by C. A. Larmer
“Zara! Honestly, stop it! You’ll have Trevor reading you the riot act again. You know how seriously he takes it all.”
Zara giggled. “Sorry, but the truth hurts. Just ask his wife.”
Before Alicia could enquire about that, tall Mia was saying, “I couldn’t care less if Brian ever showed again, but I do hope Mary’s doing okay. She’s usually pretty regular.”
“Yeah,” said Zara. “I hope she hasn’t fallen off the wagon and into a bottle of Dom Perignon.”
This caused a little ping! to go off in Alicia’s head.
“This Mary that you’re talking about, she hasn’t got long blond hair, has she?” She turned to Zara. “About your height?”
She wondered now if Kat had used a pseudonym—she wouldn’t be the first to give a fake name at AA, surely? Alicia had even considered doing it herself. She also wondered if these women hadn’t yet learned of Kat’s fate.
Yet, annoyingly, all three were shaking their heads firmly.
“Nope, she’s a lot taller, with dark, almost black hair,” said the shorter Mia just as the chair began clapping his hands.
“Let’s get on, folks! It’s time!”
Damn it, Alicia thought. She still had so many questions to ask.
As she took her seat next to Perry, she noticed he wasn’t exactly smiling either.
“How’d you go?”
He waved his hand to indicate so-so.
By the end of the second half, the group was gathering their things hastily and clearing out. Alicia had hoped the women would linger so she could question them again, but all three disappeared before she’d even picked up her handbag.
“Don’t worry,” Perry said. “There’s always Thursday.”
Trevor approached. “All good? Everything okay?” They nodded. “I didn’t call on you today and I won’t, if you don’t want me to. But please feel free to raise your hands next time if you do want to say anything.”
They nodded again.
Then Alicia said, “Actually I wanted to ask you about a friend of mine who promised to meet me here but hasn’t made it.”
He turned his eyes to her, his smile relaxed. “Oh yes?”
“Yes, we made a pact, a few weeks ago, to be here, but I didn’t see her tonight. Her name’s Kat.”
Trevor’s smile vanished. “Kat?”
“Yes, Kat Mumford.”
He took a step backwards. “I never discuss other members. Never. And I don’t expect my members to either.” Trevor’s warm tone had turned positively frosty.
“Of course, sorry. I guess I’m just worried. I hope she’s okay.”
He frowned at her, looking as though he was contemplating what to say, then he took another step back and said, “I’ve got to clean up.”
He strode off to the other side of the hall and began stacking the chairs while Perry and Alicia shared a look, then grabbed their things and headed out.
“What was that about?” Perry asked as they hurried off.
“Don’t know,” said Alicia. “But how nervous did he look when I mentioned Kat?”
*********
The inner-city wine bar was dimly lit, but being a Tuesday night, it did not take long for Alicia and Perry to spot their friends, who were gathered around a booth, clinking variously coloured drinks. They made their way across, first stopping at the bar to grab a glass of Pinot Grigio each, the irony not lost on either of them as they handed over the cash.
“What if someone from AA catches us here?” said Alicia, and Perry snorted.
“It’ll just give us more credibility, honey, not less.”
“So how’d you do?” asked Missy, swishing along the seat to make more space.
Alicia mimicked Perry’s so-so motion with one hand, then proceeded to tell them what she had learned from the three women earlier that evening.
“So you didn’t recognise anyone from film night, and only one of them vaguely remembers a woman called Kat?” said Claire.
Alicia nodded. “Not much help is it?”
“And this missing Mary. Could that be Kat Mumford?” asked Anders.
“That’s what I wondered, but Mary didn’t fit the description. I can tell you one thing though, that Trevor guy acted very odd, didn’t he, Perry?”
Perry thought about it. “Maybe, or maybe he was just flabbergasted that you used Kat’s surname, you naughty woman.” He turned to the group. “I think our Chair takes the oath of confidentiality very seriously. Unlike someone else I met tonight.”
He’d been waiting to reveal what he had learned although he wasn’t sure it would be of any consequence. “So you know how I was chatting to those guys, out the front, Alicia? The ones having a cigarette in the break? Well, one of them was called Timothy, remember?”
“Oh yeah, the older guy, the one who was almost one year sober.”
“Oh my God! Didn’t Eliot say Tim was the name of Kat’s sponsor?” Missy asked, and Perry’s smile slipped a little.
“I got excited too, Missy, but this particular Tim says he only sponsors men.”
“He’s lying, obviously,” said Lynette. “Protecting Kat’s privacy.”
“He was pretty convincing. Insists he never sponsors women, always just blokes, although he reckons he’s had such a bad experience of it he’s never going to sponsor anyone again.”
“Why?” asked Missy, sipping from a glass of what looked like sparkling mineral water.
“He told me the first guy he ever sponsored was an ‘ungrateful hypocrite with a god complex’ and the last guy was a ‘violent hothead’ who used to beat up his wife. Says a guy at AA tried to pull him into line a few times, but it didn’t work. Maybe this hothead took a liking to Kat and wouldn’t take no for an answer?”
“His name’s not Brian is it? The hothead?” Alicia asked.
“Timothy didn’t get a chance to say any more than that because Trevor came out for a smoke and everyone suddenly went quiet. Like I said, Trev’s a killjoy.” His eyes squinted. “Why do you ask?”
“Zara said something about Brian’s fists, which sounded very suspicious.”
“Sorry to sound like a killjoy as well, guys, but were you even at the right AA?” asked Claire. “If nobody remembers Kat, maybe she attends a totally different one?”
“Or maybe she lied to her husband about that and doesn’t even go to AA,” said Lynette. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Or maybe her husband was lying and she didn’t even have a drinking problem,” said Anders, and they all looked at him inquisitively.
“I spoke to the coroner who did the autopsy,” he explained, “just to ask about toxins, and he insists there’s no sign of any drugs in her system. In fact, he was adamant that Ms Mumford was in excellent shape. I know she was young, but he found no signs of alcoholism in her liver either—usually there’s some scarring or build-up of fatty tissues, that kind of thing. He was as surprised as I was to hear she was in AA.”
“But didn’t she have an awful lot of alcohol in her system?” asked Claire.
“Sure, but that could be a one-off. There was no indication—physically at least—that that kind of binge-drinking was routine.”
“So you don’t believe she was an alcoholic?” said Alicia.
“I’m just telling you what the pathology says.”
“So why did Eliot say she was an alcoholic? He must have known Jackson would investigate. Plus Trevor definitely seemed to know her. I could feel it! He recognised Kat’s name when I mentioned it. I’m sure of it, Anders.”
Claire said, “Let’s just look at the facts for now. The victim, Kat Mumford, was most certainly drunk that night. Like, big-time drunk. That’s indisputable. Maybe she was new to AA, had just started binge-drinking and wanted to nip it in the bud.”
“That would explain her good physical condition,” Anders conceded.
“What if she said she was going to AA but was really meeting up with a lover?” said Perry, heading off in a whole new direction.
They all stared at him, most of them sceptically.
“This is all so confusing!” said Missy, staring glumly into her water glass. “Is Kat in AA? Is she not? Is she at the Rozelle branch or somewhere else? And what does any of that have to do with a guy called Brian who beats up his poor wife?”
“Probably a dead end,” said Lynette matter-of-factly, tapping at her smartphone. “However, I may have a new avenue to explore.” She looked up at them all, eyes sparkling. “Guess who just texted me?’’
“Your sugar daddy?” said Perry.
Lynette smirked. “Kind of. Brandon Johnson has just offered me work, Thursday night if I want it.”
“That’s lucky,” added Missy.
“That was quick,” said Claire.
“Is it even necessary anymore?” asked Alicia. “Jackson already looked into that. Kat Mumford had nothing to do with Brandon’s mother’s death.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that Brandon might have it in for drunken drivers,” said Lynette. “Remember, Alicia, when Kat was fighting with her husband at the bar? How she said she had the car keys and he’d be stranded? She said something like, ‘You can’t leave me, I’m driving!’”
Alicia didn’t remember those precise words, but it got her brain churning. “So you think Brandon heard that and thought, ‘I’ve got to stop this drunken driver from destroying another family!’”
Lynette nudged her lips to one side. “Or maybe he just saw red and reacted. Spotted her on her own in the second half and seized the moment to avenge his mum’s death on behalf of all drink-driving victims.”
“Ridiculous,” said Anders, bringing them both back to earth. “This is the man who runs bars, yes? Who serves alcohol for a living? You’re saying he’s on such an anti-alcohol crusade he would kill a drunk woman rather than have her drink and drive?”
They all looked dispirited, except Lynette.
“Only one way to find out for sure.” She tapped her phone as she spoke. “I’m going to go along and bring up the subject of drinking and driving.” She clicked Send and smiled mischievously. “See if our cute barman gets a little hot under the collar at that.”
Chapter 28
Jackson loosened his collar, staring at his screen just as his mobile rang. He spotted Alicia’s number and smiled. It was now Wednesday morning, and he’d been meaning to call her back. He was just about to answer it when Pauly popped his head around the corner of his door.
“Got the coroner on line five for you, Jacko.”
He nodded, sighed, then switched his mobile off and picked up the landline.
“Detective Jackson,” came Scelosi’s voice at the other end. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Sorry?”
“I’ve got the results for you.”
“Results?”
Scelosi chuckled. “Been burning the wick at both ends, hey? Your overdose, Detective. I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but Indira did say it wasn’t a priority.”
It took Jackson a moment to switch gears, and he did so as he switched the phone to his other ear. “Okay, I’m with you now, apologies, Frank. You’re right. The Kat Mumford case is keeping us up nights. What did you find? Too much heroin, not enough sense?”
“Something like that. Your guy wasn’t at the worst end of the scales, but there was some indication of habitual use of intravenous drugs, a few track marks on the forearms, a tiny bit of scarring. Took it too far this time though. Had such a large dose in his system his entire respiratory system shut down. He would have lost consciousness, then eventually fallen into a coma. Death not long after, it’s all in my notes.”
“Silly bugger. Any suspicious circumstances? Signs of coercion, that kind of thing?”
“Had some old bruising on his face, a broken tooth, but nothing too fresh. I’d say he was a fighter not a lover. Except when it came to the drugs. He clearly loved his opiates. There was one thing though.”
“Oh?”
“Not that strange, really, when you think about it.”
“Oh?” Jackson repeated.
“He had a fair bit of benzodiazepine in his system.”
Jackson considered this. “Like Temazepam, the sleeping pill?”
“That’s the one. That could have contributed to his death. Opiates and benzos don’t mix.”
“Yeah, well, didn’t we just agree he loves his drugs? I’m surprised there wasn’t a whole cocktail of crap buzzing about in that scrawny stomach of his.”
“True. Still, you got to wonder: Why waste a shot of the top-shelf stuff if you’re too sleepy to enjoy it.”
“Except he didn’t enjoy it, did he? He killed himself. Maybe he took some sleeping pills, and when they didn’t work, he went for the heavy stuff.”
“But you found him at a public car park, right? Who wants to fall asleep at a public car park?”
Jackson groaned. He didn’t have the time or energy for this. “So do you know if it was an accident or suicide?”
Scelosi sighed now. “Do we ever really know? He certainly took more than his fair share of both drugs. Maybe with the sleeping pills in his system, he was groggier than usual, took more than he meant to of the heroin, might explain it. Sorry mate, you’re the detective. You’re going to have to work that one out for yourself. Anyway, it’s all in the report, which is whizzing its way to your inbox as we speak.” Then he chuckled. “If only the suicides would do the decent thing and leave a suicide note, hey? Put us all in the loop.”
Jackson touched his mouse, bringing his computer screen to life. “Great, appreciate it, thanks, Frank.”
“No worries.” He went to hang up and then said, “Just one other thing, Jackson. What should I do with his effects?”
“Sorry, mate, you lost me again.”
“His personal effects. We have a couple of cheap wrist bands, a fake Rolex and a wedding band.”
“Wedding band? I don’t believe he was married.”
“My mistake, but the ring doesn’t look cheap.”
“Can you get it to his folks? I think their address is on the Next of Kin.”
“Already tried. They told me in quite colourful language what I could do with that.”
Jackson sighed again. He felt some sympathy for the unloved addict, but he was more interested in solving the murder of a young woman who may also have been an addict, but at least she was trying to clean up her act.
“Just send it across to me, thanks, Frank. I’ll take care of it.”
“No worries,” Scelosi repeated, and this time he hung up.
********
Zara Cossington-Smythe gave Alicia a polite smile as she swept through the open doorway of the Tulip Café. If truth be told, she had been surprised to get the call from the AA newcomer, wasn’t even sure who she was when she first picked up. But then Alicia had said something about AA and her friend Kat, and it all clicked into place.
“I’ve had some terrible news,” Alicia told her over the phone twenty minutes earlier, “and I really feel like a drink.”
“Don’t do it!” Zara had responded, as Alicia suspected she would, and immediately arranged to meet her at the café just down from the Neighbourhood Centre.
“You’re lucky you picked me,” she had told Alicia. “I’m between jobs at the moment. There’s no way the two Mias could spare you a second—they’re both corporate types.”
It was midday, midweek, and Jackson had ignored yet another of Alicia’s phone calls. She knew he was busy—she understood that—but she was having great difficulty focusing on her own job and couldn’t stop thinking about the case. She was determined to sort out the question of whether Kat Mumford really did attend AA and kept wondering whether they had lied to her about that.
Not that she would blame them if they had. After all, if someone strolled in tomorrow and started asking questions about a shaggy blonde called Alicia, wouldn’t she want them to play dumb too? Whether it was standard procedure, protocol, or pure politeness, she had to
concede she’d appreciate that kind of confidentiality if a stranger came asking.
The problem was, she didn’t have the patience for protocol and politeness, and unwilling to wait for the next meeting to press them on it, Alicia decided to take matters into her own hands and look up Zara’s details on the AA contact list. She had a hunch chatty Zara was her best shot.
Now reaching her table, the young woman glanced at the latte in front of Alicia and said, “Tell me that doesn’t have a swig of something in it.”
Alicia smiled. “Not yet. But I’m this close.” She indicated an inch with her own fingers, and Zara frowned.
“Don’t do anything silly for the next few minutes. I’m going to grab a juice.”
A few minutes later Zara was seated beside Alicia, waxing lyrical about drinking and how everybody falls off the wagon every now and then, how it was “par for the course.”
“You will move past this,” she said, reaching for her pineapple juice. “So what’s brought all this on then?”
Alicia grabbed a crumpled tissue from her handbag and feigned a sob. “The woman I was telling you guys about, the one who encouraged me to attend your AA?”
Zara sipped her drink, giving nothing away.
“I just found out why she wasn’t there the other night.”
“Because she gave you the wrong group?” Zara suggested.
Alicia blinked. “Oh, no, no, it’s because she died. Last Saturday night.”
“No!” Zara sounded genuinely surprised. She reached a hand across to Alicia. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible! No wonder you’re reaching for the bottle. Overdose?”
“Sorry?”
“Did she, ah…?”
She indicated a slashing motion across her wrists, and Alicia gasped.
“No, no, she was murdered. Somebody killed her.”
Zara’s eyes widened considerably, and it was clear she wasn’t expecting that. “Really? Another murder? This city is becoming unlivable!”
Alicia blinked a few times. That was not quite the response she was hoping for. She had been expecting Zara to fess up, to admit she knew Kat, had heard about the murder, and start spilling the beans. But here she was looking genuinely surprised.