End of the Lane

by Sonia Parin

  “This doesn’t look good at all.” Her voice shook, right along with her fingers. She drew out her cell and dialed 911 only to remember she wasn’t back home. “Think. Think.” She’d skimmed through some basic information during her flight. Contrary to popular belief, kangaroos did not roam freely through the streets. Also, cars were driven on the left-hand side and the steering wheels were on the right-hand side. The country played host to the deadliest critters around. Spiders. Snakes. Even octopuses with pretty yet deadly blue rings.

  Among all that information, there had been a list of emergency services.

  Her gaze bounced between her cell phone and Dermot Cavendish. She still couldn’t see his chest moving. But she had to be sure. Even as she did a quick search for the local emergency number, she pressed her fingers against his neck.

  She stood there gazing at his vacant eyes and then stepped back and dialed 000.

  The sound of a distant voice pulled her out of her stupor.

  The operator asked which emergency service she required. A simple enough question. For someone who made a living out of playing with words she suddenly struggled to think of anything appropriate to say. “I think he’s dead. In fact, I’m sure he is.”

  Abby took a few stumbling steps back until she came up against a wall. She looked around the room as if searching for something. Although what, she had no idea.

  Her new employer... dead.

  Chapter Two

  ABBY HELD SOMETHING WARM, comforting and familiar between her hands. She must have looked puzzled because she heard someone say, “Coffee.” Abby looked up. “Smells good.”

  “It’s from Joyce’s Café. She calls it Wake Me Up Before The Sun Comes Up. She made me say it three times so I wouldn’t forget. Just in case you liked it and wanted to order it again.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice sounded croaky. Abby took a sip. “Joyce’s Café?”

  “Around the corner. On the main street. You can’t miss it. Just follow the aroma of coffee.”

  That sounded reassuring. She took a longer sip. “I believe it’s about to become my home away from home. This is very good.”

  “I’ll tell Joyce you said so.”

  Abby drank half the coffee in one gulp. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Detective Inspector Ryan.”

  “I’m Abby Maguire.”

  He gave her a small nod. Abby couldn’t remember if she’d already introduced herself. The last hour or so had become a haze of too many things happening at once. Her lingering jet lag had completely annihilated her reporter’s instinct. She had a vague memory of the police arriving along with the ambulance and of being escorted out of the sitting room and into an adjoining book lined room. Everyone had spoken in hushed tones. She also remembered seeing a couple of people dressed in white jumpsuits. Crime scene investigators, she assumed.

  Abby looked around the room she sat in. Every available wall space was covered with floor to ceiling bookcases. In all the time she’d been sitting here, she hadn’t picked up a single book, which said a great deal about how she felt.

  “Are you up to talking?” the detective asked.

  “Dermot Cavendish? Is he...?”

  The detective nodded. “His body has just been removed.”

  He hadn’t left. He’d been removed. No, not him. His body had been taken away and he’d become ethereal. Yet in her mind, he remained Dermot Cavendish, the man she’d traveled half way around the world to work for.

  “He’d been expecting me. I’ve only recently arrived in the country, but I’m on a different time zone so I’m still trying to adjust.” She knew she was rambling, but now that she’d started talking she couldn’t stop. “I thought I’d come by to introduce myself. I’m... well, I was the new reporter at the Eden Rise Gazette. My first assignment was going to be this weekend’s bake sale. I’m... I was supposed to find a story somewhere about Lamingtons.”

  The detective nodded. “The Lamington saga. It’s been going on for ages.”

  Lamington saga?

  He cleared his throat. “Do you remember what time you arrived?”

  Abby forced herself to focus. “Before midday. My flight arrived at six this morning. It took me about an hour to get through customs and collect my new car. Well, not really new, but new to me. I purchased it online. Then I drove here.” She gazed at him and had the strangest feeling he was humoring her. Or worse. She was giving him too much information. She hoped he didn’t take that as a sign of guilt.

  Guilt?

  “It’s a three-hour drive from Melbourne,” he said.

  “I drove slowly. I’m not used to driving on the left-hand side, so I had to take extra care. Then I stopped.” She pressed the cup to her lips. “I picked up a dog.” She saw the detective frown. “Did that sound odd? It sounded odd to me. Like something out of sequence. Anyhow, I arrived in Eden and took the stray, Buddy, to the vet.” She gave a small nod as if to confirm what had happened. She hoped she hadn’t imagined it because then that would mean she’d stepped into some sort of Twilight Zone episode where no one would believe her. Abby shifted in her chair. “When I called the ambulance I’d only been in the house a couple of minutes. I’m sure they’ll be able to verify the time.”

  “What about when you entered the house. Did you hear anything? See anyone?”

  “No, the place was empty... except for Mr. Cavendish. At least I assume it was. I didn’t move away from the room where I found him.” She frowned. “When I arrived I heard music playing. A piano tune. Then it stopped. If that helps...”

  He made a note of it.

  She leaned forward and looked across the hallway to the sitting room where she’d found Dermot. “Was it a CD?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “If you look at the running time, you’d get a rough idea of when he’d been alive.”

  “What sort of reporter are you?”

  “Lifestyle.” Although, she wouldn’t be able to describe the room she’d been sitting in to save her life. Her mind had simply shut down. “Dermot Cavendish thought I’d be a perfect fit for his small newspaper.” She drank the rest of the coffee and wondered if she’d already told him that. Blabbering. That had to be a sign of guilt...

  “Would you like another coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” She twirled the empty cup in her hands. “I can’t even remember if I saw cars driving by. There must have been. I encountered a few people along the way, but I can’t say that I noticed anything or anyone in particular.” Forgetting she’d drunk her coffee, she lifted the cup to her lips. “He’d been drinking tea.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember why she knew this. “I think I saw a teapot on a small table beside his armchair.”

  “Lukewarm.”

  “Pardon?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “It’s up to the coroner.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Cause of death needs to be determined. Especially if there is no pre-existing illness.”

  “So, there might be an autopsy?” she asked.

  “His next of kin needs to be informed first. Until then, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”

  “Am I free to go?”

  “Yes. How can we contact you?”

  She gave him her number. “I’m staying at The Gloriana.”

  The detective walked her out of the house. The sun had disappeared behind a cover of puffy clouds, but the sky didn’t look threatening. If anything, she felt overdressed for the mild weather. Abby pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and strode at a sedate pace, her thoughts in stasis. The moment her head hit the pillow, she knew she’d fall instantly asleep.

  When she reached her car, she grabbed her small suitcase and headed straight to the pub. Lunch service appeared to be in full swing. Conversation and music mingled.

  “G’day.”

  She smiled at the sound of the typi
cal Australian greeting. “I have a booking. Abby Maguire.” The man stood a head taller than her. He had bright blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief.

  “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Mitch Faydon.”

  She gave him a small smile, all she could manage considering her sleep deprivation and shock.

  “Is that all your luggage?” he asked.

  “No, the rest is in my car. I’ll get it later.” After she’d settled in. Abby raked her fingers through her hair. Then again, her stay might just have been cut short.

  Mitch Faydon took her suitcase and said, “Follow me.”

  The pub had the air of a hunting lodge with trophies and rifles hanging on the walls along with a large display of black and white and sepia colored photographs. A large stone fireplace sat at one end with a couple of comfy high-backed chairs positioned with enough room to stretch out and drink at leisure. The walls surrounding it were all wood paneled.

  The stairs creaked under her feet. Abby brushed her fingers across her forehead as she remembered striding in to Dermot Cavendish’s house and stepping on a loose floorboard.

  “Here we are.”

  The room looked comfortable in a homey sort of way with more perks than the average hotel room. “This looks like a deluxe room.” Or a private apartment.

  Mitch Faydon smiled. “Dermot called us to say we should make you feel welcome and comfortable.”

  “How kind.” The words caught in her throat. She’d promised to keep quiet about Dermot. The truth would eventually come out and Mitch Faydon would know she’d withheld the news.

  “If you need anything, just pick up the phone and dial one. Either I’ll pick up or one of my brothers will. If you hear a deep grumble, don’t be concerned. That’s just my brother Markus. We’re still house training him.” He gave her an easy smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as the door closed, Abby collapsed on the bed face down and moaned. Annoyingly she laughed as she recalled wondering if she’d remember anything from that day. How could she ever forget starting this new chapter in her life and finding it might actually come to a premature end before she could live to regret her decision?

  The thought faded and she dozed off.

  Chapter Three

  THE INCESSANT RINGING OF HER cell phone pulled Abby out of a deep slumber. Peeling one eye open, Abby looked at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?” Abby mumbled.

  “Abby, it’s Faith. Faith O’Keefe from the newspaper. We met this morning. I just heard what happened.”

  “What happened?” Abby asked, her voice still in slumber mode.

  “Dermot’s gone...”

  Abby rolled onto her back. Dermot Cavendish. Dead. “Dreadful news,” she managed to say as she rubbed her eyes. “How... how did you find out?”

  Faith hesitated. “A neighbor stopped by and told me about it. She saw everything.”

  “Which part?”

  “The police and ambulance arriving. That was enough to alert everyone. We’re all in shock. No one ever imagined this could happen here.”

  Abby supposed the police would eventually do a door-to-door sweep of the area to ask if anybody had seen anything or anyone.

  “Any idea how it happened?” Faith asked.

  “I couldn’t say. I walked in and there he was, on the armchair.” She brushed her hand across her face. There had been a pot of tea on a small table and... a cup. A cup and saucer tipped over on the floor. Had she mentioned that to the police? No, of course she hadn’t because she’d only thought about it now. “Did he have any family?”

  “His grandson. The police dropped by a while ago to get his contact information. They told me not to talk to anyone but I figured it would be okay to call you since you’re the one who found him.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Faith sighed. “The neighbor. She noticed you standing outside Dermot’s house.”

  Abby brushed her hand across her face again. She felt bleary eyed and thirsty. Sending her gaze skating around the room, she spotted a small refrigerator and tried to will herself to move but couldn’t quite manage it. “Did she also happen to notice the killer?”

  “So he was killed.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Abby backpedaled as fast as she could. How could she have let that slip?

  “Yes, you did.”

  Why had she? Abby frowned up at the ceiling and then remembered the police wearing white jumpsuits, crime scene investigators, she thought, there to gather forensic evidence. “Forget I said it.”

  Faith laughed. “That’s silly. It’s like in those films or TV shows were the judge instructs the jury to disregard the remark made by the lawyer or the witness, never mind that it always happens to be something significant. How exactly is someone supposed to forget something they just heard?”

  Easy, Abby thought. “Don’t think about it.” She rolled off the bed and made a beeline for the refrigerator, her mind focused on getting some water.

  “Hard to do when it’s all anyone can talk about.”

  Abby groaned lightly. She tucked the bottle between her legs and twisted the cap off. “How are you holding up? The news must have come as a shock to you.”

  “It hasn’t sunk in yet. I expect him to walk in through the door any minute. I guess I’m in denial.” Faith’s voice shook. “I’ve worked for Dermot for six years. He gave me my first job. Now...” Faith huffed out a breath. “This will probably sound insensitive, but I’ve no idea what I’m going to do. Jobs around here don’t crop up every day.”

  “You think the newspaper will close?” Abby asked.

  “Most likely. His grandson’s never had any interest in keeping it running. The last time he came to visit Dermot, they argued. He wanted Dermot to retire and go live in the city.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He owns the Daily First, it’s a national newspaper.”

  Abby frowned then mentally smacked her hand against her forehead. Sebastian Cavendish owned the Daily First. She’d known Dermot had been at the helm years before but had since stepped down to focus on the small town newspaper. Why hadn’t she made the connection before now?

  It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out Sebastian Cavendish wouldn’t be the slightest bit interested in a small-town press.

  “Are you all right?” Faith asked.

  “I’m... Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” These last few months had been a whirlpool of chaos. She hadn’t been thinking straight long enough to realize Sebastian and Dermot were related. There’d been a rumor flying around about Sebastian’s global conglomerate being behind the takeover of the newspaper she’d worked for in Seattle…

  “It’s the end of an era,” Faith said, “Dermot’s grandfather founded the Eden Rise Gazette. It’s how the family got into the newspaper business. Now we’ll have to close the doors.”

  Without the Gazette, there would not have been a Daily First and Dermot’s grandson might never have gone into the business, Abby guessed. “Maybe the grandson will keep it running for its sentimental value or sell it as a going concern.”

  “I wish. But who’d be interested in buying something that doesn’t turn a profit. A couple of years ago, Dermot made the gazette free. There’s no coming back from that.”

  “Don’t worry, Faith. As the saying goes, it might never happen.”

  “You think Sebastian Cavendish will keep the paper?”

  Abby didn’t want to raise her hopes. “I can’t know what he’ll do. I haven’t even met the guy.”

  “You will soon enough. He’ll be coming for the funeral.”

  “That might take a while to sort out.”

  “It’s all organized. I typed up Dermot’s detailed instructions a couple of years ago. He was very particular about the music he wanted played at his service and the guest list... He’d even written his own obituary.” Faith sighed. “I hate talking about him in the past tense.”

/>   Abby sat up. “Had he been ill?”

  “Ill? No, not that I know of. He’d been fit. Every day he used to walk around town stopping for a chat with people.”

  “Was that a habit with him or did he take up walking on doctor’s orders?” Maybe the signs had been there but no one had noticed.

  “He was a health fanatic and a vegetarian, which made him a bit of an oddity in these parts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s cattle country. You’re staying at the pub. Just look at the menu. They serve slabs of meat. Although, the new chef they hired a while back made some changes to the menu.”

  “So, he didn’t have a pre-existing condition,” Abby mused. That meant there’d be a post mortem to determine cause of death. “Well, even healthy people have to meet their end.”

  “There’s another call,” Faith said, “Do you mind holding?” Faith didn’t wait for her to answer.

  Abby frowned and decided she had to be in shock and in need of someone to talk to. Shortly after she came back on the line.

  “Sorry about that. It was Sebastian Cavendish. He’s already been informed.”

  “How did he sound?” Abby asked, her reporter’s curiosity kicking in.

  Faith answered distractedly, “He always sounds brisk. As if he’s ticking a task off a list but he was polite enough to ask about me. It’s strange. I didn’t actually expect to hear from him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s the type to delegate. He has scores of people to pick up the slack. Anyway, he wanted to know if Dermot had made funeral arrangements and he wants to go through some documents tomorrow.”

  “He’s coming to Eden now?”

  “Yes, although he said it might be a while before the body is released. I guess he wants to start getting the ball rolling.” Faith moaned. “I’m never going to find a job as good as this one. And now I just heard myself. Sorry, I’m still in shock.”

  “How about you meet me at the pub for a drink,” Abby suggested.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Give me half an hour to freshen up.” Abby looked at her suitcase. She didn’t see any point in unpacking now so she rummaged through it for a change of clothes but left everything else for later on.