“Hello! We’re back,” Ronnie called out as she and Hugh strode through the foyer and into the study where the book club were gathered again. After re-fuelling with cups of tea, they had returned inside and, unable to get anything out of Alicia—“I’m fine, please, just leave it!”—resumed their hypothesising.
But had come no closer to settling on any facts.
It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and they greeted Ronnie with enthusiasm, eager for good news. Ronnie was not able to oblige them.
“That detective’s a fool,” she told them, the lines in her forehead now resembling an entire train network. “Silly woman’s blocked Seamus’s bail. Says he’s a flight risk or some nonsense. Says he’ll use my money to flee the country, like I’d ever conspire to that. Plus she’s got some explosive evidence that keeps him in the frame. Meanwhile, poor Seb is out there, God knows where, and she’s already pulled her officers off the property, like it’s case over!”
“What kind of evidence?” asked Alicia.
Ronnie snapped her lips shut and stared across to Hugh, who nodded encouragingly. Eventually she said, “They found the gun bag apparently. The one Bert carried his hunting rifle in. It’s usually kept in the observatory, but they insist they found it amongst Seamus’s belongings. Oh God, he’ll never get bail now.”
“Oh Ronnie…,” said Hugh, rubbing her back gently. He glanced at the group. “Have you found anything? Got any theories at all?”
Their eyes slid away, all except for Lynette’s. “Actually we do have a theory, it’s about the inheritance—”
“But we’ll discuss it with you later, Ronnie,” said Claire, frowning hard at Lynette as her head nodded towards Hugh.
Ronnie caught the nod and dropped her hand. “I have no secrets from Hugh. What do you mean by that, Lynette? Are you asking who inherits? Is there an angle there?”
“Maybe,” she replied.
“I’m happy to leave you to it,” said Hugh.
“No, please stay, Hugh. I promised you a drink, and I’ll jolly well get you one. In fact, why don’t we adjourn to the parlour? I think we could all do with a stiff one.”
They made their way out and across the Gothic foyer just as a short, plump woman appeared from the kitchen, wearing a simple black dress. It was Ronnie’s Balmain housekeeper, Rosa Moretti, who had met the group previously when Ronnie hosted book club.
“Ah Rosa,” said Ronnie, grasping her hands tightly. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Rosa nodded furiously. “It is crazy madness, Mrs Veronica. I cannot believe what has happened. I am so sad I was not here for you.”
“No, no, you mustn’t. You deserved the night off. Besides, I have Hugh and my book club.”
Rosa smiled at the group, then said with a note of admonishment, “Have you eaten today, Mrs Veronica?”
Ronnie winced like a naughty child and told her they were about to get drinks.
Rosa tsked. “I put together a charcuterie board for you.” Then she added, “You eat some please. No excuses this time!”
Then she returned to the kitchen while they made their way into the parlour.
As the group settled on the couches, Ronnie strode across to the bar at the other end of the room. It dominated an entire wall and was like something from an elite gentleman’s club, built of glossy mahogany with arched glass shelving crammed with every conceivable spirit, antique pendant lights hanging above it, elaborately carved barstools in front.
Ronnie stepped behind the counter and explained how she had given Biddy’s housekeeper the week off and asked Rosa to join them here instead.
“She’s very good in a crisis, my Rosa. A dear friend to me, in fact. I would have invited her to my party, except she and Bethany…” Ronnie glanced back to the doorway. “Well, let’s just say they’re both alpha females and leave it at that. Now, who’s having what?”
Refusing Perry’s offer to play barman, Ronnie took their orders and swiftly mixed a range of drinks—gin and tonics for Claire and Perry, a scotch and soda for Hugh and herself, and chilled rosé for the others—before joining them on the couches.
Alicia noted their bedding had been cleared away and their luggage tucked neatly behind an armchair. She wondered if Bethany had done the honours or if this was Rosa’s handiwork.
They all took a moment to enjoy their drinks while Rosa presented the cheese board, then Ronnie closed the door behind her and turned to Lynette.
“Okay, young lady, you want all the grubby details regarding my Last Will & Testament, yes?”
Lynette lifted a slim shoulder. “Not just me, we’ve all been wondering.”
“Might be pertinent,” said Perry.
“But if it’s too personal—” began Claire.
“It is personal,” Ronnie shot back, “but I’ve never made any secret of it. The bulk of the estate goes to the twins. They’re like sons to me.”
“The bulk?” repeated Claire, because that didn’t mean everything.
She flittered a hand in the air. “There’s a generous bequest to Rosa of course, and to my foundations, as well as my favourite charities and institutions, including the museum where you work, Perry, so don’t you fret. Oh, and I’m auctioning off Bert’s car collection at a charity event next month; raising funds for the Disability Advocacy Network, in honour of darling Biddy.”
“Good for you,” said Perry.
“What about this house?” asked Alicia, knowing it was Bert’s family home. Knowing how much the Ugly Siblings cherished it.
“Oh, I would never let this house leave the Westera family,” she replied. “It’s called Westeraview, after all. I’ve left provision for Biddy to live here until she passes, and after that, it’s to be shared between Bethany, Bronson and their siblings. It’s a multi-million-dollar property, so let them fight it out amongst themselves. Besides, as much as I love my nephews, I promised Bert this house would stay in the family. That’s how we’ve managed to keep the peace for so long.”
Then she shook her head. “I know what you’re implying, my dears, but my in-laws know very well they’re getting Westeraview once I pass. They have no reason to attack Sebastian for it. And if they wanted it faster, I should have been the one on the receiving end of that bullet, not poor young Greta.”
And with those chilling words, the inheritance motive went out the window.
~
Through the back window of the police car, the middle-aged couple looked like marble statues, sitting rigid and pale-faced, one clutching a handful of white lilies, but for now all Pete could see was the smarmy officer in the front.
It was late Saturday afternoon, the cops had officially buggered off an hour ago, so why was this bozo back, acting like he owned the place?
“This is Mr and Mrs Granger,” the driver told him. “I’ve been instructed to take them up to the court.”
“What for?” Pete went to say when it suddenly hit him like he’d been slapped across the face with the woman’s bouquet. This was Greta Granger’s parents.
He forced his eyes towards them.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” he managed, but neither appeared to be listening, and he wondered if they’d heard him when the woman turned her eyes slowly to meet his. They were wide and red raw. She stared at him dazed, as if blind with grief, then looked away as the man beside her seemed to snap out of it.
“Oh, er, thank you,” he said to Pete. “That’s very kind. It’s been…” He swallowed hard and looked about to dissolve into tears, somehow pulled himself together. “We just need to see where…” He swallowed again. “We just want to…” He glanced down at the bouquet.
Pete nodded. “Of course.” Looked at the officer again. “It’s just, I’m not sure I can leave my post.”
“That’s all right,” he replied. “I know the way.”
Pete tried to mask his relief as he tapped the side of the vehicle and waved the car on.
He thought of himself as tough as nails, Pete did, capable of anything. But he wasn’t sure he had the mettle to take this broken couple up and show them the spot where their life was brutally smashed.
As he kept watching, long after the car had vanished around the bend, Pete wasn’t sure what he was made of anymore. Certainly not steel. More like quicksand. Or jelly. Yes, that was better. Wobbly, pathetic jelly.
Then he wondered about Bert Westera and the promises he’d made, and he wondered if his boss would even recognise him now, because he sure didn’t recognise himself.
Sighing sadly, determinedly, he stepped into the guardhouse and glanced around. Then he saw what he needed on his desk and reached towards it.
It was time to take matters into his own hands. It was time to toughen up and find his backbone…
~
Back in the parlour, the cheese board looked as if rabid animals had been at it, and with good reason. None of them had eaten more than a few pastries since breakfast, and everyone but Ronnie was famished.
Hugh was also hungry, which wasn’t surprising. His wife had kicked him out of the house again, and he’d checked into his men’s club where they had rooms for just such a purpose. Then Ronnie had called and there’d been no time for the club’s signature full English breakfast, let alone lunch. And as he helped himself to another wafer and some heavily aged Brie, he tried to get Hannah out of his mind, but that only left room for Bethany.
What was the woman thinking that night of the party, dragging him into the cabana? Causing such chaos, and for what? A glass of Bert’s red (“let the plebs drink champers, we’re having the 1951 Penfolds Grange Hermitage!”).
He bristled just thinking about it, wondered if Hannah would ever forgive him. And why the leggy blonde beside Ronnie kept shooting dagger eyes his way, like she was the aggrieved party.
If only they all knew. It wasn’t Bethany he loved. Heaven forbid! Or even Hannah, if he were being completely honest. There had only ever been one…
“Hugh?” came Ronnie’s voice, perhaps for the second time, and he blinked the fond memories away.
“Sorry, Ronnie. What were you saying?”
“I was asking about Sebastian, dear. I noticed you chatting at the party. Did he give any indication…?”
Ronnie’s eyes were wide with desperation, as if Hugh might hold some magical key that would unlock everything, and now he realised that perhaps he did. Perhaps it was time to come clean.
“Oh Ronnie,” he said. “I don’t know why I didn’t mention this earlier. I’ve been trying to tell you since last night, but I couldn’t get you alone and then everything imploded, and you were so worried about Seamus that I didn’t like to burden you further.” His eyes swept the group now. “Really, I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks, but it may still not be the right time—”
“Hugh.” Ronnie had a hand on his knee, and he realised she was attempting to calm his madly twitching foot. He uncrossed his legs and planted his feet firmly on the rug.
“We can leave if you like,” offered Claire, inducing frowns from the others.
Ronnie tsked. “Is it related to what’s happened, Hugh?”
He half shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe. I just don’t know.”
“Then I’d like the club to remain. These people are more than friends; they’re very capable detectives, and I promised there’d be no secrets. So what is it? Is it about Seamus?”
“Actually, it’s about Sebastian. About how he was digging into your past.”
“Yes, researching the family tree.”
Hugh shook his head. “It was more than that, Ronnie. Seb’s research… Well, he kept coming across some rumours about the family, about things that happened in the past, things that had him… worried.”
Ronnie tsked louder. “There’s been rumours swirling in this family forever. Just ask Bethany. She’s been holding the swirling spoon.”
“What kind of rumours?” asked Alicia.
“Nothing of any substance, dear. There’s gossip and innuendo in every family, and I tend to ignore it, as you should.”
“Well, Sebastian didn’t,” said Hugh. “He was digging deeper, and he’d found something. Something important.” His foot was tapping again. “He wouldn’t give me specifics, said he needed to speak to you first, and that’s what we’d agreed on, but when I saw him last night, he’d changed his tune. Said it was all okay, that he was going to make a big announcement during his speech and it would explain everything, set the record straight. Right history’s wrongs, or words to that effect… Ronnie?”
The woman was now clutching her pearls, looking both baffled and deeply worried.
He grabbed one hand and kissed it, which surprised several of them, he could tell, but he didn’t care. He was past caring. “I don’t mean to worry you, Ronnie. That’s the last thing I want to do. And I wouldn’t have mentioned any of this if it weren’t for the fact Sebastian’s missing and Greta is dead. I can’t help wondering if whatever he found was the catalyst.”
Alicia watched the exchange with heightened anticipation. Gossip and innuendo? There were two words that could launch an investigation. If only Hugh had mentioned this earlier! Attempting to dampen down her delight, she asked, “So what do you think Sebastian meant, Hugh, by ‘Set the record straight. Right history’s wrongs’?”
The man frowned and gazed towards Ronnie, diverting the question to her.
She was back to twiddling her pearls, staring into the distance like she was trying to remember something.
“Ronnie?” Alicia said. “Do you have any idea what Sebastian had discovered?”
She shook her head. Too quickly, Alicia thought.
“Could it have something to do with Bethany and Bronson?”
Her head was shaking more assuredly this time. “Can’t see what,” she said. “They’re two of the dullest individuals you’ll ever meet. Have never done anything remotely interesting with their lives. Never even married. Just settled in here, waiting for Bert to die so they could take over. When that didn’t happen—when he left it all to me—they’ve dug in even further. They’re like squatters those two. I don’t know why. They’ll get Westeraview eventually.”
“Maybe that’s what it’s about,” said Perry. “Perhaps this secret is so bad they’re worried you’ll strike them from the will and they’ll end up with nothing. Perhaps that’s why Sebastian had to be killed before he spilt everything in his speech.”
Ronnie gasped at his use of words, and Alicia glared at him now. Honestly, it was one thing to be enthusiastic about an investigation, but this was Ronnie’s family they were talking about. She offered her a conciliatory smile.
“I think the key,” said Alicia more gently, “is to try to work out what Sebastian uncovered while he was doing his research. It could be at the centre of all this.”
Ronnie reached for her glass. “Well, he certainly never said anything to me. And like I said before, I have no secrets. I’m keeping nothing from him or any of you.”
“What about…?” This was Hugh, and he stopped short, looking deeply uncomfortable.
“What about what, Hugh?” Ronnie’s tone was curt.
“Just the old rumours, the silly ones. You know? About your marriage.”
Ronnie blinked back at him, her expression as dark as the shadows under her eyes. “My marriage? What about my marriage?”
“Well…” Hugh shifted in his seat. “Like I said, it’s probably something we should discuss in private—”
“My marriage was a very good one, everyone knows that.”
“Yes, but—”
“We were together forty-two years, me and Bert. What on earth are you suggesting?”
Hugh held his palms out. “I’m not suggesting anything, Ronnie. I’m just telling you what Sebastian told me. No doubt I have misconstrued.”
“I think you have, Hugh. I loved my husband with all my heart. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. We had that troubled year. Couldn’t have kids, you know how upsetting that was for me. It’s the reason I’m so close to my nephews. They’re my surrogate children.”
She choked back a sob, waved off an incoming Missy, and yanked a tissue from her sleeve. “But every couple has their troubles and we got through it.” She madly swiped at her nose, eyes back on Hugh. “You more than anyone know that. And you more than anyone know that Bert was the best husband a woman could ask for. He was a saint.”
She dumped her glass on the table, struggled to her feet and pulled her shoulders back.
“Oh Ronnie,” said Hugh. “I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you.”
But she was shaking her head. “No, no… I’m…” She exhaled. It was almost a slump. “I think I need a lie-down.”
Then she stumbled out of the room, Hugh close behind, clearly kicking himself the whole way.
As the rest of the book club watched this outburst with a growing sense of confusion, Alicia was starting to see things more clearly. She was now remembering some secrets of her own, a story Ronnie had told her, that first weekend at Lyle’s Lodge—about her “tryst with a married man called Dieter. A dashing Dutch man”.
“I was newly engaged to Bert then,” Ronnie had confessed one night, “and I really should not have done it. Wasn’t my finest hour.”
That got Alicia’s brain churning. Bert might have been a saint. But was Ronnie?
Was that the secret that Sebastian had unearthed? Was he about to reveal his aunt’s infidelity at her seventy-fifth birthday party?
And if so, was someone prepared to shut him up before he could?
Chapter 18 ~ Loose Lips
“Ronnie had an affair?” said Queenie once Alicia had voiced her concerns. The younger woman was clutching on to the ends of her bob, mouth agape, eyes boggling like she was five and had just learned Santa Claus wasn’t real.
Alicia glanced out into the foyer and said, “Shh, keep your voice down.”
They had waited a few minutes, hoping Hugh might return and they could press him for more details—because they all suspected he knew more than he was telling—but when he didn’t reappear, they helped themselves to fresh drinks and mulled over Alicia’s words.
Lynette was nodding her head furiously, knowingly, but Claire was not convinced it was relevant.
“So she had a fling forty-something years ago. Before she got married. That’s not so dramatic, is it?” Then, eyes on Queenie, she added, “And no, I have never cheated on Simon. I’m just saying, it’s not exactly explosive. Plus it sounds like Sebastian adores his aunt as much as Seamus does. Why would he betray her so abominably by announcing some ancient affair at her seventy-fifth birthday party, no less? With all her friends and family present! What purpose would it serve? I mean, I can see her niece doing such a dreadful thing but not her nephew.”
“And if he was about to do that, it also puts Seamus back in the frame,” said Queenie, ignoring the fresh eye roll from Perry. “Because he might have wanted to shut Sebastian up to protect the aunty he adores.”
“There were obviously issues with the marriage,” Alicia persisted. “Ronnie just confirmed that. And maybe it goes beyond a simple affair. Something more sinister.”
“Hugh knows more than he’s saying,” said Lynette.
“So does Ronnie,” said Perry. “Did you see her? She wasn’t just shocked, she was worried. I’ve never seen her so shook-up, and she’s had a few reasons to look very shook-up over the past twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, well, she won’t be telling us anything now,” said Lynette. “I know a clammed-up look when I see one.” She stared pointedly at her sister then.
“I don’t clam up,” said Alicia.
“Sure you don’t.” Now Lynette was swapping an eye roll with Perry.
“Anyway,” said Missy, clearly not following. “What do we do now, possums? How do we find out what this big secret was?”
“We speak to one of her gossips, of course,” said Perry, nodding across the room where through the open doorway they could see Peg Flannery entering the house.
~
Bronson had just spotted his aunt’s old school friend pull up in her tacky convertible like a witch on her broomstick, her long frizzy locks swirling about, enormous sunglasses covering half her face, a black scarf fluttering behind her like a cape.
All that was missing was the pointy hat, he thought as she vanished inside.
“What’s she doing back here?” he asked his sister, who was leading the way between the guest house and the patio.
“Who cares?” said Bethany. “Just think of the endgame, Bronson. When we finally take over and get rid of Pete, there will be no more surprise drop-ins, I can promise you that.”
Bronson glared at his sister’s bony back. “Go easy on Pete, hey? The cops have cleared off; at least he’s still down there. Doing his duty. He’s a good bloke.”
“He’s a dinosaur. Veronica should’ve made him extinct a decade ago.”
“He’s a good bloke,” Bronson said again, more firmly, but she just ignored him as she often did.
Bethany had no idea how dedicated Pete was to this house, to its traditions, to their beloved Bert. Bronson too. It was one thing the two men had in common. They often reminisced about the “good old days” when no one else was about. They were the only two who really cared for Westeraview, really looked out for it.
If only she’d stop treating them like they were as useless as Biddy.
“They better not have taken over the pool deck, that bloody book club,” Bethany was hissing as they turned the corner to the patio. “It’s all ours this evening.” Then she nodded down to a leftover bottle of Bollinger she had nicked from the party and added, “One more step, BoBo, then we really will have something to celebrate.”
~
Peg shook her head at the bottle of rosé Perry was waving at her from the bar as she strode into the parlour, clearly not in a gossipy mood, at least not yet.
“I can’t stop for a drink, need to check on Ronnie,” she told them, whipping off her chunky glasses.
“But she’s resting,” said Perry. “It’s best you don’t disturb her.”
Best you don’t get told by Ronnie to keep your big gob shut, because he had a hunch that’s what would happen if the two friends got together. He knew he was betraying Ronnie, but she wanted the truth, and this was all part of the process.
“G&T?” he offered now, and Peg suddenly relented.
“All right then, I’ll give her a moment. But just the one, thanks, doll, I’m not much of a drinker.” Then she pointed her sunglasses out the large bay windows where they could see Bethany and Bronson settling into banana lounges by the pool, a bottle of something in hand, and added, “Unlike boozy Bronson out there and his ugly sibling.”
Turns out, Peg wasn’t quite the teetotaller. She sculled her first gin and tonic and then immediately held out her glass for another.
“But easy on the tonic this time, thanks, Perry. I’m not at risk of catching malaria.”
He smiled to himself as he prepared her another.
The group spent the first few minutes waltzing around the subject, swapping commiserations about how things had turned out, but now it was time for the tango. And so Perry explained how Ronnie had implored them to find Greta’s killer, then repeated what Hugh told them about Sebastian’s secret.
“Hugh implied it had something to do with Ronnie’s marriage…”
He let those words dangle, but Peg didn’t take the bait, just smooched her lips sideways, nodded and took another good gulp of her gin and tonic. He frowned at the others, then leaned in and added, “We think the big secret might have something to do with her affair.”
That caught Peg’s attention. “She told you about that?”
He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Mentioned it that first weekend we spent together, actually.”
“Really?” Peg’s lips drooped downwards now.
“Oh yeah, we know it was the 1970s. He was a handsome Dutch hunter. They met at a dance when she was engaged to Bert.”
Peg dropped her head back and barked with laughter. “Oh him? Pft! It was 1969 and that meant nothing. Believe me, I was also there, a single lady, foolishly hoping to find Mr Right. Vivacious Veronica was just there for fun, and that’s all it was that time, I can assure you. Something nothing.” She made a scoffing sound and took another slug of her drink.
Now Perry’s eyes were narrowing. “That time? Are you saying there were others?”
“Hmm?” Peg was startled by that and nearly tipped her glass across her lap.
He smiled and sat back. “Come on, Peg, spill! And I’m not talking about your gin this time.”
Peg shook her head and tried to look nonchalant herself, but she wasn’t pulling it off. “I wouldn’t want to speak out of turn,” she said eventually.
“Too late for that,” said Perry, splashing another dose of gin into her glass. “Now we’re thinking the worst, aren’t we, gang? How many affairs were there? I’m thinking there were multiple lovers…”
“Don’t be ridiculous, she wasn’t that bad.” Peg rested her glass on her lap and sat back. “There might have been another affair. Just the one. But it was special, very special, that’s all I can say. I won’t share the sordid details—you’ll have to ask Ronnie about that yourself. But I do know she was very much in love, and it nearly broke up her marriage. She was already disgruntled—Bert couldn’t have kids, it broke her heart—so I guess she reached out to someone else.”
She stared into her glass as though lost in thought. “For a while there I really did think it was over for her and Bert. Ronnie moved in with her sister, Lizzie, for several months and, well…” She shrugged. “She went back to Bert in the end, so…” She took another good gulp.
“Hang on,” said Perry. “Why would Ronnie return to Bert if she were so in love with someone else? Especially if she wanted kids, why not stay with this other fellow?”
“Oh, it was a different time, doll. Women didn’t just follow their hearts willy nilly. They did what was right. Besides, it would’ve been hard to resist Bert. He wasn’t like my Harold, as dull as he was poor. Oh no, Bert went in on his white charger, all very romantic—and very forgiving if you ask me.” She frowned. “He really was a saint, that man. A saint of the highest order.”
She stopped and shrugged and took another slurp while Claire shifted uneasily in her seat.
“This is all very interesting and rather inappropriate considering our friendship with Ronnie.” Claire shot glances upwards, clearly feeling as traitorous as Perry had. “But what has it to do with last night? Are we still thinking that Sebastian was about to reveal those affairs and had to be silenced?”
“Poppycock!” said Peg. “That boy adores his aunt. Why would he do something so malicious?”
“That’s what I said,” said Claire.
“Who was this later affair with?” asked Perry. “You must know, right, Peg?”
Because now he was wondering whether someone at the party was involved, another married man who needed to shut Sebastian up.
“Like I said, you’ll have to ask Ronnie about that. It’s not my secret to tell.” She dumped her empty glass on the table. “And I fear I’ve said too much. I know you want to help my dear friend, but please do so with a little grace and discretion.”
Like she hadn’t just gossiped openly about her bestie to a room full of virtual strangers! Perry felt like yelling that to her as she strolled breezily out of the room and towards the stairs in search of Ronnie, but he was far too glad she had.
As far as Perry was concerned, this put a fresh new slant on everything and opened up delicious new possibilities for suspects.
“Rubbish,” said Lynette when Perry voiced his suspicions. “It can only be Hugh McMertle. They’ve known each other for ages, and he’s got form, if that tryst with Bethany in the cabana was anything to go by. Might also explain why Sebastian first spoke to Hugh about all this.”
“And they were very lovey-dovey back there, Ronnie and Hugh,” added Missy. “Did you see the way he smooched her?”
“He kissed her hand like a gentleman,” said Claire. “That’s not proof of anything other than his age.”
“No, no, I’m liking this angle,” said Lynette. “Hugh is the perfect suspect. We know for a fact that he went into the house after the tiff with his wife. That was bang in the middle of the fireworks. Plenty of time to bolt up the stairs and shoot two people at the tennis court.”
“But…,” began Alicia.
“Think about it,” continued Lynette. “Ronnie said the gun was usually stored in the observatory, right? Hugh’s been a family friend forever. He must have known that. Probably even went shooting with Bert. At Ronnie’s party, Sebastian must have told Hugh he was about to reveal the affair in his speech. Hugh knew the shit was about to hit the fan.”
“That’s why Hugh was in the cabana with Bethany,” added Missy, catching on. “He wasn’t sleeping with the niece, he was begging her to cancel the speeches so Sebastian couldn’t spill the beans on his affair with Ronnie!”
“Hang on—” began Alicia.
“Exactly,” said Lynette. “When she refused, Hugh knew he had to take action. Had to take out the messenger. That’s why he went upstairs and began firing.”
“Whoa!” Alicia raised a hand. “Can we just take a breath here please? You’re describing a crime of passion, girls. The shootings were more premeditated than that. For starters, Hugh had to have sent that text to Sebastian before he even went into the cabana with Bethany. He also had to have pinched the rifle from the observatory, then dispose of the gun bag amongst Seamus’s things. That all takes planning.”
Lynette scooped up a handful of blond locks and began inspecting the ends. “Maybe he planned it, nicked the gun earlier, but wasn’t sure he was going to go through with it until he spoke to Sebastian and/or Bethany.” She swished her hair back again. “I don’t know. I still think he’s our best suspect.”
“Sorry, I’m with Alicia on this one,” said Claire. “Why would Hugh even mention the big secret if that was the catalyst for the killing? And why would Hugh need to shut down this so-called secret so violently? Again, that affair is ancient history and Bert is long gone. I just cannot see why anyone would care now. Even the wife.”
“You didn’t see how furious she was, Claire,” Lynette shot back. “Maybe Hugh really loves her. Maybe he’d do anything to keep his wife.”
Queenie silently scoffed as she watched this interaction. Like Claire and Alicia, she wasn’t buying it for one minute. Hugh McMertle was the CEO of a prestigious, multinational company. Shooting people in the middle of birthday parties did not gel with her experience of successful executives. Even the sudden revelation of a true love affair like Peg had described did not feel dangerous enough or urgent enough to turn postal.
At least it didn’t to Queenie, but then what did she know about love? She’d never even let a guy hold her hand, let alone kiss it…
As they all deflated into their drinks, Rosa appeared at the parlour door. One or two of them blushed, wondering if she’d overheard their comments about Ronnie, but she seemed friendly enough, informing them she was preparing a light supper with the party leftovers.
“Nobody eat last night,” she added. “So much good food.”
She told them it would be ready in ten minutes and asked if they could let Bethany, Bronson and Ronnie know. “I do not want Mrs Veronica to go hungry.”
They assured her they would and thanked her profusely, then after she’d left the room, Missy leaned in and whispered, “Do we know where the alpha female housekeeper was last night?”
“She was back in the city,” said Queenie. “She had the night off.”
“Or did she?” said Missy, eyebrows nudging up and down.
“Not another suspect,” said Perry, suddenly feeling hangry.