Murder Most Fancy, page 35
I arrived at Mother’s at exactly 7.38 pm. The private lab had hand-delivered the DNA results from the Holly and Harraway families to Patricia at 7.30 pm. The results from Dr Bailly’s many tests on UP ROSE BAY 0909 WINTERS (including DNA) that James had ‘acquired’ had been with the lab most of the afternoon and their analysis arrived at 7.30 pm too. The information was most helpful.
After reading for forty-five minutes, then googling for fifteen, I was forced to ask James for one final itty-bitty favour. Low risk, low skill. Probably. He kindly obliged and agreed to meet me at Dame Elizabeth’s just after 9 pm. Esmerelda was home by 8.20 pm (this helped with the googling). Twenty minutes later, she won a sixty-second argument over who would drive to Dame Elizabeth’s. This turned a pleasant six-minute drive into a harrowing four-minute drive. We arrived early at 8.45 pm instead of the requested 9 pm, quite by design.
We always seemed to catch the Holly family in the middle of dessert. Tonight, it was apple and rhubarb crumble with warm custard. Someone in the house must have been feeling nostalgic.
The maid showed us into the castle-sized formal dining room. Pale wood floors, parquet of course, high ceilings, hand-carved gold cornices, silk-lined walls peeping through dozens of giant gold-framed paintings, a tapestry style rug and ancient chandeliers that threw such low yellow light, there were shadows in every crevasse. Very Fontainebleau. Climate control must have been a nightmare.
Dame Elizabeth sat at the head of the table with Astor and Bettina to her right, Gregory and Gilly to her left. The other fifteen seats were unoccupied.
‘So sorry to disturb you, Dame Elizabeth,’ I lied apologetically, overtaking the poor maid, and somewhat pushing my way into the room.
‘Quite alright, dear,’ she said, ever the consummate Dame. ‘Perhaps you and Esmerelda could wait in the drawing room?’
‘Esmerelda?’ squeaked Gregory who had already turned to scan Esmerelda and her outfit. ‘You actually know her by name, Mother?’
Bettina narrowed her eyes at Esmerelda. ‘Don’t I know you?’ Shock was a wonderful thing. Regaining one’s memory after shock faded? Not so much.
‘Nope,’ Esmerelda said, sweeping her hair across her eyebrow-less face and attempting to fade into the shadows.
‘I have news,’ I said to Dame Elizabeth meaningfully. ‘About Max.’
‘Max!’ Gregory barked, immediately on his feet. ‘That old gold-digger again! You listen to me, Indigo Hasluck-Royce-Whatever, that crazy old marauder is out of the picture, and I won’t let you or your meddling control freak grandmother try to drag him back in.’
Dame Elizabeth whipped (well, as fast as a Dame in her seventies whipped) towards Gregory. ‘Pardon?’ she asked, pausing deliberately for effect. ‘“Out of the picture”? What do you know about Max? How do you know about Max?’
‘Oh, do be realistic, Mother,’ Gregory said, throwing his napkin onto the table. ‘We all know about Max.’
Gilly smirked. Bettina looked like she was mentally trying to place the name Max. Astor just shook his head at his brother.
‘Shut up, Astor,’ Gregory barked, even though Astor had not spoken. ‘Max is nothing but a moth-eaten, money-hungry old loon. The second I gave him a serve, he backed off. We haven’t seen him since. Good riddance.’
Dame Elizabeth appeared to have stopped breathing. ‘When might that have been?’
Gregory began to colour. ‘A few weeks ago,’ he said vaguely.
Dame Elizabeth blanched, then, gathering herself, asked hopefully, ‘At the hotel?’
‘Of course at the hotel,’ Gregory growled, regaining some of his steam. ‘Right in the middle of the foyer.’
‘Uh, like, I definitely don’t think so,’ Esmerelda put in from the side of the room. ‘We totally checked. No way you could get away with having a brawl in that joint without like everyone knowing. The place is a total gossip machine.’
Gregory swallowed, but kept on. ‘Put your pet back in your purse, Indigo—’
Oh, if only I could.
‘—and go back to your conniving grandmother’s garage or your mummy’s gazebo or wherever the hell you live now.’
The insult was so weak, I could hear Esmerelda snickering behind me. It didn’t warrant a single hackle. But it did provide me with an excellent opening.
‘You might be right about Grandmother, Gregory. It’s probably not ideal, your mother living next door to someone so calculating. Especially when she’s so crazy for tech. And security. And tech security.’
Gregory’s face looked less indignant.
‘You should see her set-up. She’s got it all: motion sensors, heat detectors, microphones, cameras … so many cameras. And she is quite nosy, so her cameras don’t just cover her property. They cover the yards of the neighbouring properties too.’
That was a complete lie. Grandmother’s cameras didn’t reach over the fence into Dame Elizabeth’s garden. But I was betting Gregory didn’t know that.
‘Guess what Grandmother’s cameras caught you doing in this very yard,’ I asked, pointing sternly at Gregory and then somewhat vaguely towards the front of the house, ‘the night before a dead body turned up in her garden? They caught you having a not-so-friendly chat with Max.’
What was left of Gregory’s indignant face melted and guilty sweat prickled his skin.
‘Gregory,’ Dame Elizabeth choked. ‘What did you do?’
Gregory baulked and, to draw attention away from himself, went on the attack. ‘Would you mind buggering off, Indigo? This is a family dinner.’
Dame Elizabeth eyed her son. ‘Indigo is here at my invitation.’ She repeated her question to Gregory. ‘What did you do?’
‘What did I do?’ he raged at his mother, indignant at being thwarted. ‘What did I do? What the hell did you do?’
‘Don’t speak to Mother like that,’ Astor growled.
‘Ask her!’ Gregory yelled again, pointing at his mother. ‘Ask her what she did!’
‘It’s okay,’ I said calmly, kindly, to Dame Elizabeth. ‘You did nothing wrong. You were very young.’
‘Oh my God!’ Gilly said, staring at me with upwardly rolled eyes. ‘Would you shut the fuck up, Indigo?!’
Poor Bettina was completely lost, eyes darting from her beloved grandmother to her ineffectual, indulged father. ‘What did you do, Daddy?’
‘Would you like to tell them?’ I asked Dame Elizabeth respectfully. ‘Or I can, if it’s too much.’
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ Gregory interrupted. ‘Our mother was a teenage whore!’
At that, Astor sprang to his feet, reached over the table and slapped Gregory plum across the face. Not lightly either. Full palm. Whack. Gregory then attempted to jump across the table to attack Astor, but he was too unfit to make the leap.
‘She slept with the farmhand!’ Gregory yelped, attempting to claw back face. His mouth narrowed into a mean sneer. ‘Your father, Astor, was a farmhand!’
Astor stood frozen. I was not the only person to have trouble breathing this evening, and the night was still young. Astor’s eyes moved to his mother.
A wistful expression crossed Dame Elizabeth’s face, followed by a soft smile. ‘Actually, Gregory, Astor’s father was much more than a farmhand.’
‘Oh my God!’ Gilly said, grabbing fistfuls of her own hair.
‘Yeah, “oh my God” is right,’ Gregory said. ‘The crazy bastard told me he was Astor’s father and your grandfather, Gilly! That’s not even possible! The only way that would be possible would be … would be if Max was Astor’s father,’ and at this, Gregory sank into his chair and broke into tears, ‘and my father!’
‘Oh my God, Dad, shut up!’ Gilly screamed, jumping to her feet. ‘Get out, Indigo!’ she yelled, pointing to the door. ‘Just get the fuck out!’
Esmerelda nudged me. ‘Like, I’d have told you to bugger off way more by now.’
I nodded in agreement.
‘You cheated on Father!’ Gregory exclaimed, ignoring me and Gilly in his tirade, thumping his fist on the table, making the spork in his crumble jump. ‘For years!’
It was Dame Elizabeth’s turn to be amazed. ‘Pardon?’
Esmerelda’s eyes narrowed as she tried to process all this information.
‘Yes!’ Gregory yelled theatrically. ‘I came to visit my mother and found that man in the front garden. Coming to dinner. With. His. Mistress!’
Dame Elizabeth put a hand to her chest.
‘Dad!’ Gilly begged her father. ‘Shut up!’
‘Why?’ Gregory demanded. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong! The man is a scoundrel. And a liar! When I told him to hit the road, to leave you alone, he said he would. He didn’t even fight me. He pulled out his phone, called you and cancelled dinner. Boom. Made up some bullshit excuse about a family emergency. But he didn’t leave, fucker. No, no, he wanted to talk. He started babbling about being Astor’s father and Gilly’s grandfather.’ Gregory turned to his mother. ‘He went on about the two of you being teenagers in love. How you got pregnant. How your family bought him off with a hundred pounds and married you off to Father. How you passed Astor off as Dad’s. How could you?’
Dame Elizabeth cupped her right hand in her left, straightened her spine and interjected. ‘Your father knew. He had dozens of mistresses.’ She paused and took a fortifying sip of wine. ‘I only had one love. I was unfaithful to no one. And your father received a lot more than a hundred pounds, Gregory. I believe the price on my tainted head was £25,000.’
‘Bullshit!’ Gregory yelled. Everyone’s cutlery jumped as both fists hit the table. ‘He said he was Gilly’s grandfather! That could only be possible if he were my father too.’
‘Do not despair, Gregory,’ Dame Elizabeth said calmly, ‘you are most certainly your father’s son. I didn’t see my love from the day I told my parents I was pregnant with Astor until—’ She stopped.
‘When did you know Max was your teen sweetheart?’ I prompted her. ‘From the start?’
‘Oh no,’ she said, turning to me.
‘When?’
‘Not until last night, when you showed me the photograph of us together at one of the farms.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Gordon. His name was Gordon Taylor.’
Gordon Taylor. Maxwell Harraway. Max Weller. UP ROSE BAY 0909 WINTERS.
Max.
‘Oh, he was going to tell you!’ raged Gregory. ‘That night, but—’
‘Stop! Out!’ Gilly interrupted, jumping from her seat and heading straight towards me. ‘Get out, Indigo!’
The interruption startled Gregory and when his eyes moved to Gilly his brain switched gears. ‘Max, he had the holes, the gills, exactly like you, Giuliana.’
‘Oh, Giuliana!’ Esmerelda exclaimed with her usual majestic timing. ‘It’s like short for Gilly. ’Cause she’s got them gill things. I totally get it now.’
‘Gilly is short for Giuliana!’ Gilly spat. ‘Not for gills!’
‘Children can be so cruel,’ I said.
Gilly gripped my arm and tried to manoeuvre me towards the door, but she was immediately blocked by Grandmother, who emerged from the doorway shadows like the eavesdropping Ghost of Christmas Past.
‘I am quite sure you do not mean to have your hands on my granddaughter,’ she said icily. ‘She and I are both here at your grandmother’s invitation. At her insistence, actually.’
‘I totally am too,’ added Esmerelda, stepping towards Gilly in her quiet-but-terrifying way.
Gilly let go of my arm. She pinched her mouth tight and stalked back to her seat.
Bettina was still seated, blinking rapidly, trying to catch up.
Astor put his hand to his face and unconsciously played with his hair before tucking it away. I could see the tiny holes in front of his ears.
Preauricular sinuses. Hereditary.
‘You hit Max,’ I said to Gregory, stepping towards the table, steering the conversation back on course.
‘Damn right I did!’ he said without regret. ‘Man stands in front of your childhood home and tells you that he’s your brother’s father! That he’s the grandfather of your child! That your daughter is—’
‘What?’ I wanted to know. ‘That your daughter is what?’
Gregory looked across the table to his brother. ‘He thought Gilly was Astor’s daughter. Because of the sinus gill things. He said he had them, Astor had them, and Gilly had them. But if Max isn’t my father, those gills could only be possible if Giuliana is …’
Dame Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Astor’s snapped closed.
Giuliana screamed across the table at her ill-fated non-biologically outed father. ‘Dad! For God’s sake, shut the fuck up!’
‘Weren’t you worried you’d killed him when you hit him over the head with the shovel?’
There was trace in the head wound: bulb fertiliser, high-end soil, fragments from various plants, including tulips, and a variety of elements commonly found in the material they coat garden tools with. Heavy, flat garden tools, like shovels. Similar trace was found in the thigh wounds.
‘No!’ Gregory barked. ‘He was still breathing. I didn’t plan to hit him over the head with a shovel, it was just there, and when he started talking about Astor and Giuliana, and showed me his gills, I … I don’t know. I lost it.’
I nodded. It was somewhat understandable. It was a lot of information for someone like Gregory Holly to take. For anyone, really.
‘It’s you, Astor. I should have smacked you over the head with a shovel,’ Gregory sneered at his brother. ‘You slept with Sue-Anne, didn’t you? You’re gay, for Chrissake! What the fuck?’
Astor leaned across the table, patted Gilly and said, ‘I am sorry, my darling.’ And to Gregory, ‘We slept together once, but I did love her. Which is more than I can say for you. You cheated on her at your own wedding! And I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not gay. I’m queer.’
‘Pfft, queer! That’s not even a real—’
Gilly stomped her foot and cut Gregory off. ‘Shut up! Both of you! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’
Gregory’s eyes filled with tears and he began shaking with rage. He was losing his grip. It was now or never. Esmerelda nudged me. ‘Go Maple some shit.’
Marple. But I appreciated the support.
‘Why did you take him into the gardening shed?’ I asked.
‘What?’ Gregory asked, peeling his eyes off his brother.
‘The gardening shed. Why did you take Max in there?’
‘Privacy, I guess.’
‘Why did you undress him?’
Grandmother stopped mid-step, frozen halfway across the room. For the first time ever, she did not seem sure-footed. Dame Elizabeth’s eyes seeped long rows of quiet tears and Bettina’s face went from shock to mortification.
Gregory clenched and moved his eyes back to Astor. ‘I wanted to humiliate him,’ he growled unthinkingly. ‘The way he had …’
‘Humiliated you?’
Gregory’s anger began to dissolve into regret, his head bobbing in agreement. Dame Elizabeth, ever forgiving and regal, gathered herself and stood from her chair. She embraced her younger son.
‘I was just so shocked,’ he stammered.
‘Yes. What an awful surprise,’ she said, patting him. ‘A terrible blow. I can’t imagine why Max, that is, Gordon, chose to reveal such an ancient and enormous secret in such an insensitive, peculiar way.’
‘Tell him I’m sorry. Really sorry. But when he said you two had, you know … and that Astor was his son and Gilly was his granddaughter … I just … Tell him I’m sorry. Honestly.’
Gregory Holly thought Maxwell Harraway was still alive. Oh, dear.
He began sobbing into his mother’s shoulder. ‘I should’ve hit Astor with the shovel! I wish I’d hit Astor with the shovel.’
‘You weren’t worried that the dead homeless man found in my garden the next day was Max?’ Grandmother asked in astonishment.
Gregory looked up at her, red-eyed. ‘No. I came back to check on him once I’d calmed down. He was crazy, but he was, you know, old.’
Such compassion. Who would have guessed?
‘When?’ I asked.
His eyes moved to me. ‘On the way to the health retreat the next morning. But he was gone. His clothes were gone from where I’d left them in front of the garden shed. He must have come to, walked out of the shed, found his clothes, re-dressed and run off into the night.’ He turned to his mother and gave her a childlike half smile. ‘I scared him off, I’m afraid.’
Bettina’s brain finally processed something. ‘A farmhand? Seriously?’
Dame Elizabeth surveyed the room: her sons, her granddaughters, her tyrant neighbour and friend, her neighbour’s Heiress on Fire granddaughter, and Esmerelda, Australia’s fashion antihero.
‘I may need to borrow some of your NDAs,’ she said to Grandmother.
‘I brought a dozen with me,’ Grandmother responded, flapping a heretofore unseen sheaf of papers.
‘Is it true?’ Bettina asked, oblivious. ‘Did you really have an affair with a farmhand? Is Uncle Astor,’ she whispered, ‘illegitimate?’
I knew from the DNA results that this was true. Astor was the biological son of Maxwell Harraway and Dame Elizabeth Holly. Gregory and Astor were half-brothers. Lizzy and Tahnee Harraway were Astor’s half-sisters.
Max, to my great relief, was not Dame Elizabeth’s cousin. Max was, however, Gilly’s biological grandfather. This explained the movement of the genetically linked gills from Max to Astor and from Max to Gilly. Astor was Gilly’s biological father, making the Harraway sisters Gilly’s aunts. At least one of the rumours about the Hollys was true—they had serious problems when it came to fidelity.
During this evening’s terrifying four-minute car ride to Dame Elizabeth’s, I’d called Mother in Bora Bora and she had confirmed that she and Astor had, long ago, spent one very memorable night together. Hence the yearly Chanel basket. Astor’s bisexuality was not even a secret. A quick look at his Instagram account confirmed Astor openly identified as queer. I guess I’d missed that.
‘I have never thought of you as illegitimate,’ Dame Elizabeth said to Astor. ‘I loved your father. You were a gift.’
