Arson at the Art Gallery

by Grace York

Dennis nodded and smiled at Layla, before regarding Addison with a confused look.

  "This is Addison, Dad. Your niece. You remember her?"

  After a moment's consideration Dennis nodded, although not with the same enthusiasm as his greeting for Layla. Addison doubted he knew who she was.

  "You not talking today, Dad?"

  Dennis shook his head, and pointed to the book on his bedside table. Addison leaned forward to read the title. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Layla had said Dennis liked being read to.

  Layla settled into the chair beside the bed, picked up the book, and searched for her place. Before she could start reading one of the nursing staff entered the room. She was a large lady with a kind face.

  "Hi Angie," said Layla. "This is my cousin, Addison."

  Angie came around the bed and pulled Layla in for a hug. "I was so sorry to hear what happened," she said in a low voice. "Hi Addison," she added.

  Addison nodded a greeting, keeping one eye on her uncle to see if he'd registered that something was wrong. He didn't seem to understand.

  "Can I get you girls anything?" said Angie, letting Layla settle herself back in the chair.

  "We're fine," said Layla. "Dad wants me to read some more of Harry Potter to him."

  "He does seem to enjoy those books." Angie fussed with Dennis's pillows, making sure he was comfortable. Addison was touched when Angie gently stroked Dennis's forehead.

  "Actually, I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," Addison said. "Can you show me where I can make one, Angie?"

  "Of course. Follow me."

  Addison didn't really want a cup of tea. She wanted to give Layla some time alone with her father. She also wanted to ask Angie how he was doing.

  "It looks like Dennis is being well cared for," she said.

  "We do our best," Angie replied as she led the way down the hall. "They get to be like family, you know. Dennis has been with us for three years now. He's a lovely man. Not very talkative lately, unfortunately. But that happens."

  "How is he doing? I mean, Layla told me he wasn't too well. Infections, or something. Can you tell me any more?"

  Angie turned down a corridor to the left and they stepped into a small lounge area. There was a kitchenette in the corner with tea and coffee making facilities.

  "I can't give you any details, sorry, as you're not immediate family. But yes, he isn't doing terribly well. That's why his other daughter was in town, as you probably know. We're not sure how much longer he has left. All we can do now is keep him comfortable."

  "Well it looks like you're doing a great job of that. Layla says all the staff here are wonderful."

  Angie smiled. "It's terrible, this business with Layla's sister and the fire. I heard about it on the news this morning. When I got here the rest of the staff were talking about it. Poor Layla. She's such a lovely woman. And a caring daughter. She's here nearly every day."

  Addison was surprised all the staff were talking about the fire already. She'd heard about small-town gossip, but never experienced it first-hand. It was definitely different to living in Sydney.

  "Has Uncle Dennis been told about the fire?" she asked. "About Jenna?"

  "Not by us," said Angie.

  "Layla was worried about how she was going to tell him."

  "If you want my advice, I wouldn't tell him at all."

  "Oh? Why's that?"

  Angie lowered her large frame onto the couch in the room and patted the seat next to her for Addison to sit.

  "Most of the time Dennis thinks his daughters are still little girls. If you were to tell him that Jenna was dead, he would feel the grief as if he were a young father losing a small child. In my opinion, he's not strong enough for that."

  "So you think it's kinder not to tell him one of his daughters is dead?"

  "I know it sounds mean, but yes. These last two years Dennis has frequently spoken of his wife as if she were still alive. Mentally, he's back in the prime of his life. Whenever Layla told him the truth, that her mother had passed away years ago, he either refused to believe it, or he went through the grieving process all over again. Eventually we recommended Layla go along with his version of things."

  Addison could see why it would be kinder, but still, it seemed wrong. Deceitful.

  Angie must have sensed her reservations. "It would be different if he were still living out in the world, having to manage a household and everyday tasks. But in here he's safe. In here, he can live whatever version of reality his mind wants him to."

  That made sense. "Thank you," Addison said. "For taking such good care of him. And of Layla."

  Angie's face lit up with a warm smile. "That's what we're here for. Now, shall I make you that cup of tea?"

  "No, thanks. I'd better get back to them."

  Layla was wrapping up a chapter when Addison found her way back to the room. Dennis had drifted off to sleep.

  "He looks peaceful," Addison whispered.

  Layla nodded. She marked her place in the book, then set it back on the side table. She leant forward and kissed her father on the forehead, and they left him to sleep.

  "I'm so pleased he's in here," Layla said once they reached the Rav. "It's one less thing for me to worry about."

  "Did you tell him about Jenna?"

  "No. I couldn't bring myself to do it."

  Addison relayed what Angie had told her as they climbed into the Rav and headed for the beach house.

  "She's probably right," said Layla. "I guess telling him would be more for my benefit than his. It wouldn't do any good, though. The dad I need to comfort me is long gone."

  Addison reached over and squeezed Layla's hand. "I'm here for you," she said. It felt like such a small gesture. They hadn't seen each other for years. But it looked like Addison would soon be the only family Layla had left.

  10

  As she steered the Rav 4 into the driveway of the beach house, Addison was surprised to see Olivia was not alone.

  "Have you made a new friend?" Addison called out as she and Layla approached the house with the bags of shopping.

  Olivia smiled, and the little dog at her feet barked. "He just came and plonked himself on the verandah. He doesn't have a collar. No ID."

  Addison dumped her bags and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. He promptly rolled over and produced his belly for a rub. Addison obliged. He was a cute little fellow, but she had no idea what type of dog he was. There seemed to be a bit of everything in there. She could tell he was quite young, though. His white fluffy fur was matted in places, but otherwise he looked well cared-for.

  "We'll have to find out where he's from," she said. "He looks like he might have escaped from somewhere." She ran her hands over the matted sections of his coat. "He's probably been out for a while."

  "You can take him to Juliet," said Layla. "She's the local vet. She might have an idea who he belongs to."

  "Good idea." Addison picked up the bags she'd dropped, and she and Layla went inside the house. Olivia and the dog followed. "Will you be okay here by yourself if we take him now?" Addison asked Layla.

  "Sure."

  Addison turned to walk back outside but stopped when she saw the police cruiser pull into the driveway behind her Rav.

  "Maybe we'll stick around for a bit," she said as Detective Wilcox and Senior Constable Short made their way to the open front door.

  "I'll find this little guy something to eat," said Olivia. "Come on, fella." She led the dog into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

  Wilcox knocked on the open door.

  "Come in," said Addison. Layla had settled herself onto the couch again. "Do you have any news?"

  "Not much has changed since this morning," said Wilcox. "We've got some more questions for Layla." He turned to address her on the couch. "May we speak to you in private?"

  "Why?"

  "We've got some questions of a personal nature," he said, with a nervous glance toward Addison. "You might want to keep them private."
>
  Layla shook her head. "I have no secrets, Detective. I'd like Addison to stay."

  Wilcox shrugged. "Fair enough." They all took seats.

  Addison didn't bother offering them anything to drink this time. She and Layla both stared at Wilcox, waiting for him to start with his personal questions.

  "We've been doing some checking into your sister's financial status," he began. "It seems she never married, nor did she have any children. Is that correct?"

  "Yes. Jenna wasn't terribly interested in finding a soul mate. She was more interested in making money. He career was her life."

  "She was a lawyer," said Short. It was a statement, rather than a question. Layla said nothing.

  "It seems she was very good at making money," Wilcox went on. "Her estate is quite considerable."

  "Are you leading up to a question, Detective?" asked Addison.

  Wilcox regarded her with pursed lips and narrowed eyes before redirecting his attention to Layla. "We've discovered that you are the sole beneficiary of her will, Ms Dallimore. You stand to inherit a significant sum of money. Were you aware of this?"

  Layla shrugged. "We never discussed it, but it doesn't surprise me. Jenna was always very financially savvy. She was also big on keeping her personal affairs in order. If you're asking me whether I knew I would inherit all her money, the answer is no, not specifically. But Dad and I are her only living relatives. There's no point leaving anything to Dad…" Layla choked back tears, and took a moment to continue. "It stands to reason she would have left her estate to me."

  Addison went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water. When she returned and placed it by Layla's side, Wilcox was just finishing what he was getting at.

  "…now inherit all of your father's wealth as well, rather than just half."

  "Are you suggesting Layla killed her sister for money?" said Addison, retaking her seat. "That's ridiculous."

  "Please, Mrs Lake. Let us ask our questions," said Short. Not that she was asking any of the questions.

  "We have to investigate all possibilities," added Wilcox. "In our experience, money is a major motive for murder."

  "Well not in this case," said Addison. The idea was outrageous. Yes, Layla and Jenna weren't the closest of sisters. But the gallery was insured, and as far as Addison was aware Layla wasn't hard up financially.

  "It's okay, Addison," said Layla. "They have to ask. I can assure you, Detective I did not kill my sister for her money, or my father's. I did not kill my sister at all. Someone else did this."

  "What about the fire?" asked Addison. "If Layla killed Jenna, who started the fire? Layla was at the pub with us when that happened. With at least fifty other people. There's no way she started that fire."

  "No, that appears to be true," said Wilcox. "Although, there are ways to start a fire and not have it take hold immediately," he added.

  "Like how?"

  "I can't get into that right now. The fire is still under investigation. We'll know more when we have the fire investigator's report. But just because Ms Dallimore was elsewhere when the fire took hold, doesn't get her off the hook for murder."

  Addison couldn't believe what she was hearing. She decided to change the subject before she lost her temper.

  "Do you have any other suspects?"

  "I can't discuss that with you either. But I can tell you we're following a number of lines of inquiry."

  "Inquiry into other suspects, or just Layla?"

  "I can't—"

  "I know, I know, you can't discuss that with us. What can you tell us?"

  Wilcox's face reddened. "We didn't come here to tell you anything, Mrs Lake. We came here to ask the questions, not answer them."

  Addison held up both hands. "Okay. Fair enough. Ask your questions."

  "Thank you." Wilcox pulled his notebook out of his pocket and proceeded to ask Layla to recount her whereabouts yesterday, asking her exactly the same questions as he had this morning. Addison bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from butting in.

  Layla answered all of his questions, as she had done this morning. Wilcox seemed frustrated that he was unable to trip her up in a lie. Of course he couldn't – because she wasn't lying. Addison found herself wishing Rob were here. He'd have conducted this investigation very differently. For a start, he'd be out looking for the real culprit instead of adding to Layla's grief.

  "Thank you very much for your time again, Ms Dallimore," said Wilcox when he was done. He and Short stood to leave. Not before time, thought Addison.

  "Please call me Layla. No-one calls me Ms Dallimore."

  "Okay. We'll be in touch, Layla." With a nod he then turned to Addison. "We'll show ourselves out."

  "I can't stand him," said Addison once they were safely out of earshot.

  "I noticed," said Layla with a smile. "He's just doing his job. Try not to be so hard on him. You said yourself yesterday that he has to ask these questions."

  "Yes, to rule you out. But he's carrying on with the idea that you killed Jenna. It's ludicrous."

  "Because I didn't do it. Which means there's no evidence to say that I did. He'll figure that out."

  "Meanwhile the real killer gets away with it," said Addison. She watched the police cruiser drive away and closed the front door. "Not if I can help it," she added, an idea forming in her head.

  11

  Layla had gone to lie down, so Addison and Olivia left her alone at the beach house while they took the dog to the vet. Addison hadn't even pulled out of the driveway before she started complaining about Wilcox.

  "He's barking up the wrong tree," she said, turning onto Seaview Drive. "Layla wouldn't hurt a fly. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body."

  Olivia grinned. "Wow. Three clichés in a row. He's really upset you, Mum."

  "Well it looks like she's his main suspect. She shouldn't even be a suspect at all, let alone his whole focus. It's ludicrous. Don't you agree?"

  "Of course. She was with us. And you know her, she's your cousin. But you have to look at it from the detective's point of view. It's his job to investigate anyone who stands to gain from Jenna's death. He can't let family relationships and the fact that Layla is a nice person get in the way of that."

  "But I can tell him she didn't do it. Then he can move on to finding out who did do it."

  "And why should he trust you? He doesn't know you anymore than he knows Layla. Less, actually. We literally just moved here. He's not Dad, Mum."

  No, he certainly isn't. Addison missed Rob terribly in that moment. He'd been gone two years, and not a day went by when she didn't miss him. But in moments like this his absence was crushing.

  "Your father would be casting a wider net," said Addison, prompting more laughter from her daughter.

  "How come you always speak in clichés when you're mad?"

  "What? I don't. Do I?"

  "Yep. You've always done it. It's hilarious."

  "Well I'm glad you find me funny." Addison spotted the vet's in the middle of town. She parked the Rav in a shady spot. "Come on, let's find out who this little fella belongs to."

  Addison was worried the dog would run off as soon as they opened the doors, but he seemed totally attached to Olivia and followed at her heel.

  "Good afternoon," said Addison as they walked in. A short, slim woman in a uniform turned to greet them, but caught sight of the dog first.

  "Charlie!" she cried, coming around from behind the counter to wrap the dog in her arms. She gave him a good cuddle and a scratch behind the ears before she looked up to find Addison and Olivia staring at her.

  "Where did you find him?" asked the vet, her name tag now visible.

  "He just walked up and knocked on the door," said Olivia. "Well, he didn't really knock, but near enough."

  The vet stood and offered a hand to them both. "I'm Juliet Porter. Sorry, I'm the only one here on a Saturday. It's so good to see Charlie!"

  Addison introduced herself and Olivia. "We've just move
d into the beach house on Seaview," she explained. "Charlie came wandering over today, and seems to have taken a liking to Olivia."

  "Let's get him checked out," said Juliet. "Come on through to the back." She led them into an examination room and lifted Charlie up onto the stainless-steel table.

  "I assume you know who Charlie belongs to?" Addison asked as Juliet started looking the dog over.

  "Oh, yes. Sorry, you're new around here. Charlie was Jerry Nichols's dog. He's been missing for a couple of weeks."

  "Was?" said Olivia.

  "Yes. Unfortunately, old Jerry passed away. Charlie ran off before anyone realised he was missing. The whole town's been so worried about him."

  "Oh," said Olivia, and Addison noticed the disappointment in her daughter's voice. Olivia had always wanted a dog. "So has Jerry's family been looking for Charlie?"

  "Kind of. Jerry didn't have any actual family, but he was a long-term resident of Getaway Bay. He was everybody's family. And so is Charlie."

  Juliet checked Charlie's teeth and gums, and then listened to his heart, all the while doling out liver treats which the dog crunched happily.

  "So does Charlie have a home to go to now?" Addison asked. Olivia's eyes revealed just how much she wanted Juliet to say no, but Addison wasn't sure she could take on the responsibility of a dog.

  "I don't think he does, no," said Juliet. As if on cue Charlie lunged into Olivia's arms. "He seems to have taken a liking to you!"

  "Mum…"

  "I don't know, Livvy. We've got so much happening in our lives right now. A lot of new things to adjust to. I don't think adding a dog to the mix is such a good idea. Besides, you're off to university in two more weeks. You won't even be here."

  "But Charlie will give me an extra reason to come visit every holidays," she said, eyes pleading.

  Addison didn't know whether to laugh or be offended.

  "What are you studying?" asked Juliet.

  "Forensic Science at Griffith. My dad was a cop, and he got me interested in all that."

  "Sounds great." Juliet finished poking and prodding Charlie. She looked up at Addison. "He's a little thinner than he was, and his fur needs sorting out, but otherwise it seems Charlie has survived his adventure unscathed."