Note Before Dying (Ghostwriter Mystery 6)

by Larmer, C. A.

  Gilda shook her head. “You may well be right, Roxy, but not now, not tonight. If I know one thing about country folk, it’s never come between a hungry farmer and his dinner, especially when the missus is serving lamb chops.” She smiled. “Come on, there’s something else I want to look into.”

  “Oh?”

  Gilda stopped. “Remember that newspaper article we found in the files? The one with the picture of the creek bed.” Roxy nodded. “I don’t think that was an official crime scene photograph. At least the image wasn’t amongst the photos we found in the file.”

  “You think someone else took it?”

  “Looks to me like someone else was at the scene of the crime, and not long afterwards, either. They might have taken the photo from a distance then sold it on to the newspaper. But who would do such a thing?”

  Roxy smiled again. “I know just the sleazebag for the job.”

  Chapter 24

  Macker Maroney was not at his usual post, sucking on cigarettes and hassling innocent patrons, when the two women pulled up in front of the Goddess Café. However, Govinda was back at the front door and appeared to be closing up. There were two young children at her heels this time, and neither looked anything like the one Roxy had seen just days earlier. One was definitely a girl, in hot pink leggings and a rumpled white dress, sitting on the ground, playing with a Bratz doll. She had to be about five or six. Beside her was a smaller child, short black hair; muddy face; eyes wide and brown. That child was of indiscriminate gender but probably around the age of four.

  “He’s probably trying to persuade some poor Swedish backpacker to get her kit off for him,” Govinda said when they asked after the photographer. She sighed. “I don’t mean to speak ill, but he’s got some serious karma coming his way, that dude.”

  “Does he live around here?” Gilda asked as Govinda slammed the front door shut and began to secure the padlock.

  “Mama, I want lollie. Maaaama!” screeched the smallest, dark-haired child, and Govinda sighed. She looked weary today, less bubbly than before. Perhaps Jed’s death was taking a toll on all of them.

  “Oh Destiny, I just locked up.”

  “Mama!!”

  She sighed again, undid the padlock and pulled the girl up onto her hip before walking back inside the shop. The two women followed her in and watched as she reached for a bag of mixed lollies; opened them and handed them to Destiny.

  “Heavenly Rose, you want some, too?” she called out and when the older child did not answer, she grabbed an extra bag anyway.

  “I think he has digs at the old M.O. on Cooleys Shoot,” Govinda told them as she made her way back outside.

  “M.O?”

  “Multiple Occupancy. It’s a big property a whole bunch of folk share, a few kilometres back towards the highway. Big stone statue of Buddha out the front, you can’t miss it. Here, Heavenly.” She dumped the lollies in her daughter’s lap and proceeded to lock up again, the other child still clinging to her hip, a red snake dangling from her lips.

  “What do you know about Sunny Forrest’s death?” Gilda asked and Govinda turned around with a look of surprise.

  “Sunny?”

  “Yes.”

  “You a copper?”

  “Yes, a detective from Sydney.”

  “Oh, right.” She said nothing more as she placed Destiny back on the ground next to her sister then stepped around them to check the windows, giving the shutters a good rattle to ensure they were locked in place. “Sunny Forrest,” she said, turning back, her eyes a little watery. “The silly little kitten.” She sniffed, rubbed a hand across her nose, causing her bangles to sing and dance. “Um, I don’t know much, why, what do you want to know?”

  “We just want to know the local goss,” Gilda said.

  A tiny frown formed between her eyes. “Sorry, not really into gossip.”

  Roxy tried not to scoff. “Oh, come on, Govinda, you must have heard something. You told me the other day that everyone knows everyone’s business around here.”

  Govinda hesitated again before finally saying, “Well, I know it hurt poor Sambo pretty badly. I mean, I feel dreadful for him, I really do. Just because his sister plays with fire, doesn’t mean he should get burnt.”

  “Fire? What do you mean by that?” asked Gilda.

  Govinda shook her dreadlocks from side to side. “I’m just saying karma can be a pretty nasty bitch when she sets her mind to it, doesn’t matter who you are, how sweet.” She jangled her way back to the front of the shop and scooped both children up, one on each hip.

  “Are you saying you think Sunny was killed because she had an affair with Jed Moody?”

  Govinda looked horrified at the suggestion. “What are you on?! I never said such a crazy ass thing. Nah, everyone knows the poor petal drowned. It was an accident!”

  “But you did know about Sunny’s affair with Jed?”

  “Only after Sam came back and was all hysterical about it, ranting to anyone who’d listen that Jed had been messing with his sister and must have killed her and blahde blahde blah. Just wouldn’t let it go, and now the entire village knows what went on.” She smiled sadly. “Foolish man.”

  “That must have been hard for Annika to hear.”

  Govinda shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Oh? Who else has Jed been playing up with?”

  She shook her head firmly again and gave Gilda a sly smile. “Like I said, I’m no gossip. I hear stuff, can’t help it at this place, it’s like a magnet for gossips.” She crinkled her nose up. “But I never pass it on. That’s not my energy, man. Not what I’m into.”

  “Bad karma?” Gilda suggested, smirking.

  Before Govinda could reply, the youngest child began yanking at her mum’s top screaming, “Mama, milkie! Milkie!”

  Govinda sighed heavily and began to undo the top buttons of her blouse. That wiped the smirk off Gilda’s face.

  “Right, well, we might leave you to it then,” she announced, quickly turning away.

  Roxy suppressed a giggle as she followed the detective back to the car. “Got a problem with breastfeeding in public?”

  “No, I do not. It’s breastfeeding in front of me that freaks me out. And isn’t that kid, like, four?”

  They both turned to glance back at Govinda who was now walking towards the back of the shop and along a pathway that led to a weatherboard house half hidden in the shadows of large gums. Roxy had not noticed it before. The youngest child was still at her breast, the other clinging onto the other hip, her Bratz doll in hand, as though she were incapable of walking.

  “How does she manage that?” Gilda said, both appalled and in awe, and Roxy laughed.

  “I’m telling you the woman is the Queen of Multi-tasking.” As she opened the car door, Roxy felt her stomach growl. “Pity she closed the shop so early today. I’m starving. Shall we go get some dinner somewhere? I doubt Bindi has anything to offer.”

  Gilda nodded, pulling out her mobile phone. “Let’s head back to Tweed and see if we can’t talk a certain blue-eyed copper into joining us.”

  **********

  From a distance, a man was watching. He’d been watching them closely for some time, and he didn’t like what he was seeing. Not one bit.

  What were those two snoops up to? He wondered.

  What did they hope to find?

  And how could he stop them without it turning violent this time?

  Chapter 25

  Detective Inspector Brent Wiles had not changed a jot since the last time Roxy had seen him. He was still sharply dressed; his Italian suit out of place in the laid-back Tweed Heads pub, and his goatee was so perfectly clipped, from a distance it looked like it had been sketched on with a black marker pen. When he stepped through the front door, various faces turned to stare at him, but he seemed not to notice, simply glanced around nonchalantly, then, spotting Gilda and Roxy at a side table, strode across as though he had all the time in the world. He was a cool customer, Roxy
decided, and it must be a great trick when dealing with nervous criminals.

  It was now Friday night and the hotel was bursting with noisy patrons, mostly blue-collar boozers and shaggy old guys. The jukebox was belting out a Midnight Oil track, and several patrons were whooping at a football match being broadcast on one of the three television sets buzzing above their heads. It felt a million miles from the Byron hinterland and Gilda couldn’t have been happier.

  “Much better this way,” she told Roxy. “No locals around to eavesdrop, and too noisy even if they were.”

  The two women had chosen a table just behind the billiard table, and were already working their way through their second glass of red wine (as cheap and rough as the pub) when Wiles walked up.

  “Gilda Maltin, you didn’t waste any time getting up here,” he said, his whole face lighting up as he took both her hands in his.

  “You remember Roxy Parker?” Gilda said. “From the—”

  “Gordon Reilly case, yes I do.” He reached across the table and shook Roxy’s hand. “You get around.”

  Gilda laughed. “That’s our Roxy, always in the right place at the wrong time.”

  “I’ll just grab a beer. Would you ladies like another wine?”

  They shuddered in unison. “It’s like paint stripper,” said Gilda. “We’d better ease up or we’ll pay for it tomorrow.”

  After Wiles had fetched himself a schooner of lager and the three of them had placed orders behind the counter they got down to business.

  Wiles said, “You decided to dig deeper into that drowning death then?” Gilda nodded and he asked, “First impressions?”

  “There’s something a little off but I can’t quite get my head around it yet.” Now he nodded. “I haven’t got long, though, so I have to get cracking tomorrow. How about you? How long do you think the Jed Moody case will take?”

  He glanced across to Roxy and back to her. “You know I can’t say much in front of a civilian, Gilda, especially a civilian who also happens to be a witness.”

  “Of course, Brent. I wasn’t—”

  He held a large palm up, his expression softened. “I just have to talk in generals, that’s all. I’m getting Vonnie from FSG up first thing in the morning.”

  “The big guns, then.” She turned to Roxy. “Vonnie works for the Forensic Services Group. They’re the state specialists in fingerprints, DNA, that kind of thing. Vonnie’s one of the best.”

  “She is the best,” Wiles said before scowling. “They made a mess of it. Moved the body too damn fast—didn’t even get a photographer in, would you believe? And at least one of the attending officers put his paw prints everywhere. There’s no clear time line for the DNA evidence. It’s a shambles.” He smiled, unperturbed. “But we’ll sort it out. You able to lend a hand or will the other matter hold you up?”

  “I’d love to help you. It depends what I find and whether Houlihan wants me to pursue it. If not, I’ll see if I can hang around, help out.”

  He paused as the waitress brought their meals over then said, “That’d be good. Quick’s not a bad bloke, but I’m not sure how useful he’s going to be. Before you called I was trying to organise a meal with him, wanted to get up to speed, but he wasn’t having it. Said something about needing a surf, would you believe.” Wiles’s frown suggested what he thought of that. “It’s the beginning of a murder investigation. You’d expect a little more dedication at this point.”

  “Quick by name, not be nature?” Gilda said, and Wiles shrugged without replying.

  Roxy felt heartened by all of this. Wiles was being diplomatic, but it was clear he hadn’t the least amount of faith in the local commander, and it justified Sam’s so-called “hysteria”. Despite what the likes of Govinda and Houghton claimed, Sam had been right all along. Whether Sunny had drowned accidentally or not, it was obvious that the investigating officer had not done his job. He was lazy and disengaged, Wiles had practically said as much.

  No wonder Sam was such an angry man.

  Roxy debated then whether to tell Wiles of the close relationship she had witnessed between Annika Moody and Detective Quick but decided to hold her tongue for now. Perhaps she had over read the situation; perhaps Quick was just a touchy-feely kind of guy, a rare sympathetic cop. In any case, she could tell that Wiles was not much of a gossip, probably preferred to work with cold, hard facts, so she kept that to herself and thrust a hot chip into her mouth instead.

  Later, though, as she perched on the windowsill in Gilda’s room back at Bindi’s, watching her friend prepare for bed, she realised that most of the night had been free of “shop talk” and she hadn’t learnt any more than she already knew. She blamed herself for that.

  “I should have opted out. Should have left you guys to mull over the details in privacy.”

  Gilda disagreed. “It’s still early days. Wiles only just got here, and you heard the man. Quick’s been about as useful as a dinghy in the desert. He wouldn’t have that much more to tell me.” She placed some moisturiser in her palms. “Once they get Vonnie up and start sifting through the evidence, they’ll know more. I’ll have a chat with him on my own then.” She massaged the cream up and down her arms. “You know, the public always thinks murder investigations happen at lightning speed, and I guess on TV they do. But most of the time they take weeks and weeks to unfold, sometimes months and years, especially if you’re dealing with DNA. Wiles hasn’t even interviewed the witnesses yet.”

  “I’m on the list for tomorrow, remember? He wants to see me at the Moody house first thing.”

  “You okay with that?”

  “It’s not like I haven’t been grilled by wily Wiles before.”

  “Oh, he’s all right. A fair cop, I reckon. Bloody great spunk, too. Pity he’s married. All the good ones are.” She sighed dreamily. “How about those eyes of his?”

  Roxy laughed. Like Quick, Wiles had startling blue eyes, another attribute that likely helped when grilling nervous suspects.

  “Just tell him everything you told me,” Gilda continued, “about the conversation you overheard inside the house with Annika and that mystery man. Oh, and the animosity that Alistair Avery seems to have with the guy.”

  “Isn’t that just gossip? I get the feeling he’s not much of a gossip queen.”

  “He’s not, but that’s for him to decide. Give him all the info you have and let the cards fall where they may.”

  “And what if they fall at the feet of poor Sam?”

  Gilda stopped massaging her arms and stared hard at her friend. “Then poor Sam will deserve everything he gets.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Listen, Roxy, this is really important. Sam may have worked his charm on you, but Wiles is a professional and will see through all of that. If he did this thing, if he zapped the life out of one of Australia’s biggest rock stars to avenge his sister’s death, then Wiles will hold him accountable. And so he should. Cute dog or no cute dog.”

  Roxy shrugged, pretended like she didn’t care, when the very thought of Sam Forrest being taken into custody again made her insides do an unsettling somersault.

  Chapter 26

  Detective Inspector Wiles had set up a command post at the Moody residence, in what was clearly once Jed’s office, or perhaps Annika’s. There was a large teak desk in the centre and an absurdly large black swivel chair behind it. In front, several smaller chairs sat looking across the desk and out through white shutters to a bright fern view.

  “Thanks for coming in so early, especially for a Saturday,” Wiles said as Roxy took one of those chairs in front of him. They had prearranged the 8:00 a.m. meeting the night before and the early start didn’t bother Roxy today. She was looking forward to returning to the Moody property and having a word with Houghton about the book. One way or the other she needed to know whether it was going ahead.

  “You’re just lucky I didn’t have that third glass of paint stripper,” she told Wiles and he laughed.

  It was a love
ly laugh, rich and deep, and it reached his eyes, which sparkled crystal blue in the morning light that was now filtering through the shutters.

  “You can blame me for that. I suggested the place. Wanted a watering hole close to my hotel, but I think I’ll give it a miss tonight.” He took a breath, hesitated then said, “Listen, about Gilda. Is she—?”

  He never got a chance to finish that question because the door swung open and Quick marched in, his thick boots pounding heavily on the bare floorboards. He nodded at Wiles and ignored Roxy completely as he strode across to the window and perched on the wide frame, his arms and legs crossed over in front of him. He looked defensive and uncomfortable.

  “You know Detective Sergeant Quick from the Tweed Byron Local Area Command, of course,” Wiles said to Roxy, and she gave Quick a polite smile. He returned it with sullen silence. “Quick will be sitting in for the interview which I’ll be taping, for reference purposes only.” He pointed to a digital recorder in front of him and she nodded, unperturbed.

  Doing regular interviews herself, Roxy wasn’t as suspicious of recorders as the average Joe tended to be. They were useful devices, enabling the interviewer to focus on the questions and the interviewee to be sure their answers would not be misquoted.

  “So where is the lovely Detective Gilda Maltin today?” Wiles asked now as he positioned the recorder closer to Roxy at the edge of the desk and placed his finger over the “Record” button.

  “She’s gone back to the Tweed office, taking another look at Sunny’s file.”

  Quick made a sound then, deep in his throat, and both Wiles and Roxy looked across at him, Wiles’s eyebrows raised. The local detective had a grim look on his face and his eyes were staring intensely at the wall on the other side of the room.