Spell It Out, page 13
He nodded. “I understand,” he said in a tone which suggested he didn’t.
“Amelia Spelled, table for three. It’s reserved in my name,” I told him.
He showed us to a table at the back of the building.
“Actually, could we please have that table over there?” Thyme asked him.
“But madam, this table has a view over the courtyard, and that table doesn’t have much of a view.”
“Still, I’d prefer it,” Thyme said.
When we had been seated, I whispered to Thyme, “Why did you want to sit here? There’s a dreadful view of the New England Highway. All I can see is the road that runs to Sydney, whereas the other table did have a nice view.”
“We not here for the view,” Thyme said, “and look at that huge potted plant directly behind us.”
I got her meaning at once. We could tip our wine into the potted plant if we could manage to distract the accountant. “Great idea. And at least we got here before the accountant. He would have thought the way we hobbled in was strange. At least we’re seated already.”
“And here he is now,” Thyme said.
The accountant looked quite friendly, as I suppose anyone would if they thought they were getting more business. He introduced himself as Stephen Parsons. “Why don’t we order before we get down to business?” he said.
“We took an Uber here,” Thyme said. “Both of us are able to drink. How about we start with some wine?”
“I walked from my office, so I can drink too,” the accountant said with a smile.
Thyme and I exchanged glances. I hadn’t thought of that. What if he had driven here? Then he wouldn’t have been able to drink, and our plan to ply him with alcohol would have fallen flat. Never mind—he was here now, and he was going to drink.
We made small talk until the waiter came and took our orders.
Thyme and I kept refilling the accountant’s wine glass while he was eating, and we didn’t have to match him drink for drink, so the potted plant was spared. After he finished his meal, he pulled out a notepad and paper.
“Both of us are mathematically challenged,” I warned him. “Really. I’m not joking.”
He chuckled. “Many of my clients are mathematically challenged. That’s why I draw diagrams for them. Most of my clients are farmers and prefer to look at diagrams rather than spreadsheets.”
“Great,” I said.
He nodded. “Pictures are often easier to understand.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, the business is going well to the extent that I wonder whether I need to form a company rather than being a sole trader, and I also have questions about superannuation. I’ve been using a local accountant in Bayberry Creek, but the business is improving, and I don’t think the Bayberry Creek accountant will be able to handle it. Also, I have a dear friend who is like an uncle to me, and he’s an antique dealer. He already has a company, and we’re here on his behalf as well, to see if we think you and he would work well with each other.”
The accountant’s face lit up. “That sounds good to me. Now, how did you first hear about me?”
I shot Thyme a look. I had forgotten to mention James Collins, but this was a perfect opening. “James Collins recommended you,” I said. “I only met James recently. Thyme and I had the misfortune to attend the tea leaf reading where James’s boss, Aurelius Matters, was murdered. Did you hear about that?”
He looked horror-stricken and took a large gulp of wine. “Yes, it was in the local paper and on the news. Terrible business. Did they find out who did it yet?”
I shook my head. “Not as far as I know. Perhaps they have found out, but haven’t released it to the public yet.”
He nodded slowly.
“James and I happened to talk while we were waiting at the hospital to be tested, and the hospital kept us in overnight. I had a good opportunity to have long chats with James, and I mentioned I wasn’t happy with my accountant. He recommended you.”
“I’m pleased to hear James is satisfied with me,” he said. “He used to have a hotshot Sydney accountant, but wanted someone more local when he moved to Tamworth. I’m grateful for his good feedback.”
“So you hadn’t met James before he came to Tamworth a few months ago?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Poor James has had a lot of tragedy in his life lately.”
“Do you mean his boss’s murder?” I asked, puzzled.
“And his mother’s death too,” he said. “His mother died just before James came to Tamworth.”
“That’s terrible,” I said. “Was it unexpected?”
He shook his head. “To the contrary, she had a rather long illness, and they couldn’t afford medical treatment.”
“I thought James was wealthy?” I said.
He shook his head. “Not that wealthy. His mother had a terminal illness, but there was a place in New York where she could have had experimental treatment. There is a clinical trial going on over there for the type of illness she had, and they’re getting fantastic results, but they would take international patients only if they could pay a fee of several hundred thousand dollars. James was unable to raise the funds.”
“Wow, that’s absolutely terrible that people die just because they can’t afford medical help,” I said honestly. “That’s appalling. No wonder James didn’t mention it to me. He must have been too upset. I take it he and his mother were close?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, they were very close. His mother raised him by herself.”
I had my wine part way to my lips, and I set my glass down. “So James’s father has passed away too?”
Stephen shrugged one shoulder. “I assume so. James said his mother raised him. He didn’t mention his father, and I didn’t like to ask.”
“Quite so.” I elbowed Thyme in the ribs.
“Now, what would you like to see from an accountant?” he asked me.
Tax fraud and a low accountant’s bill, I thought. Aloud, I said, “I’d like to reduce my tax, of course. I’d like to know tips and tricks to pay less tax.”
“Yes, I can help you with that,” he said. “Everything I recommend is legal, but only just legal, if you get my meaning.” He winked at me.
I liked the sound of that. Perhaps I should employ him as my accountant for real.
“And I have questions about self-managed superannuation,” I said. “I need to know whether it’s a good thing or not.”
That set him off. He talked about self-managed superannuation for the next five minutes, and I didn’t understand a word of it.
When he paused for breath, I poured him some more wine. “Oh yes, that’s very interesting,” I lied.
“You wanted to know about company structure too, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“The Australian Tax Office did change the requirements for companies a few years ago,” he said. “I can explain those in detail.”
Before I could think of a way to stop him, he did explain it all in detail. I couldn’t remember when I was last so bored. I realised my eyes were glazing over.
I kicked Thyme under the table, hoping she’d take it as a signal to ask more questions about James Collins. She did not respond.
Finally, I said, “Please give us your card, and I’ll be in touch soon.” I really did think he might be a good accountant. If only he would stop with the dreadful drawings! I looked at the pieces of paper strewn over the table, all of which had stick figures and numbers and dollar signs written all over them. His drawings were as puzzling as his explanations of tax law. Still, he did seem quite aggressive with tax deductions, and that sounded most appealing.
“I wish I’d known about James’s family situation,” I told him. “I would have been more sympathetic if I had known. I hope he has a nice family in town that can support him.”
Stephen shook his head. “No, James doesn’t know anyone in Tamworth. He moved here just after his mother passed away.”
“Why would anyone move to Tamworth?” I asked him, and then realised that it had come out wrongly. I hastened to add, “I mean, someone from Sydney with a good job doesn’t usually move to the country unless they’re looking for a sea change, and Tamworth is a long way from the sea.”
He nodded. “Quite so, quite so. Still, property prices are much lower in Tamworth.”
“But why Tamworth of all places?” I said. “Property prices are much cheaper in Muswellbrook too. Perhaps he moved here for another reason.”
Stephen was clearly no longer interested in talking about James. “I can come up to Bayberry Creek and meet with you at any time,” he said. He pushed a form across the table to me. “Fill that out. If you would like to be a client of mine, simply fill that out and email or fax it to me. I can come up to Bayberry Creek and go through your financial situation in great detail.”
“I think I will do that,” I said. “Do you really think you can get me some good tax deductions?”
He nodded again. “Yes, I’m sure I can.” He stood. “It was lovely to meet you both. Thanks so much for lunch. When I come to Bayberry Creek, I’ll take you both to lunch.”
We stood too, and I thanked him. As he made to go towards the door, he looked back at us. “Shall I walk you both to the door?”
“No, our Uber will take a while to get here,” Thyme said. “Goodbye.”
As soon as Stephen was out of sight, Thyme called Ruprecht. “Ruprecht, please meet us at the door. Get as close to the door as you can. We’ve locked up from sitting too long.” She ended her sentence with a whimper.
Thyme and I gave it a few more minutes, and then clutched each other. Each step was painful, but we finally made it to the door. I think the wine helped a little, although we weren’t able to bend our knees for the first few steps.
Ruprecht jumped out of the car and opened the door for us. I tried to get in the back seat, but Thyme threw herself in.
“That’s not fair,” I said. “We should take it in turns.”
Thyme smirked at me. “Too late.”
I shrugged and climbed into the front seat slowly.
“How did it go?” Ruprecht said.
“Well, it looks like James Collins is the killer,” I announced. “He moved here just after his mother died from a long illness. He couldn’t raise the several hundred thousand dollars to get her into a clinical trial in America.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he went to Aurelius and asked for the money,” Thyme said, “but he refused. That seems a very likely motive for murder.”
Ruprecht nodded. “It does indeed. I think we should drive straight to the police station in Bayberry Creek and give this information to Detective Barrett.”
I groaned. “How do we tell him we got it?”
“Just say you were changing accountants, and happened to speak to James Collins’s accountant who gave you this information,” Ruprecht said. “He can’t arrest you for changing accountants.”
“But he’d like to,” I muttered.
Chapter 19
On the way back to Bayberry Creek, Thyme and I somehow convinced Ruprecht to go to the police by himself and to take us home first. I staggered through my front door. I didn’t even have the energy to ask the house to turn off the TV.
I walked, hunched over, to my bathroom where I ran the hot water and tipped a whole packet of Epsom Salts into the bath. “Now where did I put my Oil of Wintergreen?” I asked the cats.
They both meowed angrily. “All right,” I said. I hobbled down the hallway into the kitchen and poured some of their favourite cat food into their bowls.
I remembered where I had left my Oil of Wintergreen. I kept it in the cupboard next to my altar. Oil of Wintergreen was one of the components of Fast Luck Oil, specifically Red Fast Luck Oil, the other two ingredients being cinnamon and vanilla. I used it on many an occasion, but I knew the Oil of Wintergreen would be good to pour in my bath to relieve my aching muscles. I had used the whole tube of liniment and there wasn’t any left. When the bath was full, I took off my clothes, but had trouble climbing in. My legs did not want to move by themselves. I made it with some difficulty.
I lay back in the bath and let the hot water soothe my aching muscles. Instead of being relaxed, I thought angry thoughts about Killer Kyle. I wondered idly if he got that name because he actually did kill someone with exercise. I chuckled at the fanciful notion. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had.
I lay in the bath for what seemed an age, constantly topping it up with hot water while letting out some of the old water. I realised I was diluting the Epsom salts, and I didn’t have any left. Alder was coming over later. I would ask him to get dinner from somewhere. I wasn’t in any fit state to go to his house tonight, so he would have to stay in mine.
My next mission was to get out of the bath, somehow dry myself, and get into clothes, and make it to the sofa where I could lie down until Alder came. I made a mental note to take my phone with me. I really needed to take Panadol, and it was in the kitchen.
It took me a while to psych myself to get out of the bath, and I only did so because I resembled a wrinkled prune. Towelling myself dry hurt. Every movement hurt my shoulders and my biceps. My triceps didn’t fare much better. My hips ached and it hurt to lift my legs.
I expected Ruprecht might come back to the house to tell me what the police said, so I decided against the bathrobe and managed to pull on some comfortable clothes. After the bath, I was able to straighten my legs, although I walked slowly, shuffling along the ground, given that it hurt to raise my legs too far when walking. I lay on one the sofas that faced the TV. If nothing else, I could watch Lucifer. “I have a bit of a headache. Could you turn down the TV a little?” I asked the house.
Thankfully, the house obliged. I stared at the TV, watching Lucifer and his hottie brother, Amenadiel. Now I remembered where I had seen the actor before—he was Principal Wood in the last season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “Wow, he looks even better than he did on Buffy and that was, what, twenty years ago?” I asked the house.
The house purred by way of response. Obviously, my grandmother found Amenadiel attractive too.
I yawned and stretched a little, but stretching hurt. After five or so minutes, I began to feel a little better. I considered making a nice cup of hot tea, but then I thought of Aurelius’s murder and decided against it. I didn’t think I would ever look at tea the same way again.
I was drifting off to sleep when there was a knock on the door. I expected it was Ruprecht. “Come in!” I called out, and then I remembered the door was locked.
Groaning, I managed to pull myself to my feet. I flung the door open, while saying, “What did he say?”
To my surprise, Ruprecht was not standing there. It was James Collins, and he did not look pleased.
“May I come in?” he asked, but before I could answer, he pushed past me and strode into the house. “I want to speak with you and your friend,” he said. “Is she here?”
“No,” I said before thinking, which I quickly amended to, “Yes, she’s just in the kitchen making coffee. Would you like some?”
“I didn’t see anyone else’s car outside,” he said.
“I was out with Thyme today, and she came home with me. I have to take her back to her place later,” I said.
He folded his arms across his chest. “When I first asked you, you said she wasn’t here.”
“What’s this about?” I asked him, fully aware that he was likely the murderer.
“My accountant called me today to thank me for recommending him.”
“Oh.” I shifted from one foot to the other.
“Why did you question my accountant about me? Why did you lie and say I recommended him?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Who told you about me?” he asked.
“No one,” I said, surprised. “What do you mean?”
He took a step towards me, his whole countenance menacing. “I know you found out about me. About my mother.”
“I didn’t know about your mother before the accountant said she passed away recently,” I said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he said. “You know I murdered Aurelius Matters. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“What can anyone do about it?” I countered. “There’s no evidence that you did it, and the police won’t believe me.”
He took another step. “I can’t take that risk. I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk.”
“I’m still not sure why you killed him, though,” I said, trying to buy time. “He was your father, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He ran out on my mother when she was pregnant with me, and we had hard times throughout.” His voice was laced with venom. “My mother asked him for money to help raise me, but he wouldn’t acknowledge me on every occasion she tried to contact him. In the end she gave up. I was quite young at the time. When she was dying, she told me about him, just so I’d know, and I called him to ask for money for her treatment. She didn’t want me to, but I did. He flatly refused and said he didn’t want anything to do with me. He pointed out that his name wasn’t on my birth certificate. I said I’d ask for DNA testing, and he said I’d have to take him to court but that he had more money than I did. And he said his lawyers would tie it up for a long time. He threatened to make me disappear.”
“Is that why you took a job in his company, just so you could kill him?”
A nasty, cold smile covered his face. “Yes. He never met me, you see. All correspondence was over the phone. I cut off contact when I hatched my plan, after I saw a positions vacant ad from his company. I was keeping a close eye on him and his company. He had no idea I was his son. I took a long time to plan it out so no one would suspect it was me.”
“Where did you get the sleeping pills?” I asked him. “Were they your mother’s?”
He made a derisive sound. “No, of course not. I bought them illegally. And now I have to take care of you.”
“All my friends know exactly what I know,” I told him. “Do you intend to do away with all of them?”
