A Plot to Die For (A Ghostwriter Mystery)

by C. A. Larmer

  She clicked on it and read down the entire page this time, but it didn’t really offer up anything new. It was a paper written by an Australian land law consultant and provided a rather convoluted snapshot on settling customary land disputes in this and similar regions. There was plenty of historical and legal information, a rundown on the Settlement Act of 1971, and information on constraints regarding land disputes. It was heavily bogged down in legalese and Roxy’s eyes were glazing over within minutes. She didn’t know if Helen had found what she was after on this page, but she’d leave that to Davara and his men. She made a note of the website name and logged out.

  At the main desk, Roxy found Joshua and asked after the police chief.

  “He’s gone back to the, er, crime scene,” Joshua said. “Can I help you with something?”

  She folded the paper over and handed it to him. “Can you give that to the Chief when you see him? It’s very important.”

  “Sure thing, man. What’s it about?”

  “Oh, just something he might want to look at. I’ll be up in my room if he needs me.”

  “Cool.” He placed the paper to one side.

  Roxy made her way back to her bedroom where she pulled her laptop out of its bag and set it up on the table by the window. She might not be good at legal speak but there was one area where she was a pro. She opened a new Word document page, then reached for her tape recorder, rewound it to the start and pressed ‘Play’.

  As Abi’s voice came to life before her, Roxy ignored the heavy lump in her throat and began to type. There was no time for emotion, she was determined to transcribe the hotelier’s interviews before the day was out, and with four hours logged up that would mean as much as eight hours getting it all down in print. She wanted to do the job properly, she didn’t want to miss a word, an inflection, an emphasis of any kind, and so she began typing...

  By lunch time, with half the work done and her stomach growling impatiently, Roxy leaned back in her chair and stretched. So far, there was nothing even remotely strange or suspicious about Abi’s words. Roxy frowned. Had her death really come out of nowhere? Or was there something she hadn’t yet told Roxy? Something she was hoping to get to? Something worth dying for?

  “This crayfish salad is to die for!” announced Maya as Roxy began filling her plate at the buffet in the dining room a few hours later. She took the spoon Maya was offering and added some crayfish to the pile.

  “What have you been doing all morning?” Roxy asked and Maya hitched her beaded skirt up to reveal her Burberry bikini underneath.

  “What else is there to do on this Godforsaken place?”

  “I thought you loved Dormay.”

  “I do, darling! But it’s not quite so much fun when it’s forced upon you. Besides, I normally only stay a few days. I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “What about your art lessons with Luc?” She tried to say it without a wink, wink and a nudge, but the irony was lost on the young woman.

  Maya sniffed. “No, thank you. I’ve had quite enough art to last me a while.”

  Luc appeared then and, spotting him, Maya picked up her half-empty plate and told Roxy, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m heading back to my room. Alone.”

  That last word was directed at Luc and he shrugged, a half smile on his lips. Whatever was going on between those two was clearly affecting her more than him. He strode across to Roxy.

  “And how are you this afternoon?”

  “Fine, thanks, Luc. You?”

  He shrugged. “I am frustrated. My work, it eese not coming along so well. I need inspiration.”

  He smiled provocatively, his black fringe flopping across one eye.

  “Perhaps I can give you some art lessons, no?”

  “No,” she repeated firmly then left him at the buffet.

  Josh, Doc and Helen were sitting together at a veranda table and spotting a spare seat next to them, she walked across. Helen was just getting to her feet.

  “Here, take my chair, Roxy, you get a better view of the ocean.”

  “Oh I didn’t mean to scare you away—”

  “No, really, I’m done. Can’t eat another thing.”

  Roxy glanced at her plate and it looked as though she hadn’t even started on her meal. Helen turned to Joshua who was staring up at her worriedly.

  “I’m going to head back to my room for a bit. Please, Joshua, if you could take over for the day. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  He jumped up and began following her out.

  “Are you okay, Hel’? What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine, stop fussing! You’re like an old woman. Just, please, keep everyone away. I need some time out.”

  They both left and, sitting in Helen’s seat, Roxy glanced across at Doc. He was shaking his head sadly.

  “The poor chap,” he said, stabbing at his pasta salad with a fork.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “He’s had a crush on Helen ever since they went to school together. You didn’t notice?”

  “Not really, no. That’s a long time to have a crush. So, they went to school together?”

  “Well, not exactly together. They wanted to go to the same school I believe but Abi wouldn’t hear of it. She sent them to different boarding schools—Helen to a convent all-girls school and Joshua to St Pius Brothers College. Both in Brisbane. As far as I can tell, they’re good friends, so long as no one is watching.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, my dear, that Helen is an incorrigible snob. She likes Joshua, they get along, hell, they’re probably very well suited. But she has greater plans for herself than getting hooked up with a local lad.”

  “So they never...”

  “Dated?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “I may be sneaky Roxanne, but I’m not always successful at it. I couldn’t tell you what they get up to in those long ‘business meetings’, but I do know if Joshua had his way, it’d be pretty amorous.”

  “But Helen isn’t having any of it?”

  “Not that I can tell, and it certainly didn’t help that Abi was dead against it. She always saw them as siblings, I guess because they’re so close in age. She once told me she’d be absolutely devastated if they got together. That it wouldn’t be right.”

  “That’s strong language. I thought she loved Josh.”

  “Yes, she did. But she was, well, wary...” He paused.

  “Wary of what?”

  “Oh, nothing, I’ve probably said too much as it is.”

  “You’re going to leave me hanging like that?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, it’s not really relevant, and certainly not my place to say.” Doc scooped another mouthful of pasta up and managed to drop some back down onto his shirt.

  “Dear, dear, I am so clumsy these days.” He winked again at Roxy. “I need a nurse. Want the job?”

  She laughed. “What is it with the blokes on this island?! All this sun and surf must be amping up your testosterone levels. No, thanks, Doc, I never was very into playing doctors and nurses.”

  He laughed too. “Well, you can’t blame an old doc for trying.”

  As they ate, Roxy wondered, now knowing how close Josh and Helen were, whether Joshua also knew about Abi’s plans to change the lease. And if he did, how he would feel about it. No matter how she looked at it, it could only be a plus for the young man. He was part-local after all. Surely, Joshua would be thrilled to actually own the place. If there was one person who seemed to love Dormay as much as Abi, it was Josh.

  She scowled. Helen seemed to be looking guiltier by the day. If Abigail had lived, not only might Helen have lost the island, her inheritance and her means of support, the local lad she felt miles above may have ended up her boss. Could she allow that to happen?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Doc said and Roxy shook herself out of it.

  She stared at him and wondered what he, too, knew of Abi’s discussions with the Lands Com
missioner.

  She decided to let it drop and, instead, said, “I was just wondering if Helen’s okay. She didn’t look too good just now.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Doc said firmly. “She came to see me a few days ago. She’s just worn out, that’s all. And now, of course, with her mother gone, and in such horrific circumstances... Do not worry yourself with Helen, she just needs to take better care of herself and get some sleep. I told her as much and I’m glad to see she’s finally taking my advice. That’d be a first!”

  At that moment, Chief Davara stepped into the room and they both looked at him surprised.

  “I thought you were going back to the mainland,” Roxy said.

  “Ah yes, yes, I was just about to head back when I got a very interesting phone call from the pathologist.” He glanced around the room. “Where is Miss Lilton, plis?”

  “She’s not well,” Doc said. “She’s in her room now and needs to rest. I really don’t want you disturbing her right at the moment.”

  The Chief nodded his head. “If you say so, Doctor Spinks. In any case I need to speak with you, too, plis.” He glanced at the plates before them. “When you have finished your lunch.”

  Doc stood up, tapping his belly. “Oh I’m done old chap. We can do it now, if you like.”

  Roxy stood up, too. “Is this about the autopsy results?”

  “Yes, Miss Parker, we have some results back. Plis, Doctor, we go to the side veranda.”

  “Can I come?” Roxy had barely started on her salad but wasn’t about to miss out on this.

  The chief began to shake his head so she quickly added, “Whatever it is, Helen’s going to tell me eventually anyway.”

  He considered this. “Okey dokey, you can come, too, Miss Parker but plis, bring your lunch, hey? I would hate to be responsible for wasting such good food.”

  She smiled and picked up her plate.

  When they reached the side deck, the police chief asked them both to sit down then took his own seat at the table and pulled out his trusty notebook. He flipped through the pages until he got to the one he wanted.

  “Okay, we have some very interesting results.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Doc interrupted. “She died from a blunt force trauma to the side of the skull.”

  The Chief nodded. “Yes, but that is not what is so interesting.”

  Both Roxy and Doc sat forward, intrigued.

  “It would not have taken much blunt force, not because Mrs Lilton was elderly, but because she was sick, very sick indeed.”

  “Well, we knew that already.”

  “Yes, but did you know why she was so sick?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “She was weak, nauseated, had a splitting headache if I recall. I assumed she was coming down with a stomach bug. Wasn’t she?”

  “No, Doctor Spinks, this was no stomach bug.”

  The Chief was clearly enjoying himself now, teasing the information out and Roxy could see the Doctor was getting impatient.

  “Well, out with it man!” he said at last.

  “Mrs Lilton had high dosages of quinine in her system.”

  The Doc gasped and Roxy looked from him to the Chief puzzled.

  “Quinine? The anti-Malarial drug? But what’s so strange about that? She was obviously taking it to ward off the mozzies. I’m on something similar myself.”

  “No, she hadn’t taken anti-malarials for decades,” Doc said, his eyes now darting about the room, trying to think. “None of the old-timers do.”

  “Besides,” added Davara. “She had far too much in her system. More than 10 grams. A daily dose is 2 grams at most. This is a toxic dose, Miss Parker. It could have killed her.”

  “Do you think she took it deliberately?”

  “I can not be sure.”

  “Suicide?” said Doc. “Don’t be ridiculous. Abigail had never been depressed a day in her life. Not after that philandering husband left her in the lurch in a foreign country, not after she discovered she was having Helen.” He paused, choked up a little. “Oh no, Abi would most certainly not have tried to kill herself. It’s absurd.”

  “So, then, she must have been deliberately poisoned,” said Roxy.

  The Chief nodded. “It is most likely since she was also hit over the head. The question now is—” he glanced from one to the other—“who would do this? Who would give so much quinine to Mrs Lilton and why?”

  Roxy thought about this. “But I still don’t get it. Did she die of quinine poisoning or the hit to the head?”

  The Chief leaned back in his seat and put his hands together, prayer-like.

  “She was certainly poisoned, Miss Parker, we know that. It is indisputable. But it did not kill her. No, no.” He placed one hand at his temple. “The blow to the head is what killed Mrs Lilton. But she was not well. Even if she survived the quinine overdose, she would have been very weak.”

  “So it would have been easy for someone to follow her out that next morning to the track and strike her down. She couldn’t have put up so much as a fight,” Doc said. Again, the Chief nodded.

  “What I want to know,” said Roxy, “is why on earth Abi was up and about? If she really was so sick with quinine toxicity, why did she go on her morning walk as usual? She must have felt dreadful.”

  The doctor sighed heavily. “You didn’t know Abigail as well as you thought, my dear. She adored the sea. It was her one great passion. It was the reason she struggled down there each morning, despite her hip troubles. She needed to get her fill. Perhaps... perhaps she felt it would clear her head, pep her up so to speak.”

  Roxy chewed her lower lip for a moment, deep in thought.

  Eventually she said, “So how did it happen? How did all that quinine get into Abi’s system?”

  “This is a very good question, Miss Parker. Unfortunately we were not looking for poisons yesterday so we did not properly inspect her room.”

  The Chief shook his head angrily at himself. “We know she had been sick in the room, there was evidence of vomit, but that has all been cleaned up now. And we can not know now, for sure, how the quinine was administered to Mrs Lilton. It is a problem. But we did find plenty of gin in her stomach, too, so we think—”

  “Oh yes,” Doc interrupted him. “Of course! Her favourite tipple! G&T. She was drinking it that night, do you remember, Roxanne?”

  “Yes, I do. With lots of lime.”

  The chief returned to his pad and began flicking back through the pages.

  “Yes, yes,” he was saying. “This is most interesting.”

  He stopped at an early page. “In Mrs Lilton’s room that day we did find a glass with four slices of lime in it. This must have been her gin and tonic and we know, don’t we Doctor Spinks, that gin and tonic is a great way to help the medicine go down?”

  Roxy looked from one man to the next. “Huh?”

  Doc explained: “The original Indian tonic water had a little bit of natural quinine in it and expatriates in these parts have been using it for centuries to fight Malaria.”

  Roxy’s stomach tightened. Google websites began flashing through her head again.

  “Indian Tonic Water?” she said.

  “Oh yes,” said Doc. “But, of course, it tastes so jolly awful. So they would add some gin and, yes, even some limes, to pep it up.”

  “This would be a good place to hide the extra quinine,” the Chief said. “If only I had kept the glass from the bedroom. But, no matter. Listen, I must ask you, plis, both of you, do you know who prepared this gin and tonic. The one you saw Mrs Lilton drinking at dinner on Tuesday night?”

  “Goodness, I couldn’t say for sure,” said Doc. “She usually makes them herself I believe. Or, gets Popeye or Maurice onto it. You don’t think one of them—”

  Davara held his hand up to stall him.

  “Did she leave it alone at any point? Who else had access to her glass? Could someone else have put it in, when she wasn’t looking, perhaps?”

  Doc thought about thi
s and the Chief turned to Roxy who had appeared to slip into a coma. In fact, her brain was working overtime and she kept thinking of the Google history page she had looked at earlier. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time but there was a Wikipedia page on Indian Tonic Water. She’d assumed it was for cocktail recipes, for the bar. Now, she was not so sure. There was also one on tropical diseases. She gulped hard. Malaria was a tropical disease. Those pages had all been searched around the same time as the one on land leases.

  Oh Helen, thought Roxy. What have you done?

  “Any ideas, Roxy?” he said again and she looked at him with a start.

  She knew she should say something to Davara, that it was only right to mention it, but couldn’t bring herself to push that final nail into Helen’s coffin.

  Instead she said, “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”

  When he did so she told him that the only other person who had access to Abi’s drink that night was Joshua.

  “He was sitting beside Abi at the dining table. He could have slipped the quinine in while everyone was talking.”

  Roxy studied the Chief’s face wondering if he would rise to his nephew’s defense but he simply looked at her expectantly so she continued.

  “Or, better yet, when Popeye dropped the entrees. Do you remember, Doc, there was a big bang and we all looked around? Joshua could have done it then I suppose.”

  “And who was on her other side? At the dining table?” asked the Chief.

  Roxy glanced at Doc and he shifted uneasily in his seat.

  “Well, I was of course! But listen here, old man, you can’t possibly think for one moment that I did this? What possible reason could I have for poisoning Abigail?”

  The Chief held up a hand. “Plis, Doctor Spinks, do not concern yourself with what I think. I am just trying to get the facts together. To get a picture in my brain. You understand?”

  This seemed to placate the doctor so he asked, “Who on Dormay would have a good stock of quinine?”

  Once again Doc looked uncomfortable and he darted his eyes to Roxy and back to the Chief.

  “Well, I do. Of course I do, damn it. I’m a doctor in the tropics. I always keep plenty on hand should a guest show up unprepared. We can’t have them coming down with a deadly disease now can we?”