Live and Let Diet (Australian Amateur Sleuth Book 1)

by Morgana Best

  I was tired and was longing for a long, hot shower, so I decided to go home. Besides, Max had been in that small cage for hours. I was safe from the murderer, surely—she was in the boarding house and had no reason to suspect that I was onto her.

  I drove past the boarding house slowly and stared at it. There was nothing out of the ordinary; I don’t know what I’d expected to see. I drove to my cottage and parked outside it. I sat there for a few moments collecting my thoughts.

  After five or so minutes, I tried Blake’s phone again. This time, he answered. “Blake!” I exclaimed. “Did you get my messages?”

  “Sibyl, whatever you do, do not…” His voice broke off.

  What on earth was he going to say? I figured he must be out of range on his cell phone. Surely that meant he was heading back to town.

  There was nothing else for it. I would go into the house, lock all the doors and wait until Blake called me. As I got out of the van, I was unprepared for the blast of icy cold that hit me. I wrapped my coat tightly around me, huddled down into it, and sprinted for the front door as fast as possible while carrying the cage. I turned the key in the lock, hurried through the door, and then shut it behind me and locked it. I bent down and opened the cage so Max could get out, and then I stood facing the door and rested my head against it, letting out a long sigh of relief.

  I flipped the light switch and turned around. To my horror, Alison was sitting on the sofa. Worse still, she was pointing a gun right at me.

  “Pretty, pretty,” Max said, from his position behind Alison/Cathy on the sofa.

  “Alison,” I said. “Why are you sitting on my sofa pointing a gun at me?” My voice was shaking.

  Alison stood up. “I’m sure you’ve figured it all out by now, Sibyl. It’s nothing personal, mind you. I think you’re a nice girl, but you’re in my way.” She laughed in quite a scary way, as if she was mentally unbalanced. “Let’s go. We’re going for a drive.”

  “Going for a drive?” I repeated. “Where?”

  Alison simply waved the gun at me. “Outside now. You’re driving.”

  “I’m driving my van?” I said. “You want me to drive you somewhere?”

  Alison shook her head. “You can’t be that thick, Sibyl. You’ve watched a lot of crime shows, you’re always saying. Come on, move. Outside, now.”

  She crossed over and shoved the gun at me. I walked slowly to my van, hoping to delay until Blake could get there. Mercifully, the van did not start at the first go. I was sorry when it did finally start after a few goes; I knew she intended to take me somewhere and finish me off.

  “Turn right here,” she said, after we had driven for about a minute.

  “What?” I asked. “Turn right onto Wheatfields Lane?”

  “Yes, turn right and then right again onto the New England Highway,” Alison said. “Are you deaf?”

  “Why can’t you tell me where you’re going?” I asked. “It’s not as if I’m going to tell anyone else.”

  “To Ebor Falls,” she said.

  “Ebor Falls,” I repeated. “I’ve been there before. I suppose you want to go to the viewing platform at Ebor Falls?” I said each word loudly and clearly.

  Alison nodded and I shot a glance at her. “Yes,” she said. “The waterfall’s flowing well, especially this time of year.”

  I shuddered and did my best to stay calm. I had been to Ebor Falls before. There was an enormous, fast flowing waterfall, and a viewing platform jutted out over the steep, deep gorge. It would be easy to throw someone over the platform into the fast flowing water a very long way below, and they would never be found. At the thought, I shook violently and the car nearly veered off the road.

  “Don’t get any ideas.” Alison waved the gun at me. “And don’t slow down. Stay on the speed limit.”

  “Alison, I know you killed your husband,” I said, but she interrupted me.

  “He was not my husband. We were living together, but he refused to marry me.” She sounded furious.

  “You killed him because he wouldn’t marry you?” I said.

  Alison snorted. “Hardly. He was a two-timing, cheating pig. We moved to Cressida’s to rob her. That place has so many antiques. We didn’t think she’d notice a few missing. We’ve been stealing her stuff on a regular basis, but in the last few months, Tim got cold feet and didn’t want to steal any more from Cressida. Plus he went on a diet and was buying nicer clothes. I figured it was because he was falling for her.”

  “I see,” I said, slowing down slightly and hoping she wouldn’t notice. “So you killed him because you were jealous?”

  Alison laughed for some time before speaking. “For someone who watches crime shows, you’re as thick as a brick. Fancy yourself as Miss Marple, do you? I’ve got news for you; you haven’t figured any of it out.”

  “I haven’t?” I slowed down a little more. I had to delay her to give help time to come. “Why don’t you tell me why you killed Tim Higgins?”

  “I wasn’t jealous of him having an affair, because I was having an affair. In fact, I’ve been having an affair for some years.” Her tone was triumphant, and I wondered what was coming next.

  “With Andrew.”

  “Andrew?” I parroted. “My ex-husband?” I was beyond shocked. Surely this couldn’t be true. “You were having an affair with Andrew?”

  “And you had no idea,” she sneered.

  “No,” I said. “I knew he was having affairs, but that was all.”

  “Not affairs,” she snapped, and waved the gun in front of my face. “Only one affair, with me. You’re due to get a fortune in the property settlement, and we can’t have that.”

  I was struggling to come to grips with the truth, and a dark thought descended on me. “You don’t mean that Andrew was in it with you?”

  “You’re slow to catch on,” she said. “Yes, it was my idea to dispose of you, but Andrew agreed readily enough. You didn’t think it was strange that he was so generous as to find you the cottage for rent and pay the first six months?”

  I gripped the wheel. I had thought it strange, but my lawyer had told me that Andrew was trying to look as though he were contributing to me, in case we did end up in court. That would then go in his favor in the eyes of the judge.

  I tried to put the pieces together, but it was hard to think clearly under the circumstances. Alison planned to shoot me and throw me over a cliff, after all. “So, you and Andrew were in it together?” I asked.

  “I’ve already told you that. We wanted to get rid of you so Andrew wouldn’t have to pay you out in the property settlement. I killed Tim to cover up the fact that we were going to kill you.”

  I didn’t think I could be any more shocked, but this latest revelation left me bowled over. “What? You killed Tim Higgins just to cover up the fact that you were going to kill me?”

  “Yes,” Alison said, her tone smug and self -congratulatory. “And it was quite a clever plan, if I do say so myself. The police would be focused on Tim’s murder, and they would think your murder was tied to that, that you knew something. They would never see you as the primary target.”

  “But if I hadn’t arrived when I did, and hadn’t smelled the cyanide? They might have put it down to death by natural causes.”

  “That didn’t matter,” Alison said. “They would think his death suspicious after you were murdered anyway, what with two deaths in the same small town. That was enough. We didn’t want them to know he was killed by cyanide, though. They never test for it in the usual tox screens, and if they did exhume his body, any traces of cyanide would’ve been long since gone.”

  “So I stuffed things up for you by arriving when I did and smelling the cyanide.”

  Alison snorted again. “Yes and no. Cressida had told me that you were arriving the day after you actually did, but she often gets things mixed up. On the one hand, cyanide was a possible link to Andrew, but on the other hand, it was good for us that the police realized that Tim was murdered, as your death
would then be more obviously linked to that.”

  “What about the painting?”

  “Tim had gone back to Warwick to steal it and the other artwork. I hid the painting in your cottage. Andrew and I hoped you’d be arrested, and it would stop the property settlement.”

  I tried to follow her reasoning, but I was in a state of panic. My palms were sweaty and I had to keep taking each hand off the wheel in turn and wiping it on my jeans. I was shaking so much that I thought I’d be sick.

  “I’m just turning off onto the Ebor Road now,” I said.

  “I don’t need the running commentary now. You can shut up,” Alison said.

  As we drove right away from the town lights, I swerved hard to miss a kangaroo, and Alison screamed and held the gun to my head.

  “It was a kangaroo,” I said, my voice shaky. “It jumped right in front of the van! I don’t know how I missed it.”

  “Just don’t try anything.”

  I did consider whether I should run off the road, but I decided against it, figuring that Alison would just shoot me anyway. We were approaching Ebor Falls, and I was fast running out of options.

  Chapter 21

  “Turn left just ahead,” Alison said.

  “What, at that sign that says ‘Ebor Falls’?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Ok, I’m now turning my van off the main road and entering the little lane that leads to the viewing platform at Ebor Falls.”

  “You’re nuts with your running commentary,” Alison said. “Perhaps the strain has affected your head.”

  I pulled the van into the car parking area, as far away from the viewing platform as possible. Despite the full moon, it was quite dark as there were no street lights, and there were thick bushes everywhere. I turned off the lights, killed the engine, and just sat there.

  “Get out of the car.”

  I looked at Alison, and in the moonlight I could see her pointing the gun at me.

  “Get out,” she continued, “and walk around the front of the van to my door. Don’t try anything.”

  I did so, and could see she was keeping the gun trained on me the whole time. I approached her side of the van and stood still, in front of the van. I watched as Alison got out of her door, her gun trained on me.

  The next thing I knew she was on the ground, people were calling out, and lights came on.

  I felt as if I would faint, and a strong hand grasped my arm and led me away to a police vehicle. I was still shaking violently, and gratefully accepted the blanket someone put around my shoulders. I vaguely watched the commotion as vehicles appeared as if from nowhere, their bright lights streaming into my sore eyes.

  Someone slid into the driver’s seat beside me, and I didn’t look at him until he spoke.

  “Sibyl, are you okay?” It was Blake’s voice.

  I turned to look at him. “No, not really. It’s quite a shock.”

  “Just as well you texted me to say that you were turning your iPhone on, and putting it on speaker,” he said. “Whatever gave you the idea to do that?”

  I sighed long and hard. “I know you’ll laugh at me,” I said, “but before I got out of the van to go into my cottage, I had a vision of me doing just that. I had no idea why, but I knew it was important, so I did it.”

  “Well, err, just as well you did.”

  I couldn’t see Blake’s face in the dark, but I knew his tone held skepticism. Not that I could blame him, of course. “I know you don’t believe me,” I added.

  Blake chuckled. “It’s not as bad as what Cressida told me.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Cressida said that Lord Farringdon told her to look out the window. She saw Alison sneak out to your cottage, and then some time later she saw your van drive away. She called me at once.”

  “But you already knew,” I said, ignoring the subject of Cressida thinking that her cat spoke to her. “I’d texted you by then.”

  “Of all days for this to happen, too,” Blake said. “The one time we’d all been called to Tamworth, and this happened. I’m just glad you left me a message and turned on your phone before you went into your cottage.”

  I shuddered, and blinked back the tears. This could have all gone so horribly wrong.

  Another officer approached the car and called Blake over. Blake patted my shoulder a couple times before leaving. I figured it was his way of trying to comfort me. “I’ll come back soon and drive you home. Constable Wright will drive your van back for you. You’ll have to come to the station tomorrow to give your statement. No rush. Just when you feel up to it. We have your whole conversation with Alison recorded, anyway.”

  I didn’t remember anything about the drive back home. I slept all the way; it had been a thoroughly exhausting day. I only woke up when the police vehicle pulled to a stop. I staggered out of the car, feeling utterly exhausted.

  My van was already there. I assumed Constable Wright had driven it, as he walked over and gave my keys to Blake. After the two spoke in whispers, the constable left.

  “Come on, I’ll get you inside,” Blake said.

  “Oh no, let me go ahead and make sure Max is all right,” I said. “He can be funny with men.”

  I hurried to the door and opened it, and then flipped on the light switch. Max was perched on the back of my sofa. I beckoned to Blake, who hurried in the door.

  “Oh, Max is a cockatoo,” he said with some relief.

  I wondered who Blake had thought Max was, but then the next words out of Max’s beak caused my face to turn beet red.

  “Max! That’s enough.” I turned to Blake. “I’m so sorry. I went to Rockhampton today to collect him from my ex-husband. Max never said anything like that before. He was always a very polite cockatoo.”

  “*&$%##& you, you copper pig!” Max said again, causing me to gasp.

  I hurried over and picked him up, and then took him to the garden room at the back of the cottage. “Stay in there, you naughty bird.”

  As I walked out of the room, Max called out after me, “Yes, your bum does look big in that.”

  I was furious. My ex-husband must have spent quite some time teaching Max rude words just to upset me. He must have fully intended to send him back to me all this time, along with a new and, shall we say, interesting vocabulary.

  I found Blake in my kitchen. “I’ll make you a hot cup of tea before I go,” he said. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I couldn’t handle eating right now.”

  Blake shot me a look of sympathy. “Go and sit on the sofa. You’ve had a hard day.”

  “That’s for sure,” I said. “I’ve had long flights, spoken to my ex-husband which is bad at the best of times, and then Alison tried to kill me.” I tried hard not to cry. “My ex-husband, Andrew, tried to kill me, too. I knew he wasn’t a nice person, but…” My words trailed away as the full import sunk in. I knew my ex-husband was a low life, but never in a million years would I have guessed that he was a murderer. I supposed he wouldn’t have been able to do the deed himself, but sanctioning it was certainly bad enough. He had agreed that Alison kill Tim Higgins, and also wanted her to kill me. A big tear rolled down my cheek.

  I looked over at Blake, who was carefully stirring sugar into my tea. It was nice to have someone to look after me for a change, to bring me a cup of tea and care for me. Maybe one day when I had gotten over the fact that my ex-husband had tried to murder me, I would be able to consider dating again.

  Just as Blake handed me the cup, Max screeched again. “You’re butt ugly!”

  I jumped, and spilled some of the tea down my shirt. “I’m okay,” I said to Blake, who had a look of concern plastered on his face. “Thanks for the tea and the ride home.”

  Blake looked awkward. “Will you be all right, or should I send Cressida over?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you,” I assured him. My hand flew to my mouth. “What about Cressida and Mr. Buttons? Has anyone told them a
bout Alison?”

  Blake nodded. “Constable Wright was on his way to do that. Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll go. Don’t forget to drop by the police station in the morning to give your statement.”

  “I will. Thanks for everything.”

  With that, Blake left, and I was all alone in my cottage, all alone that is, except for my trash talking cockatoo.

  Chapter 22

  The following morning I was driving back home after giving my statement at the police station. As I passed the boarding house, Cressida waved me down. “Lord Farringdon says he’d like you to join us for morning tea.”

  How could I refuse? I nodded, and parked my car.

  Soon I was sitting in the main living room at the boarding house with Cressida, Mr. Buttons, Lord Farringdon, and Sandy. Of course I had to tell Cressida and Mr. Buttons about the sordid events of the previous day, and it was no fun at all to recount any of it.

  “No offense, Sibyl, but Lord Farringdon says that dogs shouldn’t be allowed inside,” Cressida said, “although I don’t mind. Oh, stop glaring at me, Lord Farringdon.”

  As if on cue, Lord Farringdon hissed at Sandy, who hurried over to slobber on my knee. Mr. Buttons pulled out a white linen handkerchief and rubbed my knee hard.

  On the upside, I was drinking English Breakfast tea out of delicate, fine bone china, and eating cucumber sandwiches that were sliced into little triangles and were missing their crusts. The taste was beginning to grow on me.

  “You know,” I said, “I came to Little Tatterford for a life of peace and quiet. It looks like I might finally get it, with all this behind me.”

  Cressida and Mr. Buttons agreed. I supposed Lord Farringdon did too, but he just sat there, while Sandy drooled.

  Mr. Buttons pulled a set of tarot cards from his pocket, and unwrapped the cards from their crimson velvet covering. “I’ll just draw a card.”

  “No,” Cressida and I said in unison. “I’d rather not know,” I added, but it was too late.