Gone Guest, page 13
Had she given the game away?
~
Perry glanced across the delicious continental buffet that had been set up out by the pool and tried not to look too delighted. But the truth was he was famished. And with good reason. They’d barely touched a morsel of the gourmet Japanese cuisine last night, let alone enjoyed that Bollinger, what with all the searching and discovering of dead bodies.
Body, he reminded himself. The search was not over yet.
He looked across to Ronnie, who was seated at a patio table nearby, a cup of black coffee in front of her, dark shadows under both eyes. Several other tables still contained the remnants of last night—half-empty flutes, platters of congealing cheese, manky-looking sushi—but someone had clearly been up and made a start on the cleaning. There were large garbage bags strewn about the place, and the makeshift stage and bar had been dismantled, a sign there was no pretending anymore.
He glanced back at Ronnie and felt his heart lurch. She looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink, and he felt guilty. He’d slept shamefully well, considering the circumstances. The walls of the house sure were solid; he’d barely noticed the chopper hovering outside.
“This looks delish!” Missy called out behind him, not thinking to keep her delight in check, but then she must have spotted Ronnie because her voice dropped a few octaves and she said, “Oh, look at the poor thing. Come on, kiddoes.”
Perry turned in time to see the group make a beeline for Ronnie.
“I don’t need your hugs today, Missy,” Ronnie told her, gently pushing her away. “I need your help. I’m determined to get Seamus back from that ghastly detective.”
“He’s still in lock-up?” asked Alicia, glancing at her phone.
“Yes, absurdly. I’m meeting with my lawyer later this morning, and we’re working on his release. Until then, please grab some breaky and we can knock our heads together, see if we can’t come up with a better solution than the one DI Singh has latched on to.”
“Oh, I’ve got a solution,” said Missy, barely able to contain herself. “I think—”
“Food first,” said Ronnie, cutting her off.
“No,” croaked Lynette. “Coffee first, then food, then solutions. Come on, gang.”
She swivelled and they all followed, greeting Perry as they joined him at the buffet.
By the time they returned, their plates loaded with pastries, fruit and yogurt, and cups brimming with fresh coffee, Ronnie was on a call and just hanging up.
“That is a delectable spread,” said Claire. “You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble, Ronnie.”
“I didn’t,” she replied. “Bethany ordered it for her lot, but since they didn’t bother to show, you might as well enjoy it.”
“Where are Morticia and Lurch?” asked Perry, looking around the otherwise empty patio.
Ronnie almost smiled at that. “They’ve been up for hours, doing the clean-up and not happy about it either. The caterers were supposed to do that last night, of course, but…” She gave a shudder. “Bronson also helped me pack a bag for Biddy. We’ve sent her to my place until this is all cleared up. Her nurse will meet her there. I’ve just been on the phone to Hugh. He’s kindly offered to drive me to my solicitor’s office in the city. I think Peg is also dropping back this arvo, checking up on me.”
“She’s a darling friend,” said Claire.
“The best,” Ronnie agreed. “Now, Missy, what is this solution you speak of?”
Missy grinned towards Claire, the only one in the loop, then took out her mobile phone and jumped up. “Before I get to that, I think we need to take a photo of this moment. Hand over your cameras, everyone, and I’ll do the honours.”
“Huh?” said Alicia.
“It’s hardly the time and the place,” scolded Queenie.
“Just humour her,” said Claire, also pulling out her phone and getting to her feet. “I’ll help you, Missy.”
“Thanks, honeykins. Come on people, I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Begrudgingly they relented, retrieving their mobile phones, opening their camera apps, and handing them over.
All except Lynette. “Can’t you just take one shot and text it to us, Missy?”
“Pretend I’m a luddite. Come on, let’s have it.”
Lynette sighed and did as the others did, then they gathered in a group around Ronnie while Missy and Claire stepped back towards the buffet table and began taking the photos.
First Missy used her own camera, then she placed it on the table and picked up Ronnie’s phone and snapped a few images with that. Then she did the same with Alicia’s and Perry’s and Lynette’s. And all the while Claire stood behind her and handed the phones across, one by one.
When Missy was done, they scooped up the phones and returned to the table, handing the devices back just as Alicia’s let out a loud ding.
Assuming it was Jackson, she glanced down at her screen, then frowned. “Did you just message me, Ronnie?”
Ronnie mirrored her frown. “No, dear. I’ve been sitting here, taking trivial happy snaps, when they really are the last thing I feel like doing.” A glower at Missy now, but the younger woman was positively beaming.
“I’m so sorry,” said Missy, “but I had to prove my case. Open the message, Alicia. What does it say?”
Alicia did so and then balked. “It says ‘Yo, Alicia. I just sent you a sneaky message.’” She blinked, confused. “It’s from you, Ronnie.”
Now the others were mirroring Alicia’s expression while Claire was doing the beaming.
She said, “Did anyone notice me send that message from Ronnie’s phone?”
“You sent that message?” said Alicia while Ronnie just looked stumped.
Claire nodded, then allowed Missy to explain.
“I was looking through my photos this morning, you know the ones I took on my phone last night? That’s when I remembered how everyone was taking group photos. Lynny’s right. My generation usually take their own pix and share them via text or AirDrop or something. But not you older folk, Ronnie. When we arrived last night, your friend Peg was taking photos of your group. She had all your phones and was using each one to snap a separate shot.”
“So?” said Ronnie.
“So, in the right circumstances, with all the flashes going off and the laughter and the chaos of the party, it would’ve been super easy for someone to slip behind a photographer and help themselves to one of the cameras, or should I say, mobile phones. They’d all been opened to take photos. No passwords required. They could easily have gotten into Seamus’s mobile and sent a text message without anyone noticing.”
“Or if someone did notice them texting,” added Claire, “they would just assume they were using their own device. Most of us have rather generic-looking covers, including Seamus. His is silver, if I recall.”
Several of the group did not look convinced. “They’d have to be fast,” said Perry. “My phone shuts down after thirty seconds.”
Missy checked out his brand. Shook her head. “Not if you unlocked your phone before you opened the camera app, it doesn’t. Which you all did, by the way. And don’t forget the text sounded nothing like Seamus. So, when put together, Singh has to let Seamus go.”
Now everyone was nodding except for Queenie. But at least she wasn’t frowning. “I think it’s a solid theory, Missy, but it’s not really evidence, is it? Sure, someone else might have sent it, but it doesn’t prove that Seamus didn’t send it, you know what I mean?”
Perry agreed. “It’s tenuous at best. Could help discredit it as evidence in a court case, but Seamus still doesn’t have an alibi when the shots were fired. He says he was in the library, but… well… how can he prove that? They can always say he waited until the fireworks started and everyone was distracted out on the patio, then crept out of the library and up the stairs.”
“But they could say that of anybody, surely?” said Claire. “Everybody was distracted at that time. Anyone could have quietly slipped away and into the house. In fact, Queenie and I happened to see Bronson in the house when we were heading to the garage. How do we know he hadn’t just come from that top bedroom? The timing would work a treat.”
“And Bethany,” said Lynette. “We sprung her having a cheeky drink with Hugh in the pool cabana during the fireworks, didn’t we, Missy?”
Missy grinned wickedly. “And what were they really doing hiding away in the dark during the bright and colourful fireworks?”
Ronnie scoffed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, girls. It was only dark because we turned out a lot of the peripheral lighting so we’d see the fireworks better. That would have been perfectly innocent, probably discussing the speeches.”
“Wifey didn’t think it was innocent,” said Lynette. “She saw them, too, and was not a happy camper. But here’s the interesting bit…” Lynette picked up her croissant. “All three of them then charged into the house, and the fireworks were still going at that time. Any one of them could have detoured to the upper level.” She gave them a knowing look as she bit into her pastry.
Ronnie pouted. “That’s just silly. I’m not sure about Bethany, but Hannah and Hugh can’t possibly have anything to do with this.”
“Hey, if you want Seamus off the hook, someone else has to get snagged in the process,” Lynette shot back.
“But what motive could they possibly have to shoot Greta? They barely knew her.”
Lynette gave Alicia a weary look, and the latter sat forward. “Ronnie, you know how this works. We’re just chucking ideas around at this stage. No one really thinks the CEO’s wife has anything to do with this.”
Ronnie closed her eyes briefly. Nodded. “Sorry, Lynette. Go on.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, wiping her fingers on her ripped jeans. “I was just trying to show how your nephew wasn’t the only one in the house during the pivotal time. Who can really say where everybody was when all eyes were staring up at the dazzling lights? Especially if the patio was so dark.”
“Fireworks are such a good distraction,” agreed Claire. “An ideal time to shoot someone without getting noticed. Plus using a top bedroom was very clever, certainly makes more sense than trudging to the tennis court with a rifle under your arm. The killer could have hidden the gun upstairs earlier in the evening, then slipped up there during the commotion. No one would even notice you were missing because how long does it take to shoot someone on a tennis court?”
“That’s also an ideal place to shoot someone,” added Perry. “It’s a wide, open space. Well lit, no intrusions or obstructions, easy to pick someone off.”
Ronnie shuddered at his words, then dropped her head to one side. “Except the court would have been dark then. I only switched the lights on after the fireworks, after the speeches in fact.”
“But was it dark?” asked Claire. “I keep thinking about that because I noticed the court as we were driving up to the party. It was really dark last night, so how did I see the court if it wasn’t lit up?”
“Could’ve seen the silhouette?” suggested Queenie, and she shrugged, not convinced.
“Maybe the killer lit it up, lured them to the court, shot them, then snapped the lights back off,” suggested Alicia. She squished her lips to one side. “So what do we think happened next? The killer threw the rifle from a balcony and then slipped back down to the party without being noticed?”
They all nodded excitedly until Queenie brought them crashing back to earth.
“If this theory is true,” she said, “we need to check the alibis of everybody who was at the party. The suspect list has just blown wide open again.”
“Not necessarily,” said Alicia. “We just have to check the alibis of those people who were not seen out on the patio during the fireworks and—more importantly—can handle a weapon. And as we all know, in Australia that’s pretty rare.”
Ronnie sighed heavily. “Not amongst this lot, I’m sorry to say. Hunting has always been popular with the well-to-do, which was half the crowd. Their posh private schools might have had it as an elective. And the other half are country folk, like my boarding school pals. They all grew up with guns to protect themselves from snakes, put down injured beasts. Even I learnt how to handle a rifle when I was on the land. Sorry, dears, but I think our suspect list is still far too long.”
And with that they all slumped over their coffees.
Chapter 15 ~ Filling in the Dots
Alicia’s phone broke through the gloom, and she glanced at the screen and saw it was Jackson, her gloom only deepening.
Lynette also saw the screen and shot her a pointed look. “Man up, woman.”
“That’s so sexist,” Alicia scoffed, but she took the advice and pressed the Answer button, stepping away from the group as she did so.
“Oh! Hey,” said Jackson, like he wasn’t expecting her to pick up. “How… how are things? Over there.”
“Not great obviously,” said Alicia, her tone just shy of snippy. She glanced back and saw Lynette still watching, so she kept walking around the pool until she was out of earshot. “There’s a dead woman here, Jackson, and a missing man. But you’d know all about it if you’d actually shown up, like you promised you would.”
There was silence at the other end, and for a moment Alicia thought Jackson had hung up.
Then he said, “I’m really sorry, Alicia. I had no choice.”
“No choice? Why? Did you get another case or—”
“No.” An intake of breath. “Look, I haven’t been upfront with you lately. When will you be home? We need to talk.”
Now Alicia was stunned into silence. We need to talk? That could only mean one thing.
“I told you,” she replied slowly, trying to sound like they weren’t about to break up, “I’m not leaving here until we’ve helped Ronnie. The book club is staying until the job is done.”
“The job? Babe, it’s not your job.”
“Now you sound like Singh! Look…” She inhaled deeply, gave her neck a rub. “If you need to tell me something, just say it now, over the phone.”
“I’d rather meet up.”
“Then you’re welcome to come here. I asked you last night, remember? You never showed.”
“Alicia—”
“I’m going nowhere, Jackson. Not until we find answers. I’ll text you Westeraview’s address.”
More dead air then he said, “I can’t come there. It’s not possible. I’m sorry.”
“Not possible? Why? Are you working today?”
She knew he wasn’t. It was Saturday and he didn’t normally work weekends, not unless he had a big case like this one, which he hadn’t taken.
“Please, Alicia, you’re reading this all wrong. I need to explain something to you, but I know how your mind works, and it’s not what you think.”
“How would you know what I’m thinking, Jackson? You’re not here. And I’m getting the impression you’re never going to be here again.”
And with that she hung up, her tone now very much the wrong side of snippy.
When Alicia returned to the breakfast table, Ronnie had vanished and the book club were watching her worriedly. They knew she was upset, but before they could enquire, she wedged a smile to her lips and said, “Jackson says hey. Can’t get here. Super busy. So we’re stuck with Singo, I’m afraid.”
Missy dropped her head into her hands—she’d always been terrified of DI Singh—while Lynette and Perry stared at Alicia shrewdly.
She didn’t meet their gaze as she speared a piece of rockmelon with her fork. “So where were we?”
“Singh’s just arrived,” said Claire, nudging her head inwards. “Ronnie’s talking to her now. We thought we’d give them a minute, then mosey on in. See if she’s more amenable this morning.”
“Forget crankypants,” said Perry. “Look who’s still lurking.”
They swung around to find the security guard at the other end of the patio.
“Pete’s half cop, he might have the goss. Come on, let’s buy him a coffee.”
“But the coffee’s free,” said Missy while he offered her an eye roll, then yelled out:
“Hey Pete! Come join us! Can we get you a cuppa?”
The security guard seemed startled for a moment, then strode across. He looked like he’d aged ten years overnight. His uniform was creased, his cap askew, his frown lines deeper than they remembered. And when he smiled at the book club, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “It’s the heroes of the night.”
“Hardly,” said Lynette.
“It’s true. If it wasn’t for you guys, that poor soul might not have been found for ages. I can’t remember the last time anyone used the tennis court.”
Perry jumped to his feet. “You look beat, Pete. Can I get you a bite to eat too?”
“Nah, that’s not necessary.” His smile faltered. “Besides, I’m not really supposed to fraternise with the guests.”
“We’re not mere guests,” Perry said, hand at his heart. “After last night’s shenanigans, we’re practically family now.”
“Even more reason to keep my distance,” he replied, but Perry just scoffed and ducked off to the buffet table while Lynette tapped the seat Ronnie had just vacated.
“Come, sit. How’ve you been holding up?”
He glanced around, then sat down reluctantly. “I should be asking you folks that. It was quite a night.”
“We’re cool,” she said. “Although Ronnie’s still a bit shell-shocked, understandably. Please tell us you weren’t on duty all night.”
He shook his head. “I wanted to remain on duty, for the family’s sake, but they wouldn’t let me search. The detectives. Couldn’t kick me out though. I’m not deserting my post. Promised Bert that, before he passed, promised I’d protect this place like my own, and that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“But where did you sleep?” asked Missy.
