Xmas Marks The Spot (Merry Summerfield Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Page 9

  “I’ll fly them in,” he continued, “And he’ll lead them off into the wilderness and give them hell.”

  It was easy to imagine tall, tough John striding up impossible slopes and through impenetrable forest to make his team pitch tiny tents and cook what they’d caught or picked along the way. And wash in sparkling mountain streams.

  I particularly enjoyed the pictures the last thought produced. Lovely fit people, wet bodies gleaming in the sun. Although what did I know? Somewhere recently I’d read wartime sailors in submarines didn’t change their clothes or shower in months. Maybe John’s lot would live on boring survival rations and emerge from the bush as smelly as the big leg of beef in Graham’s car?

  And just like that I’d wrecked the scene I’d conjured up!

  Merry, you’re a dork. Why do you let your brain run on so far?

  “I’ll drop a bunch of kayaks in to them if they want to run some rapids on the way out,” Erik added.

  Once again I was happily imagining shoulders in sunshine…

  I watched as Paul handed the glasses of Merlot around. One corner of his mouth quirked as Heather had to let go of Erik’s hand so she could reach across for hers. Big brother was definitely keeping his eye on little sister.

  Erik raised his glass. “To the future,” he said.

  “And to making something for TV and YouTube that’ll have people flocking to you,” Heather replied, raising hers in return.

  Ah – so this was presumably what they’d meant by ‘frontwoman’ and ‘scenery’ and the other comments I’d managed to overhear.

  “Yeah, she’s no sooner landed in the country than I’ve stolen her,” Erik said, clinking his glass against Heather’s. “The gods of good fortune have dropped a beautiful actress into my lap, so I’d be mad not to make the most of her.”

  Paul sat back in his chair as though he had no intention of clinking anyone’s glass. He frowned, looking far from pleased at the prospect of Heather falling into Erik’s lap, literally or figuratively.

  “So what do you think, Paul-James?” Heather asked. “If we shot a family segment would you be willing to play Dad?”

  Paul gaped like a fish. “It’s hardly appropriate for a member of the clergy to turn up on TV advertising luxury helicopter tours!” He cleared his throat. “If it was fund-raising for Christmas hampers for disadvantaged people in the community that might be different.”

  Heather sighed, set her wine down, and left her chair to go and stand beside him. “You’re such a straight-laced soul, aren’t you, darling.” She patted his hair, which incensed him more than soothed him. “We’d just need a nice tall dark man leading his little pretend family down to a pretty river. Shot from the back. Your face would never show.”

  Paul attempted to swat her hand away, but she smoothed it down the side of his head and bent and dropped a kiss on his brow. “Merry can be mother, and Erik says his helicopter mechanic has some photogenic children.”

  Goodness – I hadn’t expected any sort of role! And doesn’t the camera add a lot of weight? My tummy turned over at the thought, although if they were shooting from the back no-one would know it was me. Maybe I could wear a disguising floaty top, or more likely force my curves into the dreaded Spanx. “Lisa the vet has lovely children,” I suggested. I knew how much Bailey, Mac and Pete would enjoy something like that; a free flight, and then to be slightly famous. “Two boys, one very pretty girl.”

  “That’s them,” Erik said. “Ten Ton’s kids.”

  Now it was my turn to look astounded. “Ten Ton Smedley’s your helicopter mechanic?” That didn’t seem likely. Enormous Ten Ton ran the Drizzle Bay auto repair depot and was constantly covered in grease and short of cash. Vet Lisa, his estranged wife, had the devil of a job getting any extra money out of him, and I happened to know she wanted some for a holiday sports camp for the children.

  “Air Force background. Good guy. Trust him with my life.”

  I’m sure my eyebrows rose. “You have to if he’s servicing your chopper.”

  Erik suddenly showed all his teeth in a blazing smile. “Quality friends or nothing, Merry.”

  Well, that didn’t sound like an evil assassin; it smacked of something a vicar might say in one of his sermons.

  “So you’ll do it, won’t you,” Heather said firmly to Paul. “Only back view. We have plenty of other arrangements to make yet. I’m sure the kids will be keen.”

  He shook his head in a kind of wonderment. “Heather, you’ve been here two days and already you’ve got yourself involved with a murder and an acting job. He cast a glance sideways at Erik. “And possibly a man. How do you do it?”

  Heather moved back to sit by Erik. “I’m not the least involved with the murder. And Erik and I have a purely business relationship,” she declared.

  I watched as he covered her hand with his again. Yeah, right. Purely business.

  “You forget, darling,” she insisted to Paul, “I spent the last ten years terrified Rob was going to die. I’ve been living at half-speed for ages. Worse for the last year after he was gone because I loved him dearly and miss him heaps.”

  Paul’s stern expression softened. “You have some time to make up for – I get it. Just… go carefully.” He glared at Erik. “And you look after her.”

  Erik inclined his head. So maybe peace had broken out between the two protective men? I couldn’t help wondering if anyone would worry that much about me. For sure my ex, Duncan Skene, never had. You couldn’t count Graham. Brothers have to.

  “I don’t suppose you’re free for dinner are you, Erik?” I asked.

  He narrowed his very dark eyes as he looked back at me “Could be, sure could be.”

  I sipped my wine. “I’ve made a big lasagna – just that and salad. It feels odd asking someone who owns a café to come to dinner. It won’t be anything special.”

  “Might be more special than you can imagine,” he said. One dark brow lifted. Surely he was referring to Heather’s company and not my cooking?

  (Although I did have Iona’s special Christmas pudding cupcakes, some of which might have a surprise in the center. They’d add a bit of class.) I was glad I’d bought one for Graham now, even though it looked like Erik would get to eat it instead.

  We sat on idly drinking and chatting as the sun slid lower in the summer sky. Erik was full of helicopter facts. Heather swung the conversation toward the TV commercial at every opportunity. Paul was far more occupied with arrangements for the Drizzle Bay annual Christmas community lunch to be held under the shop verandas.

  I wandered through to the kitchen every now and again, breathing in the hot oregano-and-tomato scented air, checking the state of the lasagna, and pulling it out of the oven once it was golden and bubbling on top. I’d cheated with one of those bags of salad, but chopped a couple of tomatoes into it and plenty of strips of the crunchy capsicums I’d found at the Mini-mart and some basil from the big plant that always does well on the sunroom window sill. It looked like quite a good effort by the time I’d finished.

  The Merlot might not have been super-compatible with the avocado and vinaigrette starters, but no-one complained. It certainly went superbly with the lasagna though. There were enthusiastic sniffs, and closed eyes, and blissful expressions on faces, so I concluded I’d done well enough. Or maybe it was because the rest of the wine had disappeared in a flash? “I can find another bottle of something,” I offered.

  Erik shook his head. “Not for me. Driving tonight, flying tomorrow.”

  “We’re walking,” Heather said, looking hopeful.

  “Come and see what else is in the pantry,” I said to Paul, and we went back to the kitchen together. Graham keeps the spirits in the cabinet in the big front room. I keep the wine in the kitchen – or sometimes in the fridge of course, if it’s white.

  And so the evening progressed – all of us, except Erik, with a little too much wine inside us. Iona’s Christmas pudding cupcakes were greatly enjoyed – especially by Paul
and Erik who each found a liqueur chocolate tucked away in the hollowed out centers of theirs.

  “How come the men get the treats?” Heather asked, sending Erik a flirty look.

  “Have a taste,” said, leaning across and planting a chaste but lingering kiss on her lips, which definitely ended with a flick of his tongue.

  “Mmm,” she said.

  Paul cleared his throat.

  No-one had ever kissed me as coolly as Erik did Heather. With no worries about anyone else looking on. Or as sweetly and slowly and downright hungrily. A little green-eyed monster started doing a jig on my shoulder.

  7 – Graham in a Good Mood

  “Coffee?” I croaked, just as the dogs erupted in a storm of barking outside. My ever-reliable intruder alarm! I pushed to my feet and then heard the back door opening. If that was Graham he was very early.

  And indeed it was. He’d no doubt seen the dining room lights on, because he came straight through to us. Manny and Dan pranced and whined and told him how much they’d missed him while he’d been in Melbourne, and to my surprise he pulled out one of the other dining chairs and sat, gazing around genially and looking flushed and relaxed.

  What?

  Don’t say ‘what’, dear, our mother chided me silently.

  “You’re early,” I said, as he rubbed the spaniels’ ears and thumped their backs.

  “Tail wind. They made up time. And Vic Farrington doesn’t have much regard for the speed limit. We shot home at supersonic speed.”

  I recovered my hostess manners after a couple of seconds. “You know Paul, don’t you, Graham? This is his sister, Heather, who arrived from England a couple of days ago for some sunshine. And Erik Jacobsen from the Burkeville Bar. Erik – my brother, Graham.”

  Hands were shaken.

  “You’re looking… cheerful?” I suggested. “Good conference?” Any other day my anti-social brother would have given curt nods all round and disappeared.

  “Excellent,” he said, and to my surprise he picked up the second wine bottle which still had a couple of inches left in it.

  “I’ll get you a glass,” I said.

  “I probably shouldn’t. Had a bit on the plane.”

  I looked back over my shoulder at him and grinned. “I think you should. You’re nice and relaxed on it.”

  He leaned forward and patted the spaniels again, talking nonsense to them and clicking his tongue, enjoying their adoring whimpers and licks.

  “Legal conference, was it?” Paul asked.

  Graham straightened. “Coastal properties. Climate change. Rising sea levels. Restitution and so on. Huge problems to follow, because both New Zealand and Australia have a lot of coastal settlements.” He glanced out at the ocean. “I’m glad this place is elevated a few feet and we have the road between us and the water. Should get us through until the end of the century.”

  I probably rolled my eyes. “There you go,” I said, handing his glass over. “Anyway, the car’s good now.” To be honest I was amazed he hadn’t dashed straight into the garage to inspect it when he arrived.

  “I’ll have a look in a mo,” he said, taking a swig of his wine.

  I caught Paul’s eye and shrugged. This wasn’t like Graham at all. Had he met someone at the conference who’d taken his mind off things?

  I decided to make the most of his unexpectedly good mood. “So how do you think anyone unlocked it? Bruce Carver thought it might have happened while it was parked behind your offices.”

  Graham swirled the wine around in his glass, brow furrowed. “It has to be because of Perce Percy,” he eventually said.

  There’s that name again.

  “Old client,” he added. “Goes back to Dad’s time.”

  I nodded. “Jim Drizzle mentioned him recently.”

  Graham gave Manny a pat on the shoulder. “I’ve been doing some work for old Perce. He came into the office again on Friday. He’s selling up. Retiring from farming. No-one to leave the place to.”

  “Is that going to mean another Chinese-owned dairy farm?” Paul asked.

  “Possibly, possibly,” Graham agreed. “Well, it’s finalized now so I don’t suppose it matters if I tell you. Yes, part of Devon Downs will be converted into a feedlot dairying operation.”

  “More cows, more methane, more pollution,” Paul said gloomily, sounding like a complaining local. Most of the Drizzle Bay farms have been mixed beef-and-sheep just about forever. The citizens are leery of change. I could already imagine the gossip around the shops and at the Burkeville. No-one would be pleased once this news got out.

  “Not all bad though,” Graham added. “Perce wanted to set aside an area of the farm in perpetuity so I’ve guided him through the Queen Elizabeth Trust process and now he has a nice piece of land protected forever. There’s a very pretty lake, and some wetlands. Interesting wildlife. Even a few Canada geese. Amazing cliffs and caves in some of the gullies.”

  “Sounds beautiful,” Heather said, and I could see the cogs turning in her brain. Unspoiled scenery for TV commercial. Lake, caves, birds, trees…

  “And of course not suitable for dairying anyway,” Graham added. “Too steep in places, too much forest. It’s an ecological corridor for some bird species, apparently, and all fenced off now.”

  “When do the new owners take over?” Erik asked.

  “Couple of weeks. The QE2 covenant is already finalized.”

  Erik glanced at Heather. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  She nodded, and turned her big blue eyes on Graham. “I’m investigating making a TV commercial which has a couple of scenes of a family enjoying a visit to the country. Paul will be the dad, Merry the wife.”

  Graham looked somewhat stunned and swigged more wine.

  “We’re searching for suitable settings,” she continued, “and this place sounds ideal. I can promise you it won’t be identified. No tourists overrunning it afterwards. One day’s work and we’ll be gone. Do you think we could check it out?”

  “No reason I couldn’t ask Perce,” Graham agreed, blinking at her estrogen-powered assault.

  “If it’s as lovely as you say?” she practically purred.

  I caught Erik’s slight grin. Goodness, she was good. Graham was toast.

  He straightened his shoulders and gave another slow blink. “Yes, I’ll call Perce tomorrow. I want to check on him generally because he seemed a bit dithery. It’s well time he gave up the farm and moved into the retirement facility where he’s bought a studio apartment. He tells me they have a decent bowling green and a Men’s Shed where the chaps can get away from the women.”

  “Peace at any price,” Erik agreed.

  “Dithery?” I asked.

  Graham set his empty glass down. “Bit of a mix-up with the cars. He’s bought the same model Mercedes as me, although I can’t imagine why he needs a big car like that.

  I smirked to myself. There’s only one of you, too, Graham.

  “And,” he continued, “When he left, he inadvertently picked up my smart-key from the desk. Toddled back upstairs again, apologizing profusely when he found it wouldn’t work on his car. But I’ve had time to think about this and I suspect he didn’t re-lock mine.”

  “You didn’t check?” I asked. Graham is so darned particular he comments immediately on any of my ‘sloppy habits’. Nice to have the chance to poke back at him for once!

  “No – er – well, you know how it is. The phone goes. The next client arrives. It leaves your brain...”

  This was delicious. Between a few drinks and Heather’s attention Graham was blushing like a schoolboy.

  Paul leaned forward. “But why would anyone expect his car to be in your parking lot? Always supposing the beef was intended for him and not you?”

  “It does seem more likely they wanted Perce’s car,” I said, pressing a finger down on a few stray crumbs of my Christmas pudding cupcake and transferring them to my tongue. “Maybe someone knew Beefy Haldane was working for Perce and wanted to send
a warning to him. Perce’s car is presumably locked in a garage out at the farm – and it would be too easy to spot someone tampering with it out there because I’ll bet the old boy’s nearby most of the time. Maybe they followed him into the village, hoping to somehow do it here?”

  “Bit of a long shot,” Graham muttered.

  “But your parking lot’s not overlooked because of that big sycamore tree.” I said. “It was just your bad luck that the cars are the same model and yours was unlocked. There had to be two men because it was huge and heavy. Two men carrying two corners each of that big piece of plastic it was laid on. Heaving it in and making themselves scarce in a hurry.”

  “Still seems flakey to me,” he said, bending down to fondle Dan’s soft chestnut ears. “But yes, I’ll concede it’s a possibility.”

  He was saved from any further grilling by a text arriving. He dug his phone out of his pocket and his eyebrows rose. “DS Carver, wondering if I’m home from Melbourne yet.”

  “Invite him around,” I unwisely offered. Really, if I drink more than two glasses of wine I lose half my common sense.

  Dan gave a regretful sigh as his ears were deserted.

  “My cue to be off,” Erik said. “Tasty meal. Good company.”

  Heather rose too. “I’ll see you to the door. Back soon.”

  Paul glared after them, probably picturing another kiss.

  Graham rang instead of texting. He never totally deserts his lawyer mode of wanting to get things settled and correct. The DS was ‘in the area’ and very keen to ‘drop by for a quick chat’.

  I took the opportunity to stack the remaining plates in a neat pile and set them on the sideboard on the tray. Better not disturb the lovers…

  And, astoundingly, only a minute or two later, the front doorbell rang and there he was. Had he been lurking around the corner?

  The spaniels did their customary bark-off, so Graham grabbed their collars and I answered the door, showing the DS into the dining room seeing that’s where Graham was. I sat down again, ready to be part of the discussion. Why not? It was me who’d found the quarter cow. Or bull.