2 A Reason for Murder Read online

  I returned to my office, and opened up Facebook. I was half way through Inboxing Melissa to tell her that I had successfully (more or less) installed the one-way film, when I saw Julie's van stop outside my picket fence. I had no idea whether the film was, in fact, one way, as the man from the store had assured me, or whether she would see me, so I sat stock still in my chair. Unfortunately, I only had a carport so she would be able to see my old Ford and know that I was home.

  The inevitable constant loud knocking on the door came, accompanied by an equally shrill, "Misty, Misty, parcel!" I'm sure every neighbor in the street heard her yell.

  I continued to sit and held my breath. Soon I saw Julie's face peering at me through the window. I looked at her. Could she see me? I hoped not.

  My hopes were soon dashed. Her face broke into a wide grin. "Misty, didn’t you hear me call? I have a parcel for you!"

  I smiled a big fake smile, took a large gulp of my bubbly, and walked outside, thinking of all the horrible things I would like to do to the man at the store who sold me the expensive, allegedly one way, window film.

  I opened the door and Misty thrust an electronic device under my nose. "Sign here."

  "But I selected ''Authority to Leave without Signature,'" I protested.

  "Not for the parcel, silly, for the envelope." Misty handed me a parchment colored envelope with a British postmark. "Must be important," she said. "Do you know who it’s from?"

  "No idea," was all I managed to say before Julie spoke again.

  "Well, open it then."

  I groaned inwardly. "I'll open it later."

  Thankfully, Julie lost interest in the envelope and handed me the parcel. "It’s all soft, must be clothes, is it?"

  I nodded.

  Julie took a step closer to me. "I can give you the name of a good website for clothes. I'll bring it back with me next time I come. I bought a really a nice dress from them as I was going to renew my vows."

  I nodded again, but Julie kept talking. "I don’t know if I will renew my vows now; I might get a divorce instead. Craig spends all my money on games. You know I have two jobs?" Without waiting for me to reply, she repeated her story. "Yes, I have two jobs, but Craig spends all my money on games. Do you know he came home with three this week? That's over three hundred dollars. And then he has to have an Xbox and those other game playing things, whatever they're called, and always the newest ones. And he never talks to me anymore. It’s not as if he's a teenager, you know? He'll turn fifty this year. I thought only teenagers played those games. But he won't stop; he's obsessed. He never watches TV with me now; all he does is play those games. I've had enough."

  "That's awful," I said. "Well, I’d better go, Julie; I'm just home from work and I want to have a shower." I stepped back inside my door, and started to shut it, but Julie took another step closer.

  "If you don’t see me next week, it’s because I'm going to the coast. I'm going to the coast to think whether I can put up with him anymore. I just don't know if I can."

  I nodded, and closed the door a little more.

  "Of course, if we do decide to renew our vows, you're invited. Can't do it 'til next year, though."

  "Oh, there's the phone," I lied. "Gotta go. Catch you later, Julie." I shut the door, locked it, and leaned against it until I heard her footsteps leave, and her van start up. I let out a long sigh of relief. Then I walked inside and looked in my office window.

  Sure enough, I could see everything, so much for one-way mirror window film. I snorted with disgust and then went inside to look at the packet. It simply said, "Energy Control Window Film" and said its purpose was to block out UV light - there was no mention of one-way. I was furious.

  Anyway, my mood soon lifted as I was excited about my parcel. I pulled out the bikinis and the shorts. Of course, I had no intention of going swimming, none whatsoever. Bikinis and shorts, and even the skimpy dress I’d bought, were nice to wear around the house at weekends and after work, so long as no one saw me. I didn’t even intend to look in the mirror.

  I remembered the letter. I'd assumed it was from the lawyer or perhaps official papers from quarantine left over from when I'd recently imported Diva from England after I'd inherited her from my Aunt Bess.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter which was on thick, sepia-colored paper with gold edging.

  The return address was blocked out. It simply said, "Dear Ms. Sales, your first duty as Keeper is to solve the murder of Mr. Morgan Baxter of Morpeth, New South Wales, Australia."

  That was all it said. The signature was indecipherable - simply a scrawl.

  I was not at all happy. How could I solve a murder? I wasn't a detective; I was simply a journalist, and not even a crime journalist at that. Sure, I had solved Aunt Bess's murder, but I didn't intend to make a career out of it. Besides, with the little knowledge I had so far, nothing suggested that the Keeper's official job description was to solve murders. Why didn’t the Society simply hire a private detective if they didn’t want to use the police? And surely Morpeth was too much of a coincidence. How did the Society know that the magazine wanted me to write a story on Morpeth?

  I shrugged, muttered some rude words under my breath, and returned to my glass of bubbly and my computer. I at once searched for "Morgan Baxter murder." The search proved fruitless. How was I supposed to solve a murder when it had not even been reported in the newspapers?

  Even Diva seemed sympathetic, as she licked my bare toes. I dared not wriggle them away from her, as the last time I did that, she bit my big toe. This was not turning out to be my day.

  "As every cat owner knows, nobody owns a cat."

  (Ellen Perry Berkeley)

  Chapter Four.

  After getting hopelessly lost and having had to resort to the GPS on my iPhone as I couldn’t afford a Tom Tom on my salary, Melissa and I finally arrived in Morpeth. Cute, quaint, and about as old as you get for a white European town in Australia, the town of Morpeth looked like it was still in the pioneer days of the colonies. I expected to see a paddle steamer coming up the Hunter River at any moment.

  It was busy as would be expected on a Saturday morning, so I took the first car space I could find.

  "Coffee?" Melissa was a fellow addict.

  I pointed to the end of the street, to a tall building with a big sign, Campbell's Store. "I've had good coffee there before. They've converted the old Servants' Quarters to a Coffee Shop. We could kill two birds with one stone there, ask a few questions."

  Melissa appeared only to have heard the words "good coffee" and was already heading off in the direction of Campbell's Store at a fast walk. I locked the car, grabbed my handbag and hurried after her. We took a left turn off the main street down a paved alleyway which opened onto a courtyard. I nearly tripped over a frilled neck lizard, a big one. Thankfully it was one of the few native Australian reptiles that doesn't bite, and even it did, wouldn't prove fatal. In front of us was a sign, The Servants Quarters Tearooms, and the wall to the right was covered with tourist brochures. Melissa grabbed one of each and stuffed them into her tote bag.

  "Background information to pad out your story," Melissa said as she guided me to a glass table surrounded by wicker chairs. I wondered if I could work The Servants Quarters Tearooms into my story as padding, and pulled out a pen and paper to make notes about the overhanging ferns, the two Specials Boards, one of which was for desserts, and the Victorian period, restored cottage behind the courtyard.

  We both ordered coffee and told the waitress we needed it urgently, and would think about what to order for lunch.

  Melissa leaned across and spoke in a low voice. "Ask her about ghosts when she comes back for our order."

  "What will I say?"

  Melissa shrugged. "Just say, 'Do you know anything about ghosts in this town?'"

  I nodded. "Okay." I looked at the menu. "I can't decide between the Vegetarian Focaccia and then the Apple and Rhubarb Pie, or the Apple and Rhubarb Pie and then the Stick
y Date pudding."

  Melissa didn't even comment on that. She was well used to me having two desserts rather than a main and a dessert. Instead, she leaned across again and whispered, "Write down the menu."

  "What?"

  "Write this down: 'Vegetarian Focaccia: tomato, avocado, roasted eggplant with capsicum and cheese.' You have to pad out your story. Let's face it, if the ghost tour has shut down, you'll be scratching for material." Her voice lowered an octave. "Here she comes; ask her about ghosts!"

  Our coffees arrived - what a welcome sight - and Melissa ordered, and then gave me a meaningful look. I decided on the healthy option. "Vegetarian Focaccia please. Oh, and do you know anything about ghosts around here? Um, I mean, we wanted to go on the ghost tour, but we heard it shut down."

  The waitress did not look in the least surprised. "There've been a few ghost tours here that shut down, but there's a couple that do still run I think. The boss would know. He's away at the moment but he'll be back early afternoon if you wanted to come back. The lady at the front of the shop might know something about the tours."

  I nodded my thanks. "Oh, and is Morpeth a safe place?" I added. "Have there been any murders here lately?"

  The waitress was surprised by that. "No, we have no crime here," she said, giving me a long, hard look.

  "Why on earth did you ask about murders?" Melissa whispered when the waitress left.

  Of course I couldn’t tell her about Baxter Morgan, so I simply shrugged and drank as much coffee as I could to get my caffeine hit without burning my mouth. When my caffeine levels had reached the required minimum, I turned to Melissa.

  "Melissa, I'll just pop out to the front shop to ask that lady if she knows anything. Don't let them take my coffee; there's still a bit left."

  Unfortunately, the lady didn't know anything about tours, or murders for that matter, but did have a few books for sale on the history of Morpeth. I bought one. It was $30, but I figured it would be worth it to help me keep my job, and if I was careful with it, I could give it away later as a gift to someone for Christmas as well as use it as a tax deduction.

  Melissa at first didn't seem impressed with my purchase. "Thank goodness you're back; I have to run to the bathroom."

  Our meals arrived just as Melissa returned. "Anything useful in the book?"

  I shrugged. "I was hoping for some background stuff, but I found something you'd be interested in."

  "What?"

  I flipped to the page. "It has a few pages on the initiation ceremonies of local Aboriginal tribes, and the one that'll interest you is the Geringai ceremony. It says the youth to be initiated was covered in red clay, then there's another page of details, but the bottom line is that at the end of a long initiation, the head spirit man gave the youth a bag containing a clear quartz crystal wrapped in a piece of possum skin."

  Melissa sat upright. "You're kidding. What about that piece I wrote on crystals that Skinny refused to publish 'cause she said crystals are all New Age with no tradition! Well never mind that. Eat up; we have to find some good stuff on Morpeth ghosts so Skinny won't have any excuse to fire you."

  A few hours later and I still didn't have any information, good or otherwise. One store owner told me that the ghost of Elizabeth Campbell had been seen by many people walking up and down the top level of Campbell's Store and that a young girl called Alice drowned in the well behind the store.

  Another store owner told me that it was a young boy named Stephen Cantwell who had drowned in the well. Yet another person told me that a ghost named Alice walked up and down the top level of Campbell's Store.

  I was getting frustrated and thinking I would soon be jobless and homeless, when my luck changed, or so I thought at the time. The café owner had returned.

  "Oh yes, there are two ghost tours still running."

  I beamed.

  "Old Scotty runs one. It's historical. He dresses in historical clothes and carries a lantern. The bigger tour is more organized and run by Gavin King. I've got his card in here." He popped around the door and back and handed me a glossy, laminated business card. "I don't have a card for Scotty's tours. Scotty's tour is only late on Saturday nights, but Gavin's is on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights."

  It looked like I would keep my job and be able to pay the mortgage after all. Plus I might be able to find out about Baxter Morgan. I returned gleefully to my table, only to find it covered with brochures: Free Ginger Beer Tasting, Morpeth Accommodation, Tennis Resort, Morpeth Museum, Art Exhibition, Cruises, and they were just the ones on top. I picked up the accommodation brochure. "Melissa, do you have any plans for tonight?"

  Melissa's fork stopped midway to her mouth. "Why?"

  "Guess what; there are two ghost tours, and both on tonight. Can we stay overnight?"

  Melissa groaned. "You owe me big time for this!"

  "I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through."

  (Jules Verne)

  Chapter Five.

  Melissa and I stood shivering in the dark in Swan Street, the main street of Morpeth, clutching our newly purchased flashlights. I was also clutching a notebook and pen. I was glad that Gavin King's Ghost Tour started at 8 p.m. and the other tour at 11 p.m., as I would be able to do both in the one night. I needed to get back to my cat, Diva; she was furious when I went away. She was locked in my cottage with plenty of fresh water and a full bowl of Furball Control Cat Food, but she would have no one's legs to sleep on tonight. Besides, she still hadn't completely forgiven me for sending her to the vet to have two bad teeth extracted the previous week.

  It was a good clear night for a ghost tour. The stars were plainly visible and the moon was peeking through a few wisps of clouds. It wasn't dreadfully cold yet, but the air held the promise of a biting cold to come. I tightened my scarf around my neck and wished I'd brought a thicker jacket.

  Gavin King rocked up right on the dot of eight. He reminded me of a televangelist. "Welcome, welcome, welcome! Alrighty, let's get the payment out of the way first. Cash only please. I hope you will enjoy your time on the ghost tour. Please have your cameras ready to catch orbs. Expect to have your clothes tugged at by ghosts. This will be the experience of a lifetime!" Gavin waved his hands expansively, and then looked me up and down. "Now as you all no doubt know, this is Campbell's Store, our first stop. As you can see for yourselves, Campbell's Store is a two storey stone and brick building. This store was popular back in the day, and people came here from miles away to shop. James Campbell even had his own coins minted in South Africa when coins in Australia became scarce."

  Gavin paused to clear his throat, and then waved his arms around like windmills. "The ghost of a woman has often been seen upstairs, and we're about to visit the scene of one of the most recorded hauntings."

  I was puzzled. I did not sense the presence of so much as a single ghost. It stood to reason that an historical town like this one should have several ghosts. In fact, I expected the place to be crawling with them.

  Gavin was still speaking. "Morpeth is full of ghosts. In my intensive research for my book, which will be available next year, I've recorded all these ghosts in detail. Keep an eye on my website for updates. Soon you'll be able to pre-order the book." He waved his hands in the air dramatically. "A woman and a child have been seen in a clothing store just down this road, and in a nearby store, a boy moves shoes around, a woman appears in a store window, footsteps have been heard walking up stairs, and apparitions have been sighted at St James Church. I could go on and on."

  At this point I hoped he wouldn't go on and on. I was beginning to lose feeling in my toes from the cold, and standing around here listening to the guide's list of ghosts was boring.

  Unfortunately for me, Gavin pressed on. "My book won't be just about ghosts, as I'm a self-taught historian. There'll be a lot of history too. Morpeth was an important port in the early days, as it was at the head of the Hunter River. These days the river's all si
lted up here. At one point Morpeth had eighteen inns, five railways stations and eight wharves, not to mention an iron foundry and flour mill, and two steamship companies."

  Thankfully at this point, he started to walk and we all followed him. His voice droned on and on. "I'm sure you'll be surprised to know that some famous Australian companies had their start in Morpeth: Arnott's Biscuits, the major transport company Brambles, and the Soul Pattinson pharmaceutical chain."

  As he was talking, we were picking our way over the old flagstones which led to the back of Campbell's Store. Melissa pulled me aside. "Hey, he's fairly cute and he seems to like the look of you. Why don't you go for him?"

  I groaned. "Melissa, please!"

  Melissa snorted rudely. "Hmmpf. I know you like that guy, Jamie. Seriously, put him out of your mind; it won’t come to anything. He's in England and you're out here in Australia. And when did you last hear from him?"

  Melissa had a low opinion of Jamie, whom I'd met him on my recent visit to England. He was gorgeous, and looked like a slightly bulked up version of Simon Pegg, the English actor and star of such movies as the zombi movie Shaun of the Dead, and of my fave movie ever, Hot Fuzz. Trouble is, Jamie worked for an undisclosed government organization and I couldn't tell Melissa. I instead told her that he worked in I.T. It was either that or the greeting card business.

  I put on what I hoped was a convincing voice. "I told you, I'm not interested in him at all."

  Melissa snorted rudely. "Come on, this is me you're taking to. Besides, have you heard from him at all?"

  I shook my head. "He arranged for Diva to be sent over to Australia, as he was a friend of my Aunt's, as I've already told you, but I haven’t heard from him since then, and I don't expect to." Thankfully I was saved from explaining myself any further by our arrival at a mound of stones on the ground.