The Agatha Christie Book Club

by Larmer, C. A.

  “Wish I could,” said Alicia. “Unfortunately, I’m yet to talk to Wanda and I really want to tick that off. I’m gonna head over there after this. I think she’s hiding something and I intend to find out what!”

  Chapter 23

  Wanda Birchin took one look at Alicia through the plate glass window by her front door and promptly turned away. Funny the way the Agatha Christie Book Club members were starting to have this effect on people, Alicia thought, banging loudly on the door again.

  “Come on Wanda!” she called out. “I know you’re in there.” She was met by stony silence. “I just saw you, Wanda. Please, it’s really important!”

  A minute later the door swung open and Wanda stood before her in yet another flowing kaftan, but this time she didn’t look quite so relaxed.

  “Are you trying to get me into trouble?” she demanded.

  “Sorry?”

  “The police! Called me in yesterday, said they’d had a lovely little chat to you and were suddenly asking me all sorts of unexpected questions. Like I have anything to do with anything. I will tell you again what I told them, I am not Barbara’s buddy.”

  “No, but you were Arthur’s, right?”

  The older woman glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The construction work on Wanda’s face ensured she gave little away but Alicia wasn’t letting her off that easily.

  “You laughed at Claire and I when we came to visit last time, said we were clueless. Well, I’m not quite so clueless now, Wanda.” She waved one hand inside. “Please, can I come in? It’s important.”

  Wanda stared at Alicia for a few moments then, sighing dramatically, let her in, leading her back through the house, this time to the kitchen where she began to open the fridge before turning back.

  “White wine?”

  “White coffee would be better, thanks.”

  She mock snored and then pulled out a coffee plunger and proceeded to make a pot. She also produced two large white cups, some skim milk and a bowl of sugar.

  “So what did the police want?” asked Alicia.

  Wanda’s eyes snapped from the plunger to Alicia and back again. “A million and one questions. When had I last seen Barbara? When had I last seen Arthur? Where was I at such and such a time? Then, to make matters worse, they started grilling me about the blasted housekeeper. I mean, honestly, Alicia, I don’t know for a fact that he was sleeping with the woman, I just assumed that’s all. It’s one thing to gossip about it over a few drinks in the cabana, it’s quite another to be making accusations like that at the police station. Can’t you see, you could get someone in serious trouble!”

  “What, more serious than murder?” said Alicia. Wanda looked away. “I’m not going to apologise for passing on your suspicions, Wanda. If Arthur was being unfaithful, it opens a whole new can of worms.”

  “I don’t see how. Milk? Sugar?”

  “Just milk, thanks. Look, Arthur could have been killed by a jealous lover or husband. You just don’t know.”

  She laughed, that same, expressionless laugh. “Oh for goodness sake you are being so dramatic. What’s an affair between consenting adults?!”

  “You tell me.”

  She turned around to face Alicia. “There you go again. What are you suggesting?!”

  Alicia took a punt. “You were seeing him, weren’t you? Arthur, I mean. That’s why you fell out with Barbara. You were bonking her husband behind her back.”

  Wanda hesitated before saying drolly, “You make it sound so romantic. And don’t give me that look. It was hardly behind Barbara’s back. She knew all about it, or if she didn’t she was a bigger moron that I thought.”

  “So were you the one who kept phoning the house and then hanging up when Barbara picked up?”

  Wanda looked outraged. “Why on earth would I do that?! I’m not some pathetic little thing. Arthur and I are both grown ups, it’s just a bit of fun.” She paused. “Well, it was a bit of fun... We used to joke about it. Pretend we were going to dump our partners’ sorry butts and hook up, but we weren’t serious. I didn’t want to leave my husband and certainly not for Arthur! He’d be sleeping around on me in minutes. And for some Godforsaken reason Arthur wanted to stick with Barbara. I was fine with it and so was he. End of story.”

  “Did you tell this little story of yours to the police?”

  She paused, turned back towards the cabinet. “Of course I didn’t. I’m not stupid.”

  “Oh, Wanda. You have to tell them the truth.”

  Wanda snapped back around. Her eyes were fiery. “What and land myself firmly in it? I don’t bloody think so!”

  “But if you’ve got nothing to hide—”

  “I’ve got everything to hide, you silly girl! I happen to have the terrible misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “How do you mean?”

  She paused, handed Alicia the coffee cup then sighed. “Oh God I might as well tell you. I was with Arthur not ten minutes before he died.”

  Alicia was stunned. “Oh, I see.”

  “You see nothing! It was totally innocent but if the police know I’d seen him that day, they’ll try and pin it on me. They’ll tell my husband, it’ll destroy my marriage... what’s left of it.” She stared into her coffee cup glumly. “Grant will have a fit if he finds out.”

  “Your husband? He doesn’t know?”

  “Of course he doesn’t bloody know! I’m not as careless as Arthur, not so cavalier. Although I’m sure it’ll all come out now, thanks to you.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one sleeping around. But can we back up a bit? So you were with Arthur just before he was killed?”

  She groaned. “Apparently so. But not for long! He was doing his usual golf round, this house is close to the fifth hole in case you haven’t noticed, and he likes to drop in, sometimes.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  Wanda smirked at her. “He was here less than 10 minutes.”

  “Ooh that is a quickie.”

  “Oh give me some credit! I have much better form than that! We didn’t do anything. Actually, I was rather annoyed with him if you must know. I’d distinctly told him not to come.” She took a small sip of her coffee. “I’d called him at his house after lunch to see how he was coping and he said he’d drop in; I said, don’t you dare, Grant’s home early today. So, naturally, he ignores me and shows up, starts fawning all over me, declaring his undying love as usual. I sent him packing.”

  “What time did he show up? Exactly?”

  “At 4:20 p.m. I know because I had ten minutes to get him out of here before Grant was due home. His pulse was well and truly pumping when he left me, I can tell you that. And it wasn’t the only thing.”

  Now it was Alicia’s turn to groan. “So your husband was around, too, when Arthur was killed?”

  “He was here at the house, so?”

  Alicia placed her cup down and stared at her. She hadn’t connected the dots? “Sorry but aren’t you worried that Grant saw Arthur ‘fawning’ all over you and followed him back to the green and killed him in a fit of jealousy?”

  “My God, you could write a murder mystery yourself! No, that’s ludicrous. He came home at precisely 4:30 p.m. as planned—he’s always punctual, it’s rather annoying but you learn to cope—and he showed absolutely no signs of jealousy or anger or whatever you’re supposed to show if you’ve just seen your wife snogging another man. He was happy, had had some drinks at work, apparently—he’s a barrister you know. We simply shared a cocktail and then had dinner.”

  “So you can account for his whereabouts the whole evening?”

  She paused. “Well, most of it. I mean, he did go for a swim while I heated up dinner. Florrie had prepared a quite lovely salmon dish—”

  “Swim?”

  “Yes, Grant does laps in the evening. Stress relief, apparently.”

  “So he definitely did his laps that afternoon? You know t
his for a fact?”

  “I didn’t stand around holding his towel if that’s what you mean. But he came in huffing and red-faced, oh about 30 minutes later.”

  “Just like he’d look if he’d killed someone.”

  She gasped. “I resent that! Grant did not kill Arthur, he’s not some sort of psychopath who can smash someone’s head in with a 9-iron and then sit down calmly to eat dinner. Honestly.”

  Alicia stared at her. “How do you know it was a 9-iron?”

  “I don’t! I’m just guessing.”

  She let it drop, pushing her cup away. “I’m not trying to stress you out, Wanda, I’m just trying to get all the facts straight. You really need to go back to the police. Tell them all of this, about your meeting with Arthur, about the affair.”

  She shook her head wildly. “No! No I will not! Who made you jury, judge and executioner? Lives are a lot messier than you realise and when you finally become a grown-up you might understand that.”

  “I’m 30, Wanda, not 13.”

  “Then start acting like it! My affairs are my own damn business and they have nothing—I repeat, nothing—to do with you, your blasted book club, or any of this. You’ll soon see. They’ll discover who killed Arthur, and my husband will be none the wiser.”

  “And what about Barbara? Where will she be?”

  She sighed impatiently. “Look, I’m sorry about Barbara, I have no idea where she is, honestly I don’t. And I’m sorry about Arthur, too.” Her eyes welled with tears, catching Alicia by surprise. She brushed them away angrily. “Okay, so I had a soft spot for the silly bugger, lock me up if you want to, but I didn’t hurt him, or his wife for that matter. I can tell you this, none of it has anything to do with me.”

  “Or your husband, Grant?”

  “Especially Grant!”

  “I hope you’re right, Wanda,” Alicia said, getting up to leave. “Otherwise, you could be harbouring a killer, right under your perfect little nose.”

  This time a flicker of fear managed to break through Wanda’s rigid brow.

  Chapter 24

  As she manoeuvred her Torana along Rose Bay’s winding streets back home, Alicia’s mobile phone began to ring. She glanced in her rear vision mirror to check for police then, noticing none, scooped it up and answered. It was Anders and he sounded breathless.

  “How’d you go?” she asked.

  “Great,” he said, the line just slightly crackly. “Gorgeous Georgie was just as gossipy as I remembered, she already has her finger on the pulse. She’s amazing that woman.”

  “Oh, fabulous,” Alicia said through clenched teeth. “So what’d she have to say?”

  “Well it’s a long story. Want to meet up?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

  “How about a drink, my shout?”

  She glanced at the car clock. It was now almost 4:00 p.m. Time to put the killjoy to bed.

  “Love to, where?”

  “How about the Woolly Hotel near your place, make it easy for you?”

  “Sounds great. Shall I call the others?”

  He hesitated. “Um, no, I don’t think it’s that important... No need to bother them all this late on a Sunday.”

  She couldn’t help beaming. “Oh, right, okay. Well, I’ll see you there in about, oh, ten.”

  They clicked off and she did a little jiggle behind the wheel as she drove. A one-on-one with Dr Anders! She couldn’t wait.

  Now don’t start reading anything into it. She chastised herself. Anders probably just wanted to offload what he’d just learned; it was no doubt perfectly innocent. Still, as she drove back towards home, she couldn’t help hoping it was anything but.

  It took Alicia several minutes to find Anders when she first stepped into the Woolly Hotel. The place was packed to the rafters. A popular rock band was playing, wedged up on a small stage in one corner, and the sweaty hordes that swarmed the dance floor and bar were the largest she had seen in a long while.

  Great, she thought, this will be real romantic.

  After several minutes she spotted Anders standing on the other side of the pub, staring at the band with a slight, confused frown, two glasses of red wine in his hands. He was wearing black jeans and a checked shirt rolled up at the sleeves but still managed to look like a duck out of water. Alicia watched him for a moment from a distance, wondering how such a tall, athletic man could come across so soft and vulnerable. Where did that come from, she wondered?

  He sensed her staring at him and looked around, his frown instantly replaced by the most breathtaking smile. Alicia’s heart did that annoying double beat thing again. She pushed through the throng towards him.

  “You really are always early aren’t you?!” she hollered above the noise when she reached him.

  “I tell you, it’s a curse!” He laughed. “Hope you like cab cav! I grabbed you one, figured it’d be a decade before I managed to get back to the bar.”

  “Love it, thanks!”

  “Shall we head out back? Probably a bit quieter there!”

  “Sure!”

  Alicia took one glass and followed Anders as he led the way through the crowd and out to the beer garden at the back. He was right, the garden was almost deserted, the music luring most revellers inside, and they were grateful for it. There was just one other couple, well into their 60s, perched at another table and looking utterly bored. The woman glanced at them hopefully, the man coughed loudly, rolled his eyes a little and looked away. They clearly weren’t enjoying the ambience. Anders chose a back table, placed his glass down on a coaster and pulled a chair out for Alicia to sit down.

  “So, you want to go first?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant having momentarily lost herself in the fact that she was now alone at a table with Doctor Dreamy. Or at least she would be alone if only the older couple would rack off.

  “Sorry?” she said, batting her eyelashes shamelessly.

  “I rang your house,” he explained. “Spoke to Lynette. She told me you were over at Wanda’s, accusing her of hiding something, and you were doing it without any backup.”

  Alicia blushed. “Oh, yes, Wanda Birchin, of course!” She took a quick gulp of her wine, trying to refocus. “Right, well, I had a feeling there was more to Ms Birchin than she was letting on. And I was right. Wanda has been having an affair with Arthur Parlour, had been for some time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, it wasn’t very serious now you mention it, more like quickies between holes if you know what I mean. She lives right next door to his golf club, so it was way too convenient for both of them. But here’s the thing: Wanda saw Arthur just minutes before he died.”

  His deep brown eyes widened. “What? They were together?”

  “Wanda tells me nothing happened, that her husband was due home and she sent Arthur packing. And she insists he was perfectly fine when he left.”

  “And you believe her?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  “Still, it sounds very suspect to me. Do the police know?”

  “Not yet, I’m hoping she’ll tell them the truth. I gave her until the end of the day to ’fess up or I told her I’d call Inspector Ward myself. She looked ready to kill me.”

  He placed his glass down and frowned. “Be careful, Alicia, this isn’t a game.”

  “That’s what the good detective said. Don’t worry, Wanda Birchin is little more than a middle-aged Stepford Wife. She’s harmless.”

  “Not if she’s a Stepford Wife she’s not—have you seen that movie?”

  She laughed. “Nah, Wanda’s alright. I can’t say the same for her husband, though.”

  “Jealous kind?”

  “I haven’t met the guy but she seemed terrified of getting caught. I guess you would if you’d been sleeping around behind someone’s back. Pathetic behaviour.”

  Anders choked on his wine then, spilling a little of the red liquid down the front of his shirt.


  “Damn it!” he said and Alicia jumped up to grab some serviettes that were with the cutlery on a side table. She handed them over and he dabbed away.

  “Sorry, stupid of me.”

  “You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Alicia recalled the flicker of emotion that had crossed his face just moments before he choked. What was that look, she wondered? Guilt? Shame? It was the same look that Perry had flashed that first book club meeting. Like he was hiding something, something he wasn’t exactly proud of.

  Oh Alicia, she thought. You are so melodramatic! She tried to douse her overactive imagination as she watched him dab away at his shirt frantically.

  She touched his hand to calm him down. “Don’t worry about it, Anders, it’s just a dingy old pub. It’s not like the Queen’s about to walk in, inspect the troops.”

  They both laughed a little, disarming the tension. The elderly couple at the other table stared at them for a moment, then watched as Anders rolled the soaked serviettes into a ball and tossed them into a bin nearby.

  “Hate this shirt anyway,” he was saying. “My wife gave it to—”

  He stopped. Blushed crimson red. Looked flustered again.

  “You’re married?!” She almost leapt up when she said it, surprised by his admission and feeling suddenly very confused. She was sure he’d said he was single at that first club meeting.

  Had she misheard him?

  Had he lied?

  Anders stammered, “Oh, no... I mean yes, I mean...”

  Alicia stared at him. “You’re either married or you’re not, Anders. It’s pretty simple.” She half laughed, pretending it really didn’t matter that much.

  “Actually, it’s not that simple at all.”

  He looked away but before he did she spotted that same sense of guilt or shame or whatever it was she had seen earlier.

  It wasn’t all in her mind; something really was going on. Like Wanda, had he also slept around on his partner? Was he still trying to?