Chapter 8


“Where the bloody hell is Mrs Flannery?”

This was a sentiment echoed by both Perry and Simon as they walked part of the way down the driveway, looking out for her vehicle. Any vehicle would do, they just wanted to make contact with the outside world. They had skirted the exterior of the property, looking for signs of life, but apart from a few foraging brush turkeys and a couple of scuttling water dragons, they could find none.

As far as they could tell, the Agatha Christie Book Club were completely alone at the top of the mountain.

Eventually the men returned to the lobby where Lynette and Claire had just finished a search of the interior. There was not so much as a cleaner lurking, they told them. It was just the nine of them, if you didn’t count the corpse.

“Anything?” Alicia asked as she and Ronnie returned downstairs to join the club who were now milling about the reception desk, looking confused, alarmed or both.

“The place is like a ghost town,” said Perry, and Alicia felt herself shiver.

“So what’s the prognosis?” Simon asked Ronnie, rubbing his hands together.

“Unclear at this stage,” she replied smoothly, her eyes sliding across to Alicia.

They had agreed to keep Ronnie’s theory to themselves for now, because that’s all it really was. A theory. There was no actual evidence, and they didn’t want to unduly startle the others. As they re-covered Vale’s face with the sheet again and secured his bedroom door, even Ronnie had to admit, it was all quite unbelievable. Who on earth would want to poison the longtime hotel manager?

“Do we at least know how long he’s been dead?” Simon pushed.

“He wasn’t around at breakfast, I remember that,” said Flo. “Mrs Flannery looked mighty flustered; quite run off her feet, she was.”

“Do you think she knew about Vale then,” said Missy, “and didn’t want to alarm us? Maybe that’s why she took off, to fetch the doctor?”

“Explains the disgraceful state of the kitchen,” said Lynette, who’d seen the dirty dishes for herself. “A good chef always cleans up after cooking.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, you two!” said Perry. “Mrs Flannery wouldn’t take off and leave her guests with a corpse! Surely she’d tell at least one of us what was going on. Besides, I saw her leave just before ten this morning and the phones were still working then. If she had found Vale, she would have phoned for an ambulance.”

Alicia nodded. That made sense. Which meant that Mrs Flannery was not a “good” chef and was probably zooming back from town now with nothing more helpful than bags of groceries.

“Any idea when he died?” Simon turned to Ronnie again, determined to get details.

“I am only a nurse, Simon, and even then, I haven’t been a nurse for decades. I can’t be expected to know something like that.”

“Of course, Ronnie. My apologies.”

He shared a quick smile with Claire. Around Ronnie, he felt like a naughty schoolboy, being constantly slapped across the knuckles by the headmistress.

“Blake and I saw Vale up and about at around midnight last night,” said Lynette, quickly adding, “And don’t get in a flap, Alicia, we were just having a quiet drink in the bar when he walked past.”

She looked for Blake for verification, but he had vanished.

“Anyway,” Lynette continued, “it looked to me like Vale was on a mission. I’m sure I heard him go outside.”

“And he was fit as a fiddle when I saw him get back around one this morning,” said Flo, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Get back?” said Alicia. “From where?”

“What were you doing up at one in the morning?” was Perry’s query.

“I rarely sleep, dear. One of the pitfalls of old age, I’m afraid. You’ll find out soon enough.” She looked him up and down. “I was sitting on my deck, enjoying the moonlight, when I spotted him scooting back along the pathway, the one he’d distinctly told us all to avoid.”

“Repentance Way?” said Alicia. “The one that leads up the driveway and into the forest?”

Flo nodded. “I thought that was a bit cheeky of him, but there you have it. He was carrying one of those bags. You know? Those ugly things we’ve been bullied into taking to the grocers. Quite inconvenient, really. I can’t be expected to have a bag on me at all times.”

“A green bag?” prodded Missy.

“That’s the one! But it was clearly empty as it was all scrunched up, and he had a thermos, you know, for holding hot tea? It looked like he had gone for a long walk or a picnic or something.”

“A picnic? At midnight?” said Alicia, then, “So that’s why you thought it might be a snake bite?”

“I wondered whether he’d been accidentally bitten on his walk. My sister, Jan, got bit by a tiger snake while putting the chickens away when she was a young ’un. Her own damn fault, really. Should’ve put the chooks in before nightfall like Mum asked. Hard to see snakes in the dark.”

“Did she die?” asked Missy, intrigued, while Lynette sighed.

“No dear, but she might’ve wished she had a few times. It’s very nasty, what happens to a body after a snake bite. First the sweating, then gasping for breath, then everything starts to shut down—”

In any case,” said Lynette, trying to steer them back on track, “it still makes no sense why Vale would walk that track so late at night.”

“He might have been going to check on the area where the rock fall happened yesterday,” Alicia ventured.

“In the dark? With picnic supplies?”

“Who knows what he was carrying but maybe he needed to tick the job off before today’s activities? They are down to a skeleton staff.”

“What does any of this matter?” said Ronnie, also losing her patience. “Vale clearly returned from his walk, alive—unless Flo saw herself a ghost, and I wouldn’t put it past you, Flo. You believe all that silly nonsense! But no, he obviously made it to bed, where he passed.”

And then there was one!” Missy said, ominously. “One staff member that is!”

Then she giggled behind her hand while Perry rolled his eyes and said to the newcomers:

“Don’t mind Missy. She always gets a little silly when she’s freaked out.” He gave her back a reassuring pat, then turned his eyes to Ronnie. “But you know, all of this does matter. Because now we can pin the time of death to somewhere between one in the morning when Flo saw him and…” He looked at his watch. “Three this arvo, give or take. Now we just need a doctor to tell it all to.”

“I’m onto it!” announced Blake, walking in with a plaid flat cap on his head, a laptop bag hanging from his shoulder, and car keys jangling from his fingers. “I’ll whizz down the hill and see if I can’t rustle up some help, maybe touch base with my boss and grab a decent espresso while I’m at it.”

He grinned at the older ladies, and Alicia felt like clocking him. A man had just died, the phones had also carked it, and he was worried about work and coffee!

“Thank God one of us has a car,” said Simon, opening the front door for Blake. “Tell them to send help pronto, and see if you can locate Mrs Flannery while you’re at it. That woman should be up here, taking care of all this. It’s not the book club’s responsibility.”

Simon was the antithesis of Blake. He seemed almost offended by the day’s proceedings. Like Vale’s death had ruined his lovely weekend getaway.

Perry was also feeling grateful for Blake. He had already checked the out-buildings, and apart from a few golf buggies, a tractor-trailer, and an oversized ride-on lawn mower, Blake’s Mercedes was the only vehicle capable of making the arduous drive down the mountain.

“Can I go with you?” asked Lynette, and Alicia stiffened.

She didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t want her sister whizzing anywhere with a virtual stranger. Fortunately, Blake was shaking his head.

“Probably best you hang tight here with your book club friends,” he said. “Especially if there is a madman out there—or a madwoman, let’s not be sexist!” He gave the women a pointed look, then chuckled again. “I’m just messing with you guys! Take a chill pill, play a game of Cluedo or something. I’ll race down and be back with cavalry in no time.”

“Don’t drive too fast,” Flo called after him. “Those roads can be treacherous!”

 

~

 

“Game of Cluedo indeed!” said Perry as he stormed into the library to help himself to the afternoon tea they had not yet got to. “Anyone else feel like smacking him across the head with his stupid David Beckham cap?”

“He is very blasé,” agreed Alicia, trailing behind, but Lynette was scoffing.

“Not everybody jumps to the worst conclusions like you two. Vale’s obviously died in his sleep, and the phone lines go down constantly. I’m relieved one of us has a car and can bring back some help.”

“If he comes back at all,” said Perry, and Lynette looked scandalised.

“Of course he’s coming back! Honestly, Perry, I don’t know why you’re so nasty. Is it because he’s younger and better-looking or because he’s not remotely interested in you?”

“Didn’t seem too interested in you either just now, young lady.”

She shrugged a shoulder at him, pretending like Blake’s rejection hadn’t hurt. But it had.

Why wouldn’t he want company for the long drive down the mountain? She was sure there had been a spark between them last night. She thought they had really bonded…

A sudden crack came from the other end of the library, and they looked around to find Ronnie with a set of pliers and a guilty expression. She had broken through the lock on the doors of the glass cabinet and was now reaching for one of the guest books.

“How else am I going to while away the time?” she said, shrugging.

“We could keep dissecting this book?” Missy said, holding up the Christie novel, but Alicia was shaking her head.

“Nice idea, kiddo, but I think it’s a waste of time. We were distracted enough before. There’s no hope for us now.”

 

~

 

It was like stepping into a time warp.

As Ronnie located the correct guest book—1969, she was sure it was 1969—she couldn’t help toppling back to another era full of lively string bands and long, floaty dresses and handsome young hunters all vying for her attention. She remembered a flash romance with one of them—so scandalous, so naughty!—and tables laden with exotic orchids and gelatin-encased salads and icy buckets of Dom Perignon.

She pulled the book from the shelf and wondered where to read it. The library was large enough, but it could do with a decent makeover. She would break up the main setting, for a start, and position several plush armchairs around the place. Libraries were for quiet reading, not sitting in a group gass-bagging! Besides, she wanted to check this one out on her own, without any prying eyes. Apart from the main coffee table, the only other option was the billiard table, so she strode across and placed the book carefully upon it, then smiled as she peeled the cover open.

Now where was her lovely handwriting?

As she scanned the pages, Ronnie smiled at the flowery messages and the funny doodles and the pretty names that now seemed positively antiquated. That’s when she noticed a familiar name, but it wasn’t hers. She stopped and glanced back at the book club, who were chatting amongst themselves, then smudged her lips sideways.

It’s a common enough name. Has to be a coincidence, she thought idly as she kept scrolling…

 

~

 

Standing at the northern end of the driveway, Claire held her phone out and groaned while Simon watched from a distance.

“Still no signal?” he said, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” she replied. “How on earth do they survive all the way out here without any communication?”

She had made a similar comment yesterday, and a dark shadow now flitted across his face.

“You have to remember there’s usually a working phone line and internet reception, and you can get good mobile reception if you head up Repentance Way.” He coughed. “Or so I hear… but I’m not sure that’s correct…”

Claire looked delighted. “Shall we give it a whirl?”

“No!” he burst out, then blushed. He really had to get his emotions in check. This woman was stirring him up! “Sorry Claire, it’s just that Vale did say that track was dangerous. I would hate for you to get hurt. There’s been more than enough excitement for one day.”

“As long as nobody’s walking on the lower trail, it should be fine, don’t you think?”

Still his head continued to shake. Should he say something? He wasn’t yet sure…

“What’s going on?” Claire asked, eyes narrowing.

“There’s… well, there’s something I haven’t told you.” He plunged his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t mention it yesterday because I know what happened to the others, but, well, I was the one who walked the forbidden track.”

He paused to gauge her reaction, but Claire did not seem outraged or angry or even surprised, so he forged on. “I honestly don’t think I caused the landslide. I mean, I didn’t feel the ground give way or hear anything, and if I did, it wasn’t my intention. I’m mortified if I hurt poor Florence…”

Claire reached out and touched Simon’s arm, and he felt a jolt of electricity. She must have felt it too because she snapped her hand back, and now she, too, was blushing.

“In any case,” he continued, coughing and clearing his throat, “I didn’t get very far because I spotted a man.”

“A man?”

“Some old guy, living out there in the middle of the bush.” He saw Claire’s eyes widen. “I didn’t approach of course, but he seemed a bit, well, rough. He’s got a little settlement out there. Maybe that’s his home or maybe he’s squatting? In any case, I think we should keep our distance. Just in case he’s… well, you know… dangerous.”

Claire agreed. “Do you think that’s why Vale warned us off the track?”

“Maybe,” he said, hoping she’d forget all about the rockslide.

“Okay, but did you get any phone reception while you were out there? Perhaps if we go together—”

“No! That’s the thing, see. I took my phone while I was walking, and there was no signal. None at all. It’s a furphy. Complete waste of time.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.”

And he blushed again, this time at the lie he had just fed her.

As they turned back towards the lodge, Claire gave the stunning view a final look, then stopped and looked properly this time.

“Simon!” she called out, a hand above her eyes, the other raised and pointing. “Down there. Am I imagining things or…?”

Simon followed her finger and frowned. “Oh dear,” he said. “This day goes from bad to worse.”

 

~

 

Alicia checked over her shoulder, then whispered to Perry and Lynette, “Ronnie thinks Vale’s death is suspicious.”

“Really?” said Perry.

“Seriously?” said Lynette, sounding sceptical.

“Ronnie was a nurse once, Lynny. She thinks he’s been injected with something, perhaps some kind of poison. There’s a suspicious mark on his left arm.”

Pity Dr Anders had left the group, she thought for the second time that day. He wasn’t only a doctor, he was a poisons expert and would know exactly what they were dealing with.

“Poison is all a bit retro isn’t it?” said Lynette while Alicia threw a finger to her lips to quieten her. “Who would do such a thing? Why?

Alicia leaned in closer. “Listen, I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but last night I overheard Vale talking to somebody. Probably Mrs Flannery. They were standing behind reception.” She leaned in closer again. “Vale sounded cranky.”

“I hardly knew the man, but I have a hunch ‘cranky’ was his default mode,” said Perry, twiddling his ear-ring again.

“Yes, but crankier than normal. He was saying something about an imposter, a fraudster I think he said. I got the impression he was talking about one of us.”

“Us? Like someone in book club?” said Lynette.

She nodded. “Vale said something about how he wasn’t stupid, like he’d worked out who it was, and then he said he was going to confront this person and warn somebody or other, but I didn’t hear any more than that before he caught me eavesdropping.”

Both Perry and Lynette stared at Alicia, digesting that for a moment.

Then Perry said, “An imposter, hey? He must have been talking to Mrs Flannery. Who else? They’re the only staffers, right? The only other people here?”

Lynette nodded while she swished her hair into a top knot, an eyebrow high. “This is all very clandestine.”

Alicia agreed. “I’m telling you what I heard, and I have no idea if it has anything to do with his death.”

“Except you obviously do,” countered Perry. “And it does add an element of suspicion to the whole matter. Vale says he’s going to confront someone and then Vale shows up dead.”

“Poisoned, if you believe Ronnie,” said Lynette who was still not sure she did. “So who do we think this imposter is? I mean, it has to be either Simon, Blake, Flo or Ronnie, right?”

Perry scoffed now. “I sincerely doubt Flo and Ronnie have anything to do with this.”

“Now who’s being sexist and ageist?” Lynette snapped back. “I think Flo’s got a few secrets under that blue rinse of hers.”

“Really?” said Alicia. “Like what?”

Lynette shrugged. “It’s a sense I’m getting… Still, I can’t really picture her doing it. How about Simon? He was the only one who wouldn’t give a credit card when we checked in, remember? That was odd.”

“That’s right!” said Alicia. She’d forgotten about that.

“That doesn’t mean anything, Lynette,” said Perry. “Just because you Millennials will hand over your private details at the drop of a hat, doesn’t mean the rest of us want to. Cash is still an acceptable form of payment last time I looked. Nope, sorry, I think Blake is the dodgy one.”

Lynette frowned but Alicia had to agree.

“He did clear off at the first opportunity.”

“He’s the only one with a car! He’s gone to get help!” Lynette spat back as her sister continued.

“Think about it, Lynny. Of all of us, he’s the square peg in the round hole. He doesn’t seem to belong. I mean, why is he even in this club? Why did he call and beg me to sign up? Does he even like Agatha Christie? He clearly didn’t read the latest book.”

“Oh, shock, horror, somebody didn’t do their homework,” said Lynette. “He told me he came here to prove himself, show he’s more than just a pretty face, that he has a brain too. He’s not a murderer.”

“Shh,” Alicia said. “Keep your voice down. We don’t know for sure that Vale has been murdered, and I really don’t want to upset the newbies.”

“Except it could be one of the newbies who killed him!” said Perry. “Like, er, Blake!”

“You’ve had a grudge against him from the moment he walked in,” said Lynette.

“And you’re letting his pretty looks cloud your judgement,” Perry hissed back.

Lynette rolled her eyes. “Fine. Okay, I’ll hear you out. What’s your problem with him, Perry?”

“Apart from the fact that he’s the only one who’s buggered off at the first opportunity? And didn’t let any of us go with him? That’s extremely suspicious, but there is something else.” Perry sat forward, lowering his voice considerably. “Do you remember when we first arrived and were checking in at the front desk, and Mrs Flannery appeared with the drinks?”

Alicia gave it some thought. “Yes, she dropped her tray when she saw us.”

Au contraire. She dropped her tray when she saw Blake! He had just made his grand entrance, remember? Had swept up in his flash Mercedes—which is actually not that flash, people. They don’t call them ‘thirty Mercs’ for nothing. They practically give them away when they get to a certain age.”

“Get on with it,” said Lynette, grumpily.

“Well, he waltzed in like he owned the place, and then Mrs Flannery came in, copped one look at the guy and dropped her tray like she’d seen a ghost!”

“She tripped on the carpet,” said Lynette. “That was also around the time that Ronnie remembered that she’d been here before. For all we know, Mrs Flannery could have been reacting to that news. Now that I think of it…”

Lynette glanced over her shoulder again to see Ronnie still studying the guest book at the other side of the library. “Ronnie’s the one who’s got history here, acting like she didn’t remember coming. She’s the one who’s snooping about, breaking into cupboards. Look at her over there. What’s she really hunting for in those old guest books? It’s more likely that Mrs Flannery suddenly recognised her. Maybe Ronnie’s the fraudster?”

“Well, I don’t know about fraudster, but she is definitely hiding something,” said Perry, his voice barely a whisper. “Our dear Ronnie comes from serious money. I mean, serious serious money. She makes the Queen look like a pauper. She’s one of my museum’s biggest benefactors. Married into wealth, I believe. Her husband was in shipping maybe? Or was it shopping centres?”

“You wouldn’t know it,” said Alicia.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” said Lynette, who’d also noticed the woman’s bling. “So what are you saying, Perry? Because she’s not flaunting her wealth, she must be an imposter? You think she’s the killer now?”

He looked scandalised by the thought. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just thought, since we’re sharing information, I should mention it. Besides, she’s not the one who’s slithered off into the forest like a snake.”

“Okay, settle down, you two,” said Alicia. “Mrs Flannery will be back any minute, and we can ask her directly who Vale was talking about. She might also have a good idea why he’s lying up there dead. Hopefully she’ll tell us he had a dicky heart and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Until then?” said Lynette.

“There’s always Cluedo,” Perry said, slapping her with a smirk.

 

~

 

Alicia returned to the reception desk and scooped up the landline, hoping for a miracle and finding only the sound of silence. Why wasn’t it working?

“Could be the fire, dear,” said Flo, wandering in from the corridor, gardening gloves in hand.

“Sorry? What are you talking about?”

“Outside, you didn’t notice?”

Alicia’s jaw dropped and Flo said, “Oh, I didn’t mean to alarm you! Don’t get yourself into a bother; it’s halfway down the mountain. Still, it might be what took the phone lines out.”

As Alicia rushed outside to check, she ran into Claire and Simon, who were returning indoors to inform them.

“Now don’t panic,” Claire began, but Alicia was already racing past her and out to the edge of the steep driveway to see for herself.

“Bloody hell!” she said, peering towards the distant plume of smoke. “How long do we think that’s been burning? And how close do we think it is?”

Nobody had a clue, but there were no clear flames at this point, which gave them some degree of comfort.

“I’m sure it’s miles away,” said Simon, not sounding at all sure.

“Looks closer to town than to us,” offered Claire, also sounding uncertain.

“Damn it, this is just what we need,” said Alicia. “Do we at least know which direction it’s headed?”

Simon noticed Claire’s lovely black hair fluttering away from her face as they stood staring towards the smoke, and unless the wind changed, that did not bode well for them. If the wind was heading their way, the fire would be heading in their direction too.

He decided to keep that shocking thought to himself.