by Maddy Hunter
“I’m a tour guide, luv. When my supervisor warns me to keep something under my hat, I do exactly what I’m told because I like my job, and I want to keep it.”
“Has there been a break in the Claire Bellows case?” I asked quietly. “Oh, my God! Have the police figured out there was foul play? That’s it, isn’t it? I knew it wasn’t as cut and dry as it appeared. I just knew it.”
He leaned forward, checked left and right, and motioned me closer. “No one is to know about the warrant. Mum’s the word until the police arrive to haul their suspict away. It would go badly for both of us if the suspict should overhear something and decide to part our company prematurely. You know nothing, and I know nothing. Understood?”
“Absolutely.” I lowered my voice to an undertone. “When are the police going to arrive?”
“My thinking is, they’ll git here whin they git here.”
I recognized the look he gave me as the same one I gave my mom the day she decided to alphabetize the contents of my freezer. I hadn’t minded that she’d dived into my freezer unannounced. It was the trip to the emergency room to treat her frostbite that put the real crimp in my day.
“Okay,” I said, holding up my hands and backing away, “I’m leaving, and you can count on me not to say a thing. My lips are sealed.”
He gave me a thumbs-up and I scurried toward the reservoir feeling like I was about to explode. Could I call ’em, or could I call ’em? I was soooo right this time! Vindication! Peter Blunt was wrong and I was right. Someone on our tour was a cold-blooded murderer! Yes!
I stopped dead in my tracks. But who?
“Get a picture of this, Dick,” Helen instructed her husband as she hovered over a scruffy bush at the edge of the parking lot. “Does this thing look like it should be extinct?”
“There’s a rodent over here!” Lucille Rassmuson yelled. “I think it’s one of Marion’s rats.”
Dick Stolee walked the perimeter of the lot, training his camcorder on dirt, rocks, and an occasional candy wrapper.
“The view is supposed to be more scenic overlooking the reservoir,” I said as I passed him.
“Not interested in scenic. I’m hunting for fossils. Hieroglyphs. Extinct crap like that. I’m gonna prove your gramma’s not the only one with an eagle eye.”
As I neared the dam, I noticed Jake sitting on a rock near a copse of pine trees, head down and knees parted, scouring the ground with his fingertips. Probably in search of another poisonous pest with which to terrorize people. If Henry caught him, I supposed Jake would claim he was collecting rocks, not spiders, so Henry better butt out before Jake sued the company for harassment.
Man, I’d be so happy if the police hauled Jake away, but what were the odds? If Claire died from a spider bite, how would the police know to connect that with Jake? The only people who knew about Jake’s escaped redback were Jake, Lola and me, and none of us had talked to the authorities.
Unless—
“Emily!” Conrad hurried over to me. “The University of Melbourne is sending a team of zoologists to Ballarat today to search for your grandmother’s rat kangaroo. Isn’t that exciting? They told me to call them tonight so they can report their findings. They were delirious with anticipation. Naturally, I won’t accept any of the credit should they find the creature. The glory belongs to your grandmother. But I can hardly wait to see what wondrous discoveries she captures today with her camera.”
I gave him a narrow look as he rushed off. Damn. Could anyone who seemed as genuine as Conrad be capable of murder? Would the authorities be hauling him off instead of Jake? Was it even fair to assume that because he might have played fast and loose with Nana’s plant that he was guilty of murder?
Where was Ellie? I needed to pump her for more information.
Cameras were clicking like crazy as I descended a short flight of stairs and stepped onto a concrete walkway that was narrow as a primitive rope bridge. The dam was semicircular, like half of an enormous satellite dish, with the walkway perched on the edge. To my left lay the reservoir, its water level so high that waves sloshing against the concrete splattered my feet. To my right, the massive curved wall that held back the water disappeared into the valley below. I peered over the railing, thinking it was a very long way down.
“Have you found the surprise yet, dear?” Nana’s boots clacked on the concrete like Fred Astaire’s tap shoes. “Me and Tilly think we got it all figured out. The place is haunted.”
I eyed the Polaroid developing in her hand. “Did you take a picture of a ghost?”
“Nope. Listen.”
I cocked an ear. Background chatter. Film whirring. Birds cooing. Moaning.
Moaning?
“You hear it? Sounds like them noises we heard in the castle in Ireland.”
I spun in a full circle, checking out the sky, the treetops, the guests hanging over the railings. “Where’s it coming from?”
“Dunno. Sounds like it’s real close though, don’t it? Kinda like it’s comin’ from you or me.”
And not only moaning. Heavy breathing. Excited heavy breathing. Soft, sucking sounds. Panting. A little slurping. It was like listening to the audio portion of an X-rated video.
My face grew hot. “Do you know what this sounds like?” I said in an embarrassed undertone.
“George,” said Nana.
I suppressed a smile. “Gee, I’m surprised you didn’t say Grampa Sippel.”
“Your grampa used to forget what he was doin’ and fall asleep halfway through.” She regarded me sternly. “Don’t tell your mother. She breaks out in a rash every time she thinks about me and your grampa doin’ it.”
Farther down the walkway, Guy Madelyn leaned against the railing with a silly grin on his face, listening. Osmond stopped beside me and tapped his hearing aids. “My batteries must be low. I keep thinking I hear people having sex.”
“Any of you blokes figured it out yit?” Henry asked from the top of the stairs.
“The dam was built on an Aboriginal burial ground and is haunted by ancient wandering spirits?” Tilly ventured.
“It has a leak?” said Margi Swanson.
Henry shook his head. “If you’d hiked the hundred and forty meters to the opposite ind of the walkway, you’d have discovered that whatever you say at that ind can be heard at this ind as clearly as if the speaker were standing beside you. They call it the Whispering Wall—an acoustic miracle of sorts. Something to do with sound waves traveling long distances.”
“A parabola effect,” exclaimed Tilly.
“Quite right. Give a listen now.”
Birds cooing. Water sloshing. Insects buzzing.
Hey, what happened to the moaning, panting, and slurping?
“Doesn’t seem to be anyone over there at the moment,” Henry lamented.
“Someone was there a minute ago,” Nana piped up. “And they wasn’t alone.”
“They were making kissy-face noises,” said Alice Tjarks. “We all heard it.”
Like a circus audience instructed to observe the spectacle in the center ring, we riveted our attention on the far end of the curved walkway, raising our collective eyebrows when Lola and Heath strolled into view. Uh-oh. This wasn’t good.
“Noises won’t cut it,” said Henry, nudging us aside as he maneuvered around us. “Let me trot over there so you can experience the whole package.”
It was at that moment that I noticed Jake standing at the top of the stairs. I didn’t know how long he’d been there, or how much he’d heard, but he was there now, and he wasn’t smiling.
Nope. This wasn’t good at all.
Chapter 12
“You’ll notice that this vineyard has no system of irrigation,” our winery expert pointed out as we gathered at the edge of a field of ripening grapes. Wire trellises, thick, gnarly vines, and black soil stretched for acres before us, as impressive as any Iowa cornfield. “Australia is the driest continent on earth, and South Australia, where the Barossa is located, is the drie
st state in Australia, so we dry-grow our grapes. This means that in order to find water, the vines must push their roots deep into the earth. This produces fruit of superior quality, with dipth, color, and flavor that you often find missing with irrigated vines.”
I was hanging out at the back of the group, where I could observe Jake Silverthorn without being too obvious. He’d been eerily quiet with Lola after the incident at the dam, but I could see anger simmering in his eyes and knew his sullenness could explode into violence at any moment. I had to be on high alert to herd my group in the opposite direction if he finally did pop. Jake probably wouldn’t take kindly to the group’s newfound enthusiasm for picture taking, especially if they took close-ups of him slapping his wife around, or breaking a camera over someone’s head. Guys like Jake didn’t appreciate the concept of the Kodak moment.
“These vines were planted in the early eighteen-forties and are still growing on roots that came from European and South African vines. This gives the Barossa the distinction of being home to some of the oldest Shiraz, Grenache, and Mourvedre vines in the world. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the oldest vine in the vineyard.”
“Excuse me, Emily.” Ellie Carver worried her bottom lip as she glanced at a group of sheds whose stucco-and-stone walls had the look of candied fruit poking through the buttercream frosting on a Christmas stollen. “Connie’s back there, poking through the old equipment, so you mustn’t let on that I’ve spoken to you. He’d be cross if he thought I went behind his back, but you look like a savvy traveler, and I need to know. If Connie were to make changes to our return tickets home, would we have to pay a penalty or fee?”
“More than likely. Airlines usually make you pay through the nose if you alter your plans, especially for overseas flights.”
“Oh, dear. I was afraid of that.”
Warning bells jangled in my head. “I hope he’s not thinking of leaving the tour early, Ellie.” Like, before the police arrived. “We have a lot of continent left to see.”
“It’s worse than that. He wants to stay longer. I heard him making inquiries over the phone this morning. He told me it won’t cost us anything to change the tickets, but I don’t believe him. How can we afford to stay longer when every credit card we own is maxed out? I’ll tell you one thing, he’d better not ask the children to foot the bill.” Her voice trembled as she fought back tears. “Why is he lying? What is he so afraid to tell me?”
I could come up with a theory, but I didn’t think she’d want to hear it. “Has he told you why he wants to extend your trip?”
“He said he didn’t want to tell me because it would spoil the surprise, but he’ll be the one who’ll be surprised if the bill collectors come knocking on the door for lack of payment.” Her jaw locked with granite hardness. “After all I’ve done to pay our bills on time for the last fifty years, if he ruins my credit rating, I’ll leave him!”
“Um, I’m no expert on marriage, Ellie, but wouldn’t it be a good idea if you and Conrad talked about your financial concerns before you walked out the door?”
“Talk?” She regarded me quizzically. “Connie and I don’t talk, Emily, at least not about anything important. How do you think we’ve managed to stay married all these years? Do you want to know the secret of a successful marriage?” She tapped my forearm with her forefinger. “Never discuss critical issues. It makes living together a whole lot easier.”
Excuse me? Avoid talking about workaholism? Retirement plans? Whose family gets us for which holiday? Was she crazy? “Have you heard of Dr. Phil?”
“Oh, your generation thinks a successful marriage means hammering every issue to death. Hogwash. The couples who do the most hammering are usually the ones who end up in divorce court. Marriage is an institution, and no institution is perfect. You simply have to accept the limitations.”
I blinked surprise. “Really?”
“Take it from me, Emily, if you’re head over heels about someone, forget all the silly issues and marry him. Everything else will get resolved eventually; you just have to remember always to be respectful and kind to each other.”
“Really?”
She flipped me an “Aw, go on” gesture. “Young people. You always make things so difficult.”
I was so blown away by her advice that I almost forgot the critical issue I’d wanted to talk to her about. “Not to change the subject, Ellie, but could I pick your brain for a minute? Do you remember when we were in the Port Campbell visitor center the other day, and Henry announced that the bus had broken down?”
“Of course I remember. Connie went back outside to explore and left me with a roomful of strangers. I always play second fiddle to his explorations. But that’s Connie. He can never sit still. He always has to be exploring or fidgeting with something he’s not supposed to. He’d much rather be off on his own than socializing. But he’s taken a liking to you, Emily. If you get him alone, maybe he’ll open up to you about the airline ticket business.”
And if the police had any say in the matter, maybe he wouldn’t be with us long enough to open up to anyone.
As the group headed back toward the main salesroom, we fell in at the rear behind Diana and Roger, who were going at each other like spin doctors after a political debate.
“She doesn’t want to drink your crummy shakes because they taste like the stuff people take for diarrhea,” Diana sniped.
“Have you ever tried our shakes?” Roger fired back. “I should mail you a carton. They might change your appearance so much, you might even be able to lose the clown makeup. Why do you wear all that garbage anyway? Are you trying to hide something that you don’t want potential customers to see? Did the animal rights activists scare Infinity into testing their products on their own scientists instead of laboratory mice? Did the industry’s most perfect product turn you into Frankenstein’s monster?”
Oh, my God. It wasn’t just me. Other people were thinking the same thing.
“Who do you think has more credibility here?” Diana asked in an even tone. “A woman who wears foundation with an SPF of forty-five to protect her skin from sun damage, or a man with four former wives who all died under suspicious circumstances? What do they call you at GenerX? Dr. Bluebeard?”
Roger grabbed her arm. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. Now let go my arm before I drive your privates up through your nose. Would you like a demonstration? We even have an audience.” She nodded toward Ellie and me.
Roger released her arm and looked at me apologetically. “It’s not like she makes it out to be. I loved all my wives; I’ve just had trouble keeping them alive.”
I wondered if having a little food in the house might have helped.
“Freak accidents,” he explained as he removed his GPS from its holster. He punched a button a few times and flashed us the numbers on the screen. “These are the coordinates for Venice, Italy. My first wife drowned when she fell out of our water taxi into the Grand Canal.” He hit the button again. “This is St. Michael’s Mount. My second wife drowned when the incoming tide swept her off the causeway when we were walking back to the mainland.” He flashed new coordinates at us. “This is Alcatraz. Our boat was driven onto the rocks while we were sailing and my third wife fell overboard and drowned.” He punched the button a final time. “This is the hot tub on my back deck.”
“I hope your fourth wife was bright enough to grab a life jacket,” said Ellie.
“She didn’t need one. She was an Olympic caliber swimmer. She died when she fell through the hole I cut in the deck for the hot tub.”
“Allegedly fell,” said Diana. “Her family claimed you pushed her. Who knows where you’d be today if you hadn’t hired some high-priced lawyer to get you off the hook.”
Roger bristled like an angry porcupine. “Don’t take this personally, Toots, but you’re starting to piss me off. My past is none of your damn business.”
“I can make it my business if the details are splashe
d all over the internet for the whole world to see. Your hometown paper has wonderful archival material. I expect Heath will be thrilled to entrust his mother into the hands of a man who has such a stellar track record with the gentler sex, don’t you?”
“I didn’t push her!” he yelled in a desperate tone. “The hot tub was supposed to be a surprise! She came back from her mother’s early and fell into the hole in the dark.”
“Sure she did,” Diana taunted.
“Is that one of those picture phones?” Ellie asked as she scrutinized Roger’s GPS. “Would you mind if I have a look? Connie could use something like that.”
Roger shoved the unit at her while he continued to rail at Diana. “If you read the outcome of the trial, you’d know that I was acquitted of all charges!”
Diana spiraled her forefinger in the air in an unenthusiastic whoopie.
“How do you dial this thing?” Ellie asked me. “There’s no keypad.”
“You can’t talk to anyone on it,” I said, eyeing it with excitement. “It’s a Global Positioning System.”
“Is that like an iPod? The grandkids all have iPods…and hearing problems.”
“It doesn’t play music.”
“Where’s the shutter?”
“It’s not a camera.”
“It can’t take pictures; it doesn’t play music, and it won’t let you talk to someone? Shoot, what good is it?”
“It helps you find your way if you’re lost.”
“What’s wrong with using a compass?”
I shrugged. “Nothing, except it’s not as cool as something that’s ridiculously expensive, eats batteries, and labels you as a trendsetter.”
She handed the unit to me. “Would you mind giving this back to our friend when he stops yelling? I’m going to catch up with the group.”
Of course I’d give it back to him, after I checked out the waypoint he’d shown me at Sovereign Hill—if I could find it again. I pressed the click stick to change the screen, and when nothing happened, I pressed a button above the power switch. The main menu appeared, with the word “Waypoints” at the top. Now we were cooking.