of colours was lovely, and she enjoyed her stroll around the square before heading to meet Layla at the pub.

  "This is a lovely way to spend a Saturday," Layla said as she joined Addison at an outside table.

  "It is," Addison agreed. "I fancied one of Rocky's Caesar salads." Rocky was the chef at the Red Lion. She'd been a resident of Getaway Bay for thirty years, but no-one knew her real name. She was just Rocky.

  "I might get the same. My treat," said Layla. "That couple just bought two paintings!"

  "I'm not surprised," said Addison. "Your work is amazing these days. Not that it wasn't before, but you seem to have found an extra something lately."

  "I do feel more settled than I've been for a while. Finally getting the gallery finished last year was a big deal."

  "You had a rough year, there's no doubt about that. But that's all behind us now."

  "We need to toast to the new year," said Layla. "I'll go and order and get us some drinks. It's quite hot – how about a shandy?"

  "Sounds perfect."

  Addison was about to pull out her phone and check it while Layla went to the bar but stopped herself. No, she'd noticed far too many people glued to the things these days. She didn't need to be connected every spare minute of the day. Instead, she dropped her shoulders and settled into her chair, taking a relaxing breath and focusing on her surroundings.

  There were quite a few people in the beer garden with the same idea as Addison and Layla. The Red Lion was a perfect mix of old English pub and Australian character, and the beer garden was definitely one of the more Australian aspects of the place. The weather was very warm, with it being January and the middle of summer, but the area was covered and four big fans kept the air circulating. A number of large potted palms circled the tables, and the bar was open to the beer garden so patrons didn't have to go inside to order. It was a pleasant spot to spend an afternoon.

  As Layla stood in the queue to order food, Addison noticed Max serving drinks at the other end of the bar. He was having quite a long discussion with the young woman he was serving. Addison only noticed because there were others waiting to be served who were getting impatient.

  The look on Max's face was very serious, and it was obvious he knew the woman. Addison thought the man behind her was about to complain, but at that point the conversation ended and Max turned his attention to the man. Just in time, Addison thought.

  The young woman picked up her drink and turned away from the bar, and only then did Addison recognise her. It was Erin Sinclair, Trent Burchard's girlfriend.

  And it looked like she'd been crying.

  23

  "What's wrong?" Layla asked Addison when she returned to their table with two drinks and a table number. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Not quite." Addison didn't take her eyes off Erin. "Can I leave you for just a minute?"

  "Sure," said Layla, settling herself at the table. "I need to reply to a text message."

  Addison walked over to where Erin was sitting alone at the far edge of the beer garden.

  "Excuse me dear, I couldn't help but notice you seem upset. Is everything okay?" she said. "My daughter is a friend of Max, the barman. Do you know him?"

  Erin looked surprised to be approached like this, and for a moment Addison felt guilty, but the poor girl had been through so much. Addison just wanted to be a friendly face in the crowd.

  "I… Yes, I met Max the other day," Erin finally said. "He seems nice."

  "He is," Addison agreed. "But are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She'd lost none of her English accent.

  A few other occupants of the beer garden were staring at them, and Addison realised she wasn't the only one who'd recognised Erin. There must have been a few news crews in the pub having lunch. Addison noticed whispers and taps on the shoulder, and at least two people got up and quickly left the beer garden. No doubt they'd be back with their cameras in no time.

  Erin had obviously seen them, too.

  "I think I'd better go back up to my room," she said. Addison thought the poor girl was about to burst into tears again.

  "Nonsense. My cousin and I have just ordered food. You're welcome to join us at our table. Or we could go inside and find a quiet spot, if you like."

  Erin thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Thank you, I think I'd like that. I don't fancy going back up to that room just yet."

  Addison held out a hand and Erin took it, and they walked back over to Layla. "I've seen the rooms here," she said. "They're tiny. No need to keep yourself all cooped up like that. You'll be going stir crazy."

  "I am a bit, yes," said Erin. "Not to mention how hot it is. The only room they had left didn't have air-conditioning. I'm not used to this heat."

  "It does take a bit of getting used to. This is my cousin, Layla. Layla, this is Erin. It is Erin, right dear?"

  "Yes. Thank you for letting me sit with you." Erin glanced around. All eyes in the beer garden were still upon her.

  "Let's go inside where it's a bit quieter," said Addison, picking up her drink and her handbag. Layla took the hint and followed suit, and soon the three of them were settled in a corner booth inside the pub.

  "That's better," said Layla. "Now, let me order you a drink and some food. My treat. I sold two paintings today."

  Erin opened her mouth to protest, but Addison quickly intervened.

  "There's no point arguing with her, Erin. Plus she doesn't shout very often, so please let her. For my sake!"

  Erin smiled, and after a moment's hesitation asked for a chicken schnitzel and a glass of lemonade.

  When Layla went back to the bar to order, Addison took her opportunity.

  "Is everything all right? I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but notice you seemed upset after you talked to Max. Is he looking after you okay?" When Erin had mentioned her room, Addison remembered Erin had chosen to stay at the pub rather than with Malcolm Burchard. That must be how she knew Max.

  "Oh yes, Max is lovely. I'm just upset because… well you know, with all that's been going on. Trent…"

  "I know. It must have been a terrible shock for you." Addison thought she might get in trouble with Isaac for speaking to a suspect, but then remembered he had all but ruled Erin out as Trent's killer. Addison hadn't thought the girl capable in the first place. She was far too small for a start.

  "I'd really just like to go home, but I can't. Not yet. I need to find out what happened to Trent. Despite everything they're saying about him, he really was quite sweet. At least he could be, when he wanted to."

  "I'm sure the police will have some answers for you soon," Addison said, although she wasn't sure at all. Isaac seemed stumped on this one.

  "I hope so."

  Layla returned from the bar. "One lemonade, there you go," she said, placing the drink in front of Erin. "I've added your schnitzel to our order and Bob said they'd bring it all out together."

 
"Thank you." Said Erin. "You're both very kind."

  "We can't have you going home with your memories of Getaway Bay being all bad," said Addison. "Where is home, anyway?" she thought it might help to take Erin's mind off Trent's death, if only for a little while.

  "I come from a little village in Cornwall called Polperro," said Erin. "It's a fishing village, although it's mainly tourism now. My father runs a pub there."

  "How lovely," said Addison. "Is your dad's pub anything like the Red Lion?"

  "Oh no," said Erin. "It's a lot smaller, for a start. We don't have anywhere near the open space in Polperro that you do here. But it's very popular, like this pub."

  Addison and Layla took turns asking Erin questions about her home town, distracting her from Trent's murder and the subsequent media attention. From time to time Addison caught Bob Carter's eye. Bob was the Red Lion's publican, and a good man. He understood Erin's need for privacy, and did his best to keep the reporters away from their table. He also sent another round of drinks over with their food, so they wouldn't have to go and order again.

  Max also kept one eye on their table. Addison at first thought he was being protective as well, but he seemed very nervous. She wondered whether Erin really had just met Max when she moved into the pub a few days ago.

  It certainly looked like more than that from where Addison was sitting.

  24

  As she drove home from the Red Lion, Addison finally made the connection that had been bothering her.

  Max was from a small village in Cornwall. Was it anywhere near the village Erin had spoken of? Did he and Erin know each other before she came to Getaway Bay?

  Back at the beach house Addison found Olivia in the great room, laptop open on her lap.

  "Hey sweetheart, what are you doing?" she asked, taking a seat at her favourite armchair by the window.

  "Just looking at the textbooks I need to buy for next semester," said Olivia, eyes glued to the screen. "I might as well order them now. It's cheaper to get them online than in the bookshop on campus."

  "Good thinking." Addison waited a minute while Olivia's fingers flew over the keyboard.

  "There, all done. They should be waiting for me when I get back to my dorm room." Olivia closed the laptop.

  "Excellent," said Addison. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "What village did you say Max came from?"

  "I didn't. He did tell me the name, but I can't remember. Somewhere on the coast, though."

  "Was it Polperro?"

  "I don't think so. It started with K." Olivia opened the laptop again and hit a few keys. "Ah, that's it. Killigarth, that's where Max is from. It's very close to Polperro."

  "How close are they?" asked Addison. Her heart started to race.

  "Right next to each other." Olivia turned the computer around so her mother could see.

  Addison leaned forward and squinted at the screen. She really should start carrying her reading glasses with her.

  Olivia was right. Polperro and Killigarth were side by side on the map, and both looked very small. Either it was a big coincidence two strangers from neighbouring villages in Cornwall found themselves in the same small town in Queensland, or Max and Erin were hiding something.

  "Has Max said anything about Erin Sinclair to you?" Addison asked her daughter.

  "No. Should he have?"

  "Not necessarily. But I saw them talking in the pub today and it looked like they knew each other. Erin said they met when she moved into the pub, but it looked like more than that to me. And they lived in neighbouring villages in England. It's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

  Olivia shrugged. "People run into others from their home towns all the time when they're away. It's a small world."

  "Yes, but… I don't know, Liv. There's something not quite right about the way they were talking today in the pub. I think I should mention it to Isaac."

  Olivia slammed her laptop shut with more force than necessary. "Not everything has to do with murder, you know," she snapped.

  Addison was taken aback. Olivia didn't normally react like that.

  "I'm not saying Max had anything to do with the murder," said Addison.

  "Then what are you saying?"

  Addison opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn't know what she was saying. Did she think Max had something to do with Trent Burchard's death?

  "I just… oh, I don't know. You know Max better than I do. What do you think? Is he hiding anything?"

  Olivia took a deep breath, and her face softened. "Actually, come to think of it, he's been distracted since the murder. I thought it was all the reporters in town, but maybe… No, he was here with us on New Year's Eve. He couldn't have had anything to do with it."

  "He didn't stay here though, did he?"

  "No. He left soon after midnight to walk back to the pub. Which is in the opposite direction to Echo Point."

  "Even so, I think I should mention it to Isaac. If Max has nothing to hide…"

  "Let me ask him first," said Olivia. "Maybe you got it wrong, maybe they don't know each other. Or if they do, there could be an innocent explanation as to why they're keeping it quiet."

  "Such as?"

  "All those news crews, for one. Maybe she's trying to keep Max out of the spotlight."

  Addison had to admit that was a good theory.

  "All right. You talk to Max and ask him if he knows Erin before I mention it to Isaac. You're right; we owe Max the chance to explain. He's been a good friend to you."

  "Thanks, Mum."

  Olivia opened the computer again and Addison left her to her work. She decided to get a head start on dinner. She always took the opportunity to cook something a little more involved on Saturday nights, given that she got to sleep in on Sunday mornings. Hazel didn't open the café on Sundays, so there was no baking required.

  Tonight she'd decided on cottage pie. It wasn't fancy, but it was time consuming, so not something she cooked on a regular basis. It was one of Olivia's favourites, though, and there weren't many nights left before Olivia had to go back to university for the start of her second year.

  As she peeled the potatoes and put them and the cauliflower on to boil, Addison wondered about Max and Erin. It really had looked like they knew each other during that conversation at the bar. Had Addison been seeing things? Maybe Olivia was right, and there was an innocent explanation.

  Addison couldn't shake the feeling there was more to that conversation in the pub than just two people who'd met days ago. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She'd promised Olivia she wouldn't bring it up with Isaac until Olivia asked Max himself about it, and she wasn't about to break a promise to her daughter.

  There was one thing she could do, though.

  She finished preparing the cottage pie, then put it in the oven and set the timer on her mobile phone before putting it in her pocket. Olivia had shown her how to do that, and it came in handy when she had a few things on the go and both her kitchen timers were already going. She didn't have the kitchen timers on now, but she wanted to keep track of the time while she went next door to check on Mrs Jones.

  "I'm perfectly fine, dear," said Mrs Jones before Addison even made it into her neighbour's house. "There's no need to keep checking on me."

  "Really?" said Addison, closing the back door behind her to keep the dogs out. "Show me your leg."

  "If I do will you stop sending your young people in?"

  Addison smiled. "Of course," she said, fingers crossed behind her back. "Now show me."

  Mrs Jones pulled up her skirt to reveal the bruise above her knee, and Addison took a close look. She had to admit it did look better.

  "That's healing nicely," she said.

  "I told you," said Mrs Jones, pushing her skirt back down and crossing her arms as if to put an end to the matter. "Now what's going on with this murder investigation?"

  "Isaac is having a tough time of it," said Addison. "Do you mind i
f I sit? I've just put a cottage pie in the oven."

  Mrs Jones waved at the nearby armchair. "Sit, sit."

  Addison sighed as she lowered herself into the chair. She really needed to get some more exercise. She checked the wristband and was surprised to find she'd only done four thousand steps so far today, even with the walk through the town square as she waited for Layla.

  "Well?" Mrs Jones prompted.

  "Oh yes, the murder investigation. I was at the police station this morning. Isaac and the team had some more interviews to do today. That's about all I can tell you, though."

  "I wish they'd hurry up and solve it. All those reporters in town."

  Addison wasn't exactly sure how the reporters impacted Mrs Jones, given that she hadn't left her house in days, but she didn't ask.

  "So you're sure you're okay then?"

  "Yes, of course."

  Addison stood to leave, then turned to ask the question she'd come to ask.

  "Max walked you home the other night, didn't he?" she asked Mrs Jones. "After we brought in the new year?"

  "Yes he did. He's a nice young man. Why?"

  "When he left, do you remember which way he went?"

  Mrs Jones thought for a second. "He walked me in the back way, through the garden and into the house. Then I let him out the front door."

  "Did he turn left or right?" Addison asked.

  "I think he turned right and walked down towards the beach. Why?"

  "Oh, no reason," said Addison. "Would you like me to send a piece of cottage pie in for your dinner?"

  Mrs Jones shook her head. "No, you keep it to feed those hungry mouths you've got in there. I've taken something out of the freezer for tonight."

  "Okay. Bye." Addison went out through the back garden, taking Charlie home with her, and trying to process everything she'd found out today about Max.

  It looked like he and Erin knew each other. At the very least they were from neighbouring villages in Cornwall.