The first thing Alicia did when she awoke the following morning was look at her phone. It had been on silent all night, but there were now three missed calls from Jackson and a text message imploring her to ring. Alicia’s heart leapt briefly before plunging down to her toes. She flung her phone back on the coffee table and put her elbow over her eyes.
“He finally call?” asked Lynette, watching from beneath her duvet.
Alicia shrugged. “It’s too late. Should’ve called last night.”
“Don’t be petulant. Just call him.”
“Why should I? He took his sweet time. I think I’ll take mine.”
“He was obviously busy,” said Queenie, soothingly, as she folded up the sheets she’d been using.
“That’s too bad, because I’m busy now.” Alicia sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Come on, guys, let’s go and see how Ronnie’s doing.”
Across the hallway, Missy was glancing through her phone images from the night before while Claire sat to one side, staring hard at her own device. The latter was already dressed in wide, sailor-style jeans and a checked gingham blouse, her black hair swept into a neat chignon. Missy was still in her pink pyjamas.
“Hubby hassling you?” Missy asked, nodding at her phone.
“Hmm? Oh, no… I’m just wondering how long I can put off calling.” Claire smiled. “I didn’t bother him last night, he was working late, but I’m going to have to break the news eventually. Simon’s really going to regret marrying a murder-mystery enthusiast.” Then she returned the nod. “Get anything good?”
Missy shrugged. “Didn’t take many, but I’m trying to see if there’s a lone gunman sneaking around in the back of one of my shots.” She giggled. Thrust a hand to her mouth. “Sorry, it’s not really funny is it? I must stop making light of all this. People think I’m being rude.”
Claire knew to whom she was referring and shook her head. “I know that’s not your intention, so don’t let that worry you.”
Missy beamed. “Thank you, Claire.” Then she continued scrolling, her nose bunching up as she did so. “I’m the worst photographer in the entire universe. No, seriously, ask Henny.” Then she paused and said, “Or Henrietta.” She winked across at Claire. “Henny and Mum have banned me from taking any more family pix. I make everyone look like stunned rabbits. It’s like I miss the moment everyone’s smiling and get them just as they’re starting to think, ‘Why hasn’t the eejit pressed the button yet?’ Seriously, I have a special knack for it. Henny always grabs my phone and takes them for me because she says—”
Missy sat rigid suddenly, eyes swishing from one side of the room to the other.
“Everything okay?” Claire asked, but Missy was deep in thought. “Missy?”
The younger woman leapt to her feet. “Oh my God. That’s how they did it! Has to be.”
“Pardon?”
“The killer. I know how they got that text onto Seamus’s phone!”
~
Detective Inspector Liam Jackson stared at his silent phone and felt his heart lurch. What a bloody fool he’d been. He should have called Alicia back last night, told her they needed to talk. He’d worked that out for himself at dawn, tried calling her then to no avail.
Now he wondered if she would ever take his calls. Went to try again when his colleague’s words began ringing in his ears.
“Do not make things worse for yourself, Jacko,” DI Singh had warned him just an hour ago. “I’ve got it under control. You need to take a wide berth.”
Problem was he’d gone too wide and might have stuffed everything up. Growling, he grabbed his phone and tapped out another message:
“I’m really sorry. Need to see you face-2-face. When will you be home? I’ll be there. Need to talk xx”
He sent it, then felt a sliver of hope when he noticed Alicia was typing an immediate response. The typing stopped and started over many minutes, then eventually an answer came through:
“Not going home. No time to talk.” It was brief for her, with none of her usual emojis.
He stared at it, confused, then worried. Had Singh said something?
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.