“A likely story.” Esme crossed to the window and lifted the net curtains for a better view of the car park. “Either way, you can tell it all to the police. They’re here.”
Regina entered the centre gingerly with one hand on her Taser.
“Sorry,” Esme called out. “I might have exaggerated the danger.” She gave the prone man a light kick with her foot. “He’s over here, looking far less threatening than he did originally.”
“Mr Westcott,” Regina said in a tired voice. “Didn’t I tell you to stay clear of the community centre? It’s part of your bail condition.”
She walked over and snapped a pair of straight cuffs on him, helping him to his feet. “The judge won’t look favourably over continued disturbances when she’s already been lenient with your sentencing.”
“I’ll continue to fight until I gain custody of my son!”
“Your son doesn’t live at the community centre,” the officer retorted. “They’re just trying to do their best to run a place for the townsfolk to enjoy, you included. This isn’t the right way to repay the thankless job it is to keep the centre open. Nor will it do you any good in your fight to regain custody.”
At the door, she turned back to the group. “It’ll help if you can all come down to the station right now if that’s possible. I’d like to get this arrest filed away before my end of shift.”
“We weren’t doing anything else,” Esme said, hurrying out the door.
Jon trailed along with more reluctance and Marjorie gave a shrug. “I suppose it beats door knocking.”
The station was busy for a Sunday with only two chairs in the waiting room available. At their surprised expressions, Regina explained, “It always gets like this around Christmas. Just wait till next week where we have half a dozen families who turn a minor disagreement over the table into a physical altercation.”
Jon stood, his back so ramrod straight that Marjorie doubted he would have sat even if space had been available. Esme stared around with an alert expression, obviously enjoying the novelty.
“Do you think they’re any closer to finding out who murdered Martin?” she asked in such a loud whisper Marjorie felt confident everyone in the building heard.
“I don’t know and it’s not really any of our business.”
“But should we tell them what his ex-wife and neighbour told us?”
“That they didn’t do it?” Marjorie asked with a chuckle. “I’m sure they’ve already told the police that a dozen times over.”
When Regina called her into an interview room, there were purplish-grey circles underneath her eyes.
“Haven’t you been getting enough sleep?”
The officer shook her head. “I haven’t been getting enough anything. No offence to anyone who loves this time of year, but I wish the festive season was over. It’d be nice to enjoy the summer without all the stress and weirdness the holidays bring.”
It’d been a long time since Christmas meant anything to Marjorie except two days with the café closed, but the holiday was still deeply entwined with memories of church in the morning, followed by presents, then the biggest meal of the year. Even if those things no longer happened, the emotions they stirred up gave her a warm glow.
The warmth appeared to be missing from the rest of Hanmer Springs.
“What did you want to know?”
They quickly ran through the events of the break in and Marjorie shifted in the wooden chair, feeling her skirt clinging to the backs of her legs in the heat. “Doesn’t the government budget stretch to air conditioning?”
“It’s broken. This place is so old half of it’s stopped working.”
The first flat Marjorie had stayed in after the breakdown of her marriage had been like that. She remembered sitting on the floor, howling after a light switch shorted the electric and the chair she sat on to recover from the shock broke. “Maybe you should ask for a new unit from Santa.”
Regina rolled her eyes and glanced over her scrawled notes. The entire interview was being recorded but Marjorie had noticed her friend liked to do things the old-fashioned way. “Where were you coming from?”
“Farther up the road from my place, probably an hour’s walk.” She tried to think of the last number she’d seen and only managed to ignite a small pulse in the back of her eyes.
“Near the camping ground?”
“Other way.” Marjorie snapped her finger as the letterbox from Jon’s place spun into her mind. “Two seventy-five. I saw someone was home, and it was plain luck to find Jon there with a van. I had no idea he lived that far out of town.”
“Jon Roscoe?”
Judging from the tight set of Regina’s mouth, Marjorie thought she’d said something wrong. “Yes,” she drawled. “That’s right.”
Regina slammed her palm flat on the table. “The idiot. That’s the place his old gang hangs out. As if they haven’t got him in enough trouble roping him into being their getaway driver, now he’s messing about with them again.”
Marjorie felt like a miserable snitch as she opened her mouth again. “That’s not all. I saw a pile of boxes in the front room of the property. There’s a good chance they’re the ones who stole the Christmas presents.”
Chapter Eleven
When the two women came back into the station waiting room, Marjorie couldn’t raise her eyes from the ground. Even if she’d done nothing more than tell the truth, her twisting stomach insisted her statement was vile.
“Jon Roscoe? I’ll see you next,” Regina said, shuffling him along the corridor towards the interview room without giving a single thing away.
“Was the questioning that bad?” Esme asked in surprise, then when Marjorie shook her head, “Why the long face?”
“I saw a whole pile of gifts in the front room of Jon’s place when I was walking along the driveway,” Marjorie admitted, close to tears. “Apparently, the house belongs to a gang.”
“Pfft. Not your fault if you saw something.” Esme leaned over to pat Marjorie on the knee. “My mouth is as loose as an oiled hinge so you can bet if I’d seen something, I’d spill the beans, too.”
“I just wish the wheel hadn’t broken, and we’d gone straight home.”
“In which case, that dreadful man would’ve broken into the community centre unseen and might’ve caused all kinds of damage. No matter how much sympathy I have with Evan over missing his son, there’s no call for his bad behaviour.”
The thought cheered Marjorie a little until Jon came back into the front of the station, his hands balled into fists. Regina’s jaw was clenched so hard it could have been carved from marble.
“Was it you that made up all those lies?” Jon asked, jerking his chin angrily at Marjorie. “I had nothing to do with robbing those presents!”
“Then the whole matter should sort itself out soon,” Esme said, fixing him with a hard stare. “And my friend doesn’t lie.”
“Come on,” Regina said, pulling at Jon’s elbow. “Show me what you’re talking about.”
“Why? So you can nick all my friends?”
“Nobody is arresting anyone without evidence. If your friends weren’t involved with the burglary, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I’ve watched enough about Teina Pora to know different.”
“How about you stop with the drama? I can either drive you back to the property and park out on the street, or I can pull up the driveway, lights flashing.”
Jon’s face blanched. “Can’t I drive you in the van?”
Regina snorted with amusement. “No, you can’t. I need to come back to work afterwards.”
“Then I’ve no way of getting home again.”
“That place isn’t your home.”
The two glared at each other, neither relenting until Marjorie cleared her throat. “How about I take the van keys and drop off the broken trolley before meeting you at the house? Then I can take you for a ride back to your actual home.”
“There you go
,” Regina said, pulling on Jon’s arm again. “Sorted. Throw the lady the keys.”
It was a short detour to check on the kittens and store the trolley in the back of the café, then Marjorie and Esme hit the road, retracing their afternoon journey. Regina’s police car sat a few houses along from the property, which must mean Jon was behaving.
Esme peered in the front window as Marjorie inched the van up the long driveway. “I see what you mean,” she said in a cold voice. “That looks exactly like what was taken from the centre.”
They knocked and Regina answered the door. “Come inside. Jon’s got a rather interesting story.”
Marjorie followed Esme into the lounge room, cupping her elbows. Jon sat on the sofa with a serious case of man-spread while two of his friends sat in recliners, waiting impatiently to return to their game.
“I felt bad about the kids missing out on their Christmas,” Jon said in a small voice, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I first found out about the party, I thought they were being spoiled rotten. I had nothing like that when I was a kid. Then the presents were stolen, and I couldn’t stop picturing how disappointed they’d be.” He cleared his throat as his voice thickened. “Perhaps if I had something nice like the party happen when I was younger, I would’ve turned out better.”
“You turned out alright, mate,” one friend said from his chair. “And it’s them should apologise for accusing you of stuff you didn’t do!”
“I’ve done enough in the past,” Jon said, cracking his knuckles. “Anyway, I had a think after hearing about the burglary and worked out I had enough in my savings to pay for a few replacement toys. I came around here to borrow the last few dollars I needed, and my mates decided they could contribute something too.”
“They’ve been canvassing everyone in town, raising funds for the presents,” Regina said, beaming with pride as though Jon were her son. “The gifts in the front room are donated goods or stuff they’ve raised the money to buy.”
A blush started at the neckline of Marjorie’s blouse, creeping steadily upwards until her entire face was bright crimson. “I should never have mentioned anything. I’m so sorry.”
“No need to apologise,” Regina said, though Jon’s face suggested he might have different thoughts on the matter. “And Jon knows full well it’s against the spirit of his sentence to be associating with these friends.”
The two young men in question shot her guilty grins before hunching lower in their recliners.
“You’ve had the same idea as us,” Esme said, clapping her hands together and beaming a smile at Jon. “Marjorie and I have been going door to door, selling biscuits and massages to afford to replace the presents. We should pool our resources and see how far we’ve still got to go.”
While Regina waved goodbye and backed out of the house, Esme and Jon eagerly set to work comparing lists and figures. After a phone call to Nigel to get an update on the fundraising page, Esme exclaimed, “But this is fantastic. We’re halfway there.”
“Only halfway?” Jon tugged at his ear, a worried expression on his face. “We’ve only got a few days left and I don’t know who else to call on.”
“What more do we need?” Marjorie asked, leaning over to squint at the totals. “I know someone who might help.”
There were six of them gathered at the Skinner residence. Jon and his two friends had insisted on coming, plus Esme and Marjorie, with Nigel driving to meet them there.
“I don’t think we all had to come out,” Marjorie said with a nervous laugh. “We might just scare them.”
“Oh, yeah.” Esme hooked up an eyebrow, scanning the motley crew. “We’re ferocious-looking, alright.”
“Just knock on the door,” Nigel said, switching his weight from one foot to another. “If you don’t do it soon, I’ll take over.”
Marjorie pressed the doorbell and stood back as a long tune played. When it died away, she could hear the clip of high heels coming along the hallway.
“Lillian,” she said warmly, taking a step forward and holding out her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me…”
“Marjorie.” Mrs Skinner peered over her shoulder and the wide smile faltered. “How can I help you?”
“Did you hear about the burglary at the community centre?” When the woman’s eyes widened in shock, Marjorie continued, “Well, we’re hoping you and your husband might help us out.”
“Claude?” Lillian backed away from the door, turning and shouting for her husband again, “Claude, there’s somebody here to see you.”
When he arrived at the door, he had a polite but puzzled expression on his face. “What’s this about?”
“I wondered if you’d heard about the Christmas present theft from the community centre?” Marjorie turned to the group, and they grew appropriately sad-eyed. “We’re fundraising to replace the items lost in the burglary.”
“Haven’t I donated to that already?” Claude asked, raising his eyebrows at his wife, who nodded. “I’m not made of money, you know.”
“We realise it’s a tough time for many people. That’s why we wanted to do something special for a benefactor who could take us to the goal.” Marjorie held up her hands, miming a headline. “The Claude Skinner Community Christmas Party. We’d name the whole shebang in your honour.”
“You would?” He stroked his chin and stared at the floor for a second.
“It sounds like a lovely way to be honoured by the community,” Lillian hastened to say, stepping forward. “Would there be a banner?”
Marjorie gulped and shot a panicked expression at the team.
“Obviously,” Nigel stepped forward, grabbing hold of Mrs Skinner’s hands and clutching them tightly. “It would make a wonderful keepsake. And we’d make sure the local press got a good selection of photographs for the paper. We’d take the best shot and frame it as a token of thanks for your generosity.”
“Can we really do that?” Esme whispered, looking doubtful.
Nigel gave a last pump of Lillian’s hands and stepped back. “We can do a rush job through the local printers,” he whispered to Esme. “Manny owes me a few favours.”
“What security would there be at the community centre?” Claude asked. “Only, I’d heard some items had gone missing even before the burglary.”
“What? Where did you hear that?” Esme squeaked while Marjorie stepped forward.
“Jon will provide security around the clock until the party is over,” she said, winking at the young man. “He’ll be camped out on the sofa in the room where the presents will be kept.”
When Claude continued to stare at his wife, undecided, Marjorie wrote the required figure and showed the page to the couple. “This is the amount we’re seeking.”
Lillian frowned, but not at the total. She bit her lower lip and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Was there more than one theft?”
Marjorie was pleased to see their entire group appeared confused. She didn’t understand the question herself but readily answered, “Not that we’ve heard of. The gifts all appeared to be taken on the same night, by the same culprits.”
“Perhaps someone at the centre got light-fingered and helped themselves before the burglary?” Claude suggested, then shrugged. “I’m sure we’ve all known light-fingered employees.”
“Nobody from the community centre took anything!” Jon said with his face burning. “Allie and I are there most of the time and the rest of the volunteers are honest people.” He stepped forward, poking Claude in the chest. “Or would you like to accuse me to my face?”
“I’m sure Mr Skinner didn’t—”
“Get off my property,” Claude said with a sniff. “I’ve already contributed to the party once and I don’t see why I should be harassed into donating again.”
He slammed the door.
“Merry Christmas,” Esme said and burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Despite their experience at the Skinner’s residence, everyone in the group
agreed to meet the next day and work out the next steps to raise the last of the money.
“Is there any chance the donation page will take off overnight?” Marjorie asked Nigel with crossed fingers, but he shook his head.
“I’ve advertised it as far as I can without spending more money than we’d be making. Unless a notable influencer picks it up out of the blue, it’ll just trickle in the same way it has been.”
That night, instead of slumping in front of the television, Marjorie opened her laptop and went onto various social media pages. Influencers should live there somewhere, shouldn’t they?
If they did, Marjorie didn’t know how to track them down. She made new accounts on sites she hadn’t bothered with in the past and followed the people a quick search told her might be helpful. How a person went from a follower to asking for the person to send out a message, she didn’t know.
“I’m the wrong generation for this lark,” she told Monkey Business as he curled up next to her. He opened his eyes and mouth wide, tongue lolling out. The gesture made her laugh, but it didn’t get her any closer to an idea.
As if trying to distract her, Toil and Trouble pushed an assortment of unread magazines off the coffee table. When she picked them up and scolded the kittens, they responded with chastened expressions, doing exactly the same again as soon as she settled on the couch.
“I don’t know whether to indulge you or lock you up,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the pair. “But so long as you stick with paper, I’m happy.”
They had little chance for anything else upstairs. After years of cohabitation with kittens, Marjorie had either fastened items securely on tabletops or wouldn’t weep over their demise.
“While I’m on here, I should check in with the breeder of your nemesis and see if she has another buyer lined up who’d take Shadow.”
Monkey Business feigned innocence at the name but stared intently at the screen as Marjorie searched through social media for the woman and gave a cry of triumph when she found her.
Lykoi Larceny Page 7