Alicia was shaking her head. “I know, it would be very convenient if we could point the finger at Rosa. But Roger tells me that she is taking no responsibility for that one, adamantly refuses to take the blame for Barbara. Insists she has no idea where the woman is. And, for some reason, I believe her.”
“If that’s true, and I’m not saying I think it is,” said Anders, “then that leaves us back at square one.”
They all looked deflated and sat sipping their wine for several minutes, the celebratory air now dissipated.
“Maybe we have to accept,” Anders said eventually, “that we’ll never know what happened to Barbara. Maybe Rosa did kill her and will never confess. Or maybe Arthur had something to do with it and with his death goes the secret we’ve been looking for.”
“Oh you’re so optimistic this evening,” groaned Perry.
“Sorry, but we need to face facts. Maybe we’ve taken this search as far as we can, people.”
He looked around the table and they began to nod one by one, all except for Alicia. She was not willing to give up just yet and she was furious with Anders for trying to turn the rest of them.
“Anders I told you before, if you want to walk away—”
“I’m just saying—”
She held her hands up to him and then turned to the group, who were now frowning, wondering what the hell was going on between these two.
“Listen, if anyone else wants to opt out now, please do. This amateur investigation of ours is not compulsory. Never was. It’s certainly not what you signed up for.” Her eyes flickered to Anders and back again. “The way I see it, we can still find Barbara. There are still some valuable clues we haven’t even looked into.”
“Like what?” This was Lynette.
“Like the missing letter.”
Alicia knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn’t just let it drop, not when it felt like they were so close.
“What missing letter?” asked Perry, stifling a yawn.
“Remember the police said that Barbara posted a letter from a post box on Pitt Street the day she disappeared? What was in that letter? Whatever happened to it? We never did find out.”
“Could’ve been a bill, something dull and unrelated,” suggested Claire.
“Or it could have been a suicide note!” countered Perry.
“No way,” said Lynette. “Niles told me she wouldn’t just do that, she’d tell him first. She told him everything.”
“Maybe she did,” said Perry. “Maybe that’s what was in the missing letter.”
“Then why didn’t Niles tell us? Or the cops? You asked him about the letter, Alicia, and he said she hadn’t sent him one.”
Alicia sat forward. “No, no, he said he hadn’t received one. That’s quite a different thing.”
“What do you mean?” Lynette asked and then stopped. “Oh of course, he couldn’t have received the letter. Oh Alicia you are so smart!”
The other club members looked from sister to sister confused, so Alicia explained: “Barbara was seen posting the letter on the Saturday that she disappeared, right? But we all know that mail doesn’t get sent on weekends. So that post box would not have been emptied until the following Monday. So, by the time it got sent—”
“It wouldn’t have got into Niles’ mailbox until the Tuesday at the earliest!” interrupted Lynette. “But Niles was evicted from his place the day before, on the Monday. He probably hasn’t even been back since then—he said the landlord had changed the locks, so chances are he can’t even get into the building to check his mail. Oh, my God! The letter could be sitting at his old apartment block, just waiting for someone to discover it. It could hold all the answers.”
They began to chatter excitedly, their enthusiasm miraculously renewed. All except for Anders who was leaning back in his chair, drinking his wine and looking depressed.
“We need to get hold of that letter,” said Alicia cutting through the noise.
“I’ll call Niles now,” said Lynette, reaching for her handbag. “Get him to rush over and get it.”
While Lynette found her phone, looked up the number for the Just Beachy Café and then stepped outside to place the call, the other members of the book club continued to talk excitedly between mouthfuls of wine and the final scraps from the platters. Within minutes Lynette was back but the look on her face was not encouraging.
“You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Both!” screamed Missy.
“The good news is, we were right. Niles hasn’t been back to get his mail since he got kicked out. The bad news is, the ex-landlord is way too efficient, and called Niles just today to tell him he was redirecting his mail to the café.”
Alicia’s heart flagged. “So are you saying it’s out there in snail mail land somewhere?”
Lynette nodded gloomily. “I think so. I asked Niles to call his landlord pronto to see if it’s already left, but I don’t like our chances.”
She sat back down and began munching on a stray alfalfa sprout, despondently. Within minutes her phone was beeping loudly. She stared at it.
“It’s a text from Niles,” she told them, tapping to retrieve the message. “Damn it. The mail was redirected this morning, won’t get to Balmoral until tomorrow arvo if we’re lucky. Niles also says the landlord can’t recall if there was any letter from Barbara. He didn’t notice.”
They all groaned.
“This is far too frustrating,” said Claire. “Now I can really empathise with Hercule Poirot and Jane Marple. Investigating is exhausting.”
“While we’re chasing up loose ends,” said Anders suddenly. “We never did work out why Rosa would place an ad in the newspaper classifieds. Anyone got any thoughts on that?”
Alicia stared at him, confounded. She could not work the guy out at all. One minute he was cold, the next he was hot.
“You’re right, Anders, what was that about?” said Lynette. “You know, it’s funny the way there’s all these odd little clues that seem to lead us absolutely nowhere. I was telling Alicia how it reminds me of a line I just read in Murder on the Orient Express.”
“Oh?” said Missy, intrigued.
“You know the drill: they’re on the train and Poirot has just found the body of a man stabbed 12 times in his compartment. He looks around and there’s a bunch of clues just sitting there by the dead body—a monogrammed hanky, a pipe cleaner, a burnt letter, that kind of thing. He says something like, ‘There are too many clues in this room’.” She paused. “I was thinking about this earlier today. That’s exactly what this case is like: too many clues. They’re confusing us.”
“Maybe they’re supposed to,” said Missy.
“Speaking of clues,” said Perry. “We never did track down that missing jewel, either. You know, the one that was sent to somebody who works in Hydro, or something like that.”
“Hydro!” said Alicia, dropping her glass to the table and almost spilling the contents across it. “Oh my god, with all the excitement over Rosa, I forgot all about it!”
She leaned down and grabbed her handbag that had been wedged underneath her chair, and within seconds was showing off the magnetic ad for the Hydro Majestic.
“According to this, it’s a luxury spa,” she told them. “Holly tells me it’s not her mum’s normal hang. I meant to Google it at work but forgot all about it.”
“Oh, I remember this place,” said Claire, taking it from her. “It’s a stunning spa resort up in the Blue Mountains. I would have mentioned it the other day when we were discussing the Hydro but I thought it had closed down.”
“Then why are they advertising?” asked Alicia. “This doesn’t look old and see at the bottom, there, Claire, it says, ‘Now taking bookings’.”
“Let’s find out,” said Lynette grabbing it from Claire and then keying the name into her smartphone. She logged online and began tapping away.
“Yep, here is it. Oh it looks very fancy schmancy.”
She held the
phone out so they could see the image of a stunning, whitewashed hotel on its tiny screen. Alicia jumped up and peered over her sister’s shoulder as she scrolled down the page to find out more.
“Says it’s been refurbished. Only just reopened about a month ago.”
Alicia threw one hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! That’s it! I’ve been so blind! What’s the contact number for it, Lynette?”
“Hang on, I’ll find out.” She pressed a link and a phone number and address popped up.
Alicia grabbed her own phone again, and dialled the number while the rest of the group stared at her, wide-eyed, not quite sure what she was up to, but electrified nonetheless. Even Anders looked reinvigorated and had stopped clutching onto his wine glass like a buoy.
“Hello, Hydro Majestic, how can I help you?” came a chirpy man’s voice from the other end.
“Oh, hello there,” Alicia said breezily, winking at the others. “I’m looking for Barbara Parlour.”
Perry gasped, Anders’ eyes narrowed and the others just looked confused.
“I’m sorry?” came the voice at the other end of the line.
“Um, could you put me through to Barbara Parlour’s room, please?”
Alicia crossed her fingers and waited.
Chapter 29
Most members of the book club had now deserted the restaurant, anxious to get home and appease loved ones. All that remained were Missy, who was gathering her things to go, Lynette, who was counting the cash they had all dumped in front of her, and Alicia who was leaning across the table, head in her hands, looking dejected.
“Well what did you expect?” said Lynette, giving her a prod. “Did you really think that Barbara was hanging out at some luxury spa oblivious to the fact that there’s an international search underway for her? Not to mention a dead husband and an orphaned child?”
Alicia groaned. “Alright, alright it’s a bit out there, I know, but it does happen.”
“When, Alicia, when does it happen?”
Missy, who was just standing up to go said, rather flippantly, “Well, it happened to Agatha Christie of course.” She stopped and giggled. “But there I go again, rabbiting on about Agatha Christie! Okay you two, try to cheer up and I’ll see you—”
Alicia sat up. “What did you just say, Missy?”
Missy stopped and looked at her, a little flustered now. “Oh, sorry, I’m just saying, you know, that Agatha Christie did exactly that. A million years ago of course.”
When both sisters stared at her, baffled, she added, “You guys must have heard that story before? You know, when she disappeared in real life? Went walkabout for a week or so. There’s a good book about it in the library, actually. Called Missing for 10 Days or something like that. It has all the juicy details—”
“Just tell us what happened,” interrupted Alicia. “To Agatha. This vaguely rings a bell.”
Missy dropped her bag on the table and sat back down. “Well, that’s the thing; it was such a mystery at the time. And involving the queen of mystery herself! You couldn’t have made up a better story! You see, one day, back in 1925 or thereabouts, Agatha Christie just took off in her car and no one had a clue where she’d disappeared to. She just had a coat and handbag, nothing else apparently, and the police became suspicious that she’d been murdered. There was a giant manhunt for her body. They all assumed the cheating first husband, Archie Christie, had killed her and dumped her body in some lake. Police even drained it, looking for her, would you believe?!”
“So what had happened to her?” asked Lynette, enthralled.
“Well, possum, it turns out she was sitting quietly at some luxury spa pretending to be someone else. Claims she had amnesia or something, but no one really knows, and Agatha has never spoken about it. So the mystery lives on.”
“God, this sounds so familiar, I do know this story,” stammered Alicia. “I just can’t remember all the details.”
“But hang on,” said Lynette. “What was she doing there if she didn’t have amnesia?”
“Personally, I reckon she was teaching the unfaithful husband a lesson.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Lynette. “You’re saying that in real life, Agatha Christie disappeared and was hanging out for over a week at some hotel and no one knew who she was? Sorry, Missy, but that sounds a bit far fetched. I mean she was a pretty famous author even while she was alive.”
“Her name was famous,” Missy reminded her. “But you have to understand this was before the internet and TV gossip shows and the like. Celebrities, especially authors, weren’t so recognisable back then. You didn’t have a million pictures of them popping up everywhere. It’s not like today where everyone knows exactly what J.K. Rowling looks like. Besides she was using a pseudonym remember.”
“That’s it!” squealed Alicia. “Why didn’t I see it earlier?!” She turned back to Missy. “Do you know what name Agatha went under?”
“At the spa? Not off the top of my head, no.” She paused. “Pity Barbara’s missing. She would know. I looked up her file again at the library the other day and she took that very book out, the one I just mentioned, Missing for 10 Days, oh about a month before the book club started. The story would be fresh in her mind.”
The look of shock that crossed Alicia’s face was priceless. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” she squealed, catching the eyes of the few remaining patrons and staff. “Has she returned it?”
“Yeah, why?”
Alicia glanced at her watch then grabbed her handbag and jumped to her feet. “Come on, we’ve got to go!”
“Go? Where?” said Missy and Lynette in unison.
“To the library, of course! We need to get that book out and we need to get it now!”
Chapter 30
Ten minutes later the three women were standing out the front of the library where Missy worked. She had her keys in her hand and a deep frown across her brow.
“I can not believe I let you talk me into this,” she told Alicia who was tapping her toes impatiently beside her. “Geraldine will have my hide if she finds out I’m opening up now. It’s 10:45 p.m! I mean, it’s one thing to let you guys hang out a bit late one evening—I could just pretend I was catching up on filing, it’s not like I ever have my work done on time—but to illegally open this late?! Not sure how I’m going to explain this one, and she’s looking for any excuse to get rid of me.”
“It will all be worth it in the long run, I promise you,” said Alicia. “I really appreciate this, Missy.”
“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Nope, no way. I need that Agatha Christie book and I need it now! Can’t you see, she’s following it like a script. But I don’t have all the details...”
Missy didn’t have a clue what Alicia was talking about but took the keys and opened the door anyway, rushing inside to turn off the alarm, before ushering the sisters in. “I know I said to go back to Agatha Christie but I didn’t mean it this literally!” Alicia smiled. “I’m not going to turn the main lights on, they’ll get spotted from the street, but here...”
She strode over to a back room and flicked the switch there. “This will give us enough light to go by. Okay, let’s be quick, me lovelies. Now, it’s called Missing for 10 Days or Ten Missing Days or something like that, and I’m pretty sure it’s in reference...” She strode across to the relevant section. “Not going to switch the computers on either, that’s a dead giveaway. We can find it if we hunt around.”
“You don’t know the author’s name?” asked Lynette.
“Normally I do! It’s right on the tip of my tongue, but all this excitement is turning my brain to mush... Doesn’t matter, if we search we should be able to find it. It’s a smallish book, white cover, picture of Agatha on the front.” She stopped and giggled. “Duh! It’ll be under C for Christie. I am such a dunce tonight!”
She raced along the aisle and began scanning the shelf marked ‘C’. It did not take long for Missy to give a little yelp. Sh
e promptly shooshed herself.
“Here it is!” she whispered, pulling a book out and holding it up for them to see.
Titled Eleven Missing Days: The Agatha Christie Mystery, it was written by C.G. Johnson and was quite a slim book, clearly devoted to that specific time in Christie’s life.
“This shouldn’t take too long,” said Lynette grabbing it from her and flicking through the pages. “What are you hoping to find in here, Alicia?”
“More clues.” She turned to Missy. “Do you need to check it out?”
“No way, José! It’ll record the time and then I really will be in trouble. No, as far as I’m concerned you stole it earlier today and it has nothing to do with me! Just get it back quietly and no one will ever know.”
She snatched the book from Lynette and thrust it into Alicia’s hands as though it was a hot potato.
“Fine by me,” said Alicia. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve got some serious reading to do.”
Later that night, as Missy made her way home and Lynette headed off to bed, Alicia returned to her own room, changed into pyjamas, slipped under her bed covers and began to read. The story that unravelled before her was enthralling.
It also sent prickles of anger racing through her body.
Chapter 31
The Blue Mountains is a pleasant train ride from Central Station in the heart of the Sydney, and it took Alicia just under two hours to reach Medlow Bath, home to the wondrous Hydro Majestic hotel. She had brought Eleven Missing Days with her to pass the time, but couldn’t help thinking instead of Anders, and his morning visit.
The doctor had shown up just before 8:00 a.m. Both sisters were awake and getting ready when they heard a firm knock on the front door. Lynette was preparing for work, she couldn’t take anymore time off if she wanted to survive the week at Mario’s, but Alicia had already called Ginny to tell her she would not be in. It was time to put the mystery to bed at last.
The Agatha Christie Book Club Page 22