The couple canoodling in the cabana couldn’t possibly be Sebastian and the missing girlfriend—they were too old for that—and it took another flash of fireworks to see who it really was and to realise they weren’t quite canoodling.
At least, not yet.
Veronica’s bossy niece Bethany was seated on the couch, very close to a man in his late sixties with a head of white hair and a designer tuxedo. They had pewter goblets in hand and looked surprised to see the book club friends staring in at them.
Then their gazes shifted and the man’s surprise turned to something else entirely. He dropped his cup to the table and jumped up, holding out a hand and yelling something.
Lynette frowned, confused, then turned with a start, realising there was another woman standing behind them. She must have followed them from the party, across to the cabana. She was older than Bethany, dressed entirely in black, her white hair stiffly coiffed, her eyes fiery.
“Hannah,” the man said as he swept the cabana door open. “I was just—”
“How could you?” she spat out. “After everything.”
“What? No—”
“I came here in good faith. I thought this was behind us. And now Bethany?”
“What? No!” he said again, but she was no longer listening.
The older woman was charging across the patio and towards the house. The man turned to Bethany, held his palms out like he had no words, then offered Lynette and Missy a bewildered look and charged after her, leaving a waft of expensive aftershave in his wake.
And all the while the fireworks kept dancing like sparklers above their heads.
Bethany had remained seated through all this but smiled to herself as she picked up one goblet and got to her feet. Then she strode across the room and stopped at the doorway.
“I need to get this to the kitchen,” she told Lynette and Missy. “If you don’t mind.”
She waited for them to step back, then followed the man and his wife into the house. Because that had to be the man’s wife, Lynette decided. She recognised the look of chronic disappointment. Might have caused such expressions in her own time, if she were being brutally honest.
“That was a bit awkward,” said Missy. “What do you think that was about?”
“I think we caught a man about to cheat on his wife,” Lynette replied.
“Wasn’t he the bloke Ronnie saved earlier from Biddy? I think she called him Hugh.”
“He’ll be getting more colourful names than that right about now,” Lynette quipped before shaking her head and adding, “Come on, this is lame. Let’s see if we can snag some sushi.”
~
Finding their way into the garage was easier said than done, and it took Claire and Queenie some time to get their bearings when they returned inside the house. It didn’t help that the interior was dimly lit and that there were so many doors and corridors spreading out in all directions.
The first door they tried led into a mudroom, which had more crates of liquor stored in it than coats and boots, and they were just coming out of that when they ran into Bronson, who seemed lost in his thoughts.
“Oh, hello again,” he said, glancing down at the bottle of Sprite in his hand. “Haven’t seen Biddy have you? I was told to fetch some lolly water, and now I can’t find her.”
They shook their heads and explained their mission, which left him frowning.
“Why would Sebastian be in the garage?”
“A very good question,” said Claire. “Humour us, if you will.”
He shrugged and pointed his bottle towards the southwest corridor. “First door on the right. Knock yourselves out.”
And it did knock them for six. The space was brightly lit with polished concrete floors and ample room for its six luxury vehicles, which included a Rolls Royce, an Aston Martin and a glossy blue Lotus.
While Queenie’s face lit up, Claire’s began to mimic Bronson’s.
“Of course he’s not in here,” she said. “And listen… I think the fireworks are fizzling out. Oh dear. We’ve missed the whole show.”
“Soz,” said Queenie, not sounding sorry at all. “I guess that gives us time to check inside the cars, you know, in case he’s hiding behind a seat or something.” She was peering through the dark-tinted window of a silver Maserati.
Claire folded her arms across her Grace Kelly-style bodice. “If you’d like to explore the lavish interiors, please do so, Queenie, but make it snappy. I’d really rather get back to Ronnie.”
Queenie clapped her hands like she’d won the lottery, then pulled the car door open and slipped into the front seat while Claire glanced about. She was a fan of all things vintage, that was true, but she couldn’t understand why anyone, least of all Ronnie, needed so many fancy vehicles.
“I didn’t think she was the type,” she said. “Although they could be her late husband’s, I suppose.”
Queenie dragged her eyes from the exquisite Italian stitching on the leather-wrapped dashboard. “Didn’t Ronnie’s husband die years ago? This Maserati might look vintage, Claire, but it’s a recent model. And worth a pretty penny.”
“Well, whoever owns it, it’s a pity their budget didn’t extend to their luggage.”
Claire pointed to a fawn leather carryall resting on the back seat. The leather was cracking and splattered with something black and fuzzy.
“Urgh, that mould is going to wreck the upholstery.”
“Not our concern,” said Claire. “Come on, you’ve had your fix. Sebastian is clearly not hiding under the dashboard. Time to head back to the action.”
~
The activity in the sky was drawing to a close as Alicia and Perry followed the winding path to the tennis court, and they had only tiny solar lights now to guide the way.
“Is it just me or is there a nasty undercurrent at this party?” said Alicia as they walked. “I mean, it’s supposed to be a happy family celebration, and Ronnie looked happy enough, but her in-laws were a bit snarky. I know she can be schoolmarmish, but how can you not like Ronnie?”
“Bethany makes Ronnie look like a recalcitrant teenager,” said Perry. “They’re probably just jealous. Remember, Ronnie was a humble nurse when she met the great Bertram Westera. He took her away from all that, left her his massive fortune. Perhaps they wish she’d stuck with bedpans.”
“Oh, spare me the tears,” said Alicia. “They’re drinking Bollinger and watching fireworks courtesy of Ronnie. What have they got to whine about?”
“They’re rich, darling, there’s always something to whine about. Speaking of which, I’d like to whine about the lighting out here.” He stopped and stared ahead where they could now make out the dim silhouette of the tennis court through the shadowy acacias and lemon myrtles. There was a weird cooing sound and beyond that a suspicious rustling. “If we’re not careful, we’ll step on a tiger snake.”
Alicia began frantically flashing her mobile phone light about.
“Oops, sorry, sweetie, I keep forgetting how your brain works. It’s probably just a Tawny Frogmouth. Come on, I’ve got a better idea.”
Then he shined his torch to a fork in the path and another wooden sign, this one with the picture of a miniature gate. Rubbing his goatee, he said, “Okay, Miss Marple, I wonder if you can tell me where this leads.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “You think Sebastian’s taken off?”
“Hope not, but I noticed cameras down at the guardhouse when we arrived. I bet there’s more around the place. Maybe door bitch is watching the wayward nephew fondle his brother’s girlfriend in a gazebo somewhere, having a little chuckle.”
Then he chuckled to himself as they detoured back towards the driveway.
Ten minutes later, Perry was no longer chuckling. “That’s my steps done for the day,” he said when they finally arrived at the gate.
They couldn’t see the security guard through the window and were about to call his name when Pete’s bald head popped out from behind the front door. He looked a little harried.
“Oh, hello there,” he said. “Choofing off already?” Then he squinted out to the dimly lit road beyond. “You waiting on a lift? D’ya call a cab?”
“Actually, we’re searching for Sebastian,” said Perry. “He’s Ronnie’s—”
“I know Sebastian. Why? What’s going on?”
“They need him at the house for speeches, and he’s gone walkabout. Just wondering if you’ve seen him on your CCTV somewhere.”
The guard blinked. “CCTV?” Then he followed Perry’s eyes to the camera that was pointing at them from a pole beside the gate. “Oh, yeah, nah, sorry. The cameras aren’t on.”
“Well, that was a waste of energy.”
“What’s the point of them then?” asked Alicia.
Pete puffed up. “I’m the eyes and ears of this property, miss. We use them when I’m off duty, but I’m here now, aren’t I? And I can assure you I haven’t seen Sebastian since he drove his Lamborghini in just after five this evening.”
“That’s his?” said Perry. Ronnie didn’t come from money, so he assumed her blood nephews wouldn’t have much either.
Pete shrugged like it was irrelevant and added, “There’ve been no car movements since you guys arrived.”
“Could he have scooted out another exit?” asked Alicia.
“Not unless he scaled the wall.” Pete pointed to the thick sandstone. “This runs right around the property, no other exits. Nah, I’m sure he’ll turn up. I’d help you look, but I can’t leave my post.”
“Fair enough,” said Perry. “But you know what would be really helpful? Perhaps you could pop the cameras on and they could do the work for us.” Pete seemed doubtful, so Perry added, “That way if you spot him you could let him know he’s required at the house for speeches. Then we can all get back to making the night perfect for Ronnie.”
That did the trick. “Well, if it’s for Mrs Westera, of course, sir. No trouble at all.”
They thanked him and returned to the driveway, Alicia’s mind buzzing the whole way back to the house.
Had Sebastian really taken off with Seamus’s woman? Would the couple appear later, blushing and dishevelled? And how would the “uglier twin” take it?
Seamus’s smile might be sweet, but Alicia hoped it didn’t mask a violent side…