Give Murder A Hand: Lizzie. Book 2 (The Westport Mysteries) (14 page)

My mind reeled with Ed’s words and immediately jumped to Allison.

“What else did you have to show me?”

“Hmm?” I could see Allison doing something like that. She could
have easily slipped in the door when no one was around and sprayed the walls
with fake blood. She already knew that I was scared in this house so why not
amp up the fear a little bit more?

“You said there was something else you needed to show me,”
continued Ed.

“Oh yeah,” I said, snapping out of my daydream. “We found some
diaries. I think you’ll be really interested in what’s inside them.”

We moved into the kitchen and Ed sat down at the makeshift table.

“This house certainly has a lot of secrets,” he commented, looking
around.

“Yeah. Sometimes I wish I’d never bought it.” I sighed and sat down
heavily on the chair opposite Ed.

“If you hadn’t bought this house, we never would have met.” Ed gave
me a look that could have scorched the floor. I felt my face flame as Riley
walked in to the room. I saw his jaw flex, but he extended his hand to Ed.

“Hello again,” he said, with a forced smile.

“Hi, Riley, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

I had the distinct impression it was anything but a pleasure. I was
really unsure what was happening, so I busied myself getting up and making
Riley his coffee. As I stepped into his zone, the air filled with the smell of
a fresh shower. I smiled.

“So, where are the diaries,” asked Ed, switching to official mode.

“Oh ... um ...” My brain muddled at the smell of Riley and mentally,
I shook myself.

“I left them in the lounge. Would you wouldn’t mind grabbing them
Lizzie,” asked Riley, smiling at me.

“Sure.” I had the impression Riley didn’t want to leave me in the
room alone with Ed for too long. I quietly walked past him and moved through
the door to the hallway. The air in here was much cooler and I felt relief wash
over me. I hadn’t realized the kitchen had become so hot. Picking up the
diaries, I moved back to the kitchen. I attempted to hand them to Ed when the
pile slipped and they fell forwards. I went to grab at them, lost, my balance
and crash landed into Ed’s face, breasts first. And as I had a scooped neckline
on my t-shirt, Ed seemed to have a face full of my cleavage.

I think Riley will be wishing that he’d got the diaries himself,
now.

“Oh my God! I’m so, so sorry,” I spluttered, attempting to stand
upright.

I felt Riley’s hands around my waist as he pulled me back to
standing. My face flamed and I wondered if a person could actually die from
embarrassment. Ed didn’t seem to mind though. He had a big grin on his face ...
until he saw the thundercloud on Riley’s. He coughed, and bent to pick up the
diaries.

“It’s okay, Lizzie. No harm done.”

“No. I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, don’t be embarrassed. Things like this happen
to me all the time.”

I had a moment of wondering if women threw their breasts in his
face accidently or if it were more purposeful than that.

“Anyway,” said Riley, unimpressed, “if you turn to the last diary
and read the entries for the last couple of months, you’ll see why we thought
you should see them.”

Thankfully, Ed turned his attention to the diaries and flicked
through them, skim-reading as he went. When he came to the entry date August 28,
he stopped and read more intently.

“Well, that explains what happened I guess,” he said, looking up
from the pages. “Now we just need to find out who LGB is. The coroner did lift
prints off of clothing on the body, but we haven’t been able to match them to
anybody at the moment. He’s probably dead by now, anyway.” Ed sighed and stood
up as his radio crackled. “That’s for me,” he said adjusting the volume so he
could hear it better. “Thanks for handing this over to me, Lizzie. I’ll stay in
touch and keep you informed of anything we find out about the blood. If it
happens again, call me straight away.”

Ed adjusted his gun belt and I followed him to the door. As he
moved into the rain, I waved him goodbye.

* * *

The following Sunday it was dinner as usual at Mums
house. It was always a noisy affair and today, the only difference to any other
Sunday was that Grandma had invited her boyfriend George, and Molly had been
forced to invite Matt.

As soon as we arrived, I could tell Molly was
on edge. Not that I blamed her. Personally, I would have introduced Matt on
another night – like the winter of 2040—but maybe it won’t be such a bad thing.
With Grandma and George, Matt may just sneak in under Mum’s radar without too
much interrogation.

“Hi Mum,” I said, kissing her cheek as I walked past. “It’s a full
house tonight.”

Mum gave me a tight smile, her cheeks flushed and her hair standing
slightly on end. Maybe she was rethinking her idea of introducing Matt to the
family tonight too.

“Lizzie, I can’t do everything. You need to help me.”

“Sure, Mum. What do you need doing?”

“Well, you can lay the table for me. Use the good cutlery, please.”

Geez, Mum only got the good cutlery out on special occasions. Tonight
must be pretty important to her. I wondered who she wanted to impress the most—Matt
so he’d marry Molly; or George so he would take Grandma off her hands.

“Also,” she added, “your grandmother is your responsibility
tonight. If she plays up, it’s your fault.”

“Oh puh-lease,” I said, rolling my eyes. “As if I can control her.”

“Well, try ... and don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”

I moved to the cupboard where Mum kept the good china and cutlery,
and pulled out what we needed. Taking it all to the dining room, I laid the
table as best I could—considering we were squashing ten people around a six-seater
table. I guess it would be ‘elbows in, everyone’.

Re-entering the lounge, I found Grandma holding centre stage with
George sitting alongside her, looking love struck. Dad had his head buried in
the paper. I guess he was unimpressed with her storytelling.

“Hi, George, we meet again.” I smiled.

Riley moved to him and extended his hand to George. “How are ya,
George?” George took his hand and shook it. As he did, I noticed the white
cotton gloves wore and wondered about it. George must have followed my gaze, as
he coughed and gave me a coy smile.

“Sorry about the gloves,” he said. “I have a skin condition.”

“Oh, that’s okay. No need to explain,” I said, slightly embarrassed
I’d been caught staring.

Grandma seemed undeterred by my rudeness though, and continued on
with her story about Westport ‘back in the day’. I remembered what the old guy
at the pub had told Danny.

“Hey Grandma, how good is your memory?” I asked.

“Sharp as a tack,” she replied.

“Do you remember a story about an illegitimate child being born at
my house?”

“How long ago?”

“About sixty years or so.”

“Hmmm, let me think ... there was a bit of a scandal back in the
late forties, but I don’t know whether the girl had the baby or not. I don’t
remember where she lived. I just remember a story going around about a girl who
was raped and got pregnant from it.”

“That’s terrible,” said Molly. “What happened to her?”

“Don’t know. Do you remember that, George?” Grandma asked, turning
to him. Up until now he’d been pretty quiet. “You would have lived here back
then.”

“No, no sorry, Mabel. I didn’t live around here then.”

“What about Ronald Smithson? Have you ever heard of him?” I asked. George
shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I remember him,” said Grandma, her face animated. “He was a
butcher—liked to cut up more than cows, if the rumors were true. I remember him
because he used to stuff things. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, wanted to
take our dog, Spot to him to get him stuffed. Once he’d died, of course. Spot
probably wouldn’t have liked it much if he’d been alive.” She swished her false
teeth around, remembering. “Anyways, I didn’t go for it much. I think once
you’re dead you should be buried, not left on the mantle-piece for everyone to pat.
‘How would you like it if I did that to you?’ I said to Grandad.”

“What was his reply?” asked Danny.

“He just told me we’d need a bigger mantle-piece.”

“Why do you want to know about Ronald Smithson?” asked Riley,
frowning at me.

“Oh ... um ... Ed told me that’s who the bones belonged to.”

“Ed?”

“Yeah.”

“So he’s Ed now, is he?”

“He told me to call him that.” I shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Riley looked back at me, his thoughts unreadable. “You are staying
out of this aren’t you, Lizzie?” There was an undertone of warning to Riley’s
voice, one I probably shouldn’t have ignored.

“Yep,” piped in George. “It’s best to leave the past in the past. That’s
what I say.”

“I couldn’t agree more, George,” replied Riley.

I wondered if he was referring to more than the story of the bones.

“Dinner’s ready!” called Mum, not a moment too soon. With the look
Riley was giving me, things were starting to get hot in here.

We all moved to the dining room and found our seats. I will say it
was very squashed, but somehow we managed to all fill our plates.

“George, why don’t you tell us about yourself,” said Mum.

“Not much to tell really,” he replied.

“Rubbish,” said Grandma, her potato falling off her fork. “You’re
just being modest. Why don’t you tell everyone how you were a single dad before
it became fashionable.”

“Now, Mabel. Nobody wants to hear about my boring life.”

“Of course we do,” said Grandma, enthusiastically. I looked around
the table and thought George was probably right.

“I had a daughter, but she passed away during childbirth. I took the
child and raised it as my own.” George shrugged.

“That’s so sad,” said Mum.

“It all worked out okay. My granddaughter and I are very close.”

Mum glared at the three of us. “I’m sure
one
day I’ll know what that feels like,” she mumbled.

“What happened to your wife?” asked Matt, speaking up for the first
time. Actually to be fair to him, I had seen him trying to add to the
conversation, but every time that he went to say something, someone else beat
him to it.

“My wife?” asked George.

“Yes. The mother of your daughter.”

“Oh ... um ... yes ... um...she died as well. Giving birth also.” George
shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I wondered about it.

“You poor man. You never remarried?” asked Mum, horrified.

“No, never met the right woman after that. Anyway enough about me. Pass
the potatoes will you please, Mabel.”

“How old is your granddaughter?” asked Mum. She was a sucker for a
sad story.

“What? Oh, she’s thirty two.”

“Does she live locally? Lizzie might know her. They might have gone
to school together.” Mum smiled at the thought that the world was really much
smaller than we gave it credit for.

“No, no, she doesn’t live here. She lives somewhere else. Mabel,
please pass the bloody potatoes will you,” he added sharply, dropping his fork
to take the bowl she was holding.

Geez, obviously he really liked potatoes.

“Have you found anything else out about the bones in your garden,
Lizzie?” asked Matt, looking at me.

“Kind of. Riley found a hidden room under my shed. He lifted the
floor and found a box full of diaries and a cat.”

“What kind of cat?” asked Danny.

“What kind of room?” asked Matt.

“Who put it all there?” asked Molly.

What was this – twenty questions?

“It was a stuffed cat, a secret room and I’m guessing Avis,” I
answered.

“What did the diaries say?” asked Danny. “Were they filled with
secret affairs?”

“Did they tell you who put the body in the garden?” asked Andrew.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, they did.” I smiled.

I heard the appropriate gasp go around the table.

“Well, who did it?” asked Danny, impatiently.

“Someone with the initials LGB.”

“Who’s LGB?” asked Danny.

“We don’t know. It just said LGB. Apparently he raped Avis, got her
pregnant and when Ronald Smithson—owner of the bones—confronted him, there was
a fight and Ronald Smithson cut off his hand. LGB returned later date and
killed him.”

I watched as George moved his hand under the table and squirmed in
his seat. Maybe my story was making him uncomfortable.

“So all we have to do is find out who LGB is and we’ll have the
case solved,” said Danny, curiously.