A Royal Murder

by Sandra Winter-Dewhirst

  ‘Have a seat,’ said Rebecca, pointing to one of the chairs around an old wooden kitchen table. ‘I’ll get you a sangria.’ Rebecca pulled out a large jug from the fridge and poured the icy ruby-red drink into a tall glass, adding a slice of orange, and handed it to Lisa.

  ‘Wow. This looks good. Summer in a glass,’ said Lisa.

  ‘Here, start chopping the onion,’ said Rebecca as she pushed a cutting board, knife, and onion toward Lisa.

  ‘You don’t waste any time!’ said Lisa, sipping her drink.

  The doorbell rang again and Rebecca repeated the trip down the hallway, opening the door to Penny who was holding an enormous bunch of magnolia flowers in one arm and a magnum of vintage Moët in the other.

  ‘You need to get this into the fridge and these into a vase,’ said Penny as she handed both the champagne and flowers to Rebecca and barged past her.

  ‘Once again, Penny, you’ve been too generous—but hey, fantastic,’ said Rebecca as she joined Lisa and Penny in the kitchen. Penny was already helping herself to the sangria.

  After finding room in the fridge for the magnum and a vase large enough to do justice to the magnolias, Rebecca handed Penny a bunch of celery and said, ‘Here, cut this up, will you?’

  ‘So what are we making?’ asked Penny.

  ‘Well, at the moment, we are working on the first course, a fish soup. You two are cutting up part of the mirepoix. I’ll do the carrots.’

  ‘Ooh, mirepoix! Sounds posh,’ said Lisa.

  Rebecca saw Penny roll her eyes.

  ‘By the way, Gary is coming,’ said Rebecca as she gripped a large carrot.

  Penny and Lisa’s eyes widened. Rebecca looked at the carrot and realised the phallic nature of the scene. They all burst into laughter. After wiping away tears, Rebecca refilled their sangria glasses.

  ‘So, Sol Semler’s the murderer,’ said Lisa.

  ‘Maybe,’ replied Rebecca.

  ‘What do you mean, maybe? The police have charged him, haven’t they?’ asked Penny.

  ‘Yes, but he hasn’t been to trial, let alone been found guilty. At the committal hearing in the magistrate’s court, the evidence against him was forensic. Although I’ve also found out he was a member of a the White Lotus Triad, which further implicates him and not just in the murder of Pixie but also Bruce Wells. Not that the police have put that piece of evidence on the table as yet or charged him with Bruce’s murder.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Penny.

  ‘Because someone hasn’t been as good at sleuthing as me, but they’ll get to it at some point,’ replied Rebecca.

  ‘So did he plead guilty to Pixie’s murder?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘No, of course not. And the trial won’t take place until at least May.’

  ‘Did he get bail?’ asked Penny.

  ‘No, although the bizarre thing is that Bo Yong, that Chinese businessman we saw at Fino’s, offered a million dollars’ bail. The judge wouldn’t bail Sol at any price. Plus, I’ve discovered Bo Yong is a member of another triad called the Golden Dragon, a rival to the White Lotus triad that Sol is a member of. What I don’t get is why would Bo want to do business with Sol, let alone bail him out?’

  ‘I have no idea. But if Bo Yong is involved in organised crime, why don’t the police arrest him?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘Because they don’t have any evidence that he’s broken the law in Australia,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘Well, can’t they deport him if he is a known member of a triad?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘Perhaps the police don’t want to. Perhaps they are trying to trap him? I’m not sure,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘So that’s it, then. Sol’s the murderer, and he’s locked away. And the other suspects are off the hook,’ said Penny.

  ‘Not in my eyes; they’re not, and no-one’s been charged with Bruce Well’s murder yet. And I’m not ruling out their being more than one person,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘So who do you suspect?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘Unlike the police, I haven’t ruled out anyone yet. With the exception of Matilda Lambert. I’m sure she’s not involved in either murder. But I’ve got my suspicions about others.’

  ‘Who’s on your list?’ asked Penny eagerly.

  ‘I still think Philip Hendy is suss. And you can’t rule out Bruce Wells for the Pixie murder, even though he’s been murdered himself. And I now think there’s something fishy about Mee Po, and I’ve got my doubts about Sue Barker.’

  ‘Sue Barker!’ exclaimed Penny and Lisa in unison.

  ‘Why the hell do you think Sue has had anything to do with it?’ demanded Penny.

  ‘Well, I think she’s been lying about having an affair with Pixie. I found Pixie’s name tattooed just above her bum.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing looking at her bum?’ asked Penny.

  ‘I wasn’t looking at her bum. I said above her bum. Lower back is probably more accurate.’ Rebecca was regretting her dramatic flourish. ‘I was playing golf with her at Royal Adelaide this morning. She slipped in the crater on the fourth, and I saw the tattoo. I also got an anonymous tip-off via an email.’

  ‘I’m sure there is an innocent explanation. Sue doesn’t lie. Besides, she isn’t gay. She certainly wasn’t when we went to school. She was boy mad,’ said Penny.

  ‘People can change,’ said Lisa as she took another sip of her sangria.

  ‘No, they bloody well can’t. You’re either born gay or you’re not. You can’t change on a whim!’ exclaimed Penny.

  ‘Maybe she was a confused adolescent and didn’t want to admit to her preferences until a bit later,’ said Lisa.

  Penny stared at Lisa. Rebecca thought Penny might be about to lunge at Lisa with the celery knife she was clutching. Rebecca raised her hands. ‘Okay, you two. Calm down, Penny. The issue is, it doesn’t matter if Sue is gay or not. What matters is if she lied about an affair with Pixie. That would throw suspicion on her.’

  ‘What did she say?’ demanded Penny.

  ‘What, about how she got the tattoo?’

  ‘Yes, about how she got the tattoo!’ demanded Penny.

  ‘Okay. Okay. Just calm down! She said Pixie did it as a joke one night in Las Vegas when they were pissed. Sue reckons Pixie paid the tattoo artist extra to do it. She said she was supposed to get a golf club and a golf ball tattoo, the same as Pixie’s, but instead got Pixie’s name.’

  ‘And why don’t you believe that? That sounds like something I would do as a joke,’ said Penny.

  ‘Well, there was the email as well.’

  ‘What, an anonymous troll? I thought you were better than that. Sue isn’t a liar,’ said Penny.

  ‘What about Mee Po? What have you got on her?’ said Lisa calmly.

  Rebecca was grateful she could move on from Sue Barker. ‘She went to see Matilda Lambert in hospital the other day and suggested that Matilda killed Pixie when she was in la-la land and doesn’t remember it.’

  ‘Now that sounds more plausible to me. My money’s on Matilda Lambert, the mad woman,’ said Penny.

  ‘Penny! Don’t say that. Do you know the murder statistics? The vast majority of murders are carried out by so-called sane people, not those who suffer from a mental illness. Mentally ill people are the ones who normally get murdered, not the other way around. We just sensationalise the mentally ill when anything goes wrong. They’re normally too frightened to do anything apart from trying to kill themselves.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Now who’s getting excited? But what evidence do you have that Matilda isn’t the murderer?’ asked Penny.

  ‘That’s not how the justice system works, Penny. People don’t have to prove their innocence; the police have to prove guilt, and the police have no proof.’

  ‘It seems to me that you’re the one with no proof about people who are probably innocent but you don’t seem to want to give them the benefit of the doubt,’ said Penny.

  Rebecca was not sure what to say. She knew Penny had made a good point. Instead of saying anything she
took another long swig of her sangria.

  ‘Can we get back to Mee Po? Why do you think she is now a suspect?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘Because she tried to implicate Matilda by getting her to believe something that wasn’t true. She pushed her to attempt suicide, and she nearly succeeded.’

  ‘All that proves is that Mee Po is a nasty bitch. It doesn’t prove she’s the murderer,’ said Penny.

  ‘If Matilda died, Mee Po would have been responsible for manslaughter. I think she tried to make Matilda think she did it so she would commit suicide, leave a letter of confession, and be charged with Pixie’s murder. It could be a smokescreen, trying to get people off the scent. I think that makes Mee Po a suspect.’

  ‘So, did Matilda confess to the murder in a suicide note?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘No, she didn’t confess to the murder. She wrote a suicide note but didn’t confess to anything. And if I hadn’t helped pull Matilda from the water, Matilda would be dead,’ said Rebecca, tearing up.

  Penny and Lisa both stood, came to either side of Rebecca, and wrapped their arms around her.

  ‘So now I understand why you’re getting so upset about Matilda. What happened?’ asked Penny gently as she handed Rebecca her glass of sangria.

  Rebecca had just finished telling Lisa and Penny the story of Matilda Lambert’s near drowning and her part in saving her when the doorbell rang.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Penny.

  Gary entered the kitchen carrying a bottle of Barossa shiraz and a huge box of Haigh’s chocolates.

  Rebecca knew that her mascara had probably run, and she had already had too much to drink. ‘Hi, Gary,’ she said feebly.

  ‘Hi, Rebecca,’ said Gary as he put the wine and the chocolates down, walked over to her, gently prised her glass and knife out of her hands, placed them on the table, and then embraced her in his arms. Rebecca rested her head on his broad shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps you two would care to retire to the bedroom?’ said Penny.

  Ignoring Penny’s comment, Gary pulled away from Rebecca and said, ‘Looks like you could do with a rest. Why don’t you and the girls take your drinks and go out to the courtyard and let me whip up some appetisers?’ Looking around the kitchen, he added, ‘I can see crusty bread, tomatoes, basil, garlic, and olive oil. I think bruschetta might be the go,’ said Gary as he led Rebecca toward the door.

  ‘You’re an absolute marvel,’ slurred Rebecca as she staggered out into the courtyard.

  The Fleurieu

  Rebecca woke up with a hangover. She turned her head to look at the other side of the bed. It was empty. Bugger, she thought. The night was a blur but it was all coming back to her. She remembered drinking and eating bruschetta in the courtyard before they all staggered back inside to make seafood pasta. She knew she didn’t get around to the fish soup.

  Rebecca recalled talk of taking the week off and going to Penny’s shack on Kangaroo Island. She rose and went straight to the bathroom and gulped down mouthfuls of water straight from the basin tap. She knew she was dehydrated. Already naked, she stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the tap. About half an hour later, Rebecca was taking her first sips of a long black espresso when the phone rang.

  ‘Hi, Penny.’

  ‘So I’ve booked us on tomorrow’s ten a.m. ferry. I’ll pick you up at eight.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? We agreed last night. You, me, and Lisa,’ said Penny.

  ‘Yes, I remember, but I didn’t think we were going tomorrow.’

  ‘Well there’s no time like the present. You said the murder trial isn’t on for a few months. Your Taste supplement is all under control, and Lisa called Reg and told him that you’d quit if he didn’t give you the week off,’ said Penny.

  ‘Oh God! It’s all coming back to me.’

  ‘Yeah, Reg was quite good actually. He said he needed a break from you. You were getting too grumpy.’

  ‘Right,’ said Rebecca, trying to think of a reason she shouldn’t go, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to go.

  ‘Okay, then. See you at eight. Pack light. We are only going to be away for a few days. Although, put in something nice for dinner at the Enchanted Fig Tree. I’ve booked us in for Tuesday night. You’ll adore it. Oh, and don’t forget your bathers.’

  ‘Hang on, Penny. What about Peter and the kids?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about them. The kids are back to school, and Mum’s agreed to stay over. Peter is so busy at work he won’t even notice I’m gone. And as for my work, it’s a quiet time in real estate, and anything I’ve got on I can leave to my staff. All fixed.’

  ‘What about Lisa? How’s she going to get time off from the bank?’

  ‘Don’t you remember that, either? That’s how it all started. We were talking about Lisa having a week off work with absolutely no plans. So we gave her some plans, and added us in! See you at eight tomorrow morning.’

  Rebecca put down the phone, took another sip of her coffee, and decided to ring Gary.

  ‘G’day, Rebecca. How are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘Hungover.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. It’s a good thing you’re not going on the ferry today.’

  ‘I only vaguely remember talking about Kangaroo Island. Did we invite you too?’ asked Rebecca hopefully.

  ‘As a matter of fact, you did, and I wish I could join you, but I can’t get the time off work. I still have a lot of legwork to do if I’m going to get a jury to find Sol Semler guilty, and there’s a few other cases I’m involved in that need my attention.’

  ‘What a bummer.’

  ‘Another time, I promise. But in the meantime, this is exactly what you need. We have our man; there’s no need for you to go on a pointless search to find evidence on other suspects. You’ve got to let it go. There are no other suspects anymore. And if Taste is under control, it’s a perfect time for you to get some rest.’

  ‘I guess you’re right. But the Bruce Wells case is still open, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m about to charge Sol with Bruce’s murder as well, but I’m not going to tell you anything more. The temptation for you to call Reg would be too great. That police reporter of yours already knows the charge is imminent. But if I give you the details around the evidence, you’d be torn between wanting to do your job and being loyal to me, and I don’t want to put you in that position.’

  Rebecca was silent for a few seconds before replying, ‘Have you found concrete evidence around Sol’s involvement in the White Lotus Triad?’

  ‘Rebecca, no more. I’m not going there.’

  Rebecca let out a defeated sign. ‘Okay. I understand. I guess the cases are wrapped up, then. I may as well go on a holiday and enjoy myself. It’s time for Cool Dave to step up and do some crime writing.’

  She felt instinctively that there was still work to do, but she had to accept the facts as they stood. It made sense. Even her own investigations pointed to Sol being the murderer of both Pixie and Bruce. But nonetheless, she felt uneasy.

  ‘It’s going to be a warm week. You’ll have ideal weather for swimming. I’m jealous.’

  Monday morning Rebecca was just finishing watering the front garden when she saw Penny’s Range Rover pull up. She noticed Lisa was already in the front seat. Penny gave a friendly toot on the car horn. Lisa rolled down her window. ‘Need any help with your bags?’

  ‘No, stay there. I’m all packed. I just need to grab my gear,’ said Rebecca, heading back inside.

  Rebecca opened the boot of the Rover and placed her small suitcase next to the other luggage. She hung her suit bag, containing a linen blue-and-white dress, on the coat hook above the backseat, and hopped in the other side.

  ‘See you got your glad rags for Tuesday night,’ said Penny.

  ‘Yep. But I’m going to live in shorts and T-shirts most of the time. Let’s hope the weather bureau is right and it doesn’t turn cold.’

  ‘You know
it’s always a little cooler on the island and the weather is unpredictable, but don’t worry. I have lots of jumpers and trackie dacks stashed away at the shack if we need them,’ said Penny.

  It wasn’t until they were out of the suburbs that Rebecca became interested in the view. Skirting the McLaren Vale vineyards on one side and the sea on the other, parched hillsides rolled down to the sea. The only hint of green came from the vineyards, the dull green of the olive trees, and the leaves on gnarled gum trees along the roadside. The sea provided the colour. It was a spectacular blue, stretching out to the horizon where it met an equally blue sky. They passed the giant eighteen-metre-tall Buddha statue at Sellicks Hill and wound through the softly undulating hills behind Myponga Reservoir. Rebecca noticed a few kangaroos lying lazily in the paddocks under the shade of massive gums and was glad she and the girls weren’t travelling at dawn or dusk when the kangaroos were active.

  ‘Hey, do you want to stop at Normanville Kiosk on the beach for morning tea? Have we got time?’ asked Rebecca, breaking the silence.

  ‘We’ll only have time to get takeaway coffee if we want to make the ferry, but yeah, sure,’ answered Penny.

  Penny pulled into the car park at Normanville beach, next to a towering Norfolk Island pine tree. They climbed out of the car to stretch their legs.

  ‘I vote you get the coffees, Lisa. I’ll have a latte,’ said Rebecca over her shoulder as she walked across the lawn to the boat ramp and strolled down to the jetty. Penny followed.

  ‘That headland is beautiful,’ said Rebecca.

  She walked to the end of the jetty and looked over the side. She could see the sand on the bottom and small fish darting through the clear water. She wondered if the fishers on the jetty were catching much. The beach was already busy with families, many of them with tents, beach chairs, and eskies. They looked like they were set for the day. A toddler wearing a swim vest was being coaxed into the shallow waters by a parent. Older kids were playing with a frisbee out in the deeper water. Further down the beach was a line of cars, mainly four-wheel drives with boat trailers, their wheels firm on the compacted wet sand. On the other side of the jetty, the flags of the Normanville Surf Life Saving Club were already out, and Rebecca could see a couple of the guards in their canoes, gently paddling beyond the jetty.