Gone guest, p.18
Gone Guest, page 18
“Dull and poor,” said Alicia.
Perry shuddered. “Are there two more unforgiveable traits in the human race?” He winked. “Maybe Peg’s had enough of her bestie always stealing the limelight, living in luxury, being lauded for giving away millions when everybody knows the money really came from Bert. Last night’s party might’ve been the final straw. Jazz band, celebrity chef, fireworks for heaven’s sake. It’s not just the Ugly Siblings who’re jealous of Ronnie but her BFF. Could be as simple as envy.”
“Oh, there’s nothing simple about envy,” Alicia told him. “So what are you saying? You think Peg had something to do with it?”
“God no!” He chuckled. “I’m just saying, I’m not sure Peg’s as good a friend as Ronnie thinks she is. Ahh, here we are at last.”
At the bottom of the driveway they could see the guardhouse lit up and noticed the front gate was wide open.
“That’s odd,” said Perry.
“What is?” Alicia asked.
“Why would he—?” Perry stopped. Stared ahead. “What is that?”
Before Alicia could answer, he had thrust the bowl at her and was running towards the guardhouse and then straight past it, out through the open gate.
“Where are you going?” she called after him, then tucked her head down and followed, nearly spilling the food as she ran.
It was only when she got through the gate and onto the main road that she saw what had caused Perry’s panic. There was a man, slumped on the gravel, just on the other side of the wall.
“Oh no,” said Alicia.
“Oh yes,” said Perry, grappling for his phone. “The sentinel has left his post.”
Chapter 20 ~ The Eviction
If Pete Ragnar had something to share, it would now go with him to his grave.
The security guard was slumped in the sitting position, his back against the outer side of the wall, with what looked like a single gunshot wound to his right temple. His mouth was a silent, gaping cavern, his hands by his side, one of them loosely holding a semi-automatic pistol.
“Singh will be ages,” Perry told Alicia after getting off the phone to her. “She said not to panic, leave him as he is and lock ourselves in the guardhouse until the local squad arrive.”
They both stared down, grimacing, at the victim.
“How was she?” asked Alicia, folding her arms across her chest. “Furious with us?”
“Why? This was hardly our fault.”
Alicia nodded, but it didn’t quash the queasy feeling deep in her stomach.
Oh God, she thought, what would Jackson say about this one? Another dead body discovered by his girlfriend and her book club.
The conduct commission people would have a field day!
Perry added, “She’s calling the others now. Putting the house in lockdown too. What a nightmare.”
They took a final look at Pete, then hurried back to the guardhouse to do as instructed, securing the door behind them, their breaths sharp and shallow as adrenaline swirled through them again.
Alicia dropped the redundant curry to one side and glanced about. The guardhouse was larger than she expected, almost TARDIS-like, and oddly cosy. There was a scrappy old Persian rug across the wooden floor and a long, thin desk below the window, which housed several computer monitors, pens, a wad of personalised Westera stationery, and a selection of clean coffee cups, including the crimson-and-gold one he’d brought back with him that morning. And in front of that was a very shabby captain’s chair. It had to be a hand-me-down from Bert’s study, Alicia thought, just like the rug below her feet.
And for some reason that made her feel even worse.
As Alicia took the chair, Perry checked out Pete’s fold-up bed, now tucked into one corner, then strode to an internal door and swung it open.
“Urgh,” he said, eyes darting across the old toilet and sink. “That could do with a good dose of Mr Jiffy!” Then he glowered. “Typical rich folk, hey? Pete’s here all day, every day, and his facilities are worse than a porta-loo, while there’s an obscenely glamorous bathroom at a tennis court that nobody uses.”
Alicia didn’t appear to be listening; she was staring out at the body. From this angle, it looked like Pete was just napping.
“Are we thinking suicide?” she asked. “Looks very much like he shot himself to me.”
Perry made a pft! sound. “That’s what they want us to think, darling. We’re far too clever for that. The whole scene was clearly staged with the gun neatly placed in his hand.” He swung his eyes outwards. “What hand was the gun in? Right wasn’t it? If he’s left-handed, that could be a clue. Besides, why would Pete suddenly top himself? Last time we saw him, he was determined to keep us safe. Why promise that then come down here and blow his own brains out?”
Alicia winced at Perry’s candour, but he made a good point. And a scary one at that, because if it wasn’t suicide, that left only murder. She peered towards the shadowy road.
“Maybe we should lock the gate,” said Perry, reading her mind.
“But then poor Pete will be out there all alone.”
Perry rubbed her back gently. “He’s dead, honey. You do get that, right? Nothing can hurt him now. Besides, that gun’s out there with him.” Then he gasped and said, “The gun’s out there with him! Yes, we should lock the gate.”
They scrambled about, trying to locate an obvious switch or knob or something when Alicia’s phone rang, making them both jump. It was Lynette, calling from the house, her voice sounding unusually worried.
“We’re both fine,” Alicia assured her, placing the call on speaker mode. “How is everyone up there?”
“Not sure yet,” said Lynette. “Claire’s gone to wake Ronnie, and Missy and Queenie are fetching Bethany and Brother Sleaze, who’d finally cleared off to the guest house when we got Singh’s call. I’m more interested in you two. Everything okay?”
“We’re fine,” Perry repeated, speaking up.
“So what do you think happened?” Lynette asked.
“Can’t say yet,” said Alicia. “Could be suicide, could be murder.”
“But why would anyone want to kill Pete? He seemed so sweet.”
“He clearly knew something,” said Perry. “He indicated that at breaky this morning, Lynette. And now, lo and behold, he’s dead.”
There was a stunned silence, and then Lynette said, “So that’s why you guys took off.”
“Not the only reason,” snapped Perry. “I also wanted to make sure Pete got some dinner. God knows Bethany wasn’t going to. But now I wished I’d left the poor man alone. From the beginning!”
“Sorry?” said Lynette while Alicia just stared at him.
“It’s all my fault,” Perry said. “If I hadn’t insisted he switch the cameras on, he might still be alive. Pete must’ve seen something and had to be silenced.”
“How do you figure that?” asked Alicia. “He only put them on after Greta was murdered.”
“Sure, but what if he saw the killer later, disposing of the gun or something? What if he blackmailed them and that’s why he’s dead?” He groaned. “This could all be on me.”
Lynette told him to get over himself, then said she had to run, and so they hung up, Alicia’s eyes widening at Perry.
“Now I’m wondering about Bethany again,” she told him. “She was standing with us yesterday on the patio when Pete made that offer to help, and she looked really startled by it. It could’ve been a warning to her.”
“Or a threat that she took seriously,” said Perry. “Except, do we really think Morticia slithered down here and overpowered a man twice her strength? He might be in his sixties, but she’s also no spring chicken and the size of a twig.”
“Unless she had an accomplice. Like Lurch.”
“Okay, that’ll work…” He gave Bronson some thought, then he turned and tapped both keyboards, bringing their screens to life, hoping they might show footage from the property cameras. But apart from a bunch of obscurely named hard drives, the screens were both blank.
“We need to see that CCTV footage,” he said. “From today I mean. Because as bad as I feel about forcing Pete to switch it on, it could also bring him justice. Pete might have inadvertently filmed his own murder.”
It was a creepy thought, but Alicia clung on to it as though it were a flotation device.
~
DI Indira Singh felt adrift, like she’d lost her moorings, and it didn’t help that she’d just had a big blow-up with Jackson. Again. She’d tried so hard to be a supportive colleague, had agreed that the Conduct Commission were a pack of idiots and there was no way his girlfriend and her silly little book club could have anything to do with murder.
But now… another body? And worse, another body they just happened to stumble upon?
Now she had to wonder what took the LECC so long.
And she might have said all that over the phone to him earlier as she grabbed her things and dashed back to the crime scene. Or barked it really, adding something about his “lunatic girlfriend” and her “creepy murder fetishist mates” and how they would cost him his badge.
She winced now just thinking about it on the long drive to Westeraview, Pauly in the passenger seat beside her, knowing better than to engage in conversation when she was this stroppy.
Exhaling loudly, she gave herself a shake. Truth is, it wasn’t really Jacko she was angry with. Or his creepy mates. It was herself. Her dereliction of duty. The fact that she not only let the book club loonies remain at the crime scene, but she also let the silly old coot who called himself a security guard.
And look where that had got him!
She should have sent them all safely home where they belonged. And she should have kept the real professionals, the local squad, at the property instead. But she thought she had the killer. Seamus Jones was safely locked away. She had let her guard down, and with it an old security guard who should have been in retirement.
So how had this happened? Had she been wrong about Seamus all along, or was he working with someone else? Someone who was now cleaning up his mess?
~
The mood at the house was not much better. It had taken some doing to wake Ronnie from her nap, and when she appeared, she looked cranky and then confused. It took even more doing to get her to understand that not only had she slept through dinner—“What do you mean it’s almost eight thirty?”—but that she’d also slept through another murder.
“I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” said Claire, helping her down the stairs, because she was still wobbling a bit from her slumber. “We really didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so beat earlier. But now… with Pete…”
“No, no, I’m glad you’ve woken me. Wish you’d woken me earlier. This is just horrendous. Shot, you say? Another one?”
She nodded. “Detectives are on their way, and we’re to go into lockdown until they arrive. And don’t worry, Alicia and Perry are safely locked in the guardhouse.”
“My God, it’s like a recurring nightmare. Have you told Bethany and Bronson?”
“The others are doing that now.”
“Where’s Hugh and Peg?” asked Lynette, who was waiting at the bottom of the staircase.
Ronnie looked down at her, confused. “Hugh left hours ago when I went for my nap. I haven’t seen Peg all day.”
“Really? She was here just after four. Had a few drinks with us, then went to check on you.”
“Ahh, that might explain it,” said Ronnie, reaching the lower level and holding on to the railing like she was pooped. “I heard someone knocking. Thought it was Bethany. Really couldn’t stomach any more of my niece.”
Lynette nodded. “Rosa saved you some food. There’s a plate in the kitchen.”
“Oh she really is a dear, but I’m not sure I can eat anything.” Then she inhaled suddenly and said, “Pete? He’s really dead?”
They both nodded now. “And Sebastian?” she asked, eyes wide, worried. “Any news?” Now they shook their heads, and she slumped onto one of the stairs. “Where is he? Where is my beautiful, beautiful boy?”
“There is one silver lining,” said Claire. “Seamus is locked away, so they can’t plant this one on him.”
Ronnie nodded but it did not really cheer her up.
~
Bronson was incensed that someone would dare to invade Bert’s property and slaughter his loyal guard. And he told Missy and Queenie that in no uncertain terms as they all trailed Bethany back to the main house.
“What’s Pete ever done to hurt anybody? He didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s shocking,” agreed Bethany, her voice low and hoarse.
“Pete’s worked for this family for almost fifty years. What kind of animal comes in and shoots him? Hmmm?” Then he stopped and said, “Are your friends completely sure he’s been murdered?”
“They’ve seen a few dead bodies in their time, so yes, I’m sorry, but I trust they’ve got that right,” said Queenie.
He glared at her like she was an imbecile, then nodded and kept walking.
When they got to the house, he pointed to the kitchen. “Does Rosa know?”
Missy nodded now. “She’s organising strong pots of coffee and tea for us all.”
“Yes, good, we could do with some coffee,” he mumbled, then once in the parlour, headed straight for the bar.
~
Constable Sanchez shook her high ponytail at Perry and Alicia, like they were recalcitrant children.
“DI Singh is not going to be happy with you guys,” she said after she’d arrived, checked Pete’s body, and then made her way across to them.
She had a different partner with her tonight, a dull-looking chap appropriately named Constable Sam Smith, whose eyes lit up after she introduced Perry and Alicia with the addendum: “They’re in that book club I was telling you about.”
He nodded his head knowingly while Perry puffed up his chest.
“What does that mean?” he demanded.
Now the two officers shared a conspiratorial smile.
Alicia watched all this in horrified silence. Was the book club’s reputation already preceding them? Did the entire police force think they were a pack of crazed murderers, picking off innocents to satiate their thirst for mystery?
“Stay right there,” Sanchez said, as if they were on the naughty chair, then she and Smith strode back to the body to inspect it more closely.
“What was she insinuating?” Perry asked as they watched Smith snap photos with his camera before Sanchez pulled on gloves and picked up the weapon, dropping it neatly into an evidence bag.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Alicia, knowing full well it wasn’t.
Sanchez said something to Smith, then left him by the body and returned with her notepad open.
“Okay, let’s have it. What time did you find the victim?”
“Never mind us,” said Perry. “You should check the CCTV footage. We know Pete turned the cameras on. If you’re lucky, you might see him approaching his killer.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, “but I am a professional. I do know what the job entails.”
She was parroting Singh, and he didn’t like it.
“I apologise for mansplaining, Constable Sanchez,” he snapped back. “But you need to understand, we’re not amateurs. We’ve assisted your people before. In fact, Alicia’s boyfriend happens to be—”
“Okay, Perry,” Alicia said quickly. “Let’s just answer the officer’s questions and get out of her way. So… we got down here just after eight, maybe eight fifteen…”
As she rattled off the relevant information, Alicia hoped she didn’t sound equally as rattled while Perry scoffed and tsked beside her.
~
There was the sickly sense of déjà vu in the air when Perry and Alicia finally returned to the house via a lift from Sanchez.
“How is he?” Bronson asked when they entered the parlour, like Pete might have risen from the dead.
“Deceased,” was Sanchez’s glib reply. “Can I ask you all as a group if you heard or saw anything that might relate to this latest shooting?”
There were head shakes all around, and then Sanchez pulled out her trusty notepad.
“Once again, I’m going to need to take statements.” She glanced at her watch. “Our team vacated the property at precisely two thirty this afternoon, and Mr Ragnar was alive then, so I’m curious to know if any of you happened to see him between two thirty and…” She glanced at her pad. “Around eight o’clock this evening.”
The group all shook their heads except for Ronnie.
“He was certainly alive when he waved me in after my lawyer’s visit this afternoon,” she told her.
“Which was when?” asked Sanchez.
Ronnie blinked rapidly behind her spectacles, like she hadn’t a clue.
“Just before three, I reckon,” said Alicia. She remembered it clearly. It was not long after she might or might not have broken up with her boyfriend.
“That’s right,” said Ronnie. “Hugh McMertle was with me, but he left about an hour later.”
“So he left at four p.m.?” Sanchez was now scribbling in her pad. She looked up. “Was Mr Ragnar at the gate when he exited, do you know?”
Ronnie said, “Somebody had to open the gate for Hugh, so I assume so.”
Sanchez made a note in her pad. “Any other visitors this afternoon?”
“There was Peg,” said Claire. “Peg Flannery. She arrived at around four fifteen I believe, and chatted with us for just under an hour. So if she didn’t go up to see you, Ronnie, she must have left at about five-ish?”
