by C T Mitchell
“Which means, you ladies need to return to Bangalow and wait for word from us,” Patterson said.
Maggie set her lips into a firm, determined line. “We're in this together, remember, Detective?”
“We can’t have either of you put in more danger than you already are,” Sullivan said. “None of us know for sure where Winston is or what he’d do if he’s found. The land developer also seems like a vicious type who will stop at almost nothing to get what he wants. If he wants Winston’s property that badly then it’s the lynchpin of the project, he’ll stop at nothing.”
Sullivan led Maggie and Lucy back through the station to the lobby. “I'm sorry, but you’ll have to trust us, ladies. We'll let you know as soon as we have anything solid to tell.”
~*~
At Patterson's prodding, the detectives ate lunch at the golf course country club. They weren't in it so much for the food, but for the gossip. Some guests were more than happy to talk about assorted details of the land development scheme but learning about Winston's recent activities took a little prying.
Once one person started talking, it was like a dominos effect where others also began to spill their secrets. The kicker was one patron's insistence that Winston had been in hiding for three months. How could that be when Lucy claimed he came home every night? The detectives thanked the guest and climbed into Patterson's four wheel drive truck to explore the abandoned houses in the valley. Was Winston hiding in one of them? They were about to find out.
The first house they came to was an eyesore. Everything was boarded up tight. A notice stuck on the window said it was set for demolition next week.
“There’s no way anyone could live in there,” Detective Patterson said. “The doors and windows are boarded up tight. If Winston managed to get in, let alone stay, I’d be very impressed.”
“Let's mark it off and move on to the next one,” Sullivan said.
The second house on the list was in a similar state of disrepair with boarded up windows and doors and a demolition notice in the window.
“Next,” Patterson sighed. “With our luck, there won't be any sign of life until the very last abandoned house in the Valley.”
Fortunately, they didn't have to wait that long. The third house wasn't boarded up and showed some signs of life. The detectives exchanged glances. Could this be the big break they were after?
“Let's check the back,” Sullivan said.
The detectives creeped around to the back of the house. To their surprise, and good luck, the door was unlocked. Both drew their guns and pushed the door open to enter the house.
Sullivan instantly covered his nose when a wave of hot, putrid scented air hit his face like a fan circulating stale air. Patterson held his sleeve to his nose as they explored the rag tag living room and kitchen. That's when they saw it or, more appropriately, him.
Winston Broad laid dead on the floor, half in the walk in pantry and half on the kitchen floor.
Chapter 8
“Yes, thank you, Detective, I understand.” Maggie hung up the phone.
Lucy fidgeted on the couch beside her. Everything about her was a ball of nervous energy. “They've found him, haven't they?” she asked quietly. “He's not hiding out, but dead.” Lucy blinked back tears. “Don't soften the blow for me, Maggie. Just tell me out right – like tearing a band aid from a wound.”
“The detectives believe Winston was in the way of that developer so he had to die.” Maggie sat down beside Lucy. “It would be the only way for the developer to get the house. That debt package was simply a way to lure him into working for the developer. If Winston had seen the benefits he would get from the debt collection and working with such a powerful ally, I imagine he would let go of his home and land. What the developer didn’t expect was Winston was honest and compassionate. He must have been preparing to forgive the debts instead of demanding payments.”
“The developers never approached us,” Lucy said. “If they had, we may have sold.”
“That $500,000 must be a drop in the bucket to them. They clearly wanted the property. You said he owned it out right – that it had been in his family for generations. The only way to get it was to kill him.”
“The developer can’t get his hand on the land by killing Winston,” Lucy blurted out. “It’s been mine from the beginning. I asked Winston’s put it in my name as soon as he acquired it outright. It was a way to...safeguard...the property and not tie it directly to him. Now I can do whatever I want with it.”
“That was certainly a convenient break.” Maggie bit her lip and tried not to let any suspicions shine through. She always had her doubts about Lucy but now this complete lack of compassion after finding out about her husband's death, increased these doubts tenfold. She could cry at the drop of a hat for any other thing about the case but not shed one tear for Winston's death?
Something was going on.
Lucy smiled, though it was far from a warm gesture. The best word Maggie could use to describe Lucy's smile was calculated. “Isn't it though? Now I can sell property to the developer, move out of this horrible village, and retire to the Cayman Islands. “
“So soon?”
“Why not?” Lucy suddenly became defensive. “Wouldn’t you want to leave an unpleasant chapter of your life behind you? You moved here from England, now I'm going to move far, far away too.”
“Are you sure you've been telling us the whole story, Lucy?”
Her nervous fidgeting returned in force. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I think you haven’t been telling us the whole story,” Maggie said. “I think you lured your husband into the scheme yourself and might have even killed him during one of the latest visits at the abandoned house.
You knew where he was all along, didn't you, Lucy? It was all part of the plan. Except Winston got cold feet. You couldn't have that. Not with all your dreams of getting away from the village hanging in the balance.”
Lucy opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come out. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish gasping for air before finally spitting out: “What do you think you know?”
“Plenty.”
Maggie felt in her pocket to make sure her cell phone was handy. If Lucy was a killer, she didn't need to be the latest victim. “You're not as good as covering your tracks as you think you are. I knew you already owned the house instead of Winston. All that took was some public records searching. On top of that, your reaction to hearing news of Winston's death was not one of grief. You knew. You knew before any of us did.” Maggie stood and moved across the room.
Even with one hand on her cell phone, putting more distance between her and Lucy wouldn't hurt any. She hit the re-dial button while keeping the phone hidden. The last person she called was Detective Sullivan. He picked up on the second ring. Maggie made sure to speak loud and distinct so Sullivan could hear. She needed witnesses or it would just be her word against Lucy's.
“I admit, you had even me fooled early on, Lucy. You were quite good with the waterworks,” Maggie said. “But the waterworks can't hide the truth. Winston wasn't your first husband, was he?”
Lucy denied it, though denial was getting her nowhere fast – and it certainly wasn't throwing suspicion off of her. “I don't know what you're talking about. I loved Winston.”
“But not as much as you loved Quentin.”
Lucy's face drained of all color. “How did you...How did you find out about Quentin?”
“You mean your first husband?” Maggie knew she had Lucy on the run now. Just a few more well placed reveals and they'd have the case solved.
“You'd be surprised at how much information you can gather from talking to the right people. Quinton worked with Winston at Barclays UK. He even went so far as to introduce you to Winston. He even came up with the plan to divorce him in favor of marrying Winston, didn't he?”
“But the land was worth so much money,” Lucy finally confessed. “Quintin and I s
truggled. I know a lot of people struggle, but Winston – or more like his land – was our ticket out of struggles. Winston would have done anything for me. He proved it when he signed over the property to me. Once it was mine, Quintin put the bug in the land developer's ear that now was the time to build. In order for me to have full control over the profit of the sale of the land, Winston had to die.”
“And you were just the one to do it, weren’t you?” Maggie asked. “He trusted you and you led him to disaster.”
“I didn't do it.” Lucy shook her head emphatically. “It was Quintin. I got cold feet. I wanted the money, but I wanted it on my terms. I've spent my whole life beholden to a husband and hoping he can provide for me. Not anymore. I wanted to make my own decisions and control my own money. Quintin couldn't accept this. He --”
“He vandalized your house in the hopes you'd come running scared back to him.”
Detectives Sullivan stood in the living room doorway with Patterson directly behind him. “He underestimated your determination, though, Mrs. Broad. You weren't going to share the money from the sale of the house any more than Quintin was going to share you with Winston. But you see, Quintin has the last laugh after all.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy's hands trembled.
“When Quintin realized you were going to cut him out of the scheme, he came down to the police station and wrote out a confession. He signed it in front of witnesses.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Lucy was still grasping at straws to stop her boat from sinking.
“He named names, Lucy,” Patterson said. “You're at the top of the list. Lucy Broad, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder Winston Broad....”
About The Author
C T Mitchell was born in Cairns but now lives in Brisbane Australia. He trained as an accountant and put his knowledge firstly into being a share broker during the mining boom of the roaring 1980’s before venturing off to the grey side of real estate sales. For a brief four year stretch he slipped into the dark side of car sales before seeing the light and returning to real estate and finance.
He writes the Cabarita Crimes series books featuring Australian Detective Jack Creed – a detective from the school of hard knocks where protocol is not a priority in his ‘get the crime solved at any cost’ demeanor. The first short story in the series, REJECTION, sees Jack Creed up against a sick, demented Nicholas Weatherby who plans to carry out Australia’s first mass University shooting. Rejection, like other novellas in the series, have been best sellers in their categories on Amazon, particularly in the US, UK and Australia. “Murder on the Beach” – #1 Amazon UK #1 Amazon US.
The Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mysteries is another series featuring the amateur sleuth Lady Margaret Turnbull whose uncanny knack of solving crimes is the envy of the local police Detective Tom Sullivan.
C T lives with his wife and four nearby adult children; splitting their time between Brisbane and Cabarita Beach, NSW, Australia.
Find out about C T’s latest books and how you can get them at low prices by joining his newsletter at:
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More Books by C T Mitchell
Detective Jack Creed
Detective Jack Creed Box Set (Books 1 – 4)
Or buy the books individually
Rejection
Shattered
The Secret of Barnesdale Manor
Murder on the Beach
High Stakes
Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mysteries
Murder at the Fete
Murder in the Village
Murder in the Cemetery
Murder in the Valley
Lady Margaret Turnbull Box Set (Sept 2015)
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