Drowned Vanilla (Cafe La Femme Book 2) (22 page)

Jason was staring with his mouth open. Possibly I was too. ‘You paid off my girlfriend so I wouldn’t leave town? That’s — sick.’

On the bright side, it looked like Avery Senior hadn’t been sleeping with her. Possibly that was little comfort to Jason right now.

‘She was more than happy to take the money,’ Greg sneered. ‘Which only goes to show what kind of girl she was.’ He turned away from Jason, addressing his remarks to Bishop. ‘I had expected her to release my son from their relationship long before she returned to Flynn for the holidays, but she did not. That final payment was given on the understanding she would end what remained of their arrangement.’

‘She picked a fight with me,’ Jason said, wondering. ‘That day. She checked her bank balance at the ATM, and then she turned around and picked a fight with me for no reason, and I got mad and yelled at her about lying about where she was living, and the other bloke … but that wasn’t true? None of it was true?’ He shook his head, looking gutted. ‘The last thing I said to her was that I couldn’t stand to look at her. She was dead a couple of hours later, and that’s the last thing she ever heard me say. Because of
you
, Dad.’ His whole year was unravelling, making less sense the more closely he looked at it.

I knew what it was like, to have everything you thought you knew come apart. To find out something you valued was based on a lie. And, oh bloody hell, I was doing the same to Bishop. Wasn’t I? Pretending everything was okay, that we were okay, that I hadn’t been freaking out about whether or not we were getting too serious, or not serious enough. And the second I wasn’t with him I had thrown myself at one of my best friends.

‘I have a question,’ said Shay French in a quiet voice. ‘If my sister didn’t have an older boyfriend on the side, then who was the bloke in the lake?’

Good question, Shay. Excellent question. ‘I have a theory,’ I said, but no one heard me because Constable Heather came marching back out of the house, looking even more pissed off than when her tyres were torn out. ‘You know that search you wanted me to do?’ she said.

‘Yes, that would be good,’ Bishop said impatiently. ‘Any time now.’

‘No, I’ve done it.’

He didn’t look around. ‘You were only gone five minutes. Do it properly.’

‘Well, I already found the spade used to inflict head wounds on Annabeth French and Malcolm Drake before they died, a set of clothes with bloodstains, and this.’ She held up an evidence bag containing a gun. ‘Not that I’m not willing to look for more evidence, but I think that makes a good start, don’t you?’

21

From: Darlingtabitha

Would it be possible to create a scone with jam and cream entirely out of ICE CREAM?

From: Nincakes

Why are you planning ice cream catastrophes at four in the morning?

From: Darlingtabitha

It’s when I get some of my best inspiration.

From: Nincakes

GO TO SLEEP I HATE YOU

Bishop turned very slowly, and stared at Constable Heather. I’d never realised before that she had such a dark sense of humour, but it didn’t surprise him.

Of course, just because she saw the humour in the situation didn’t mean she was actually joking.

‘The spade and clothes are still in the shack?’ Bishop said finally.

Heather nodded.

‘I have a call to make,’ he said.

‘Yes, Sarge. Thought you might.’

It was still a shock to the system, hearing Bishop called Sarge. There was a small quiet hurt inside me that my dad hadn’t lived to see his protegé finally get that promotion he’d been working for.

My dad really loved Bishop. I don’t know if that helped or hindered us getting together in the first place, knowing how much he would have approved (probably) of us being together. It was definitely a factor in me keeping my crush good and (mostly) hidden for the first decade we knew each other.

I can’t help thinking that either Dad or Bishop or both of them would have pushed me a lot harder to resolve the ‘girlfriend’ question, in that particular alternate reality. But maybe that wasn’t being fair to either of them.

Jason Avery’s life was falling apart in front of my eyes, and I was wrapped up in thoughts about my love life. Way to go, Tabitha.

Bishop moved away and punched numbers into his phone, speaking in a low voice. Heather, caught between a desire to supervise us, and her duty to protect the evidence inside the house, hovered in the space in between.

‘Excellent searching,’ Xanthippe said cheerfully.

‘I thought so,’ said Heather with a hint of smug.

‘Do they send you on a special course for that?’

There was a crash inside the shack. Heather swore, and ran back into the house. Xanthippe ran after her, and after a moment’s hesitation, I followed. I heard Bishop giving strict orders for the others to stay where they were, before he came after us.

We entered a main rumpus-style room. There was an old couch there, but it was obvious no one house proud had been living here for some time.

There was a hole in the ceiling, and French Vanilla lay crumpled on the floor, her skin bone white. She wasn’t blonde any more, her hair a more natural looking brown, though it had to be a dye job — you don’t lose blonde that fast. Also, she had possibly broken her leg.

‘Hiding in the crawl space in the roof,’ Xanthippe said knowledgeably. ‘Don’t blame yourself for missing her, Heather. All that evidence at once would distract anyone.’

‘It did make me kind of giddy,’ said Heather. ‘Alice Conway?’

She had a last name. And the police knew what it was. How could I not be impressed?

‘Yes?’ Alice said in a small voice, her whole body shaking. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘You’re wanted for questioning in regard to the deaths of Annabeth French and Malcolm Drake,’ Heather said gently. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Alice. Xanthippe came over to hold out an arm, and Alice managed to stand. ‘I think I’m okay. Ow!’

‘If we were to ask you why you were hiding in the roof,’ said Bishop, behind me. I respected the fact that he wasn’t taking over Heather’s arrest, but standing back and letting her take point. ‘Would we like the answer?’

Alice pulled one hand through her curly brown hair. ‘I don’t know. What do you want me to say?’

‘Leave the difficult questions until later,’ I suggested. ‘She’s shaken up and has a distinct lack of lawyer.’

Bishop frowned, but he allowed Xanthippe and Heather to help Alice limp outside. Alice had tears streaming down her face, and by the time she stepped out on the gravel driveway she only had eyes for one person. ‘Jason, I’m so sorry,’ she said.

Jason sat on the ground, head in his hands, and I saw it, finally. The reason a kid of nineteen sits at the edge of a steep drop, gunning his engine and thinking about letting everything go.

There had never been any mystery here, and I was just too wrapped up to see it. The evidence only pointed one way.

‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ Jason said quietly, looking utterly hollow.

Shay stepped away from his mate so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. Stewart went to Shay, hand on his arm, talking in a quiet voice.

‘Don’t say a word, Jason,’ said Greg Avery. ‘Our lawyers…’

‘Did you kill Anna?’ Shay asked, his voice ragged, shaking with disbelief. He stared down at his mate as if he was looking at a stranger. ‘Jase, did you drown my sister?’

Jason looked up, eyes wide. ‘No. No way. I never — I would never.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Shay muttered, more to himself than to Jason or the rest of us.

‘He did it,’ said Jason. ‘That bloke. Drake. He killed her.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone that?’ Shay demanded. ‘You knew what happened to her, and you never … were you
there
?’

‘I killed him,’ Jason said in a whisper. ‘I didn’t mean to … but I did.’ He made a noise that was almost a laugh. ‘Can’t take it back.’

Greg Avery turned on Bishop now, howling and blustering about how he couldn’t possibly take this admission as evidence. The boy was upset and confused.

I let go of Alice’s arm. Let Xanthippe support her, if that was what she needed. Stewart was looking after Shay. I crossed the driveway toward Jason, knelt down on the gravel and hugged him, because no one else was doing it. He grabbed on to me like I was a lifeline, and I hugged him harder.

Maybe it wasn’t just for his benefit.

There was a long wait, for Bishop’s backup officers and cars to arrive. He wasn’t keen to let us all inside, though the evidence had already been well and truly disturbed.

Instead, we all sat out on the sunken patio at the back, which was in rather better condition than the house itself. Jason sat on the steps, Pippa sitting deliberately close to him on one side, and me on the other. Tellingly, his father kept his distance, pacing back and forth.

Alice and Xanthippe sat on the steps opposite Jason. Alice looked utterly broken, her hands constantly squeezing together in her lap. Ceege had chosen a step near Xanthippe, but I suspect that was more about symmetry than actual allegiance.

Stewart stuck with Shay like I was sticking with Jason. They sat up on the shady wooden deck, looking down at the rest of us. For a long time, no one spoke.

‘You said you had a theory, Tish,’ Xanthippe said, speaking across the patio as if she and I were the only ones here. ‘About the bloke in the lake? Malcolm Drake.’

I resisted the urge to point out that Drake rhymed with lake, because no one wanted jokes right now. ‘You remember that?’

‘I pay attention to the things you say. Never know when it’s going to turn out to be interesting.’

‘Please don’t discuss the case,’ Bishop said flatly. ‘The cars will be here soon, and we can get this sorted out at the station.’

Xanthippe gave him a withering look. ‘Just killing time, Leo. Don’t mind us. Pretend we’re not here.’

‘Okay, my theory,’ I said, because I would rather talk to Xanthippe right now than endure another minute of the police-appointed awkward silence. ‘He can’t have been Anna’s rich boyfriend, because she didn’t have one. She told Shay — and Alice — there was a rich boyfriend because it was her cover story for where the money came from. But I was thinking, there’s one other bloke in the story that we didn’t have a name for. Someone from the mainland.’

Stewart made a small noise of recognition, then smiled and shook his head. ‘Nice.’

‘Like Zee said,’ I told him. ‘You never know something’s going to be interesting. So it’s worth paying attention to details.’

Stewart nodded, and despite the crowd it felt like it really was just the three of us. ‘Alice was tryin’ tae get away from something bad at the start of it all. I thought there had tae be more there.’

‘There was,’ I agreed. ‘Alice, why don’t you tell it?’

‘Tabitha,’ Bishop warned in a low growl.

I felt more myself than I had in months, and I wasn’t going to stop now. ‘Don’t pretend like you’re not as keen to know as the rest of us. Alice? Was Malcolm Drake
your
boyfriend?’

Alice hesitated and then nodded. More tears blobbed down her nose. ‘I was scared of him,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I was … I ran away from him. I kept running. I became Annabeth to get away from him completely, as completely as I could.’

‘And then you went intae a house full of webcams?’ Stewart said dubiously.

Alice looked surprised. ‘Of course. I had to be Annabeth, not Alice. Alice would never do something like that. Malcolm would never look for Alice in a place like that. I didn’t just dye my hair blonde and start wearing cardigans. I turned myself into a completely different person. It worked, too. It wasn’t The Gingerbread House that led him to me. He had no idea.’

‘Then how did he find you?’ Xanthippe asked.

‘Annabeth,’ Alice said quietly. ‘I didn’t realise — it never occurred to me that she would use
my
name, when she went to drama school. She used her own name for all the formal stuff, applications etc. But she chose Alice Conway as her stage name. She didn’t even tell me, or I would have warned her.’

‘What would you have warned her about?’ I pressed, ignoring the look Bishop shot me. He wasn’t in control here. Hell, no one was in control. Until the cars arrived (and Heather had already enlisted Ceege to clear the driveway of the evil little caltraps, so hopefully these mythical police cars would get here unscathed) we were all stuck here together. Might as well find out something about the events that had led us to this particular place and time.

‘That he was dangerous,’ Alice said quietly. ‘That he wouldn’t stop looking for me. That performing under my name was a way to make herself vulnerable. It wasn’t much, maybe a review or two online of a couple of plays. Enough to come up in a Google search.’ She shook her head. ‘She was the only one who knew where I was, and he must have got the information out of her somehow. I don’t know if he threatened her, or just tricked her. But that day, the power went out at The Gingerbread House, and I went to check the fuse box, and he was
there
.’

One mystery cleared up, at least. ‘What did he do?’ I asked in a low voice, my eyes on her. I was a step or two above Jason, and couldn’t see the look on his face. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But I reached out, and patted his shoulder so he’d know there was someone there.

Alice swallowed, looking miserable. ‘He grabbed for me, and I ran. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. I made it to the garden shed, grabbed the first thing I found, and when he came for me again, I hit him with it. And I kept hitting. I wanted him to leave me alone, I wanted him…’ She swallowed again, darting a look at Bishop, who had a blank expression on his face.

‘I thought I’d killed him,’ she said finally. ‘I wish I had. Then no one else would have ever got involved.’

‘So wha’ happened next?’ It was Stewart who prompted her that time. I couldn’t get a read on whether he believed her or not. Maybe neither. Maybe he was just unbiased and non-judgemental, like a journalist was supposed to be.