Gone Guest, page 20
“But… but why?” asked Queenie.
He shrugged. “Maybe they were in it together—Ronnie and Pete—and she double-crossed him. What if Pete’s the original shooter? He snuck into the house during the fireworks and shot at Sebastian for whatever reason, then while Ronnie was pretending to nap yesterday afternoon, she snuck down to the guardhouse to ensure he didn’t blab.”
“But again, why?” persisted Queenie, clearly grappling to get her head around Ronnie the Assassin. “What possible motive could she have for conspiring to kill a nephew that everyone agrees she adored?”
Alicia grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Queenie, I don’t like this angle any more than you do, but Perry might be onto something here. It could all come back to that secret Hugh mentioned. The one Sebastian was about to announce in his speech.”
Perry nodded fervently. “We still don’t know what that is, right? But we do know it has something to do with Ronnie. How do we know Sebastian didn’t approach Ronnie during the party, just like he approached Hugh? How do we know he didn’t tell his aunt exactly what he’d learned and then she knew she had to shut him up? She called down to Pete in the guardhouse. He’s loyal, he might’ve been willing to do her dirty work. Then she had to take Pete out of the equation, lest he point the finger back to her.”
There was a deep, uncomfortable silence then as they all struggled with this theory, some more so than others.
“What secret could be so bad that Ronnie would kill to keep it from coming out?” asked Queenie. “And do we even think she’s capable of such a thing?”
“Oh yes,” the others chorused, before looking contrite.
“That’s actually a compliment,” explained Alicia. “Ronnie even told us once that she’d make the perfect suspect. Look, none of us want Ronnie to be the culprit, but just because she seems like a ‘sweet old lady’, don’t underestimate her, Queenie.”
They’d learned that themselves, the hard way.
“Okay, who else?” said Claire, irritably. “I understand we have to consider Ronnie, but it does not mean I have to enjoy it. Can we please move on to someone else?”
Lynette was quietly biding her time but now jumped at the chance to incriminate Hugh.
“I think it was the cheating CEO,” she told them. “But he was acting on his lonesome.”
Then she rattled off her reasons: Hugh McMertle had no alibi for any of the shootings; she, herself, had seen him go into the house during Greta’s murder; and they had all seen him come and go the following day when Pete was killed.
“But here’s the thing,” Lynette added, crossing her long legs over. “Hugh was also on the patio yesterday morning when Pete made that suspicious comment about knowing more than we realise. Remember? Hugh was there to drive Ronnie to the city. Perhaps that threat was meant for him and he shot Pete on his way out later that arvo.”
“When did he leave again?” asked Alicia.
Lynette shrugged. “Who really knows? Ronnie says he left when she went up to her room around four-ish, but maybe he lingered. Hid in the bushes until the Grangers drove out, then snuck in and shot Pete.” She held up a finger. “Here’s another thing—Hugh is the only one going on about Sebastian’s big dark secret. Maybe Hugh made that up to deflect from himself. Maybe there’s something else going on entirely.”
Now several of them were nodding along. They liked this theory better, if only because it got Ronnie off the hook.
Alicia glanced down at her journal and circled the word secret. That’s what it kept coming back to. “We need to work out exactly what Sebastian was hiding, because he wasn’t shot at for no reason. I think it comes back to the family tree. We need to get hold of a copy.”
“But how?” asked Queenie.
“Could find out where Sebastian lives,” suggested Lynette. “Break in and see if he had notes on a laptop or something?”
“Oh, I’ll grab a burglary kit from the hardware shop, shall I?” said Alicia, smirking.
“His twin must know something about all of this,” said Claire now. “Perhaps we should call Ronnie back, try to get some questions to Seamus through the lawyer.”
“That could take ages,” said Perry, reaching for his mobile. “I’ve got a better idea. Who else is big on secrets and seems shockingly willing to share them?”
Before they could answer, he’d noticed the time on his screen and leapt to his feet.
“Blimey, it’s three o’clock already. Enough percolating of the brain cells, people. It’s time for action. Missy, you need to get cracking if you’re going to drive all the way back to Westeraview this arvo.”
“Oh, right… yes.” She also got to her feet.
“And where are you off to?” Alicia asked, watching as he grabbed his keys and began to tap out a text.
“I’m off to see our favourite gossip again. But this time I won’t let her scuttle away without spilling more than a few drops of gin.”
Chapter 22 ~ Fool’s Errand
As Missy began the long drive back in search of Pete’s infamous guest list, Perry made the much shorter drive across the Sydney Harbour Bridge to Peg Flannery’s house, Lynette accompanying him in the passenger seat of his sporty red Mazda.
Peg lived in a small but sun-drenched apartment in an old red-brick block on Sydney’s lower north shore and was not at all surprised to find the book club friends on her doorstep.
“Ronnie warned me she’d handed over my address,” she told them. “The traitor.” A playful wink.
“Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday,” said Perry.
“Sunday, Monday, it’s all the same at my age, doll. Now, who’s up for my famous chai tea?” Then she rattled off the ingredients as they helped themselves to seats in her delightfully cosy sunroom. “Cardamon, allspice, half a whole star anise…”
Perry thought it sounded revolting, but Lynette was rubbing her hands like she’d never heard anything so delicious. Then, soon after, as he choked back the odious brew, Perry launched in.
“Shocking about the security guard, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” agreed Peg. “How is Ronnie? We spoke briefly, but she couldn’t talk.”
“She’s pulling strings,” he said, and she glanced at him sideways, then cackled.
“Well, if anyone’s got strings, it’s our Ronnie, but really she shouldn’t need them. Eejits can’t still think Seamus is guilty. He was neatly tucked away. Unless of course Pete’s death was suicide.”
Perry frowned while Lynette said, “We did wonder about that, briefly.” She leaned forward. “How did Pete appear when you left the property yesterday evening? Did he seem depressed or…?”
“And was there anyone else lurking?” added Perry, not believing the suicide theory for a second.
“Oh, Pete wasn’t there when I left,” Peg said, almost breezily. “So I can’t speak to his mental health.”
The two friends shared a stunned look. “Hang on,” said Perry. “Pete wasn’t at the gate? What time did you leave?”
“Not so long after chatting with you lot. I told the police all this. I went up to see Ronnie, she didn’t answer, so I left her to it. So… I guess around five o’clock. Of course, I’d had far too many gins by then.” Another sideways glance at Perry. “I didn’t tell the police that.”
You were half-tanked, Perry wanted to tell her, but not so tanked she wouldn’t have noticed the guard opening the gate for her. Because, according to Greta’s parents, Pete should still have been alive at that hour.
So where was he?
“How did you get through the gate?” he asked. “Is there an exit button?”
Peg gave it some thought. “It was open. That’s right, wide open. I do remember thinking that was unusual. But still, convenient for me. Then I came straight home.”
Perry swapped an excited look with Lynette now. This felt like a massive clue.
“So Pete went AWOL the hour before he was shot,” he said.
“Unless he was just in the loo,” suggested Lynette.
“That’s one mighty long visit to the lav’,” he countered, “and the gate was open.”
“Maybe he knew it’d be a long one and didn’t want to keep visitors waiting?”
Peg coughed discreetly. “As scintillating as Pete’s ablutions are, did you really come here to discuss them with me?”
Perry laughed. He was liking Peg more by the minute. “Sorry about that. Just trying to make sense of it. We’re really here to ask about Ronnie.”
“Of course you are.” She smiled and nodded down to the cup in her hand. “Hence the chai. There won’t be any loose lips today, young man. Like I said, I’m not comfortable with this. If you need to know something, why don’t you just ask Ronnie?”
“We would, but she’s busy with Seamus. We’re simply trying to do as Ronnie requested and solve this thing. We don’t have strings to pull; all we’ve got are our little grey cells.”
He tapped his brain while she watched him for a few moments, then scooped her wild hair back and said, “Fine, lob your questions at me, let’s see how we go.”
Perry’s eyes glinted, victoriously. “Okay, so you know about the family tree that Sebastian was researching and the fact that he’d discovered some big secret?” Peg nodded, looking wary already. “Right, well, we wonder whether it had something to do with Ronnie’s affair, the one you said was very special. We’re guessing the affair was with Hugh, and if it wasn’t Hugh, it was someone big. Important.”
She just looked bored now. “I told you before, I cannot say.”
“Peg,” he began, but she shook her head.
“Not because I don’t want to, but because I never knew. Not really. I assumed it was Hugh, too, but she never confirmed it. We might have been best pals, doll, but that’s one secret Ronnie kept close to her chest. I knew there was someone else, I knew she was deeply in love, but I also knew she understood duty, and she told me she was sticking by Bert. To be honest, I wasn’t that supportive at first. I could tell she was lusting after this mysterious amoureux. She had a skip in her step, one I remembered from the old days, the dance days, before she married Bert.”
“We thought Bert was a saint.”
“He was, but who wants to be married to a saint? The pressure! It was exhausting. Sometimes I think she just wanted a normal life. She gave up a lot to be with that man, and I’m not just talking her lover.”
“What else?” asked Lynette.
Peg shifted in her seat and looked uncomfortable again. She took a sip of her tea and said, “Her career, for one. She was a nurse, you must know that. A jolly good one, and she loved it. But Bert couldn’t have his pretty bride doing anything as banal as nursing, not when there were corporate dinners to dazzle at and philanthropy work to be done.”
“She gave up motherhood too, didn’t she?” asked Lynette, remembering their earlier conversation.
Peg shrugged and said nothing.
“But that’s only because Bert couldn’t have kids, right?” said Perry now. “That was hardly his fault.”
Peg made a snorting sound, and they glanced towards her. She shrugged again. “I’m just saying, there are other ways of having a family. She could have adopted. She would’ve been a terrific mum, but again, Bert saw it as a distraction even though he knew how much Ronnie doted on her nephews. You know she helped birth the twins? She was such a big help to her sister. Lizzie had a complicated pregnancy, the father had taken off, the cretin, and Ronnie did the right thing, moved in with Lizzie a few months before they were due. She was there for the boys’ births, stayed on to help afterwards. And it also helped her marriage in the end.”
“You’re saying it was a trial separation?” said Lynette.
“I’m saying it didn’t hurt Ronnie to try life away from Bert, see what she was missing.” Peg smiled and her eyes drifted off towards an open window where the sun was just starting to drop down behind a neighbouring building. “I visited Ronnie several times when she was staying with Lizzie. Initially she envied her sister, envied me as well.”
She turned her eyes now to a sideboard where they could see a collection of family photos. “I have three children,” she told them. “Each one a blessing and an absolute pain in the butt.”
Then she cackled at their surprise and added, “Talk about ablutions!” Cackled again. “The point is, the grass is not always greener. She used to say we had no idea the burden that came with wealth.” A roll of the eyes now. “Well, she had no idea the burden that came with babies that pooped and screamed all night, not to mention paying your own bills, struggling to make ends meet. Lizzie and I told her that. And we weren’t the only ones. Hugh McMertle turned up at Lizzie’s house one day, pushing Bert’s barrow as he’s always done, imploring her to return to her saint. The company shares were no doubt tanking, and he’s a loyal disciple that one.”
Lynette’s eyes narrowed, but Peg didn’t notice. “Either way, Ronnie worked it out for herself. Moved back home eventually, and everything returned to normal. So my dears, whatever this grand secret is, I really don’t think it’s to do with Ronnie’s marriage. There was a happy ending, so what on earth could have caused all this chaos thirty-five years later?”
Perry frowned. “But what else could it be about?” He looked to Lynette now. “Maybe we should track down Bethany’s address, pay her a sneaky visit. You don’t know where she lives, do you Peg?”
Peg seemed suddenly wary. “Me? Bethany? No, no, no, no, no. I wouldn’t waste time with Bethany. Leave her out of it.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She did a nonchalant shoulder shrug. “No reason. I’m just saying if it’s Sebastian’s secrets you’re after, then you should go directly to the person he was spilling them to that evening, by all accounts—Hugh.”
After Lynette grabbed Peg’s recipe for that delicious chai—my God, the woman should package it, she’d make a motza!—they returned to Perry’s car and strapped themselves in.
“Peg’s right, you know,” she said. “The only person Sebastian went to with his big secret was Hugh. If there really is a secret, I bet Hugh knows a lot more than he’s telling.”
“But why did Peg go all weird then?” he asked. “I mean about Bethany. I got the feeling she doesn’t want us talking to Ronnie’s niece. Why would that be?”
“Probably just trying to save us the angst. Forget Bethany, we need to focus on Hugh, drag the truth out of him once and for all. Problem is, I’m not sure he’s the gossipy type.”
“Pft!” said Perry, starting up his engine. “You clearly haven’t seen me in action.”
By the end of the day, Lynette still hadn’t seen Perry in action because they couldn’t locate Hugh. Even after they had bothered Ronnie again, this time dragging Hugh’s home address out of her, the man was missing in action.
“He’s not here,” his wife informed them when they showed up to the McMertle’s front door, which was not far from Peg’s but larger and far more impressive.
“Any idea when he’ll be back?” Perry had asked.
Hannah held her chin high and said, “I haven’t decided yet.”
Lynette stepped forward. Applied her most sympathetic look. “Hey Hannah,” she said. “Do you remember me? I was at Ronnie’s party the other night, and I was there when… well, at the cabana. I couldn’t help overseeing that little skirmish between you and your husband.” Then she dropped her luscious blond locks to one side and said, “Are you okay?”
The woman glared at Lynette like she was the devil incarnate, made a “cor!” sound, then slammed the door on their faces.
Perry sniggered. “Nice try, O gorgeous sex kitten. I’m not sure you were ever going to win over the long-suffering wife.”
“You’re right,” Lynette replied as she opened the door to his Mazda. “We should have brought Alicia.”
~
From where she was standing, Alicia probably wished she’d tagged along. Liam Jackson had appeared at her doorstep later that afternoon, causing the remaining book friends to scatter like cockroaches, sensing something was afoot, and he’d looked so cutely sheepish with his hair all tangled at the back, like he hadn’t slept properly in days, that Alicia had no choice but to hear him out.
She let him into the house, fetched him a cold beer, then dumped it in his hands while he told her he was sorry. He added that he should have been open from the start. Insisted they sit down like a regular couple and sort things out.
And so here they were, back in Alicia’s lounge room, but she wasn’t sitting. She was pacing the room like a wild animal, giving Jackson a piece of her mind while Max sat tall on his beanbag, ears pricked, watching her worriedly.
“You’ve made me feel like a complete idiot in front of my friends! They know something’s up, but I haven’t got the heart to tell them. They’ll be devastated to know we’re all suspects in not just the latest murder but all of them.”
“I don’t consider you suspects, you know that right?”
“Tell that to your bosses!”
“I did. I have. Over and over.”
And over and over they went again. An hour later they had got exactly nowhere, apart from three beers in and a dog now slumped across the beanbag, eyes closed, ears down. There was nothing Jackson could do about the police internal investigation, and there was nothing Alicia could do with these helpless feelings of fury that were threatening to force a wedge in their relationship.
And that’s when it occurred to her. She wasn’t helpless at all.
Releasing a long, slow exhale, Alicia sat on the sofa beside Jackson and threaded her fingers through his, surprising him.
“Look,” she said gently, “I know your hands are tied, but mine aren’t. I don’t work for the Force. I’m a civilian, an amateur as Singh likes to remind me. Which means they can’t banish me to desk duty.” She shook her head. “I honestly don’t care what those Conduct Commission idiots think or even if this makes my book club look more guilty, but we promised Ronnie we’d help clear Seamus’s name, so that’s what I’m going to do. It’s what I can do. And they can’t stop me.”
