Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacey Alabaster

  Scott nodded. “You could say that.” He looked like he was trying to keep something in, but I knew how hard it was for seventeen-year-olds to keep secrets. I just kept quiet and let him keep talking.

  Scott swung his legs over the side of the ramp. “My sister tells me she is working with the sister of the guy they reckon did it. Matt Foulkes.”

  I blinked a few times. “Who is your sister?” I was confused.

  “Her name’s Celeste. She works at The VRI.” As he continued to speak, it was clear he had no idea that I had any connection to Alyson Foulkes, let alone Matt Foulkes. He was just a kid who thought he had a bit of gossip and wanted to impress me by sharing it. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, but it was hard for me to judge right then. Suddenly my back was up, and I was taking careful note of every word he spoke, trying to figure out the angle. After my run-in with Rachael, I was never going to say too much to anyone ever again. So I was cool, silent.

  Scott kept yapping on, though. “She’s been trying to get info out of this Alyson chick. Trying to figure out what she’s trying to hide.” He shrugged. “But that’s okay. We all know what really went down.”

  We did?

  I had to pretend to be interested. Well, I was interested. VERY. But I had to pretend that I was only interested in the sense that this was some causal goss I was privy to. Nothing too personal. “Ooh, and what has she found out?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager to get the goss. But not disinterested either. The kid was cool. He might just skate right off if I didn’t play it exactly right.

  He shrugged. “Nothin’ much so far. But we do know that that Matt guy didn’t like that Arthur dude. They’d had some kind of argument before.”

  I froze. Kinda scoffed, but in a low-key way. “Nah, no way Matt already knew the guy.” I shook my head and looked up at the sky, as though I wasn’t too bothered by it all. I had to be careful not to give too much away. But I didn’t want this Scott kid spreading rumors all over town.

  He picked up his board and started to stand up. Great. He really was going to skate right away and leave me there. I needed to know more. Desperately.

  I just couldn’t sound desperate.

  “So, this Matt…dude,” I said with a little shrug. “Why did he have beef with Arthur?” I hoped I was using the right lingo.

  Scott didn’t seem thrown by anything I’d said. “They had this massive fight. Matt Foulkes chased that Arthur guy out of the restaurant one night for bothering his girlfriend—Kate or something—and we all saw him threaten him.” He nodded toward the side of the ramp where there was a grassy patch. “It happened right here.”

  I just stared silently while Scott put his board down and dropped down the ramp. He had no reason to lie to me. He didn’t even know who I was.

  I was starting to feel sick. My head was so dizzy that I could barely even get to my feet, let alone take the skate ramp back down to the bottom. I tried to find the ladder at the side so that I could dismount that way.

  So, Matt had access to the poison.

  And he had the motive to do it.

  I didn’t know how things had gone so badly so quickly. Just when I thought I’d found the perfect man, he turned out to be a surfing and baby-obsessed guy with no job who was probably a murderer.

  But now it was becoming clearer what I needed to do.

  Scott the skater had no idea what he had just unleashed in me. He looked at me a little bit funny as I took the ladder with unsteady hands and feet and even called out to ask if I needed a hand. But I just needed to get out of there.

  I always knew that skating would clear my head. I just never thought it would do it in this way.

  10

  Alyson

  Peace had descended at last on the Foulkes homestead.

  Maria had eventually given up calling. I’d missed my slot. No mock exam then. At least now that the deadline had passed, there was some sense of relief about the whole thing. I’d missed it. Didn’t have to worry about it now. Didn’t have to worry about Maria disapproving any more than she already had. She’d reached peak disapproval and there was nowhere to go after that.

  Of course I could still do the real exam. That would be the next looming thing that I’d have to decide on, sidestep perhaps, in case it crushed me. I still hadn’t cracked a book open.

  J was running around and telling me all about this musical she was a part of, Jesus Christ Superstar, which I thought sounded a bit advanced for nine-year-olds, but she was shouting the lyrics at me and asking me if her singing was really beautiful.

  “Er, sure it is, kiddo. Just might sound even more beautiful if you sung a little bit more quietly.”

  She considered this for a moment and nodded. “I think you’re right,” she said. “My singing teacher told me the same thing.”

  I asked her to fetch some plates and cutlery, since Matt was about to walk through the door. I needed a moment to myself to get a little composure, because this was going to be a big evening.

  It was time to come clean to Matt about the offer I had received. I just hadn’t found the guts yet. I wondered if I would be able to find them that night.

  Thursday night dinners had become a new thing for us now that J pretty much lived with Matt full-time and only came to my apartment every second weekend. Matt was an awesome cook and so we usually had the dinners at his house. But on that day, it was take-out because Matt didn’t have time to cook while surfing for twelve hours straight.

  Claire and I were both starting to get concerned.

  The smell of the roast chicken flooded the house as the door opened. J was jumping up and down because Matt had let her get fries as well and a side of gravy. She thought this was all far better than a home-cooked meal. I had to admit that it did smell pretty great.

  But my appetite was playing up. How was I going to tell my brother that I might be moving four hundred kilometers away to far North Queensland?

  And what about J?

  “Alyson, can I have your fries?” J asked when she saw that mine were growing cold on my plate. She wasn’t concerned about the fact that I was out of sorts, just concerned about getting more food, but Matt looked at me strangely.

  “Not you too,” he said. “Claire was pushing her food around her plate the other night too.”

  “Maybe there’s something going around,” I mumbled.

  Matt nodded but didn’t look like he believed me, and he waited for J to go and play games on her tablet before he pushed the topic again. “Has Claire said something to you?”

  I blinked a few times. “About what?”

  He looked down at his plate, empty except for a bit of left-over gravy. “We had a bit of a difficult conversation the other night. About a few things. Kate. The future. And I haven’t seen her since. I mean, she’s still replying to my messages and things, but I get the feeling she’s avoiding me.”

  I groaned a little. I had forgotten all about that little melodrama they were having. I didn’t know what to tell my big bro. That Claire was freaking out and probably wanted to break up with him now? That would hardly have been the best ending to our family dinner. Besides, it wasn’t my place to say anything. But he was staring at me like I knew all the answers and could help him.

  And I kinda wished that was my issue that night. The only thing I was worried about.

  “I think I’d better just rip off the band-aid,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  Matt looked down at my knee. “Oh, is it healed now?”

  “Huh? What? Uh no, I am being metaphorical.”

  He leaned back and studied me. “What has happened? Claire has said something, hasn’t she?” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and looked like he was in deep regret. “I knew I should never have brought up that topic with her.”

  I told him to open his eyes. “This has nothing to do with Claire, Matt. This is about me.”

  “Is something wrong, Alyson? Are you sick?” He looked down at my uneaten plate of chicken, though J had l
ong stolen the fries. “Is it something serious?”

  I gulped. “I’m not sick, but it is something serious. Oh, Matt, I hope you’re not going to hate me for what I am about to say—”

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. But there was a silent moment and Matt was still staring at me intently, waiting for me to continue even when the knocking kept on going. This time, it was louder.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” I asked. The knocking was extremely distracting, and I didn’t feel like having a deep and meaningful conversation while it sounded like someone was trying to break down the door.

  Matt ignored it for a few more moments, just wanting me to spit out whatever it was I was trying to tell him, but I really wanted the person at the door to go away, so I told him he had to answer it before I could speak. Matt pushed his seat back with a frustrated sigh and stomped over to the door.

  I closed my eyes for a second and hoped it was just someone trying to get him to change gas providers and that they would be gone in a second. Now that I’d finally gotten up the guts to tell him, I wanted to spill before I freaked out again and lost my nerve.

  What is the best way to tell him? I wondered while he opened the door. Maybe I could tell him it is just temporary at first, that I can just give it a trial and see how it all works. I could let him know that I will take as many weekends off as possible to be back in Eden Bay.

  Suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted as I realized that the voice at the door was not some random gas salesperson. It was the deep, disapproving, gravelly voice of someone I knew only all too well.

  Sergeant Wells.

  “Matt Foulkes, we are arresting you on suspicion of murdering Arthur Hannon.”

  I didn’t hear anything after that except for a ringing in my ears.

  11

  Claire

  There were customers that day, but I left them to browse. Didn’t even ask them if they needed a hand looking for anything. They were on their own.

  I paced back and forth, one eye out the window, just waiting for all my chickens to come home to roost.

  I didn’t know who would turn up first.

  Alyson?

  Kate?

  I tried to swallow down my rising anxiety. After I’d left the skatepark that day, I had headed straight down to the station and told Sergeant Wells the info I’d had. That would remain confidential. Unless someone had actually seen me go into the station, no one would know what I had done there.

  What I was really worried about was the newspaper article. That was public. Now that Matt had been arrested, it wouldn’t take much sleuthing for everyone to know that I had sold him out.

  But I had done the right thing, right?

  So I waited for one of Matt’s supporters to show up. Because I just knew that someone was going to show up that morning.

  What I didn’t expect was Emma Gallagher.

  I didn’t even know the girl, but she introduced herself to me—almost breathless, almost teary—and she knew exactly who I was.

  “You’re Claire Elizabeth Richardson, right?”

  I nodded and realized I was biting my nails, a habit I thought I had given up when I left high school. I thought maybe she recognized me from my book jacket—after all, I had just written a best-selling (locally best-selling, but it still counts) book about a local murder mystery. Or maybe she had seen me singing karaoke and was a fan, finally brave enough to come into the shop and tell me how much she admired me. On any other day, I would have loved to receive the compliments, believe me. But on that day, I was just waiting for the bottom to fall out of my world. As if it hadn’t already.

  Turned out that my reputation had proceeded me, but she was not there to compliment me or get any autographs. She was there for my help. Or what little I could give to her anyway.

  Emma was still close to tears, but she was holding it together. “I couldn’t tell this to Alyson,” she said, gulping. “She is too close to it.” She glanced around the shop and waited for the one remaining customer to leave so she could speak freely. “And I don’t know who to trust.”

  She was very pretty, with long, thick, honey-colored hair that went down almost to her waist and large baby doll eyes. But there was a sophistication to her as well. She had an upturned nose and cupid’s bow mouth.

  I told her to take a few deep breaths before she continued to explain.

  “I know something about Reinhold Walker,” she said. She stared straight into my eyes. “I know about what you do, Claire, I know that you always catch the killer. You have to help me. And I can help you as well. Matt Foulkes is innocent!” She lowered her voice. “Because I know who the killer is. It is Reinhold.”

  I kept my own voice steady. Someone in that shop had to stay calm. “How do you know that?” I asked her.

  She gulped and leaned over the counter. “He threatened Reinhold in writing. He sent the letter to the paper, only they didn’t print the whole thing. But I know where the letter is. And it proves that Reinhold did it.” Her wide eyes got even wider. “You need to tell Alyson, and she can gain access to the letter. But you can’t let her know that I was the one who told you. Please. Please, Claire.”

  I wanted to believe her. Honestly, of course I did. If what she was saying was true, it meant that Matt was innocent. And why wouldn’t I want that?

  But there was so much stacked up against Matt now. And as much as I wanted to believe in him, I couldn’t deny the facts I knew. And I couldn’t let my emotions get in the way of my judgement. I wasn’t Alyson.

  Speaking of. I glanced across the road and could see her long wild hair flying over toward the shop. Uh oh.

  I told Emma she should go before Alyson got there. Just in case.

  But before she left, she looked at me with desperation. “Please, Claire, don’t tell anyone that I was the one who told you this. But if you can’t tell Alyson, you have to go to the police. Or do something.”

  I didn’t really like taking commands from other people. I didn’t ‘have’ to do anything, and I wasn’t even sure she was right. For all I knew, she was just having a lover’s tiff with Reinhold or he had cut her shifts or something and she just wanted to get back at him. And she was going to use me to do so. Well, I was not going to be used. I would investigate, but I wouldn’t run straight to the cops.

  She was gone before Alyson flew into the shop.

  “I know, Alyson. I am so sorry.”

  I thought she was going to fly off the handle at me, but she was just distraught, and there was no sign of her having any anger toward me at all.

  “Claire, what are we going to do?” she asked me pleadingly, as though I held all the answers. But I was just trying to keep inside the fact that as devastated as I was, I was also the one who had put Matt in jail in the first place.

  I’d thought it was all my fault. That the interview I’d given to Rachael would be printed and everyone would know that I was a dirty deceiver. But apparently, the front page of the news that day was about a cat who had become an honorary member of the police force. And I was off the hook.

  Kinda.

  Except that I didn’t feel like I was at all. Guilt still gnawed at my stomach.

  And yet another person wanted my help in clearing Matt’s name. If all these people knew what I had actually done, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to seek my help.

  “I mean, I know that you know he’s not guilty,” Alyson said to me matter-of-factly as she paced. So, luckily, she didn’t catch the full expression on my face.

  “Er, yeah, of course.”

  Maybe this wasn’t the right time to bring up what I considered to be ‘the real facts of the situation,’ or at least steel her for the fact that Matt might actually be guilty.

  Wasn’t it something she had to be prepared for, at the very least?

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, distressed. “I’ve told J that Matt has been so busy surfing that he’s injured his shoulder and needs a few days to himself
so she needs to come and stay at my place.”

  I couldn’t help but think that was probably the way things were going to go anyway if Matt kept up his insane surf schedule. An injured shoulder would have actually been him getting off lightly. At least in jail, he wouldn’t be able to surf.

  Still, I would have taken a semi-delusional wannabe surfer god over a convicted murderer, to be fair. I think most of us would.

  I thought about what Emma Gallagher had told me. Was she right? Was Reinhold really the killer? And was there really evidence hiding away somewhere in The VRI?

  “When is your next shift at The VRI?” I asked quietly.

  Alyson stopped pacing and spun around to look at me. “Huh? I am not even thinking about that right now.” She looked incredibly annoyed that I would even bring that up. “I’ve got J living with me full-time now so I’m not exactly worried about a part-time waitressing job. If you think the job is so great and important, feel free to take it. I will pass on your contact details to Reinhold.”

  I had to interrupt her defensive ranting. And sighed a little bit. Sometimes cooler heads really just had to prevail. Alyson’s head was never the coolest.

  “Hey hey!” I said, interrupting her a second time when her ranting still didn’t stop. “Didn’t you only take that job so that you could keep tabs on Reinhold Walker?”

  She was still agitated and barely listening to what I was saying. “Yeah, so what? Nothing came of it. And right now, I have bigger things on my mind…”

  “I know you do. And that big thing is clearing Matt’s name, right?” I took a deep breath. “And so, Alyson, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  She stopped. I finally had her attention.

  “There is a letter somewhere in Reinhold’s office. If you want to clear Matt’s name, then you need to find it.”

  12

  Alyson