A Plot to Die For (A Ghostwriter Mystery)

by C. A. Larmer

“When was that?”

  “Exactly 40 years ago last June. I was a patrol officer’s wife. Did you know that?

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “His name was Jed Lilton, he worked for the Australian Government and was based at the mainland, working to set up hospitals, schools, roads that sort of thing. Good worker, crap husband. When he wasn’t beating me to a pulp he was having his way with the local housegirls or haus girls I think they spell it. Started playing up on me in the first month.”

  “Oh Abi, I’m so sorry.”

  “Well don’t be! It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I gave him the flick and went out on my own. I’d fallen in love with the area instantly, of course, how could you not? Didn’t have a lot of dosh, though, so when an opportunity came up to manage the plantation on Dormay I jumped at it.”

  “So Dormay was a plantation first. What kind?”

  “Copra, love. Coconuts. They had a good little business going but it was too much work for the old Kiwi guy who used to run it. He was exhausted and couldn’t hand it over fast enough. I had no experience, of course, but that didn’t seem to matter. The local workers here showed me the ropes. I bought the place a few years after that. For a song if truth be told. I soon realised there was more money in tourism than coconuts, so I did the old house up and opened the doors. Never looked back.”

  “Are any of the original locals still around?”

  “No, but their kids are. Both Popeye and Maurice were born on Dormay. Popeye was in his 20s when I first arrived, been a Godsend from the start.” She smiled. “Whatever you say about me, love, they’re the true locals. Dormay might be in my heart but it’s in their blood. That’s the important thing. This book is for them, you know? I’ll be dedicating it to them, their families and those that came before.”

  “Joshua will be happy,” Roxy said although she couldn’t help wondering how Helen would feel.

  “Joshua?” She looked surprised. “I suppose so.”

  “So, you took over from the Kiwi guy. What was his name?”

  “Geoff Mailer.” She spelt it for Roxy. “Nice bloke, just tired is all. He’d had enough. You know it’s not easy working in these parts. Things break down and it takes a million years to get someone out from the mainland to repair it, or ship parts in from Aus. The locals, bless ’em, can be hard work, too. Lots of politics when you deal with these people. Some of them are a bit shifty—I’m having trouble with a staffer right now in case you hadn’t noticed. And, yes, they can even be a bit lazy. Look, I love Popeye, he knows that, but I have to keep the whip on him or he’d be snoozing out the back half the time. Helen’s always going on about it but it doesn’t matter, see? It’s a holiday place. No one’s in any hurry.”

  And, as if to prove the point, she leant back and yawned.

  “So was Helen born here, too?”

  Roxy was keen to find out who Helen’s father was but knew from past experience to let the client come to it in their own good time. Abi didn’t muck around.

  “No, love, I’m not as brave as the local women. I went over to the mainland for the birth and even that’s brave enough. They’ve got a decent enough hospital there but you wouldn’t want to get sick in it!”

  She roared with laughter, then took a long sip of her drink.

  “Helen’s dad had nicked off by then, of course. It wasn’t Geoff but before you ask, no I don’t want him named. I didn’t ask his permission to do this book, so it wouldn’t be right.”

  It’s a pity she didn’t have the same consideration for her daughter thought Roxy but she just nodded away.

  Abi continued. “He was a visiting yachtie, out from Australia. I fell for him hard, it didn’t last long and I should’ve known better than to give my heart to a sailor. They’re gypsies you know. You can’t tie a good sailor down. Well, not while they can still hoist a sail...” She looked wistfully towards the sea. “So, not long after he discovered I was up the duff he’d pulled anchor and taken off.”

  She sighed again. “I haven’t had a lot of luck in love, Roxy, at least not when it comes to the male of the species. But I’ve always got plenty of love from the ocean, from this island, and from these people, which is why it’s so important that I do the right thing now, while I still can.”

  “The right thing? What do you mean?”

  Abi looked around for her cane, found it to her right and used it to stand back up. “We’ll get to all that, Roxy, I promise. But I learnt my lesson last night. I’ve got a few people to set straight before I tell you anymore.”

  She leaned down and squeezed the younger woman’s hand.

  “I can see you and I are going to get along just famously. You don’t push me, I like that.”

  Roxy wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning, but she smiled anyway and gathered her things.

  “Sorry I’m cutting us short,” Abi was saying. “But as I say, I’ve got some stuff to see to.”

  “That’s fine, Abi. Will we talk again tomorrow morning? Say, 9am this time?”

  “Oh, earlier than that, love. I can’t do the afternoon session tomorrow. Sorry, I know we need to get cracking on this but I’ve got important business at the mainland, a big meeting I can’t miss. But I promise you, love, I’ll cut the nonsense and focus on the book after that. So, how about we meet after my morning walk, about 7am? We can talk over breakfast. You’re up anyway, right?”

  “Right,” Roxy lied as she kissed her sleep-ins goodbye.

  They walked quietly back to the hotel and, once again, Abi wandered off into the kitchen, leaving Roxy to ponder what she’d meant by wanting to ‘do the right thing’. Who was she writing this book for? Herself? Helen? Or the people of Dormay?

  “You right?” Joshua asked, appearing by Roxy’s side.

  Before she could answer he handed her a note.

  “A call came through for you from Sydney.”

  He returned to the front desk as she read the message. It was from her agent: Please call. Keen to know how it’s going. Olie.

  Roxy walked over to the desk where Joshua was tapping away at a computer. He looked up.

  “You want to make a long-distance call?”

  “Actually, I’d prefer internet connection. Can I use the computer?”

  “Sure, I was just in there myself.” He paused, looking sheepish. “I like to play computer games on my breaks.”

  Roxy laughed. “I guess all the sun, sea and sand gets a bit blasé after a while?”

  He laughed too. “Yeah, well, it’s what I grew up with so it’s nothing special to me. I’ve been trying to talk Abi into getting a PlayStation or a Wii set up, you know, for the cooler, younger guests, but she won’t hear of it. Says they should be out swimming and snorkelling! I’ll talk her around. Anyway, computer’s in the library, you know where it is. The instructions are by the monitor; your password is just your room number. It’s a cinch but yell out if you need a hand.”

  “Thanks, Josh. I’m sure I’ll be fine. By the way, I noticed my mobile doesn’t get a signal here.”

  “Nope. I could fix that too with the right infrastructure, but... you know?”

  “Abi?”

  “Abi.”

  She laughed and made her way to the partitioned corner near the dining room that was used as the library. Stepping inside she spotted Helen at the monitor, studying something on the screen in front of her. Helen looked up with a start.

  “Oh, hello Roxy,” she said then turned back and quickly shut down the page. The screen went blank. “You want to use this?”

  “Yes, but there’s no hurry, I can come back later.”

  At that moment a sudden crash made both women jump. Helen leapt up and looked around the corner to find Popeye down on his knees just outside the kitchen tentatively picking up what looked like broken glass. She groaned loudly.

  “Unbelievable.” She turned back to Roxy. “It’s all yours, looks like I’ve got some cleaning to do.”

  She scooped up a thin manila
folder that was on the desk beside her and hurried out.

  Roxy sat down in front of the computer and attempted to log in, however, it was soon clear that Helen had forgotten to log out properly and the internet was already up and going. Pressing the return arrow in the hope that she’d find her way back to the Google search engine, Roxy instead found herself on a page titled Regional Land Rights and Policy. It was the same page Helen had just been reviewing. Roxy glanced around to make sure she was alone, then scrolled down to take a closer look. As far as she could tell, it was an official Australian government AusAid site offering advice about settling customary land disputes in the Pacific region. She wondered why Helen would need that kind of information. Were they having trouble with land claims by the locals?

  Perhaps she should ask Abi about it tomorrow, she thought, shutting down the AusAid site and logging Helen out. She was just logging herself in when Helen reappeared at the door.

  “Hello again,” Helen said, smiling coolly. “It’s just occurred to me that I might have forgotten to log out.”

  “No worries, I did it for you. I’m logging in with my password now.”

  “Oh. Um, good.” The woman paused, about to say something, then changed her mind and disappeared again.

  Roxy shrugged then quickly got to work, logging back onto the internet and into her email account from there. There were a stack of messages in her inbox but she ignored them for now, noticing, too, that none were from Max, and pretending it didn’t matter. She gave herself a little shake and began to compose two messages. The first was to her agent, giving him a quick appraisal of her first days on the island:

  “Hey Olie: Just getting started but Abi is already showing signs of being very open and cooperative. Hooray. This place is beautiful, several intriguing characters lurking about, too. All good entertainment! There’s a story here and I’m not sure it’s all about Abi. I’ll be back in touch when—if!—there’s something to report. Mobile doesn’t work, so don’t bother. xo R.”

  Next, she jotted a note to her mother, knowing only too well that there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t. This message was more detailed. She described her trip, the hotel, and the beaches but didn’t mention anything about intriguing characters. Roxy didn’t need Lorraine Jones getting too curious. She signed it off with hugs and kisses and hoped that would placate her mother for a while.

  Then, checking her watch, she decided to wait a few minutes to see if Olie would reply. He would still be at his desk at this hour and he might want to get in touch. She shifted over to the lounge, grabbed the first book on the coffee table and began flicking through it.

  Titled Myths & Legends it was all about the local folklore and superstitions and had Roxy intrigued from the very first page. The author, a man named Christopher Lane, had a way with words, elaborating on every spooky detail from this once-primitive region’s past. She scanned across stories of missionary-devouring cannibals, curse-afflicting witchdoctors and watery ghosts who scared native fishermen to their deaths. And she wondered if the current locals still believed in all of this mumbo jumbo.

  Noticing that some time had passed, Roxy put the book back and returned to the desk. She logged onto her email account again and spotted Oliver’s reply. There was one from her mother, too. She clicked on Oliver’s first.

  “So the cannibals haven’t got you yet? Phew! All fine here in the real world. Intriguing characters sound er, intriguing. But just stick to the main story, okay? I need you back here eventually. Glossy mag have called wondering where you are and I may have another book in the offing. Anyway, have fun, stay out of mischief. Oh, that’s right, it’s your middle name. Olie.”

  She laughed, replied with a quick, “Envy is so unattractive in a man ;-) R” and then opened her mother’s email. This was just as she’d expected.

  “Hello darling, lovely of you to grace us with a message at last. Don’t have telephones on the island then? Charlie says hello. Be sure to take some happy snaps for us and stay out of the sun. You know how red and splotchy it makes you. I hope they’re paying you well for the inconvenience. Any eligible’s? love Mum.”

  Roxy groaned and quickly typed: “Yes Mum, so inconvenient to be dragged to a five-star resort to work. Really, I don’t know why I stand for it! And, newsflash, I’ve been gone less than two days!!!”

  Then, taking a deep breath, she erased the paragraph and wrote simply: “Will keep in touch. xo Roxy.”

  Roxy and her mother had long endured the kind of relationship that TV talk shows were built on. They simply never saw eye to eye. On anything. Lorraine Jones, now happily ensconced in a posh suburb of Sydney with her small-time investment banker husband Charlie, was a classic snob. She was conservative, bigoted and determined to marry her ‘spinster daughter’ off. Naturally enough, the spinster daughter was outraged by the very thought. She didn’t need marriage and she certainly didn’t need her mother’s closeted views about her life and loves. Roxy had had plenty of boyfriends in her time, thank you very much. She just didn’t want to marry any of them, even the adorable Max. Lorraine suspected that Roxy was still pining for her first love, her dad, who had died unexpectedly when she was young, but it wasn’t that. Roxy simply liked her life just the way it was. It was going to take a very special guy to muscle his way in.

  Looking around, she had to agree that right now, her life was pretty damn perfect. Here she was on a luxury island resort and being paid for it. Man, schman, she thought then glanced at the clock on the computer. There was still an hour before cocktails—enough time to get a decent walk in.

  Roxy dumped her stuff back in her room and then headed off through the dining room, down the side patio and towards the beach on the northerly end. It was the same direction that Abi had walked that morning and, if her navigation skills were correct, it was also the way to the local village.

  She wandered along the crisp sand for several minutes until she noticed a grassy opening at one end, a good 100 metres from the hotel at the other side of main beach. She walked up and spotted the track instantly. It led from the beach, through the mangrove and into thick scrub. To one side of the track, just a metre from the beach, Roxy noticed two deep holes had been dug out of the dirty sand. Some planks of wood, shovels and a cement mixer were piled together under a tarpaulin nearby and she wondered what they were constructing. Thinking nothing more of it, she began walking down the track in the direction of the village.

  Roxy was looking forward to meeting those smiling children again and asking them what they thought of sea ghosts and witchdoctors. Abigail might have been on Dormay for decades, but there was another side to this place that was equally as intriguing, and she was keen to explore that, too. In fact, Roxy was so preoccupied with her mission that she barely registered the voices ahead of her. A man’s gruff laugh suddenly stopped her in her tracks. She looked up. The sound was coming from around the next bend, just a few metres away. She couldn’t see who it was—the thick scrub and tall grass proving an effective curtain—but this time she had no trouble determining its origins. That French accent was unmistakable.

  “Ooh, mon cher, this is ridiculous, no? Everyone is happy here. We are all grown-ups, no?”

  “No, actually, some of us are more juvenile than others,” came a woman’s voice. It wasn’t Maya. “I am deadly serious, Luc. Mother knows everything.”

  Ahh, thought Roxy, it’s Helen.

  “And I mean everything. She’s threatening to call Marie-Simone. Tell her what you’ve been doing with all your precious time. I know Marie-Simone can probably overlook one little indiscretion, but... this? It might make her think twice about sending next month’s instalment.”

  “Argh, come on! This is ridiculous. Outrageous!”

  “I’m sorry, Luc. It’s over. No more. Got it? Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a doctor to see.”

  Realising the conversation was at an end, Roxy retreated as swiftly as she could and made her way back to the beach, wondering all the while what Hele
n was talking about. It sounded like she was discussing Luc’s affair with Maya but she couldn’t be sure. Roxy found a shady spot beneath a breadfruit tree and sat down, trying to look inconspicuous. Within minutes, Helen appeared from the scrub and looked directly at Roxy, a little startled. She didn’t say anything though, just ploughed on across the sand back to the hotel. Within minutes Luc also appeared and, spotting Roxy, broke into a wide smile and cut across to her.

  “Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” he said, dropping down beside her.

  He had dark baggy shorts and a paint-splattered T-shirt on, and his black, tousled hair flopped across one eye.

  “I did not expect to see you ’ere.”

  “Just hanging out,” she said, then, wanting to change the subject, pointed one hand towards the deep holes near the track just behind them. “So what’s with the bear pits? Abi hoping to catch some prey?”

  He looked around, then back. “What? Oh, eet is a new construction. Um, how do you say, par-goal-ah?”

  “Pergola. Oh, right.”

  “For Abi’s walks. She likes to take the leetle rests now. Like you.”

  Roxy laughed.

  “So, are you having a good time?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied.

  “Very beautiful, no?”

  “Sure is.” She glanced around at the coral-littered sand and the tinkling water beyond.

  “I was not talking about the island.”

  His voice had grown a little husky and he took hold of one of her hands, placing it to his lips and peering up at her provocatively. She burst out laughing, then flung one hand to her mouth.

  “Sorry, Luc.” She released his grip. “I don’t mean to be rude but your charms are wasted on me I’m afraid. Although I have to say you do it exceptionally well.”

  He looked genuinely taken aback. “You do not find me attractive? Why is this?”

  She laughed again, as intrigued by his candour as she was by his genuine surprise at being knocked back.

  “No offence. You’re gorgeous. You know that. But I’m here to write a book not muck about.”