by Grace York
"Because you know what it's like to be on the other side," Addison said.
"Yes. I know what it feels like to leave your loved one in the hands of strangers. But I promise I won't read to Dennis anymore. That's Layla's thing to do with him, and I respect that."
"Thank you," said Addison. "And thank you also for treating him so well. I know Layla really appreciates it. In spite of her outburst just now."
Angie nodded, her tears gone now. "Is she coping okay? Layla? I mean, it's hard enough having a loved one in here and so close to the end. I can't imagine how much her sister's death is weighing on her. And the loss of her gallery. The poor thing."
"We're taking things one day at a time," said Addison. "It's hard, of course. But she's strong. She'll get through it." Addison wondered whether she should warn the nursing home staff about Rick. Would he come here looking for Layla? She decided it was better to be safe than sorry, and Angie seemed like the kind of person who would be discreet about the situation.
"There is something you should probably, know," Addison began. By the time she'd finished explaining about Rick's release from prison and his subsequent visit to the beach house, Angie was aghast and concerned for Layla's welfare all over again.
"Like I said, the police are aware of the situation, obviously, and are conducting their investigations. But I just thought you should know in case he turns up here. He is most definitely not welcome."
"Got it," said Angie. "I'll let the rest of the staff know. Do you think he might be responsible for Jenna's murder?"
"The police are looking into that," said Addison. She didn't want to go into any more detail. It was Layla's business, after all.
Angie excused herself and went back to work, and Addison found her way back to Dennis's room. She gave Layla a thumb's up to say everything was okay, and then sat quietly in the corner while Layla continued reading to her father.
They left when a different nurse brought Dennis's lunch in.
"I don't know why they bother," said Layla as they walked to the car. "He hasn't eaten anything for days."
"There was a tub of custard on the tray," said Addison. "Maybe that'll be easy enough for him to swallow."
"Maybe."
"Shall we go to Hazel's for lunch?" Addison suggested.
Layla nodded. Addison sent a quick text off to Olivia to let her know what they were doing, and check that Jason was still there. All was well back at the beach house, so Addison drove them the short distance and parked in front of Hazel's cafe.
There were three staff helping Hazel with the lunchtime rush, which was just as well. Addison had never seen the place so busy.
"Maybe she finally got a new baker," Addison whispered as they approached the counter, but changed her mind when she saw the empty display cabinet.
"Hazel's is always busy for lunch," said Layla. "She has no problem with savoury food. It's just the sweets she can't seem to get right."
"Oh. Well that's something then."
"Hi girls," said Hazel, wiping her hands on her apron. "I gave up," she added when she saw Addison staring at the empty cabinet. "Thought I should concentrate on my strengths for now."
"Good for you," said Layla. "Have you got room for us for lunch?"
"We're just leaving," came a voice from behind them. "You can have our table."
Addison swung around to find Josie Porter, the dog groomer, finishing off the last chips on her plate. Or was it Juliet? Whichever twin she was, there was an older woman with her who had to be their mother.
"Hi… Josie?" said Addison.
"Good guess," Josie answered.
Addison smiled. "You did an excellent job on Charlie, thanks for that."
"You're most welcome. How's he doing?"
"He's great, actually. Follows my daughter around everywhere she goes. I don't have the heart to separate them."
"So you'll keep him?" asked the older woman. "I'm Felicia, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. Yes, I think Charlie might be staying with us. My daughter's had enough loss. I can't send him away."
Josie piled her and her mother's empty plates together and placed them on the counter for Hazel. "There you go," she said. "Take a seat." She placed a hand on Layla's arm. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she said sincerely.
"Thanks, Josie. I appreciate it."
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
Layla shook her head and lowered herself into the booth Josie and Felicia had vacated. "No, thank you. Addison is taking care of me."
Josie gave Layla's arm one last squeeze, and then she and her mother left.
"Everyone's been so nice," said Layla. "I don't know how to handle it."
"I think you handled it just fine," said Addison, picking up a menu but not opening it yet. "There are no rules for something like this, Layla. You just have to look after yourself. Don't worry about other people. They don't know what to say or how to handle things any more than you do."
"No, I suppose not." Layla opened her own menu. "I'm starving."
Addison smiled. It was the first time Layla had been interested in food since the fire. It was a step in the right direction.
19
On the drive home from the cafe, an idea entered Addison's head. What if she were to offer to bake for Hazel? She'd joked about it with Olivia the other day, but she had to admit she'd been half serious. She could do it from her own kitchen, which would be commercial enough once the bed and breakfast was up and running. And it wouldn't be that much extra work. If she was baking for her guests, surely it wouldn't be too much trouble to do extra for Hazel's cafe?
"What are you thinking about?" asked Layla as they pulled into the beach house driveway.
"Oh, nothing," said Addison. She didn't want voice her idea just yet. She knew Olivia would go nuts at her trying to take on even more work, and she wasn't ready for that argument. "Come on. Let's go see how much work these young, fit people have managed to get done."
Olivia and Jason had done quite a lot, actually. Addison was very pleased with their efforts. The bed and breakfast would be ship-shape in no time.
They all worked together for a couple more hours, until Layla's new room was ready to move into. Jason and Olivia moved a couple of pieces of furniture in for her, then they all left her to it.
"Who wants coffee?" asked Addison once the three of them were down in the kitchen.
"Yes please," said Olivia.
"Any chance you can do an iced coffee?" asked Jason. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from his forehead.
Addison shrugged. There was cream in the fridge, and it wouldn't take much to whip it. "I don't see why not."
"That sounds good," said Olivia. "Make mine an iced coffee too, please."
"Three iced coffees, coming right up." Addison set about making the drinks while Jason and Olivia laughed about some joke or other they'd seen on the Internet. Addison was pleased to see Olivia had gotten over her initial shyness around Jason. It was also good to see Jason smile.
The iced coffees turned out delicious, and they were polished off quickly. Charlie, who'd been patiently sitting at Olivia's feet, stretched up and pawed gently at her legs.
"Okay, boy," said Olivia, scratching the top of his head. "It's time for your walk. Let's go." Charlie ran around in excited circles while Olivia found his lead.
When they were gone, Addison asked Jason to join her in the back garden. "I have some ideas for out here I want to run by you," she said.
The back garden currently consisted of the dilapidated shed, the mango and citrus trees, and a large amount of overgrown grass. It was a big space, but it needed a lot of work.
"What are your thoughts?" asked Jason as they strolled.
Addison explained her idea of creating a large seating area centred around an outdoor pizza oven. "I think it would be lovely to sit out here of an evening and enjoy a glass of wine while we cook pizzas. What do you think?"
"Sounds great to me. You wan
t me to build it?"
"If you think you could, yes. That would be lovely. After we finish the inside of the house, though."
"Of course. I'll start working on some plans." Jason walked around the area, as much as he could with the overgrown grass. Addison could see he was already thinking of where the pizza oven could go. She let him pace things out and took a seat in the old cane lounge the previous owner had left behind on the back verandah. When Jason was finished he came and sat in the other chair.
"I think that'll work out great," he said. "I'll work on a price for you once I've had a look at the equipment. I'm sure they have kits for pizza ovens at the hardware store."
"Excellent," said Addison. She was so pleased the beach house was coming together. It was going to be a wonderful place to gather with new friends. Speaking of new friends, she counted Jason as one of them. She was a little ashamed she'd thought of him as a suspect in Jenna's murder.
"How are you doing, Jason? I mean, after Jenna…"
Jason nodded and sank back in the chair. "I'm okay. I mean, I'm angry and hurt, and I'm upset that I didn't get the chance to change her mind about leaving. And I'm angry that someone took that chance away from me. If only she'd come to the door…"
"Come to the door when?" asked Addison, her detective hat back on all of a sudden.
Jason's face sank. His gaze dropped to his lap and he gripped the arms of the chair.
"Did you go to see Jenna on Friday night?" Addison asked. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer.
He nodded.
"But she didn't answer the door?"
He shook his head.
This was something he could have mentioned earlier. Addison wondered whether Wilcox knew.
"Did you tell the police?" she asked.
Another head shake.
"Jason… You can't hide something like that from the police. It makes you look guilty. You're not guilty, are you? Did you hurt Jenna? Did you set the fire?"
"No!" That brought his voice back. "I didn't touch her. I never would have hurt her."
"Then why were you there?"
"I told you before. I thought I could change her mind about leaving. I know I could have, if I'd just had the time."
"Okay," Addison held a hand out to placate him. She didn't want Layla to hear them arguing. "Tell me what happened."
Jason took a deep breath. "I went home from here on Friday afternoon and changed. Then I went to see Jenna. I called to tell her I was coming."
"You spoke to her?"
"Yes. Just briefly. I asked if it was all right if I came over, she said yes."
"What time was this?"
"I called at about six o'clock, then I went straight round. I would have been there by quarter past."
Addison wished she had her notebook. It was just inside in the kitchen, but she didn't want to break Jason's momentum. She had a feeling he was only going to tell her this once. She'd have to try and remember what he said and write it down later.
"And when you got there, she wasn't there?"
"I don't know if she was there or not. But she didn't answer the door. It was locked."
"The gallery door? Downstairs?"
"Yes. I called her mobile again, I thought maybe she didn't hear me knock. But she didn't answer the phone."
"That wasn't long before the fire." Addison's mind was racing. "So let me get this straight – we left Jenna at around half past five, maybe a little later. You called her around six, and she answered and told you to come over. So everything was still fine with her at that point. But then when you arrived, she didn't answer the door or the phone."
"That's right."
"Would she have changed her mind about seeing you in those fifteen minutes, do you think?" Addison remembered Jenna's talent for playing games, and apparently the whole town believed she was leading Jason on. But Jason shook his head emphatically.
"She'd never done anything like that to me before. You know, I considered trying to break in. I thought something might be wrong."
"Why didn't you?" Addison asked.
"It was Layla's gallery. I didn't want to do any damage. Maybe I should have. Do you think whoever killed her was inside?"
Addison didn't want to add to his hurt, but she couldn't see any other explanation.
"I do. Something must have happened to her in those fifteen minutes between the time you called, and the time you got there and she didn't answer the door. You didn't smell smoke, did you?"
"No."
"Then the fire hadn't been started. Jason, you have to go to the police. I think whoever killed Jenna was inside the gallery while you were outside knocking."
Jason's head dropped into his hands. "I should have busted down the door. I should have made more of an effort. I could have saved her." His whole body heaved up and down as he sobbed. Addison wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know what to say.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe he could have saved Jenna.
20
After calming Jason down and sending him off to tell Wilcox about his visit to the gallery on Friday, Addison pulled her notebook out of the drawer and started writing.
She couldn't believe Jason had been there right before Jenna died. Or perhaps even after she'd died, but before the killer set the gallery on fire. If he'd broken the door down like he'd wanted to, he might have been able to save her. Or he could have caught the killer and stopped them burning down the gallery.
Or he could have been killed himself.
Addison shook her head of those thoughts. It wasn't going to help Jenna now. Or Layla, for that matter. She decided not to tell Layla about Jason's revelation. At least not just yet. She was having a hard enough time coming to terms with everything as it was.
Another thought rattled around in her head. Was Jason telling the truth? Did he really go to see Jenna with the intention of trying to change her mind, and then just leave when she didn't answer? Why wasn't he more persistent?
What if Jenna really did let him in, and he was the one who killed her and lit the fire to cover his tracks? But if that was the case, why would he have told Addison that he was there at all?
Because of the phone call. He'd called Jenna right before she died. He'd need to explain that to the police. They could track where your phone was these days. She'd seen that on some police show or other. They were able to say such-and-such suspect was in this location at this time, just because they had their phone turned on.
Wilcox would have checked Jenna's phone records by now. So he would know that Jason had called Jenna from outside the gallery right before the murder. Telling Addison what he'd just told her, about Jenna not answering, was one explanation for it.
The other explanation was that Jason was the killer.
Addison wrote all her suspicions frantically into her notebook. By the time she'd finished, she didn't believe it. Jason was a good guy. Addison had been married to a detective. She knew how to read people. Jason Sadler was not a killer.
Rick Ramirez, on the other hand, definitely had murder in him. Addison hoped Wilcox had at least been able to find Rick and keep him away from Layla.
Addison was just putting the notebook back in the drawer when Layla came into the kitchen.
"Hi," said Addison. "All settled in?"
"As much as I can be." Layla took a seat at the kitchen bench. "Addison, I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done. Letting me stay here…"
Addison raised both hands to stop her. "Don't be silly. Of course you'll stay here, for as long as you need. We're family, Layla. That means a lot in my book. I can't imagine what it must feel like to lose everything you own."
"It's been hard to get my head around."
"Well I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I mean it."
The corner of Layla's mouth turned up in a half-smile. "I don't suppose you feel like baking?"
"That's a silly question. I always feel like baking. What's your request?"
&nb
sp; "Chocolate brownies? My mum used to make them with raspberries and white chocolate chips. Any chance you could—"
"Say no more," said Addison, already reaching for the fridge door. "I think I have just about everything I need. One batch of raspberry white chocolate chip brownies coming right up."
As Addison went about gathering the ingredients, they heard the front door followed by voices. One of them was Olivia's. Layla and Addison froze and stared at each other wide-eyed, before the other voice became recognisable as a woman's. They both breathed a sigh of relief as Olivia and an older woman came into the kitchen, Charlie trotting along behind.
"Hello," said the woman, who Addison thought must be at least seventy. She was short but not stooped, her hair grey but stylish. She moved about like a sixty-year-old, but the lines on her face gave away a few extra years.
"Mrs Jones," said Layla with a smile, jumping up from her stool and giving the visitor a warm hug. "I haven't seen you for a while."
"I've been to Brisbane visiting my sister. She can't make the trip up here anymore. I've come home today to find I have new neighbours, so I thought I'd pop in and introduce myself."
"Hi," said Addison, reaching out to grasp the woman's hand. "I'm Addison. You've obviously met my daughter, Olivia."
"She and Charlie met me just as I was about to knock. I live next-door."
Olivia surveyed the baking ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter. "Looks like you've come at the right time," she said. "What are you making, Mum?"
"Brownies, by special request. Please, Mrs Jones, have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea? Olivia, put the kettle on."
Mrs Jones hiked herself up onto one of the kitchen stools and the four women chatted while Addison prepared the brownies. Mrs Jones had no idea about the fire, so Layla filled her in.
"Oh my, you poor thing. Losing your sister and your home like that. I can't imagine. Are you okay?"
Layla nodded. "I will be. Addison is helping me."
"That's good, dear. You're cousins, you said?"