Gone Guest, page 1
Gone Guest
The Murder Mystery Book Club 6
C.A. Larmer
LARMER MEDIA
Gone Guest © 2023 Larmer Media
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Discover more by C.A. Larmer:
The Murder Mystery Book Club
The Murder Mystery Book Club (Book 1)
Danger On the SS Orient (Book 2)
Death Under the Stars (Book 3)
When There Were 9 (Book 4)
The Widow on the Honeymoon Cruise (Book 5)
Ghostwriter Mysteries:
Killer Twist (Book 1)
A Plot to Die For (Book 2)
Last Writes (Book 3)
Dying Words (Book 4)
Words Can Kill (Book 5)
A Note Before Dying (Book 6)
Without a Word (Book 7)
Posthumous Mysteries:
Do Not Go Gentle
Do Not Go Alone
Sleuths of Last Resort:
Blind Men Don’t Dial Zero
Smart Girls Don’t Trust Strangers
Good Girls Don’t Drink Vodka
Plus:
After the Ferry: A Gripping Psychological Novel
An Island Lost
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License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this work has been generated using Artificial Intelligence (AI).
Published by Larmer Media, NSW 2482, Australia
E-book ISBN: 978-0-6459449-0-7
Cover design by Nimo Pyle
Cover photography by Lisa-Blue (main), HunterBliss (book) @ iStock
Edited by D.A. Sarac, The Editing Pen
& Elaine Rivers, with thanks
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For Jan Boug
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Table of Contents
Cast of Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Connect online
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Cast of Characters
The Murder Mystery Book Club & Friends:
Alicia Finlay (club founder/journalist)
Lynette Finlay (her sister/chef)
Claire Hargreaves (vintage-store owner)
Perry Gordon (palaeontologist)
Missy Corner (librarian)
Queenie Dobson (executive assistant)
Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Westera (wealthy philanthropist)
Detective Inspector Liam Jackson (Alicia’s beau)
Simon Barrier (Claire’s husband and Queenie’s boss)
Max (the Finlays’ Labrador)
The Westera/Jones Family & Staff:
Bertram ‘Bert’ Westera (deceased)
Ronnie Westera, née Jones (Bert’s widow)
Bridget ‘Biddy’ Westera (Bert’s younger sister)
Jeanie (Bert’s older sister, deceased)
Bethany Westera (Jeanie’s daughter)
Bronson Westera (Jeanie’s son)
Lizzie Jones (Ronnie’s sister, deceased)
Seamus Jones (Lizzie’s son)
Sebastian Jones (Lizzie’s son)
Peter Ragnar (Westeraview security guard)
Rosa (Ronnie’s housekeeper)
Notable House Guests:
Greta Granger (Sebastian’s/Seamus’s girlfriend)
Peg Flannery (Ronnie’s school friend)
Hugh McMertle (CEO of Westera Holdings)
Hannah McMertle (his wife)
Craig Samson (Ancestry & More)
Investigating Police:
Detective Inspector Indira Singh
Detective Sergeant Paul ‘Pauly’ Moore
Detective Sergeant Jarrod Mallee
Senior Constable Zion Goldstein
Constable Eva Sanchez
Probationary Constable Luke ‘Marko’ Markovic
Constable Sam Smith
Frank Scelosi (forensic pathologist)
Miles Henryhan (Chief of Ballistics)
Prologue
Sebastian’s mood was souring faster than his Aunty Ronnie’s devilled eggs, his patience close to curdling.
Where the bloody hell was Seamus?
This was not how he wanted to spend Ronnie’s seventy-fifth birthday party, hanging like a limp racquet in the middle of a brightly lit tennis court, the autumn breeze beginning to bite, its teeth sharpened by the nearby ocean.
“Fancy a game?” said Greta, mimicking an ace.
He tried to smile, but his heart was not in it. “Come on, let’s head back.”
She hesitated, pulling her green Manhattan jacket tighter. “Sounded important though. What do you think’s so urgent he needs to discuss it now?”
“No idea.” Then, “Probably you.”
She flinched. “I’ve made my choice. You know that; your brother does too.”
Sebastian shrugged. It wasn’t all Seamus knew. It could very well be about the family tree—what a can of worms he’d opened there. Why had he wielded that blasted can opener in the first place? How foolish, how delusional…
“You okay?”
He glanced back at her. “Course.” Stared at his watch.
“Nervous about your speech?”
“Nervous I won’t get back in time.”
Her own eyes slid away. “Are you really going to… you know?”
He glanced up and towards the far-off burble of music and laughter and his Aunty Ronnie’s guests having a grand old time. Perhaps he’d read that wrong too. What was he trying to achieve exactly?
Maybe it wasn’t the time and the place.
Stepping across to him, she brushed his arm. “You know we’re gonna be okay, right? Despite everything.”
Then she smiled and he couldn’t help smiling back. She’d always brought out the good side in him, even after Seamus—
A distant whistle broke through his thoughts, and then a sudden explosion, and they both looked up to see fireworks illuminate the dark night sky.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“So are you,” he replied, staring back at her long and hard, the vision splendid in green.
“Sebastian…” Her voice held a note of warning.
“I know.” He reached out his hand. “Dance with me. One last time.”
She dropped her long flaxen locks to one side. “It needn’t be the last.”
But who was she kidding? He knew this was the end; there was no other option. And so he smiled bitterly as he grabbed her and twirled her, reaching into his velvet tuxedo just as a final explosion brought their dancing to a halt and blood splattering across the court.
Chapter 1 ~ Five Days Earlier…
The Murder Mystery Book Club nearly came to blows at its Sunday meeting. And if it wasn’t for the soothing tea (Lemon Mint Ménage) and Alicia Finlay’s sensibility (she could broker a peace deal in the Middle East, that girl), they just might have.
It was the end of their fortnightly get-together. They’d spent the past three hours discussing the last of the P. D. James mysteries in young Queenie Dobson’s sparsely furnished rental apartment when the chatter turned to the next author on the list.
They wanted someone more modern, that was a given, but could not decide between the best-selling author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn, and fresh British writer Lucy Foley, who had a smash hit with The Guest List.
“Oh, I’ve already read The Guest List,” said Veronica Westera, brushing the crumbs of a ready-made mud cake from her pleated skirt. “Wasn’t my cup of tea at all.”
“Really, Ronnie? I heard it was brilliant,” gushed Missy Corner, her cherry-red ringlets bobbing about as she spoke. “Sort of like Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, apparently, all set on some isolated island with a madman on the loose.”
“It’s a poor man’s version of that book,” weighed in Perry Gordon. “I’m with Ronnie. Let’s do Gone Girl. It’s totally unique.”
“Uniquely creepy,” said Claire Hargreaves, feline eyes widening. “I thought we agreed no creepy books. And that ending left a lot
“But it was such a good twist,” said Queenie, her rigid brown bob the antithesis of Missy’s corkscrew curls.
“It was positively lazy,” countered Claire. “I mean, where was the justice? I really wanted the killer to—”
“Suck it up, buttercup,” said Perry. “Not everything is wrapped up in neat little bows like that top of yours. It’s stunning by the way.”
“Well thank you.” Claire beamed. “My mother just sent it across from Paris. It’s vintage Chanel.” Her smile deflated. “But murder mysteries should be neatly wrapped up, Perry. It’s their raison d’être. Order is restored; it’s one of the tenets. Don’t you agree, Alicia?”
The book club founder rubbed a hand through her shaggy blond locks. Yes, she did agree. Her imagination was dark enough without having murder mysteries left unresolved, but that wasn’t what was bothering her now. “It sounds like half of you have already read both books, so maybe we should choose something else entirely. Anyone got any other suggestions?”
“Let’s not start that again,” groaned her sister, Lynette, stretching her long, tanned legs out in front of her.
Ronnie agreed, pulling back the sleeve of her drab cream cardigan to reveal a diamond-encrusted Cartier watch. “I’ve got to meet my bossy niece in twenty minutes.”
“How about this then?” suggested Alicia. “What if we do both books simultaneously? A kind of compare and contrast between the books and their authors. Judging from this banter, it’ll be a lively one.”
While the others considered that option, Ronnie was gathering her things. “I think that idea is just dandy. It’s a good thing I’ve read both books, because I’ve got so much on my plate at the minute, what with my birthday coming up and Bethany making such a hullabaloo.” Then she sighed almost wearily and added, “I’m turning seventy-five, God help me.”
“Congratulations!” squealed Missy, her enthusiasm almost sending her zebra-print spectacles flying.
Ronnie shot her a dark look. “Only a twenty-something like you would say that. Actually…” Her eyes now danced around the group. “Perhaps you lot could come along, inject some fresh energy.” A grimace. “I know it’s terribly late notice—very rude of me, in fact—but it was supposed to be small, just family and a handful of old friends, but Bethany’s gone and turned it into a circus, ordered far too much champagne, not to mention a celebrity chef, and now half my in-laws have wriggled out of it and it’s too late to scale it back. It would be lovely if you could fill in for them. Lord knows you’d be doing me a favour.”
“You had me at ‘far too much champagne’,” said Perry, his eyes twinkling along with his diamanté stud.
“I was sold on ‘celebrity chef’,” said Lynette. “Who is it?”
Ronnie shrugged. She wasn’t much of a foodie. “We’re holding it next Friday night at my late husband’s family estate, Westeraview. It’s more a weekender these days, although Bert’s darling sister still lives there. No idea why. It’s about an hour down the coast, so a bit of a hike, but there’s bedrooms galore if you’d like to hook into the champers and sleep over.”
She offered Perry a smile before her lips drooped southwards. “I only agreed to all this to please the in-laws, but, as I say, half of them have deserted, so I wonder why I bothered.”
“What about your lovely nephews?” asked Claire, straightening one of the bows on her otherwise perfect blouse. She recalled Ronnie gushing about the two lads that fiery weekend they had spent at Lyle’s Rainforest Lodge, the first time they really got to know the older lady.
“Oh, Sebastian and Seamus will be there; can always count on them. As for the others… well…” A shrug. She was also not one for dwelling. “I realise it’s extremely bad manners to invite you so late, and if you do come, you must promise not to bring gifts, but I’d really love you to be there.”
“Of course we’ll be there,” said Alicia as the others nodded keenly.
And so that’s how the Murder Mystery Book Club ended their session with two murder mysteries up their sleeve and a birthday invitation that would lead to two more.
They just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter 2 ~ The Gothic Mansion
Bertram (‘Bert’) Westera had a macabre sense of humour, or at least his architect did, Alicia decided as they caught their first glimpse of Ronnie’s “weekender” from the winding road below.
Clumsily dubbed ‘Westeraview’ when Ronnie’s late husband built the house sixty years ago, the Gothic Revival mansion was actually facing directly east, out across the Pacific Ocean. And while it did indeed have a stunning view, perched as it was on the cliff edge, it also boasted a hundred acres of manicured lawn, landscaped gardens and dense, native forest.
But all of that paled in comparison to the house, which, from their vantage point below, looked like something from a medieval fairy tale, à la the Brothers Grimm.
“Or that house in the movie Knives Out,” exclaimed Missy, who was staring goggle-eyed from the front bench seat beside Perry and Alicia.
“There will be no knives out this evening, Missy,” said Lynette, “other than Chef Kenji’s filleting knife of course.” Then she poked her sister in the driver’s seat. “Get a move on. We’re going to miss Kenji’s famous sashimi at this rate.”
“Hold your horses,” she replied, checking both rear-view mirrors. You just never knew when a run-away B-double would come careening around the corner and flatten you like a pancake. They were squished enough as it was!
The book club had all piled into Alicia’s old Holden Torana, the only car that could fit six adults, and had enjoyed the long drive down the highway south of Sydney, then through the lush hinterland and past the quaintest of rural villages. But somewhere along the way they had got hideously lost, and now Lynette’s foot was tapping. Or perhaps it had more to do with her taste buds.
“Sorry, Lynny,” said Missy, shrinking into her seat. “My GPS must be on the blink.”
Perry snorted. “Oh yes, blame your equipment.”
“Settle down, children,” said Alicia, checking over her shoulder once again before pulling back onto the road.
Fortunately, after a few more hairpin bends, they reached the official entrance to Westeraview on the lower-western side of the property, surrounded in towering Eucalypts. There was an imposing wrought-iron gate out front with an impenetrable sandstone wall on one side and an equally imposing guardhouse on the other.
Built in the same Gothic style as the mansion, the smaller dwelling had a steeply pitched roof and wide, arch-style windows through which a bald-headed chap was watching them. Before Alicia had even brought the car to a halt, the gate was swinging open and the man was stepping out, a brown cap now on his head, a wooden clipboard in his left hand. He was wearing a matching brown uniform with the name Pete embroidered across the front.
“Welcome to Westeraview, folks,” Peter Ragnar called out. “Just need to tick your names off and we’ll get you up to the house.”
“Oooh,” said Perry, grinning at the stocky sixty-something. “There’s a door bitch with a guest list. How cosmopolitan.”
The guard stared at him, unamused, as he pulled a pen from behind one ear, then proceeded to read from his clipboard. “Rightio, you must be Alicia… Lynette… Missy… Claire… Queenie, is it? And Peppy.”
There were howls of laughter from the back seat, and Perry said, “It’s Perry. Perrrrrry.”
The guard ignored that and ticked the names off swiftly, then pointed his pen up the driveway.
“Follow the bollard lighting all the way round the bend and keep going,” he told Alicia. “Stick to the main road. It veers off in several directions, but take no turns or you’ll get lost. Got it?” She nodded. “Once you get to the top of the driveway, go past the guest house and on to the main house. Can’t miss it. Guest parking is just past the front entrance. It’s clearly sign posted. Please don’t park in front of the garage.” His tone spoke of many disobedient guests. “Once you’ve done that, make your way back on foot to the entrance where you’ll be met at the door.”
