Weekends Can Be Murder, page 15
As they did, Selena’s lips curved in a broad grin. “Really? You’re saying they put a voodoo curse on the island?”
“And on the family that owned it. According to Baker, Phineas Pyke didn’t take it seriously either,” said Hugh. “He brought in qualified tradesfolk to finish the project. There were no further accidents until the job was done, and Pyke didn’t give the curse a second thought. Or any more space in his daily journal, apparently. Twelve years later, he caught a chill while swimming in the bay and died of pneumonia. Eight years after that, his son choked to death while having a snack on the veranda. And every twenty years or so since then, according to the family’s records, a Pyke has died while staying on Rafferty Island.”
“So, what Edyth told us was true,” Larry said. “Every twenty years. Once per generation. Like a regular interest payment against a debt that can never be cleared.” He repressed a shudder.
“Except they missed a payment,” Liz pointed out soberly. “Forty years ago, the house was shuttered and the island was abandoned. And thirty-eight years later, after inheriting the property from his grandfather, Arthur began the restoration.”
Larry and Selena traded knowing looks. “Remember what Edyth said to Harald?” Selena asked him. “She said she couldn’t force him to leave with her and Baker in the morning. He could stay and ‘face his fate’.”
“An interesting choice of words,” Hugh commented.
“She came here expecting to lose a son this weekend,” Larry said. “That was why she insisted on bringing Baker along.”
“But Edyth is a Pyke too,” Liz pointed out. “She might have been the one to die.”
“No,” Larry corrected her. “Her generation has already made its payment. Her husband drowned while fishing on the bay. Edyth was safe. Harald and Arthur weren’t.”
“Why, Mr. Holmes, it sounds as though you actually believe in this curse,” Liz remarked with a twinkle in her voice.
Before he could reply to this, “We bring news,” said Norman from the doorway, announcing his and Blaise’s arrival. “We’ve spoken to three of the four servers.”
“Only three?” Selena asked.
“Farley wasn’t at his assigned post. We suspect he slipped past Baker and is hiding somewhere on the property,” Blaise explained. “But Will, Diane, and Fan all had intriguing things to say.”
“About…?” Liz prompted them.
“Heron Springs, for one thing,” said Norman. “And Antony Court for another. Five years ago, he started up the dinner theatre. For three years, he was the sole owner. Then he ran out of money and was forced to take on a partner.”
“Greg Vollmer,” Larry and Selena declared together.
“The same Greg Vollmer, by the way, who’s engaged to Lois Drake, and who sent Warfield out here to appraise Rafferty Island,” Larry added. “Warfield told us that himself, just now.”
“She’s Vollmer’s fiancée? That explains a lot,” said Liz.
Hugh’s leprechaun face now wore a calculating expression. “Appraise. Is that the word he used?”
“It is,” Larry confirmed. “It sounds as though Vollmer’s planning to make an offer to purchase.”
“Not purchase,” Blaise corrected him. “Not yet, anyway.”
He turned and gave Norman an eloquent look. Then Norman explained to the group, “From what we’ve heard, this place was Arthur’s dream. He would never sell it. Like Court, he might have agreed to a partnership in exchange for financing. That’s far more likely. But it’s not the way Vollmer prefers to operate.”
“He’s what we call a property vulture,” Blaise went on. “He targets a struggling enterprise, waits for it to go under, then moves in with a lowball offer, which is usually gratefully accepted. He makes his profit in the turnaround, by selling off the assets of the failed business. Over the years, he’s built up quite a fortune that way. Technically, there’s nothing illegal about his dealings. The strange thing, though, is that once Greg Vollmer sets his sights on something, he never has to wait very long to acquire it. So, why would he want to purchase a partially-restored Rafferty House at market value when he can probably pick up the entire island for a song later on—say, after the violent death of the previous owner…?”
Four pairs of eyes widened simultaneously.
A shiver was trickling down Larry’s back, like an icy finger gently tracing the length of his spine. “Warfield was very suspicious of me earlier. He kept insisting I must have known what was going to happen here, and that it had to be the reason I’d come to the murder mystery weekend.”
“He also emphatically stated that if anyone on the island was in danger, it wasn’t from him,” Selena added. “His job was to conduct the appraisal and that was all. But he made an issue of the fact that Alec Ullman had given his invitation to his cousin instead of another Crime Club member. Why would he even question that?”
“My dear,” Hugh pointed out, “there’s been a murder. Everything is now subject to scrutiny, including the motives and activities of persons who are not currently present. And if you think Warfield’s questions are intrusive, just wait until the PPS arrive and begin investigating the case.”
“Can we agree, at least, that Greg Vollmer has a plausible motive for Arthur Pyke’s murder?” said Liz. “And that either Lois Drake or Charles Warfield could have carried it out?”
“Or both of them together,” Norman chimed in. “Yes.”
“Let’s back up a bit,” said Selena. “You’ve said that Vollmer acquires failed businesses. He doesn’t finance them to keep them afloat. And yet, he’s a partner in Heron Springs. Why? What’s so special about this business?”
“Well, it’s an acting company,” Hugh reasoned, “and Vollmer is engaged to an actress. What better gift could he give her than a stage on which to show off her talent, small though it may be?”
“When you say ‘small’, are you talking about the stage, or the talent?” said Norman.
“Both, I’m afraid. Fold the company and you lose the stage. So, to keep Lois happy, Vollmer may have decided to keep Heron Springs going, with Antony Court at the helm. I don’t know whether that’s true, but it’s what I would have done,” Hugh told them, reaching out to give Liz a husbandly pat on the hand.
“It sounds like a deal with the devil to me,” Larry said. “There had to be other financing options open to him.”
“Vollmer wouldn’t have given him a choice,” Blaise told him. “He would have dug up something from Court’s buried past and used it for leverage in a hostile takeover.”
“Warfield just told us that he’s a researcher, in Vollmer’s employ,” said Larry.
Norman’s eyes widened briefly. “In that case, I’d say we’ve been asking him the wrong questions.”
“Arthur Pyke had a lot of connections for a predator like Vollmer to exploit,” Selena mused, “including a past friendship with Gareth Wylde. Apparently, he was a huge fan of Wylde’s novels.”
“Well, of course he was,” Hugh declared. “Arthur was one of the founding members of the Crime Club. Which no doubt explains why we were invited to his inaugural murder mystery weekend in the first place.”
“This is all fascinating, pet, but we need to finish up the reports and consolidate our information before the police arrive,” Liz reminded him.
“Yes, dear, you’re right, of course. Norman and Blaise, was there anything else?”
Norman consulted a page of written notes. “Just the on-script part. And I have to warn you, this narrative is convoluted. If it’s the simplified version, I hate to think what he had in mind for us originally.”
“So, what did the minor players have to say?” Liz reiterated. “Anything revealing?”
“Apparently, Fan and Diane are rivals for the romantic attentions of Will, who can’t wait for Vaile to retire so that he can take over as major domo,” said Norman, reading from his notes.
Blaise continued the recitation, deepening his voice to sound like the off-screen narrator of a soap opera: “Meanwhile, Farley is a bad boy who likes to bend the rules, and there is speculation among our three servers that he must have coerced Vaile somehow into hiring him, thus making it possible for Farley to carry out some dastardly plan.”
“But the only server who’ll admit to having known Gareth Wylde before this weekend is Will,” Norman interjected, “and while one can certainly sympathize with his wanting to see Wylde suffer, I can’t see Will’s character as a murderer. That’s assuming everything he said was from a script and he doesn’t actually carry a grudge against the man. All done,” he said, folding up his notes and shoving them into the pocket of his shorts.
Hugh consulted his watch. “All right, then. The police will be here soon. Let’s make short work of the murder mystery game so we can get on to the real business at hand.”
Liz had brought a file folder with her. She took out a printed checklist and began reading off items: “Time and manner of death.”
“Already established,” said Hugh. “Next?”
“Crime scene location.”
“He was shot at the edge of the bluff and either fell or was pushed through the railing, onto the rocks below,” Selena said. “It’s the only scenario that fits our made-up facts.”
“Are we all agreed on that?” Hugh asked.
Heads bobbed in response.
“Good. Next?”
“Last person to see the victim alive,” Liz continued.
“That’s the murderer,” Norman replied.
“And here is where we’re apt to part ways,” said Hugh. “Liz and I really like Lois for this crime. She’s the woman scorned, determined to take revenge in the most direct and brutal way possible, regardless of the consequences.”
“That’s her motive,” Blaise pointed out. “What about means and opportunity?”
“Calling 9-1-1 and claiming to have found the body is a time-honoured way of deflecting suspicion from oneself,” Liz replied. “Lois cannot satisfactorily account for her time between 7:30 and 10:00 p.m. She claims to have arrived on the beach at 8:30 and not to have heard any gunfire. The first claim is uncorroborated, not even by her fiancé, who was busy fighting with Baker on the veranda at the time and had no idea she planned to go swimming. The second claim could be a lie to cover the fact that she pulled the trigger herself, killing Wylde with the weapon that she took from her bodyguard’s luggage earlier on. Which, by the way, makes this a premeditated murder.”
“The Lois that we interviewed wasn’t capable of putting together a birthday party, let alone a murder,” said Selena. “Larry and I believe Georgina must have done it, for financial and professional gain. Wylde’s death permits her to emerge from his shadow and finally receive the recognition she deserves.”
“Unh-unh,” Blaise countered, shaking his head. “Those two are yin and yang, balancing each other off in a delicate relationship. They need each other, and they’re both intelligent enough to realize it. And Lois may vent, and maybe break a dish or two, but she doesn’t strike us as the sort who could cause bodily harm, especially not to someone twice her size. We believe that Wylde had to have been killed by another man, and the one we suspect is Warfield.”
“He has an alibi,” Hugh reminded him.
“He and Baker gave each other alibis, with that story about the fight,” Norman countered. “And no one lets someone they love do anything as dangerous as swimming alone in the dark in a body of water known for claiming lives. Warfield would have been with her, and his gun would have been kept handy. She says she was naked. That’s all the more reason for Warfield to intercept anyone who showed up at the edge of the bluff while she was in the water.”
“That’s where the fight took place,” Blaise said, continuing the scenario. “Wylde fell or was shoved against the fence, which gave way, causing him to end up dead on the rocks at the bottom of the bluff. The gunshot wounds were post-mortem, inflicted by Lois in a panic before Warfield could get back down to the beach and disarm her.”
“So you’re positing that she fired the gun, but he was the one who killed Wylde,” Hugh summarized. “And what happened to the gun?”
“It’s in the bay, as far out in the water as Warfield could throw it,” Blaise replied.
“Their version has merit, pet,” said Liz.
“Quite true, my dear,” her husband agreed. “All three suspects are strong possibilities, and we could spend the remaining time in debate over which of them to choose. However, we can’t afford to become mired in hypotheticals. I move we settle this game right now by ranking all the suspects on a probability scale from most to least likely to have killed Gareth Wylde.”
Selena went first. “Warfield, then Georgina, then Lois.”
Liz created a table on the back of a checklist and quickly recorded her rankings. “Next?”
Larry followed with, “Georgina, then Warfield, then Lois.”
So it went, until every member of the group had been heard from. Hugh assigned point values to each column of the table and did some rapid calculation. Then he announced, “It’s Warfield, by a whisker. The Crime Club has spoken. The murder mystery game is over. And now our real work begins.”
Fourteen
“Mr. Baker tells me the police have been slightly delayed,” Hugh announced. “We have about ninety minutes to pool what we know about the other crimes and decide how best to present our information when the PPS arrives. Everyone on the island is going to be questioned, including us.
“You’ve seen how hard it has been for us to separate fact from fiction, and we’ve been here all along. They’ll be coming in from outside, with no prior knowledge of the game we just played. A game that Antony Court purposely seeded with truths, allowing us to secretly investigate the real-life crimes.”
“What do you want us to do, pet?” Liz asked.
“We’ll need to be crystal clear about the difference between what we know beyond a doubt and what we’ve deduced or surmised, based on hearsay and circumstances.”
“…which is just a fancy way of saying that we need to get our stories straight before the cops get here,” Larry put in, his patience fraying.
An uncomfortable silence dropped over the room.
Liz was the first to break it. “It doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.”
“However, it’s an accurate rendering,” her husband admitted. “I’m open to better suggestions, Mr. Holmes. What would you have us do?”
“As a group? Nothing. We solved the imaginary murder of Gareth Wylde by asking questions and piecing information together. Now our game is over, and the PPS’s is about to begin. So I think we should stand down and let them solve their murder the same way as we solved ours, but with access to more resources and much better technology.”
“What about Farley?” Selena asked.
“At the moment, he seems to be in hiding,” Hugh told her, “most likely abetted by the person you and Liz overheard him speaking with earlier. And I have to say, I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Holmes’s assessment of our situation. Not to mention that the police will have been travelling all night and will probably be more than a little irritable when they finally arrive.
“Therefore, I move that we take a break, wait for the police—keeping an eye out for Farley, of course—then cooperate fully with them, sharing everything we know. They’ll have the wherewithal to follow up any solid leads we can give them, and the training and authority to make arrests. We don’t have any of those.”
“I second the motion,” said Selena.
“All in favour?”
Hands went up.
“Carried,” Hugh declared. Addressing his wife, he added, “After you, my dear.”
Larry hung back, watching the others leave the room. Warfield had been right earlier. This type of role-play game had never been his idea of amusement. Although the Crime Clubbers had tried to make him feel as though he was part of the group, he was always going to be an outsider. A skeptic. Selena’s plus-one.
“Would you like to talk?” she said, plopping herself down on the chair beside him.
He glanced up, startled. “About what?”
“About whatever’s going to be preying on your mind now that you’re not too busy to think about it.” When their eyes met, hers were filled with sympathy. “You told me that you were coming to Windsong to sort things out. I recognized the code. I’ve been where you are. It’s why I joined the Crime Club. So, if you’re ready to talk, I just want you to know that I’m a really good listener.”
He frowned. “It’s why you joined the Crime Club?”
She paused as though bracing herself. “What I told you earlier about me wasn’t the whole truth. After high school graduation, I accompanied my cousin Barbara to Toronto. We were both eighteen. She’d won a scholarship to the university, and I was looking for a change. After her second year, we became roommates. Three years later, she was raped and murdered. She’d been driving north to spend the weekend with her family at the cottage, and her car broke down on the highway. Someone stopped to help her. No one saw her alive after that.” Her eyes welled up with tears.
All at once, pieces fell into place in his mind. “I’m so sorry. I should have realized from your reaction when I pulled over—”
“The point is, the crime was never solved,” she rushed to explain. “After two years without a break in the case, I decided to conduct my own investigation. The reference librarian figured out why I was coming in so often, and she recommended that I join the local chapter of the Crime Club. They’ve been my support group ever since. It’s been eight years since my cousin’s murder. I may never have closure for it, but being vicariously able to nail the culprit in a whole series of fictional crimes has helped me to deal with it.” She laid a comforting hand on his arm. “And besides that, it’s taught me something important. People are always wishing to live perfect lives. Sometimes they even fool themselves into thinking that they can. The fact is, life can’t be perfect because we’re not perfect. We’re all damaged in one way or another, and accepting that fact, forgiving ourselves as well as others for being flawed human beings, is the only way we can keep moving forward. People who never fail or make mistakes also never learn. They never become better than they were. I’ve got a gut feeling about you, Larry Holmes.”
