As she reached for a tea towel to help clean up after breakfast, Alicia caught her sister’s eye. She looked tired, her eyes drooping, her hair in a messy ponytail. They had bunked in together last night—there was no way Alicia was getting any sleep without her sister close by—but it was clear neither woman had had a good night.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just wondering what it is with us and this book club?” said Lynette, immersing her hands in the watery sink. “Everywhere we go, there’s corpses.”
“A self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps,” Alicia replied.
“You think we asked for this?”
“In a way, maybe. I mean, all we do is talk about murder. We have a passion for it; it’s like we’re drawing crimes to us.”
Lynette scoffed. “That’s silly! I think we have a terrible run of bad luck.”
“Or good,” said Perry, strolling in with a basket of leftover bread rolls. “We do have a good track record of solving these crimes. And it’s not like a detective can get up here anytime soon. I just checked the fire. It’s still going, looks bigger to me. I have a hunch two fires have joined. But I’m not sure it’s closer, thankfully.” He located another tea towel and picked up a dripping bowl. “We may be amateur sleuths, but I think Mrs Flannery and Vale were lucky we’re here. Anybody else would be freaking out about now.”
“The others aren’t freaking out,” said Lynette. “Simon, Flo and Ronnie. They’re strangely calm.”
“They might have experience with death too, for all we know,” said Perry. “Haven’t Ronnie and Flo both buried husbands?”
“Still, I wish Jackson was with us,” said Alicia, now kicking herself for not inviting him.
“We don’t need him,” said Lynette, dropping the last wet bowl on the drying rack. “You don’t need him, Alicia. You’re perfectly capable without him.”
Alicia nodded as she hung her towel on a hook, wishing she could be so certain. She glanced at the rolls and turned back to Lynette.
“Any of those lovely cold meats left over? Maybe some cheese or jam?”
“Plenty. Why? You still hungry?”
“No, but I know someone who might be.”
~
Sipping a calming cup of Lyle’s Earl Grey—yes, the old guy pegged her from the start—Claire was feeling anything but calm. And it had nothing to do with death and fire. She had watched her friends wander off into the forest and was now leaning against the balcony railing, drinking one last brew before facing what would certainly be a very difficult day ahead, but it was the distant future she was thinking of.
She thought she had it all sewn up. Thought she knew exactly where she was heading. Then she met Simon.
There was something comforting about the man, something so solid. He had been so cool yesterday in the face of all the adversity. So together, so controlled. He made her feel like everything would be okay, that he would get them through it. Oh, she trusted her book club implicitly, knew they were a capable bunch, but it was Simon she had turned to.
Simon who felt like her saviour.
Claire smiled. It was all so very silly. She barely knew the man! Yet there had been an instant connection between them; she was sure he felt it too—all their shared smiles and in-jokes. He was just so… lovely! They got along so well. And that’s what had her rattled.
It was almost as though she was falling in love. Claire shook the thought away.
Don’t be ridiculous, woman! You hardly know the man.
And yet, just thinking about him brought the smile back to her lips and butterflies to her stomach. And before she knew it, she was imagining the distant peal of wedding bells—something she hadn’t let herself do since her first disastrous engagement; the one Perry had rescued her from that first year of book club.
Yet Claire couldn’t help where her mind was now galloping—towards a romantic proposal, a glorious engagement, a stunning, vintage-themed wedding ceremony.
She giggled, Missy-like, and hid her face in her cup.
Imagine if they ended up together! Oh the stories they could tell their children about how they met and what they had endured!
Of course, it would put a serious dent in her immediate ambitions. She hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t at all what she was planning when she caught that train up to Lyleton. Still, she couldn’t help thinking what it would be like to be Mrs Simon Crete. If she took his name—and she wasn’t sure she would—she’d be Claire Crete.
Claire Crete, how funny that sounds. She smiled and took another sip of her drink.
Mrs Claire Crete. C. Crete…
That’s when she nearly choked on her Earl Grey.
~
While Ronnie checked the chicken coop for fresh eggs, Flo dug her hands into the herb garden, pulling out some weeds.
Oh how she missed the giant veggie patch they had back in Gulargambone, her Sydney garden just a few planter boxes wrestling for space on her tiny apartment balcony.
This, this was magnificent! And it felt only right to be digging into the soil now while everybody else scurried about. They all seemed so lost and confused, and she could not believe the two sisters were heading off on the forbidden track, green bag in tow. She frowned as she plucked some fresh parsley and chewed it.
What could possibly be dragging them through that dark, tangled forest?
They looked exactly as Vale had looked late that night she had spotted him—furtive and suspicious, clutching his silly bag.
What were they all doing? What were they trying to achieve?
Didn’t they know there was a fire out there, roaring up towards them? She thought about the forest, and her mind was spiralling back to another time, another tragedy.
Flo knew something terrible had happened the moment she got in from the milking. Her mother was as white as the contents of her pitcher, her father already half-tanked, a large bottle of homebrew close by. It was early even for him. It was a fallen tree, her mother told her, really just a large branch that had snapped off and snapped her brother’s back in half, killing him instantly.
A widow-maker the farmers called it, but it made widows of them all. And homeless widows at that because he was the only son. It was a different time. A different era. Girls couldn’t run a large cattle farm with nothing but an old drunk beside them.
That wasn’t sexism. It was just the way it was.
Flo thought of the young things wandering off now into the forest, so naive, so gung-ho, like nothing would ever stop them. Like no branch could simply drop from the sky and obliterate their future.
Well, life had stopped her, or death to be more precise, and so they were forced to sell the property, and all scattered with the breeze. She blew in to Sydney soon after, scored herself the secretarial job, then found herself a husband. Had her own brood. Pretended she was happy. Then she’d lost her hubby; the cancer took Ian fast. That’s when she met Ronnie and joined her fancy ladies club, and for the first time in a long time she was happy, really happy. Ronnie had also experienced loss, so they helped each other through it. But Flo had never forgotten her brother and the cattle farm and everything they had surrendered.
He seemed more alive to her now than ever. Almost whispered to her through the trees and she looked up and sighed. Oh how he would love this place! He always lamented the dusty paddocks, the scorching sun, the scarcity of trees. Of course, the irony of his death was not lost on any of them.
Flo turned back and reached for a pot she had found by the back shed, ready for planting, and gently pulled a young sapling out, the roots crumbling in her glove.
It was up to her now, she thought. She would plant a little something to honour his memory here, remind herself and the world at large, that life was bigger than all of them.
~
Lynette could not believe that Alicia was hauling a bag of fresh food along a crumbling track to feed some old geezer, especially at a time like this, but she could not dissuade her sister from her mission and so had insisted on accompanying her to the elusive cabin.
“He was so shaken by Vale’s death,” Alicia explained as they sidestepped a tripping root. “And he knew Mrs Flannery too, so he has a right to know about her murder. Besides, it’s clear Vale’s been sneaking him food; he’s probably starving. He didn’t get any dinner last night.”
“That’s his own fault, really. He chooses to live out here in the sticks; he shouldn’t be stealing food from the lodge.”
“He wasn’t! Vale obviously took the food willingly—he had the grocery bag and thermos that night, remember? Come on. It’s also a good excuse to pick the guy’s brain on this blasted fire, which from what I can see, doesn’t look like it’s shifted.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Lynette.
They had just stepped through the clearing and caught their first sight of the cabin when a strange yet familiar ringing sound startled them.
“My phone!” Lynette squealed, reaching into the pocket of her cut-off denim shorts. “It works out here!”
She retrieved her smartphone to find a dozen missed calls and text messages and grabbed Alicia’s arm, holding her in place. “Do not move an inch! This might be the only place we get a signal.”
Alicia dropped the cold bag to the ground and waited while Lynette scrolled through her phone to retrieve her messages.
As she did so, Lynette asked, “Why didn’t any of you call for help when you were here yesterday evening?”
“None of us had our phones on us. We assumed they were useless.” Now Alicia was the one who felt useless. They could have reached help so much sooner.
Lynette stopped scrolling and glanced at her sister. “Your man has left me a stack of messages.”
“Jackson?”
“Unless you’ve got another man I don’t know about.” She held up a finger and listened to one message, then another. “He’s obviously heard about the fire and sounds manic. You’d better call him back, babe, but first I’m going to call the police.”
Alicia snatched the phone from her. “He is the police, Lynny!”
As she began tapping her boyfriend’s number into the mobile, Lynette grabbed her arm. “Is that him?”
They both looked towards the clearing where a man in a beat-up hat was just stepping out of his cabin, now turning and peering back towards them.
Alicia nodded. “Can you take the food over while I talk to Jackson?”
“I’m not going over there alone! Are you mad? He could be the killer!”
“He’s harmless,” she said then, “Shh!” as Jackson picked up.
“Lynette?” Jackson said, and Alicia quickly corrected him.
“I’m using Lynette’s phone. We’ve finally found some mobile coverage.”
“That’s a relief!” Jackson’s voice sounded clear and misleadingly close. “I’ve been trying to get through to you all morning. I’ve rung the lodge; it just rings out. I’ve called your phone a million times, Lyn’s, Claire’s, Perry’s, I didn’t know how to reach you.”
“Yeah well—”
“Listen, it’s all over the news. There’s a fire, just outside of Lyleton.”
“Well, duh!” she said, sounding harsher than she meant to. “We have worked that out, honey. But the main lines are down so we couldn’t call out. But to be honest, that’s the least of our worries—”
“Look, don’t panic,” he said. “I’m on my way up there now, and I’ll get you guys out. I’ve already spoken with the local RFS—that’s the Rural Fire Service—and they assure me they have it all under control.”
Alicia stared at the black smoke billowing from the not-so-distant fire. Twice the size it was yesterday. “Doesn’t look under control to me,” she said, her eyes now shifting to Lynette, who hadn’t budged. Alicia nodded her head towards the old-timer who was still watching them closely. Go! she mouthed to her sister.
Lynette groaned, picked up the bag and made her way over.
“Apparently the winds have changed,” Jackson was saying, “and it’s heading back downwards, so you should be okay for a bit, but obviously we want to get you out as soon as possible. Tom Benson—that’s the group officer leading the operation—tells me there is only one road in and it’s blocked off at this stage. There are some old fire trails, but they’re extremely overgrown and there’s giant trees down, so they’re having no luck getting through that way either.”
“That fills me with hope,” she said, watching now as Lynette reached the man and held the food bag out like a peace offering.
“Please don’t worry,” Jackson told her. “You will be okay. I should be in Lyleton in a few hours and I can reassess the situation then. In the meantime, Benson says to keep an eye on the fire and activate a bushfire survival plan. That’s where you—”
“I know what it is,” she said, interrupting him this time. She could see Lynette talking now, one hand gesticulating as the old man just stood and listened. Alicia continued, “Flo has already got us thinking about that. If the fire comes all the way up, we’re grabbing our bags and heading down the other side of the mountain.”
Lynette suddenly reached across and dragged the old man into a hug. She must have told him about Mrs Flannery and he must have been devastated. Alicia felt guilty that she hadn’t thought to give him a hug yesterday.
“I knew Flo was a capable woman,” Jackson said, remembering her from the last case. “But there’s a lot more to it than that, honey. The biggest concern at this stage is spot fires ahead of the main fire front.”
“Spot fires?” Her eyes snapped away from Lynette and back to the smoke.
“Embers can travel several kilometres and start random fires at different places. There’s two fire fronts already and they’re worried about more. I’m told it’s pretty dry up there.”
She glanced down at the crisp dead leaves under her feet. That was an understatement.
“You need to get away from those dangerous trees and back to the lodge,” Jackson was saying. “It’s your safest bet. You’ll also need to prepare yourselves properly. Benson emailed me a list of instructions. Have you got a notepad and pen?”
“I’m in the middle of those dangerous trees now, Jackson.”
“Okay, well try to remember some of this.” He rattled off a checklist while Alicia’s headache returned.
“Should I call the RFS directly?”
“Good luck with that. They’re in the thick of it now. Just do as I say, and you’ll be all right. Benson reckons there should be good maps of the fire trails up there at the lodge. Find them and keep them handy; hopefully you won’t need to use them. Listen, I need to get on the road. The sooner I get going, the sooner I can help out.”
“You’re going to come fight the fire for me, honey?” she said, her tone coquettish.
“Who said I wasn’t romantic?” He chuckled but there wasn’t much in it. “Listen, I’ll call you in a few hours when I get to Lyleton.”
“No point. There’s no signal at the lodge. I’ll have to come back and call you from here.” She took a deep breath. “But listen, I haven’t told you the worst of it.”
“The worst of it?” He almost chuckled again. “There’s something worse than a bloody great bushfire?”
She took another breath. “You’re not going to believe this, Jackson. I almost don’t believe it myself. Then again, knowing our history, maybe you will…”
“What are you talking about?” He inhaled suddenly. “Oh no. Do not tell me you stumbled upon a dead body.”
She scrunched her eyes up. “Not just one dead body, Jackson. There’s two people dead here, and both deaths are suspicious.”
~
On the return walk back to the lodge, as Alicia tried to come to terms with everything Jackson had told her, Lynette gushed about the old-timer and what a charmer he was.
That surprised Alicia. She had quite liked the guy herself, but charm wasn’t the word that sprang to mind. “You didn’t catch his name, did you?”
“Of course. It’s Snowy, which seems hilarious considering how hot it is around here. He was pretty upset about Mrs Flannery.” She pushed some hair from her face. “Although, it’s odd, he didn’t seem that surprised. Maybe it’ll hit him later. He was grateful for the food though. I get the impression all Vale ever brought him was cold soup and stale bread.”
“Considering it’s pilfered bread, he’s lucky to get anything,” said Alicia, her mood now soured.
“Still, we can’t keep this up. I told him he should come to the kitchen and help himself next time he’s peckish. It’s not like there’s anyone there to stop him. I even suggested he have dinner with us tonight—that is, if we’re still stuck in this hell hole.”
“Really? You think that’s wise?” Alicia was happy enough to entertain Mountain Man, but she wasn’t sure how Richie-rich Ronnie or even stuffy Simon would feel about a smelly old squatter joining them at the table.
“Don’t worry, sis. Snowy had the same reaction. Said he’d rather slit his wrists than come to the lodge. His choice of words, not mine. He’s no fan of the place, that’s for sure. Did you know he was born on this mountain? Said it was peaceful before Lyle’s Lodge destroyed everything for him.”
“Lyle’s Lodge has been feeding that man; he should be more grateful.”
“No, Vale had been feeding him. I doubt the Lyle family ever knew about it. And I’m certain the new owners will put a stop to it.”
“New owners?” said Alicia.
“Didn’t I tell you? According to Blake, the Lyles have just sold the place. I guess that’s why it’s undergoing serious renovations. I do hope whoever’s bought it is kind to the old squatter though. Doesn’t try to move him on. He said he has no intention of leaving the mountain. Said they’d have to remove him in a coffin.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Actually he was very sweet. I really liked him, and not only because he assures me the fire has headed back down the hill, away from us.”
“That’s what the RFS told Jackson. But the wind can change at any time, Lynny, so you better not get too complacent.”
“With you beside me, honey, no chance.”
They walked in silence for a while, both of them lost in their thoughts, then Lynette said, “So, how’d you go with Jackson? Racing up on his white charger is he?”
“Something like that. He won’t get to Lyleton for a few hours though, but it’s a relief to touch base with the outside world. He gave me a checklist in case spot fires break out. Then I gave him the grim news about Vale and Flannery, and that took a bit of digesting.”
“I bet it did. He must be regretting ever meeting the Agatha Christie Book Club.”
Alicia agreed. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t scared him off yet. “Jackson said to secure both Vale’s bedroom and the cellar and he’ll alert the local authorities.”
“We’re not complete idiots; we’ve already done that. Although we haven’t really taken this fire very seriously, have we? I never thought of spot fires. Good thing he mentioned that.”
Alicia nodded and focused on the path ahead. It wasn’t all Jackson had mentioned. There was something else. Something to do with another white charger, but she didn’t have the heart to break the news to Lynette.
~
Ronnie glanced from Flo, who was now rinsing her hands in the kitchen sink, to her sparkling Cartier watch and frowned, relieved she hadn’t mentioned the guest book. The latest death had changed absolutely everything.
She placed the basket of eggs in the cold room and rubbed her aching back, giving it all some thought. Feeling almost relieved. Oddly.
They had all believed the story of the madman, and she had to admit it was a good one. It made so much sense! Of course a crazy person had killed Vale and Flannery! What other reason could there possibly be? Mrs Flannery wasn’t even here until the eighties, so how could anyone connect the dots?
Still, it didn’t stop her from twiddling her wristwatch and wondering how to play it…
~
It was just on ten thirty a.m., and the Agatha Christie Book Club were all twiddling cups of tea, sitting on the leather lounges in the library, staring up at Alicia again, and she felt a jolt of déjà vu. It was eerily quiet, and apart from the very faint smell of smoke and the missing book club member, you might almost think they’d gone back in time, back to that first session before everything turned to chaos.
She glanced at the empty seat beside Simon and frowned.
Things had changed, and dramatically. There was something else Jackson had told her, just before she’d hung up. She would leave that to the end. For now, she gave them a reassuring smile and said, “There’s good news and bad.”
“Can we have the good news first?” said Flo, whose tea was a fresh ginger-and-honey concoction, prepared by Lynette earlier. A special request to settle her stomach. “I think we all need it.”
She nodded. “Right, well, the good news is there is a tiny bit of mobile coverage out on Repentance Way, so I was able to make contact with the outside world.”
“Woo-hoo!” said Perry.
“Really?” said Ronnie.
“Thank goodness,” said Simon while Claire tried to rein in her frown.
She distinctly remembered Simon telling her there was no mobile coverage out there. Perhaps he hadn’t walked far enough. Or was he lying about that too?
Simon caught her eye then, and she quickly glanced away, shifting in her seat and trying to keep her heart from hammering through her blouse. But it wasn’t love that was causing it to accelerate now. It was feelings of betrayal and dismay and, if she were being honest, a tinge of anxiety.
She had a creeping feeling Simon wasn’t the man she thought he was.
“So,” continued Alicia, oblivious to Claire’s inner turmoil, “the Rural Fire Service know we’re up here; they know our situation and are battling the flames as we speak. They should also know about Vale and Mrs Flannery by now.” She told the new members, “My partner, Liam Jackson, is a police officer, and he’s alerting the relevant authorities.”
“Good to hear it,” said Simon. “That’s quite a relief.”
Alicia agreed. It felt like a weight had been lifted. “In the meantime, we need to do what we’re already doing and stay well away from both crime scenes. Big thank you, though, to Nurse Ronnie for all her expertise and wisdom.”
They all gave the older woman a round of applause while Missy suddenly had a horrifying vision of Vale’s bed empty. His body missing.
Had anyone thought to check him lately? Missy wondered. See if he was still dead? Or, more precisely, ever dead in the first place? It was a strange thought, an eerie one, but hadn’t something similar happened in the Agatha Christie mystery they’d been reading?
Missy shuddered and pushed the image away while Ronnie asked:
“So what’s the bad news then, dear?”
Alicia took a deep breath. “Jackson confirmed that the road up is cut off, and they may not get through to us anytime soon. The winds are currently in our favour, but they may change later this arvo, so we need to enact our fire plan pronto.”
All eyes swept across to Flo, who nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Jolly good…” She reached into the pocket of her skirt. “I did jot some things down…” She came up empty-handed so tried the other pocket while Alicia jumped in.
“It’s okay, Flo. Jackson gave me a list we can work from. The most important thing is to be alert for spot fires. I’ve just learned that embers can fly great distances and start new fires ahead of the main front, so we have to be vigilant and watch for that.”
“What do we do if there is a spot fire?” asked Perry, flabbergasted by the thought.
“We put it out of course,” said Flo, like he was a complete imbecile.
“There are some water tanks about the place,” said Simon. “I’ll secure some hoses, maybe find a few fire extinguishers while we’re at it.”
Alicia produced a second finger. “We also need to get a very basic kit together in case a secondary fire becomes too big for us to handle and we have to make a run for it.”
“Good golly,” said Missy.
“What kind of kit?” asked Claire.
“Things like drinking water, a first aid kit and any specific medicines you need, a bit of food, some blankets, I guess in case we get caught out overnight. It took a good hour to drive up that mountain, and Mrs Flannery wasn’t exactly dawdling, so it will take some time to make it down on foot. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“Actually, love, the blankets are in case we get caught in a firestorm,” said Flo. “A woollen blanket can be your best mate if you have nowhere to run.”
She imitated throwing a blanket over yourself and crouching under it.
“Good bloody golly,” echoed Perry while Missy looked ready to faint.
“Anyway,” said Alicia, wishing that terrifying thought away, “the main road is not the only road in. Apparently there should be some old fire trails we can use if we need to escape.”
“Fire trails?” asked Claire.
“Unmarked access routes,” Flo explained. “The fire service use ’em to get in and clear the forest, do a bit of controlled burning through the year and I guess to fight the fire when one breaks out.”
“So how do we find these elusive trails?” said Perry. “Do we look for bread droppings?”
He was joking of course, but Flo was squinting at him now through her glasses.
The man really was a galah!
Alicia jumped in. “Jackson says there should be some maps somewhere, indicating our nearest fire trails. Apparently there’s at least one heading down the other side of the mountain, and he reckons it’s our safest bet.”
“I’ll search for them,” said Perry. He needed to do something to settle his nerves and stop Flo from scowling at his lame jokes. He just hoped this search didn’t produce another corpse.
“Excuse me for sounding ageist now,” Simon said, “but isn’t the trek down going to be a little difficult for, er, some of the older members of our group?”
Ronnie looked scandalised. “I might be old, young man, but I’m still a very competent walker!”
“As am I,” said Flo, sounding equally offended.
“Apologies, ladies,” he replied, offering Claire a mock grimace, but she was no longer looking his way. He shifted in his seat awkwardly. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. I’ll set the hoses up around the property, maybe even get up on the main roof, see if I can clear some of the leaves from the gutters so they don’t catch fire. Would hate to see this lovely old lodge go up.”
“Who cares about the bloody lodge when our lives are in danger?” said Perry.
“I care,” he retorted. “If we’re inside the lodge when it catches fire, you’ll care too I suggest.”
“Okay, let’s all stay calm,” said Alicia, noticing how edgy they were all getting. “I think that’s a good idea, Simon, but be very careful up there.” You’re not getting any younger yourself, she might have added if she were Perry. “Lynette, can you get some food supplies together? Nothing gourmet, just some basic provisions.”
Her sister nodded, and Missy offered to organise the water bottles.
“I’ll round the fire extinguishers up,” said Ronnie, “and keep them at the ready.”
“And I noticed some good thick blankets somewhere,” said Flo. “I’ll add them to the mix.”
“I’ll look for torches, matches, that kind of thing,” Alicia said. “Between us, we should be right. Thanks, everyone, we are all going to get out of this alive.”
Then she smacked her lips shut, thinking of at least two people who wouldn’t. And if you added Blake to the mix, there could be a third. She cleared her throat. It was time to tell them her final piece of news, this one the grimmest yet.
Avoiding Lynette’s gaze, she said, “Before you all run off, there is something else Jackson told me.” They looked at her warily. “We didn’t have long to talk, but the fire chief told him something that may or may not affect us. An aerial water chopper spotted something on the road down from Cooper’s Crossing, which I gather is about halfway between us and Lyleton. It’s a car.” She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at her sister then. “It’s completely burnt out.”
“A car?” said Lynette. “What type of car?”
“I don’t know what type,” she said, grimly. “All I know is it’s a white one.”
While they headed off to attend to their respective chores, Claire approached Alicia and said, “Can we have a quiet word?”
Before Alicia could reply, Lynette was looming, arms akimbo.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Blake?” she demanded. “While we were walking back, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t even know if that is Blake,” Alicia replied. “All Jackson knows is it’s a white vehicle. Nobody said anything about a Mercedes. Apparently the chopper can’t get close enough to see if there’s a body in the car or if he’s managed to escape.” Or double back, she thought, a little alarmingly. “It could be anybody’s car. A day-tripper? Someone else who lives on the mountain?”
In fact, she was hoping it was the lodge’s stolen white van and karma had caught up with Mrs Flannery’s killer. But the more she thought about it, the less it made sense. The van had left long before the Mercedes. If the van had been caught in the fire, it didn’t bode well for Blake.
“You’ve all been thinking he was the killer and here he was, burned alive while trying to save us!”
Claire held a finger in the air. “Just because he might have got caught in the fire doesn’t mean he wasn’t the killer,” she said, landing herself a withering look from the younger Finlay. “Sorry, Lynette, but if you think about it logically, both Vale and Flannery were killed long before Blake drove off, so he could’ve done it. Then got caught up in the fire. Or maybe he ditched his car and took off on foot?”
“Humph!” she replied, striding off towards the kitchen.
Claire turned to Alicia, both hands up now. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“It’s probably not his car down there anyway, but really, she barely knows the guy. I don’t why she’s so hung up on him. So, what did you want to talk about?”
Claire frowned. She barely knew Simon too, and now she felt foolish. As she debated whether to say anything at all, they heard a not too subtle “Pst!” coming from the corner of the library and swept around to find Perry standing by the bookshelf, motioning them over.
He had been searching for trail maps but couldn’t help overhearing. Well, okay, perhaps he was eavesdropping…
The two women shared a curious look and made their way across.
“I know how we can find out if Blake is on the level,” he whispered. “But we need to act now before the others come back.”
And by others he really just meant Lynette.
~
Simon had no luck finding a leaf blower, but he did find several rakes, and so he hauled one to the rooftop closest to the fire front and began sweeping the dry leaves out of the gutters. As he did so, they crackled and crunched, and it sent shivers down his back.
The lodge was littered with kindling. It was like a loaded fire pit waiting for a match. If a stray ember did make it this far, the whole place would be up in minutes.
He thought then of Claire, his shiver intensifying. If only he’d told her what was going on, what he was really up to.
Now… now it felt too late.
~
Sneaking softly up the staircase, Missy couldn’t stop the jitters that were playing ping-pong in her stomach. But she had to be strong. She had to take one for the team. She had to see if Vale was still lying stiff underneath his covers.
It all felt very silly, really. Typical silly Missy! But Alicia wasn’t the only one with an active imagination. The others liked to laugh her off, but Missy had a terrible tendency to mix real life with fiction, and right now she was mixing Vale’s murder with the murder of the old judge in And Then There Were None.
He had been faking his death in the book. Was Vale faking too? And was Ronnie in on it with him?
The idea was so preposterous there was no way she was going to mention it to the others. She had to check it out for herself, and so she continued upwards.
A sudden creak stopped Missy in her tracks, and she glanced up the final few steps but could see nothing and no one. She took some calming breaths, trying to settle the ping-pong game that was now at Olympic standard, and then tiptoed up and towards Vale’s door, the last one along the corridor and the only one still closed.
She passed what must be Mrs Flannery’s room first, the bed neatly made, her handbag resting upon it, like she was about to head out for a shop. Then a series of empty rooms, the beds stripped of sheets, as well as several storage cupboards showing guest linen and towels, blankets and miniature bottles of all types of bathroom supplies.
Which brought her to Vale’s door.
Another deep breath and then Missy slowly turned the handle, hoping for the best, which if you thought about it, meant the very worst for Vale. She pushed the heavy hardwood door open and peeked inside, across to the bed where—lo and behold—a sheet was covering what could only be a corpse. Missy knew there was a dead body under there—the violent smell, the rush of goose bumps, the clammy cold stillness of the air—yet her imagination was stronger than all of that and propelled her forwards, to the bed, to the sheet, to check he really was under there.
And then she was running back out, slamming that door, tearing down the steps, feeling as she always did, like silly, foolish Missy. When she got to the lobby, she flung herself out the front door and vomited into the garden, drenching some violet-coloured flowers in the process.
The reality was nothing like the book. And Vale really had been murdered.
~
Ronnie noticed Missy through the library window and wondered if she was doing some gardening, hovering as she was over the native wisteria. It’s certainly all Flo seemed interested in right now, and she took that as a good sign.
More gardening was a brilliant idea. That would keep them all distracted!
“Milk dear?” said Ronnie. “I can’t remember if you have it.”
“Just a drop, thanks Ron, and a spoonful of sugar if you can find it,” Flo replied, reaching for a canvas bag she had left on the couch earlier.
The two old friends had worked diligently, fetching fire blankets and extinguishers and dumping them near the front door. Then Ronnie had suggested a refreshing cuppa and now handed it to her, along with a plate of ginger biscuits.
“Found these in the cupboard,” she said. “Might as well dig in.”
Flo thanked her, then ignored the biscuits as she pulled out her knitting. As the needles clicked away, Ronnie could hear Simon busy scratching about on the roof above their heads. He was nervous, she knew that. They all were, and if you thought about it too closely, it was all rather terrifying.
Eventually she turned to Flo and said, “How long have we known each other, dear?”
Clearly lost in her own thoughts, Flo looked up with a start. “Oh goodness, who knows. An eternity?”
Ronnie shook her head. “Not that long actually. We met at grief counselling, do you remember?”
“Ah, that’s right. You convinced me to join your Auxiliary. I’ve been madly knitting ever since.” She cackled at the striped brown-and-cream beanie in her lap.
“Do you remember why we first became friends?” Ronnie persisted. “Why we became so close?”
“We were both lonely old bags?” suggested Flo, tongue firmly in her cheek, but Ronnie was not smiling.
“It was more than that, Florence. Don’t you remember? We had both suffered great loss.”
Flo frowned. Yes, that’s right. “Are we talking about your Bert now, dear? Do you miss him terribly? Is that what this is about?”
“Of course I miss Bert!” Ronnie said, snapping at her friend as she chomped into a biscuit. But this wasn’t about Bert, not at all. It was about another man, a handsome young hunter with sparkling blue eyes and hair streaked from the sun.
Flo, worried, watched her for a moment more, then continued knitting while Ronnie’s eyes shifted back to her friend, wondering how she could be so blasé.
“How did you get over him in the end?” Ronnie said eventually.
“Sorry?” Flo said, looking up.
“You were heartbroken, Flo. You really were. I thought you’d never recover. But now… now you seem… so calm or something.”
Flo shrugged and stared back at her wool, pulling a new ball from her bag. “I don’t think you ever do get over great loss, Ron. You learn to live with the pain. What do the quacks say? You compartmentalise it.”
“And if you can’t? Live with it, I mean.”
Flo shot her a wary glance. She was lost for words. Now Ronnie really had her worried. “What’s really going on, dear? What are you trying to say?”
Ronnie blushed and looked away as Flo’s eyes narrowed beneath her delicate spectacles. “I do hope you’re okay, Ronnie,” she said. “I do hope you’re letting go of unimportant things. You must only focus on positive things now, dear. We are all going to get out of here, and we are all going to be fine. Do you hear me? Every last one of us. Don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. Do you think you can do that?”
Ronnie nodded, but she was lying. She had not forgotten. It was all coming back to her like a whirling dervish. Suddenly everything was swirling into focus—the hunter, the fire, Lydia, the misery, the murmurs and the rumours that were forgotten just as quickly. But not by everyone and not by her, not now.
It did not feel unimportant suddenly. It felt like a matter of life and death.
But how many deaths, she wondered?
~
“Blake is halfway to Byron Bay by now, I’m sure of it,” said Perry, the moment his bedroom door clicked shut behind them.
He had wanted to enact his devious plan immediately, but Alicia had got all snippy about getting fire ready first, and so they had agreed to meet in his room in thirty minutes and not to mention anything to Lynette. He had run into Missy though—she was searching for water bottles but looked like she could do with a stiff drink. When he asked her what was wrong, she shook him off and said something about “silly Missy!” then trailed him down the corridor.
Once they were all safely inside, he produced his theory, one he’d been working on all morning. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Lynette—she’s blinkered, that woman—but I don’t think Blake is caught in the fire, I think he started it!”
They stared at him, bewildered, so he forged on. “The timing is too perfect. Lynette’s already told us he was up and about last night at midnight. She says he went to bed after their drink, but how does she know that? What if he stayed up waiting for Vale to return? He kills Vale but can’t get access to Mrs Flannery so waits until morning and bumps her off after breakfast. He then drives her van away, hides it somewhere in the bush—hence the burnt-out vehicle—and treks back to book club to provide himself an alibi. He probably cut the phone lines—we should really check that—but he obviously didn’t expect us to find Vale so fast. In any case, once we did, he took off faster than lightning, you can’t deny that.”
Because the look on their faces suggested they might.
“Then,” he continued, unperturbed, “to cover his tracks, he stops midway down the mountain and starts the fire behind him. If the RFS look closely, I bet they’ll find the burnt-out car is an empty white lodge van, and, as I say, Blake is hiding away in some luxury beach resort, high-fiving himself!”
He finished with a suggestively raised eyebrow. The women were staring at him, each with a different expression.
“That’s quite a theory you’ve got there,” said Alicia with a note of scepticism.
“I’m confused,” said Claire, head to one side.
“You really think Blake is trying to burn us alive?” was Missy’s horrified interpretation.
“It’s not personal, Missy,” said Perry. “But he would want to destroy the evidence.”
“But why kill Vale in the first place? Or Mrs Flannery for that matter?” asked Claire. “What’s his motive?”
“Like Simon says, he must have some beef with them or some history with this place—which, of all of us, he was the most familiar with.”
“That’s true,” said Alicia, remembering how well Blake knew the walking tracks that first afternoon. He was also the one who’d told Lynette about the lodge’s sale, how there was a new owner. How did he know that? Why was he so well informed?
Perry continued. “Who knows what his problem is, but maybe Blake infiltrated our little book club so he could come up here and wreak havoc—for whatever reason. He was using us as subterfuge.” He turned to Alicia. “After Flo and Ronnie agreed to join the club, we all decided we needed at least one more member. You placed the advertisement in the Herald. What did it say? Did you mention Lyle’s Lodge specifically?”
She thought back and gulped. Yes, she did. “I said we were getting the club together at the remote Lyle’s Lodge…” She groaned. “You think I drew him in?”
It made her feel sick to her stomach, but it also made an awful kind of sense. They had lured in a criminal once before, and this time Blake had been so determined to join them. Had practically begged her to let him make up their ninth member.
When was she going to learn! The more desperate they were to sign up, the more she should avoid them!
“I bet it wasn’t the book club he was keen on,” said Perry, “it was Lyle’s Lodge. We just provided the perfect cover.”
“But you still haven’t explained why,” said Claire, rubbing her temples. “Why would Blake even need a cover? He could come up any old time and kill them both in the dead of night and slink away again, no questions asked.”
Perry frowned. “Okay. I haven’t got all the details sorted, which is why I’ve dragged you in here.” He nudged his eyebrows to the right. “Blake’s room is on the other side of mine. I’m going to climb across the balcony and see if I can’t have a dig about.”
“Ooh, naughty!” said Missy, perking up a little.
“Why don’t we just get a spare key from reception?” said Alicia. “What are we hiding from?”
“Er, a killer!” he said, like she was stupid. “If I’m wrong about Blake—and let’s face it, the more I talk, the shakier it’s all sounding—then that means somebody else did all this, and I don’t care what Simon says, that somebody else could still be here amongst us. And unless you’ve all been fooling me for many years now, it has to be one of the new book club members. I don’t want to alert them to what we’re doing.”
They all stared at him dubiously, and he said, “Okay, that made a lot more sense in my head. Look, I’ll do all the hard work. Alicia, you just need to stand outside the hallway and keep watch. Especially for Lynette. If she comes down, steer her elsewhere. She’s incapable of thinking badly about brawny Blake. Missy, maybe you could guard reception, in case anyone takes a stroll outdoors—crash tackle them before they do—and Claire you scoot down to the walkway below the balconies in case someone comes around the back.”
~
Claire wasn’t convinced they’d find anything in Blake’s bedroom. If he had taken off, surely he would have taken everything with him? But she did as Perry asked and made her way outside, standing below Blake’s balcony, not far from where Simon had looked up at her only yesterday. She sighed at the memory.
It felt like a lifetime ago…
“Oi! Anyone coming?” Perry hissed and she swept her eyes up to find him leaning across his balustrade. She surveyed the pathway, then gave him a subtle thumbs-up and watched as he clambered rather awkwardly across from his balcony to Blake’s.
Perry was a gym-fit forty-something, better suited to exercise bikes and rowing machines than scaling real-world balconies. Still, he managed to fling himself across smoothly, and once there, he straightened himself out, checked the internal door, then turned and gave his own thumbs-up before disappearing inside.
~
Back in the hallway between the two bedrooms, Alicia chewed her nails and tried to get it all straight in her head. If Blake was the imposter Vale had been talking about, then who was he really? And how delighted must he have been to come across her rather naive advertisement? It made her feel sick thinking of it. If only she had not mentioned the words “remote” and “Lyle’s Lodge,” they might still be happily discussing the book in the library now, and two people might not be murdered.
Was this all Alicia’s fault? Had she inadvertently signed up a killer?
There was a sudden click, and then Perry appeared from inside Blake’s room. He ushered Alicia in and secured the door behind her. Then he waved a hand around the room and said, “I think you all owe me an apology.”