Give Murder A Hand: Lizzie. Book 2 (The Westport Mysteries) (4 page)

“Sounds good ... you can fill me in on the details then.” I smiled,
leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

After Molly left, I had a quick tidy up and
then ducked to the shops to buy a cake for afternoon tea. I didn’t exactly
inherit Mum’s cooking abilities so I thought buying one was best. I locked Cat
in my bedroom and waited patiently for Molly to arrive. I knew she was here
when I heard Harper scratching at the door to get in. I opened the door and he
immediately ran to the kitchen looking for a treat, his tongue hanging out the
side of his mouth and his eyes bright with joy. Harper was a rescue dog and a
present Danny and I had given Molly for her birthday. He no longer resembled
the skinny, dirt-stained dog we had purchased, but was now brilliant white,
fluffy and bordering obese.

“Hello, beautiful boy,” I said, bending down to scratch behind his
ears. “Do you want a treat?”

“No!” shouted Molly. I stopped and looked up at her.

“What?”

“Please don’t give him any treats. He’s on a diet. Mike the Vet got
quite cranky at me last week when I put him on the scales.”

“Surely one little treat won’t hurt?”

“According to Mike, one treat is equivalent to a Big Mac, so he’s
now on a special diet of dried biscuits.”

“Oh you poor boy,” I said, bending down to pick him up. Snuggling
him under my arm, I thought that Mike was right. Harper was a little heavy. Molly
closed the door behind her and we wandered out to the back deck.

“Do you want a coffee or a cold drink?” I asked Molly, placing
Harper on the ground. He immediately trotted off into the backyard.

“I’ll have something fizzy, if you have it.”

“Oh, you’d better get Harper back. We’re supposed to stay this side
of the Police tape.”

Harper had trotted back to the hole that started this mess. I left
them alone and wandered into the kitchen to put the cake on a fancy plate. Getting
a cake knife, plates and forks and pouring two cold drinks, I placed everything
on a wooden tray, along with a stray flower I’d picked from the front garden. Am
I domesticated or what?

Walking back outside, I looked at Molly. She was reading another
message and it looked to be a good one at that. “So are you going to give me
the details on Matt?” I asked, handing her a glass. Her cheeks turned a slight
shade of pink, as she put her phone down on the table.

“There’s really nothing to tell. We met through work and we hit it
off,” she shrugged.

“Have you gone out with him yet?”

“No, he hasn’t asked.”

“Molly! What’s that saying ...
take
my advice, I’m not using it
. Don’t you remember the advice you gave me
about Riley? You said if I wanted him then I was to go and get him,” I reminded
her.

“Yes, I know,” she grinned. “I’m just giving him some time to
realize how great I am.”

“Judging by the glassy look in his eye the other day, I think he
already does.” Molly giggled. “Don’t wait too long. He’s pretty cute
and
he’s on
TV so he’ll probably already have a fan club.”

“Hmm … I never thought of that. Maybe I should Google him? See what
I can find.” Just then her phone beeped again and she picked it up, her
attention now solely on it. Judging by the grin on her face, I’d say it was the
man himself on the other end of the conversation.

Waiting whilst she texted her response, my attention strayed to a man
who had wandered into my backyard. He looked about twenty, wearing
official-looking black trousers, white button-up shirt and matching jacket and he
led a pack of approximately ten people.

“And here we are,” he pronounced in a loud voice, his back to me,
facing his audience. This was followed but a lot of
ahhs
from the crowd. Two women who looked to be in their seventies,
huddled forward to the police tape.

“Umm ... can I help you?” I asked, standing and moving to the
steps. The man leading the group ignored me as he too stepped up to the tape.

“Now this is the location where the bones were exhumed a couple of
days ago,” he explained excitedly, as the two women pulled cameras from their
pockets and clicked away. I looked over at Molly, perplexed.

“Hello,” I called again, moving onto the grass. “Can I help
anyone?”

“Oh don’t mind us,” said another lady. “We’re just here on the
tour.”

“The tour?” I replied.

“Yes. The tour of Westport.”

“What tour of Westport?” I asked. Honestly I had never heard of a
tour of Westport and I’d lived here my whole life.

“Bradley,” she said, ”runs a tour of the historic sites of
Westport. It leaves the Wharf every Monday,” she explained

“Oh, okay.” I looked towards Bradley, realizing how young he really
was and then I looked around his group. I was sure every one of them was a
member of Grandma’s seniors group.

“Lizzie?” called Molly, leaning against the railing of my deck.
“What’s going on?”

“Umm ... I honestly have no idea, but Bradley runs tours. Who knew
Westport had tours?” I said, looking at her and shrugging my shoulders,
intrigued by this new information but actually annoyed by the invasion.

“Who’s Bradley?” she asked.

The lady next to me turned and looked at Molly. “He’s such a lovely
man. My friend Maud told me about these tours, and when I saw the news the
other night I knew I had to go on it,” she explained.

Meanwhile, Bradley continued his announcement. “As I explained,
this grave is approximately sixty years old and the very strange thing is that
they uncovered three hands. Now, I
am
privy to some information that others aren’t, and I found out that
the hand does
not
belong to the body.” He smiled, smugly, obviously very proud of
himself.

Well, it didn’t take a detective to work that out.

I made a mental note to call Officer Helms later and see what
information he had, and maybe ask his advice on how to keep unwanted visitors
out of my garden.

Molly moved to stand next to me. “But why is Bradley in your
backyard?” she asked.

I looked at the woman next to me.

“I told you,” she said. “It’s a tour!”

I sighed. “Bradley!” I yelled. Bradley stopped talking and turned
to look at us.

“I’ll be taking questions in a moment,” he said and continued
speaking to the crowd.

I didn’t really want to wait a moment though, so I pushed my way
through the small crowd, and stepped up in front of him.

“No, I’m sorry. I won’t wait a moment. What exactly are you doing
here?” I had no problem confronting Bradley. He didn’t look threatening, and I
had Molly as back-up.

Bradley looked at me, obviously deciding his tactic.

“This grave site could be of historic value to the town of
Westport,” he said. “People want to know what’s happening.” His fingers fiddled
with the hem on his jacket and I could see the sweat bead on his lip. I got the
impression he wasn’t as confident as he tried to portray.

“Well, this is private property, so could I see your permit to
conduct this tour, please?”

Bradley’s’ ears turned a slight shade of pink. “Well, I haven’t had
time to get the approval just yet. But my application is in,” he beamed.

“In with who?” asked Riley, who up until now had been hiding inside
the house.

“W ... well,” stuttered Bradley. “The Council?” It was more of a
question than an answer.

“I think it’s time you leave,” suggested Riley, pulling himself to
his full height. Now, I’m not sure how tall Bradley was, but six foot three was
a lot taller. Bradley quickly assessed the situation.

“Of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’re pretty much
finished here anyway.” He gathered his crowd and ushered them all to the front,
the disappointed sounds of ten senior citizens following him.

Chapter Four

The gossip grapevine had gone into frenzy
since my fifteen minutes of fame, and word of
the Westport Tour had spread. Believe me; the residents of Westport made the
most of it. Every day dozens of people filled my backyard, all standing around
the police tape, looking into the hole in the dirt. Not much happens in town,
so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

I had phoned Officer Helms and he’d informed me that I could get
the police to forcibly remove everyone, but in all honesty it felt like a waste
of police resources. And so long as they all stayed this side of the police
tape, then I guess no harm was being done. I was also pretty proud of myself
with the way that I was learning to trust strangers again. It’s funny how brave
I am when Riley’s not far away.

Today, I’d had errands to run for work, and when I got home I struggled
to get my Mini into my driveway. Walking around to the back of the house, I did
a quick estimation and guessed there to be about thirty people, all standing
around with their hands in their pockets or scratching their heads. I walked
over to them and looked down into the dirt. Maybe there was something in there
that was of great interest, but I couldn’t see it.

After a few minutes of looking, I concurred that my initial
thoughts of everyone having gone a little bit crazy were correct.

Bradley stood back and beamed at me. He was an annoyance but his
excited grin was pretty cute. He raised his hand and waved. I reluctantly waved
back, thinking how he reminded me of Harper – all bright eyed and happy. Turning
away from him and walking back towards the house, I noticed an old man looking
at my garage. My garage
is
a bit of
an eyesore. It’s single storey with a mezzanine floor made of the same timber
the house is made of. I worry every time we have a strong wind because I think
it may just fall down. I’ve only looked in there once and that was when I first
bought the place. I’ve been too afraid to go back in there since.

I looked back at the man and noticed he seemed lost in another
world, completely unaware that Bradley was now calling for the group to return
to the bus.

I was about to walk over to him and ask if he was okay when he
turned to look at me. I figured him to be in his eighties and he dressed very
much like some of Grandma’s suitors. I thought he looked quite sweet as he
stood, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his walking stick.

He noticed me staring at him and smiled, his nicotine-stained teeth
bared. He lifted his walking stick in a wave and limped towards the crowd now
moving down my driveway.

* * *

It didn’t take Grandma long before she heard
about the tours, so by Wednesday, I cleared my diary and invited her and her
friend, Eunice over to see the crime scene. Today had the advantage that it was
raining, which meant her visit would have to be taken from the safety of the
back deck. This was a godsend really as I was a bit concerned about her being that
close to a gaping big hole in the ground. Yes, I know we’re not supposed to
cross the police tape, but I really couldn’t trust Grandma all that much. I
truly love her, but seriously, even I find myself rolling my eyes when she’s
around.

Mum, Grandma and Eunice all arrived around morning tea time. I
heard the car pull into the driveway and opened the front door ready to help
them all into the house. I watched as Mum got two walkers out of the trunk and
pushed them round to her passengers. I stepped over the threshold and moved
towards them.

“Hi everyone,” I called.

Mum answered me with a sigh, as both Grandma and Eunice smiled and
pushed their walkers up the path, but not before they fought for first place.
Grandma won of course. I stepped aside so that she could pass, kissing her
cheek as I did so.

“Do you need any help?”

Grandma wore her new dress and once again, had her purple handbag
hanging on her arm.

“Well, I could do with Riley helping me into the house,” said
Grandma. “My arthritis is playing up today.”

“Your arthritis is in your hand,” called Mum, rolling her eyes as
she spoke.

“Humph,” said Grandma.

“He’s not here, sorry Grandma.

“Humph.”

“Let me take your bag,” I said, lifting her bag from her walker. I
felt my shoulder pull.

“What the hell is in this purse?” I asked, shocked at how heavy it
was.

“Grandpa ... he’s put on a bit of weight.”

“Grandpa died years ago,” I replied, confused.

“I know, but I take his ashes wherever I go.”

“Did you not want to put him in a lighter container?” Allowing them
all to go ahead of me, I closed the door behind us. “Where are you going?” I
asked as she shuffled her way through my kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re all dressed up. I wondered where you were off to
after this.” She stopped and smoothed her dress. “Nowhere ... just thought I
should respect the dead.”

Can’t argue with that, I guess. Mum followed everyone through the
house and out to the back deck, where they had a much better view of what was
going on. Mum sat down heavily on a chair and sighed.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“What do you think?” She really didn’t want to know what I thought.
“I’m worried sick about you.” She did actually look a bit tired.

“Nell,” said Grandma. “I told you in the car, dead people don’t
ever hurt anybody.”

“I know that, but someone made that body dead and then buried it in
the garden. I mean, who does such a thing?” Mum’s voice sounded awfully like
Minnie Mouse’s.

“Have you taken your tablets today?” asked Grandma, looking at Mum.

Mum responded by giving Grandma the evil eye. “I do not need
medicating,” she said.

I gave Mum a closer look and noticed her short curly hair was a lot
straighter today. At first I had thought it was because of the rain, but now I
wasn’t so sure.

“Everything’s okay, Mum,” I said, reassuringly. “No one is going to
hurt me. And anyway, I’ve got Riley to protect me now.”

“Yes, and thank the good Lord for that, but I would still feel
better if you sold this house.”

Yeah, so would I. “Also, I’m pretty sure that body has been there a
long time.” I didn’t want to admit that I was still pretty freaked out about
it. That would only add to Mum’s anxiety.

“Yes, but what if whoever buried it is still around?”

“Well they have no reason to come looking here. The body has gone
and so has the evidence.” I hoped I sounded a lot more convincing than I felt.

Mum huffed and folded her arms across her chest, obviously no more
reassured than before. Luckily I hadn’t told her about the blood.

“Lizzie, I’m leaving them here with you for a little while. I have
some errands to run and it’ll be easier on my own,” Mum said in a tone that
suggested this wasn’t negotiable.

“Sure. No worries.” For the first time since she’d pulled up, Mum’s
shoulders relaxed and a smile played on her lips.

“Thank you, Lizzie. I’ll make sure I bake a chocolate cake with
dinner this Sunday.” I gave Mum a hug and waved as she walked back into the
house, closing the door behind her.

“I bought some biscuits,” said Eunice, opening the seat of her
walker and retrieving a plastic container. Taking it from her, I opened the lid
and smiled at the smell of home-baked cookies floating my way.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, secretly happy she had.

“I’m never one to turn up empty-handed.” She smiled as she looked
at the group of people wandering around my garden.

Bradley, who was standing near the steps, grinned and waved. I
wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about his tours, but I had to give him points
for his enterprising spirit ... and points for the fact he hadn’t let Riley
scare him off.

Grandma shuffled over next to me.

“Do you want a biscuit?” she called to Bradley.

Bradley’s grin got bigger and he moved towards us.

“Oh yes, please. I missed breakfast today and I’m starving. I
didn’t know how I was going to make it to lunch.”

“You’ve got a bus load of senior citizens there. Surely one of ‘em
will have a packet of biscuits,” said Grandma. “Eunice here never goes anywhere
without hers.”

“Always prepared!” trilled Eunice.

An elderly man who’d been standing just behind Bradley looked up.
“That’s what I used to say when I was a boy scout. Long time ago that was
though, but it was a lesson I never forgot.” He gave us a toothy grin and moved
closer to Grandma. I looked down on him from my position on the deck and a
memory stirred. Now I’m not very good with names, in fact I’m pretty crap at
it, but I never forgot a face. And this man had a very familiar face.

“My, my ... you were at the front of the queue when good looks were
handed out, weren’t you?” he said, extending his hand up to Grandma. “I’m
George ... George Burnett.”

George looked to be in his mid-eighties, his hairline had receded
so much it was now pretty much non-existent, his skin sagged, his jowls sagged,
in fact everything sagged, and he pretty much looked like Droopy Dog.

He over balanced slightly as he propped his walking stick against
his body and took Grandma’s hand.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer,” she said. Her smile told me she was
sucked into every syllable he said though. “I’m Mabel Phillips,” she answered,
removing her hand and smoothing down her dress as she spoke.

I think Bradley had heard enough. He took his biscuit, grimaced at
George behind his back and moved away, but not before giving me a very wicked
smile. I gave up on being annoyed at him and grinned back. After all, he wasn’t
here to hurt anybody.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mabel. And is this your lovely home?”
he asked, gesturing to the house and garden.

“No. It’s my granddaughter’s. She was on news, you know?” said
Grandma, looking at me smugly.

“Ah yes ... I
do
remember
that news report, now that you mention it. How are you, Lizzie?”

He knew my name? My heart missed a beat and suspicion creeped in. I
didn’t like strangers knowing who I was. I bit my lip as anxiety stirred. How
did he know my name? I was positive the news report hadn’t named me. I’d
specifically asked Matt to leave it out. Maybe Bradley told his passengers who
I was. I took a deep calming breath and reminded myself not to over react.

“I’m fine, thank you.” It was then I remembered why he looked
familiar. I’d seen him here on another day. “You’ve been here before.”

“No, no I think you’re mistaken.” He bared his nicotine-stained teeth
and moved his attention back to Grandma. I was about to question him on it when
I heard Riley call. I moved inside wondering why George would have lied about
it.

Riley had returned from the hardware store and continued on his
mission to remove the overhead kitchen cupboards.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you return,” I said.

“That’s okay. Can you pass me the pry bar please?”

Pry bar? “Um ... sure.” I looked around the kitchen, hoping I’d
recognize it when I saw it.

“It’s in my toolbox in the hallway.”

“Oh, okay. I wondered why I couldn’t see it.”

I moved into the hallway and looked into Riley’s toolbox. It was
filled with a lot of different tools, only some of which I recognized. I picked
up the hammer and then instantly discarded it. Unless a pry bar was a type of
hammer. Was it? Who knows?

I put it down and continued to look through his tools. I found a
couple of screw drivers (I knew what they were), a tape measure, a funny
looking knife, some safety glasses (I’d have to ask Riley why he wasn’t wearing
those) a packet of chewing gum (spearmint ... my favorite), some metal grippy-looking
things, an old dirt bike magazine, an even older paper bag advertising Bartley’s
Bakery. I wasn’t opening that one. Who knew how long it had been there?

I quickly realized you could learn a lot about a man by looking in
his toolbox, but I was still none the wiser as to what the hell a pry bar
looked like.

“Lizzie, can you hurry up please?” called Riley.

I picked up two metal bars about as long as a school ruler. Were
these pry bars? I sighed and decided to take both bars back to him. I held them
up for inspection.

“The one on the right,” he said. He seemed to be supporting the
weight of the cupboard with his left hand and as he reached out to take the bar
from me, I saw that his shirt had ridden up which gave me a good view of his
hard abdominal muscles glistening with sweat. If only Grandma Mabel could see
him now.

“Thanks,” he said.

“My pleasure,” I said and genuinely meant it. Grandma’s laugh
carried in on the breeze. “Do you need anything else?” I asked torn between
wanting to watch him work a little bit longer and needing to get back to
Grandma. It wasn’t a good idea to leave her on her own for too long, even if
she did have a friend with her.