Any Given Sundae (Australian Amateur Sleuth Book 5) Read online

  “What is the number one question?” I asked.

  She laughed again. “Why quolls?”

  I smiled, but stopped when I noticed Sally was still looking sadly down at the table. I thought that maybe she was shy and that talking to her might just make her even more uncomfortable, but thought I might as well. “What do you do, Sally?” I asked politely. She looked up at me with a shocked expression and took a moment to compose herself before replying.

  “She’s my wife,” Roland replied, as though that were an answer to my question. Sally looked sadly down at the table again and sighed softly. “I’m a noted quantum physicist,” Roland announced proudly, going so far as to puff out his chest as he spoke. “I’ve taken up a post as a Visiting Fellow at the university in Pharmidale.” He smiled lasciviously at me the entire time he spoke, and I felt immediately repulsed by him. Sally was still looking sad, though I considered that she looked a lot happier than I would if I had to be married to Roland. I noticed that Prudence was hanging off every word he said, with a huge smile plastered across her face. Cressida was listening politely, and Mr. Buttons seemed to be rubbing at a tiny smear on Roland’s jacket, much to Roland’s confused embarrassment.

  “I see,” I replied coolly. I didn’t know Roland very well, but I’d already decided not to like him.

  Prudence and Roland appeared to be flirting shamelessly with one another as the night dragged on, much to Sally’s ire. I tried in vain to cheer her up, but it was clear that she didn’t want to talk. The awkwardness was broken by the unlikeliest hero as Dorothy burst into the room brandishing a serving spoon.

  “I heard you complaining about the food!” she yelled, pointing the serving spoon at Mr. Buttons as though it were a gun.

  “I didn’t complain about a thing, you great oaf,” Mr. Buttons retaliated as he stood. “You just want to start some drama,” he continued.

  Dorothy turned around, I assume to accuse others, when a horrified look crossed her face, as though Mr. Buttons had accused her of killing more than just the meal. She clearly then decided that the best course of action was to scream every profanity imaginable, as well as some I’m sure must have been invented on the spot.

  Roland butted in. “You look familiar,” he began, “although the person I had you confused with was much younger. Still, it was years ago.” Dorothy glared at him, but he continued. “I’m sure the food is wonderful, but I have a rare condition known as hypogeusia. It means I have a decreased ability to taste food. It’s a congenital thing.”

  As Roland’s voice droned on with mention of T2R taste receptor genes in his tongue and other less than gripping facts, Dorothy and Mr. Buttons faced off.

  “All right, that’s enough!” Cressida snapped. She jumped to her feet. “You two need to stop fighting, because you’re both here to stay. So get used to each other, because there are no other options, and it’s upsetting Lord Farringdon.”

  Mr. Buttons sighed and sat back down, and Dorothy just marched back out of the room in a huff. Sally watched her leave with a confused expression on her face, and I noticed that Roland and Prudence were looking intently at one another.

  Eventually, the guests left for their rooms one by one. Roland and Sally were the exception, leaving together, though Prudence followed closely behind.

  “I don’t like that Roland,” I admitted to Cressida and Mr. Buttons as we walked to the front door.

  “Why ever not?” Cressida asked. “He seemed nice enough to me.”

  “No, he was flirting with Prudence—and with me too, for that matter. It was creepy! His poor wife, Sally, looked so upset,” I explained. Mr. Buttons nodded sullenly.

  “Oh, he wasn’t flirting,” Cressida said, smiling. “He’s just like that.”

  “A notorious flirt?” I asked. I wasn’t at all surprised that Cressida hadn’t noticed, but I was still annoyed by it.

  “They have already had quite a loud fight,” Cressida added.

  I was confused. “Who?”

  “Why, Roland and Sally, of course.” Cressida leaned down to stroke Lord Farringdon. “They had an awful row just after they checked in.”

  “Come on, Sibyl, it’s time to go,” Mr. Buttons said calmly. “I think it’s been a strange night for all of us. I’ll see you tomorrow for our walk?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I agreed.

  I walked back to my cabin alone, hugging my jacket tightly against the icy wind. I couldn’t stop thinking about poor Sally. Her marriage reminded me of my own, but at least I was well out of it now. I hurried on to my cottage, the warmth of my fire beckoning me.

  Chapter 3

  “Wonderful day, isn’t it?” Mr. Buttons asked happily. I considered that I should slap him, or perhaps have him assessed by a professional. Mr. Buttons and I were walking through the freezing cold morning frost with Sandy in tow. It couldn’t quite decide whether to rain or snow, so light falls of both alternated. How anybody could consider this ‘wonderful’ was utterly beyond me. I shivered violently and considered sprinting back to my cabin, but didn’t want to leave Sandy behind. Plus, I wasn’t sure if my muscles would work quite right in this kind of weather.

  “What do you think of the new boarders?” I asked, desperate to take my mind off the cold.

  “I agree with you about Roland,” Mr. Buttons said sadly. “I don’t think that’s a marriage that will last. Excuse me for saying so, but I hope it doesn’t. Poor Sally seems like she deserves better. I heard them screaming at each other last night about his mistress.”

  I tried to stop my teeth chattering long enough to speak. “She accused him of having a mistress?”

  Mr. Buttons shook his head. “No, poor Sally already knows about his mistress. From what I heard, he has insisted on having an open marriage for some time, but Sally doesn’t want that. He told her that his mistress was coming to town soon and that Sally would have to face facts.”

  “Poor Sally! Actually, I called her last night to invite her over for an ice cream sundae this morning. I felt like she could use a friend here,” I explained, smiling. I’d called her right after dinner the previous night, and she had answered at once. She sounded friendly enough, if a little distracted. I figured that Dorothy had said something to upset her, as I’d called the front desk, had the misfortune to speak to Dorothy, and had asked to be put through to Sally’s room.

  “Sibyl, that’s very nice of you, but have you considered that an ice cream sundae might not be the best idea in this kind of weather?” Mr. Buttons gestured to the frost all around us as Sandy found a heavy patch to roll in.

  I felt myself blushing a little. “I actually hadn’t considered that,” I admitted. “But I could add hot fudge, and we can have a hot chocolate with it, or something.” I shrugged. “Honestly, it was just a way to talk to Sally in private, or at least without Roland there. I don’t mean to be snooping so much, but something about their relationship seemed off, something apart from Roland’s shameless flirting. It reminded me of my own marriage. I just want to make sure she’s okay.” I sighed and then watched as my breath turned to ice.

  “I understand, Sibyl,” Mr. Buttons said warmly. “Now we should be heading back before you freeze entirely. You don’t seem to be handling the cold quite as well as I thought you would by now,” he teased.

  “I don’t think anybody could be handling this cold,” I said through chattering teeth. “I couldn’t have a hot shower this morning because the pipes had frozen solid. That’s not okay!”

  I put Sandy’s leash on her and we walked back to the boarding house, far too slowly for my liking. Mr. Buttons was enjoying the walk nearly as much as Sandy was, but I couldn’t wait to be back inside where it was warmer. I considered that maybe I should call off the meeting with Sally and instead book a meeting with my bed and a hot water bottle, but decided that talking to her would be for the best.

  Mr. Buttons and I said our goodbyes as he stepped back into the boarding house, and Sandy and I continued on to the cottage. As we approached the cott
age, Sandy barked furiously, tearing free from my grasp and hurtling toward the door. She scratched at the door and continued barking loudly. My heart froze in my chest.

  I seized Sandy’s leash and held it tightly, making sure she wouldn’t run at anybody in the house unless I wanted her to. I pushed the door and it swung open. It had been unlocked—this was the country, after all. No one locked their cars or houses around here. I swallowed nervously and entered.

  “Hello?” I called out. I figured that if someone was here to hurt me, they’d already have heard me enter, and anybody else would just respond. Unfortunately, there was no response. I crept forward slowly, struggling against Sandy who was pulling hard on her leash. I turned into the kitchen and gasped.

  There, on my cottage floor, lay Roland Cavendish. He was dead.

  Next to him sat a half-eaten ice cream sundae.

  Chapter 4

  “Sorry, Sibyl, but it’ll take some time,” Blake explained apologetically. “We have to sweep your house for evidence and obviously move the body, but it shouldn’t take more than a day. In the meantime, can you stay there?” He motioned to the boarding house. We were standing outside the boarding house’s entrance as several police officers explored the inside of my cottage. I was too in shock to feel anything but the biting cold.

  “It should be fine,” I said weakly.

  “We’ll also have to ask you and the boarders some questions, of course,” Blake said with a sigh. “It was definitely poison, given his symptoms. Sibyl, how are you holding up?”

  “Better than most, I suppose,” I said. “I mean, I’m not exactly used to this sort of thing, despite how much it’s happened. But I’ll be okay, Blake, really. Thanks for asking.” I shot him the best smile I could, but didn’t maintain it for long. I sat on the front steps of the boarding house with a small sigh. “Do you know what killed him?”

  Blake shook his head. “Only that it was poison. Well, I’ll be back with Constable Andrews to ask everyone some questions, you included. Sorry to do it, but we don’t really have a choice, given the circumstances,” he admitted.

  “It’s fine, I understand.” I smiled again. Blake smiled back and walked in the direction of my cottage. I hugged my knees for warmth.

  “Come inside, Sibyl. I’ll make you some tea,” Cressida said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and nodded at her before following her inside.

  We were soon sitting in the dining room in front of a roaring fire. I nursed my tea in my hands, enjoying the heat.

  “Can you tell me exactly what happened?” Cressida asked. “I don’t mean to pry and I understand if you can’t talk about it, but I want to know what happened. All I know is that Roland was found dead,” she said sadly.

  Before I could reply, Mr. Buttons burst into the room. “Sibyl! Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I’m okay. Well, I’m not hurt, at least,” I said, cupping my head in my hands. “I found Roland dead in my home.”

  “I heard that much,” Mr. Buttons said, taking a seat next to me. “Are you able to talk about what happened?”

  “We were in the middle of that!” Cressida said.

  “After our walk, I went straight home. Sandy was barking, and I thought that maybe there was an intruder in the house. I went inside to find Roland lying on the ground next to an ice cream sundae,” I explained, though I wasn’t sure if it made any more sense to them than it did to me. “He’d eaten most of it, and Blake said he’d been poisoned. I’m sure the detectives will suspect me.”

  Cressida raised her eyebrows. “An ice cream sundae?”

  “Yes. What’s worse is that I’d invited Sally over later to have an ice cream sundae, though she wasn’t even meant to be there yet. I hadn’t even prepared the sundae, so it’s all quite a mystery. I’m not sure if the police know where Sally is.” I sighed again.

  “I think she’s still in her room,” Cressida said. “The police went up there to deliver the news and I haven’t seen them in a bit. I imagine if she wasn’t there then they’d be back by now.”

  “Oh, I hope she’s okay,” I said, as a wave of sadness washed over me. Roland and Sally didn’t seem like they were getting along so smoothly, but it would still be a horrible thing to lose one’s husband like that. At least, that’s assuming that she wasn’t the killer. A chill ran up my spine as I considered the thought. She seemed a likely suspect, but it was far too early to know.

  “The police want to question all of us later on,” I told them, though neither seemed surprised. “It’s Blake and Constable Andrews, so it’ll be friendly, at least.” I’d much rather be doing anything than being questioned about this, especially when I knew so little, but I also didn’t want to go home. Not for a long time, at least. All I could think of was Roland, just lying there. What had happened? Why was he even at my cottage? Who would want to poison him?

  “Let either of us know if we can do anything to help, dear,” Cressida said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure it’ll all work itself out,” she continued in a less than convincing tone, though I appreciated the attempt to make me feel better.

  Mr. Buttons, Cressida, and I sat in silence for at least another hour, though it might have been more, before Blake and Constable Andrews came to question us.

  “All right, we’ll need to talk to all of you and ask you some questions. Cressida, could you please gather all the boarders and take them into the front room? Mr. Buttons, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to follow her while Andrews and I question Sibyl,” Blake explained calmly. Cressida and Mr. Buttons nodded before heading off, and Blake and Constable Andrews sat opposite me at the dining table.

  “Sorry about this, Sibyl.” Blake’s tone was earnest. “I’d love it if we could hold off or just not do this questioning thing at all, but it’s important that we do.”

  “I understand, don’t worry,” I said calmly. “Ask away. I’m afraid I probably won’t be too much help, though.”

  “Just try your best,” Andrews said.

  “Sibyl, how did you discover the body?” Blake asked.

  I had already explained this when I’d called him, but figured it was more of a formality than anything. “I came home from a walk with Mr. Buttons. We were out walking Sandy...”

  “Sandy being your dog?” Andrews asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said, nodding. “Anyway, I walked back here with Mr. Buttons and then went straight home. Sandy was barking at the door when I got close, and I thought that maybe someone was inside. I called out but didn’t hear anything, and then I went in and saw Roland lying on the floor.”

  “Was the sundae there when you arrived?” Blake asked.

  “Yes, it was,” I said. “I’d invited his wife Sally over for an ice cream sundae later today, but I haven’t seen her at all since last night. I imagine it’s all related, though,” I admitted. I didn’t want to place blame on Sally just because of the circumstances, but I trusted Blake not to jump to any conclusions.

  “Why did you invite her over?” Andrews asked.

  I swallowed nervously before answering. “Well, because she seemed to be fighting with Roland at dinner last night.” I realized my answers were clearly implicating her, but then again maybe she really had killed Roland. “She seemed somehow sad or distant all throughout dinner. Honestly, I only met her last night, so I don’t know if that’s even out of character, but I thought I’d try to cheer her up a bit.”

  Andrews looked up from his notes. “Who knew you had invited her?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I mean, Dorothy answered the front desk phone and I asked to be put through to Sally, so Dorothy could’ve listened in. And I suppose Roland knew, too.”

  Blake smiled at me as I explained it all, though Andrews kept a neutral expression. It seemed more and more obvious to me that Sally might have had a hand in what happened.

  “Can you tell us more about what happened last night?” Blake asked as Andrews scribbled something in his notebook.

  “Well
, not much, to tell the truth,” I said simply.

  “Every little bit could help. Try not to miss any details,” Andrews said without looking up from whatever he was writing.

  I took a deep breath and spoke. “Well, we were all having dinner to greet the new boarders. There was myself, Mr. Buttons, Cressida, Roland and Sally Cavendish, and Prudence Paget. Oh, and Dorothy, who was cooking. It was an uneventful night, more or less. I noticed that Roland was flirting with Prudence, despite being married to Sally. He tried flirting with me, too,” I added, noticing that Blake’s eye twitched as I mentioned it, “though of course, I didn’t respond. Prudence, on the other hand, was happily flirting back.”

  “Did anything else happen? Anything at all?” Andrews pressed.

  “Not that I can think of,” I admitted. “Oh, well, Dorothy and Mr. Buttons had a bit of an argument, but that almost goes without saying nowadays.”

  “What was it over?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t know, really. Dorothy came in screaming that Mr. Buttons was complaining about her food, though he hadn’t been. Dorothy’s just like that, I suppose. I can’t imagine what this has to do with Roland, though. Roland, Sally, and Prudence weren’t involved in the argument at all,” I explained with a shrug. “Oh, and Roland said he had a genetic condition that means he can’t taste food. I can’t remember the name of it.”

  “Thanks, Sibyl,” Blake said warmly. “You’ve been a big help. Now I’m going to call in the others one at a time. Would you ask Cressida to come in, please?”

  As I left the room, it dawned on me that I might seriously be a suspect in the case, given that a man had been murdered in my home. I opened the door into a solid object, and saw Mr. Buttons and Cressida there, listening in. They signaled to me to remain silent. I nodded, and whispered to Cressida that she was to go in next.

  As soon as she was through the door, Mr. Buttons and I put our ears to the door, while Lord Farringdon meowed loudly and scratched at the door. It was hard to listen at the same time as trying to stop Lord Farringdon giving the game away. Finally, Mr. Buttons stroked Lord Farringdon while I listened. Cressida spent her time stressing that the murder technically occurred outside of the boarding house, and that if and when the media caught wind of it, then the police should emphasize that fact. Blake tried his best to explain that he had very little control over the media, but Cressida just kept insisting until eventually Blake agreed to do his best.