Murder, Wrapped Up Read online

  Every building, every house, every... everything in town was painted white. The one exception was my Inn. I’d fought with the town board before they let me paint it a summery yellow color. A lot of my guests tell me it really makes the Inn stand out.

  That’s not hard to do, when every other place around us is white.

  See, the history of Lakeshore goes back to the first colonists here in Tasmania. Back then, Australia was used as a dumping ground for Britain’s criminals and it was old Lieutenant Governor Collins that’d been in charge of keeping them in line.

  He didn’t always do such a good job.

  Whole groups of prisoners escaped and became bandits. They were called Bushrangers, and they made their living from robbing and pillaging. A group of them came through Lakeshore, burning most of it to the ground before they left. When the residents rebuilt their town they whitewashed everything because it was the cheapest solution.

  Mayor Percy Brown is a stickler for tradition. To this day, we keep everything white as a nod to our history. Except for my Inn, of course, but that place has its own sort of history.

  The town has grown since the days of Collins and the Bushrangers. A lot. Parking on Main Street is always a little iffy. Tourists take up most of the public spaces along the curbs. The Thirsty Roo looked like it was doing a good turn of business today. It’s the only bar in town, which could have a lot to do with it.

  Might have something to do with its new owner, too.

  I checked myself out in the mirror behind the sun visor before going into the pub. The freckles across the bridge of my nose made me look younger than I am. I’m young for my age anyway, and I’ve heard guys around town say I’ve got the body of a twenty-year-old. I’ll take that compliment. Not that I’m in the market for a compliment. Or a man. Had me a husband once. Until he up and left me without so much as a Dear John letter.

  Besides, I have a boyfriend of my own now. A serious man. A good man. I don’t deserve him, or maybe he doesn’t deserve me, but either way we work great together. He tolerates my need to take things slow, and the way I put him off sometimes, and the way I’m not always there for him.

  God bless the man who can love Dell Powers.

  Anyway. I’m not trying to attract a man, but a good dose of feminine beauty never hurts when I’m asking for a favor. Men are always more willing to say yes to a pretty face.

  Especially this guy.

  So I touched up my lipstick, it can’t hurt to look pretty, and I got out of the car. I headed inside to talk to the owner of the Thirsty Roo.

  The pub sported a brand new coat of white paint. The awning was white, and the swinging half-doors on the entrance, and even the decorative kangaroo hitching posts in the sidewalk with their signs telling tourists to “Park Your Joey Here.” Tall windows to either side of the entrance had the name of the place spelled out in large and shiny stick-on letters. The Thirsty Roo had been a fixture in town for decades. The new owner had spruced the place up.

  A few locals were standing outside with schooners of beer in their hands. I knew them, and we traded hellos as I walked inside. Even in the low lights of the Roo, the owner wasn’t hard to find.

  Alfonse Calico. A tall man with a flashing smile and skin that was the deep, dark brown of hot cocoa. He had gold rings on each finger of his left hand, and three or four gold chains around his throat. He kept his white silk shirt open to the fourth button to show them off against his chest hairs. His scalp was shaved bald and kept glistening with tonic oil.

  All the flash and glamor of a has-been celebrity, here in our little town.

  He worked the crowd here inside his place like a pro. He was like a headliner in a sea of his fans, which really was exactly what he was. Or, used to be. Alfonse had been in one of the most popular singing duos in Australia ten years ago. Commonwealth had charted several hits before they broke up. After that Alfonse had a flash-in-the-pan solo career, I think. Had that one hit, In the Clouds. I might even still have it on my MP3 player.

  Inside the pub there was a long, polished countertop with high-backed stools lined up in front of it. Little bowls of pretzels sat out for the patrons sitting there watching the cricket test matches up on the television. Pretty sure it was a repeat from a few days ago. The next one, Australia against the West Indies, wasn’t until Boxing Day.

  There were six round tables scattered around the room, under the dim lights, and the people sitting at them were enjoying a beer and a plate of bangers or chicken wings. Every eye turned to watch me when I came in, then went back to watching the game on the screens.

  “Dell!”

  Alfonse’s deep, booming voice greeted me. He came toward me with his arms spread wide, like he wanted to give me a big hug. Not that I let it go to heart. He was like this with everyone—a little too comfy-cozy for my taste—but the tourists ate it up.

  He slapped his big hands together and turned that smile on me. “What brings ya here to my humble bar?”

  I really suspected his Aussie accent was laid on a bit thick for the tourists. Just wasn’t my place to ask.

  It’s not the first time I’ve been to the Thirsty Roo. Wednesday nights are Lady’s Night now that Alfonse had taken over. Me and Rosie came in sometimes to play darts and laugh about some of the silly things our guests had done.

  But the way Alfonse was acting, you’d think I was a rabid teetotaler who never touched alcohol. I enjoyed a good pint just like the next girl. I just usually preferred to drink at my own establishment. Preferably with my boyfriend. Not in a place that used paper napkins as placemats.

  “Hi, Alfonse.” I tried to match his smile but I knew I was a few thousand watts short. “I need a favor. Neighbor to neighbor?”

  “Anything for ya, Dell.” He began playing with one of his gold necklaces between a thumb and forefinger. “Only been here for a few months but ya know I call Lakeshore my home.”

  Then just like that he broke out singing a few lines of a song I recognized as one of Commonwealth’s greatest hits. The whole room went silent and listened to him sing about the girl who broke his heart. Alfonse played to the room, turning around slowly, meeting everyone’s eyes, flashing those teeth.

  All I could do was wait.

  When he stopped, it was to a round of applause and the appreciative thumping of mugs against tables. Alfonse bowed and hummed some more, reaching out like he just wanted to embrace each and every person around him.

  I had to admit, the man knew how to work a crowd.

  “Um, Alfonse,” I said after his third bow. “About that favor?”

  “Sure thing, Dell. Anything ya need. What can I do?”

  “We need to borrow your ovens.”

  “Can’t do that.”

  Just like that. Definitely not the answer I was hoping for. “What happened to doing anything for your neighbor? Alfonse, it’s Christmas!”

  “Not for five days yet.” He turned his palms up and managed to look apologetic even through the brilliance of his smile. “Dell, ya know I’d do anything I could for my mates. Specially in this, the season of giving. I really would. But I need my ovens. Have to keep my customers in bangers and mash. How can I do that if you and Rosie go cooking your girly frou-frou in them?”

  Frou-frou? Did he just say... oh, I was going to beat him to within an inch of his life!

  Then I noticed he was waiting, standing there expectantly, and I realized he would be more than willing to loan us his ovens. For a price.

  I put my smile back in place and leaned in closer to him. “Seems to me, a gentleman who just moved into town and wanted to keep in the good with the other businesses wouldn’t ask for more than a thank-you for helping out.”

  Alfonse leaned in with me. “Dell, ya have to understand. This is business, plain and simple. This place don’t run on my charm, ya know.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t.” It was hard not to like Alfonse. Really. He was always friendly and always willing to share a joke and a smile. But, that didn’t m
ean I was just going to roll over and let him take advantage of me. “It don’t run without customers, either.”

  One of his perfectly trimmed eyebrows arched itself up. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  Both of us were still smiling, but it was a thin mask we wore. “It means, I always tell my guests to stop by the Thirsty Roo for a drink and some wings while they’re in town. ‘Course, that could change. I might decide to start stocking my own bar more heavily at the Inn. Have some pub food, too. Might even install a big screen TV or two in the dining room to broadcast the cricket matches, and the rugby games, and the bloody World Series from the States. Won’t be much need for them to come down here if they can get it all right at the Pine Lake Inn, now will there?”

  His eyes got a little wider, and his expression slipped for just the briefest second before he brought it back into place. “Ya know, they warned me ‘bout Dell Powers. Said she was a hard one. Guess they was right.”

  I don’t know who “they” were, but whoever had told Alfonse those things about me wasn’t far wrong. I’m always there for my friends. I’ll do anything for someone who needs a favor.

  I’ve got no time for people who don’t want to be friends, or who just want to grab whatever they can for themselves.

  Alfonse stood back from me, his back perfectly straight, and gave me a curt little nod. “Dell, you’re one heck of a business woman. Just bring over what ya need to make your dinner. I’ll be sure the ovens are free for ya.”

  He turned on his heel, but not before giving me a wink. I didn’t know if that was a sign of respect, or a promise that he’d get me back for this. Either way it didn’t matter. I’d gotten what I needed for the inn.

  “That was very nicely played,” a man sitting close by at the bar said to me.

  He was an out-of-towner, dressed in a dark blue suit with a black and red striped tie. A black fedora sat on the polished bar next to him. It wasn’t the clothes that let me know he was a visitor to Lakeshore. Our town is so small that new faces have a tendency to stick out. His copper hair was several shades lighter than mine and he was pale enough that I doubt he got out in the sun very much. His eyes were a dark, dark green that I nearly mistook for black in the pub lighting. With a tilt of his head, he nodded at Alfonse, working the far side of the room. “Is that one always like that?”

  “He’s looking after his business,” I said evasively.

  The man waved a hand. “You don’t want to say anything bad about one of your neighbors. I can respect that. Didn’t mean to cause trouble, Dell.”

  That caught me a bit off guard. “Do I know you?”

  He shook his head, stepping down from the stool and took out a wallet from his back pocket. “Not yet. Like to get to know you better, though.”

  When he opened the wallet, there was a picture ID in a plastic sleeve on the one side, and a badge on the other. “My name is Jason Bostwick. Australian Federal Police.”

  He snapped the badge case closed, then picked up his fedora and set it square on his head, running a finger down the brim. “I think you and me should talk, Adelle Powers.”

  Chapter Two

  “Handled yourself pretty well over at the Thirsty Roo, I’d say.”

  Officer Bostwick took another spoonful of his stew and chewed for a moment. “This is really great. Your friend Rosie knows her trade.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “She’s the best. You haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  Over the past two hours, I had shuttled food and people back and forth between the Inn and the Thirsty Roo. The dinner menu had to be changed, but we made do, and our guests weren’t disappointed. Neither was Officer Jason Bostwick.

  We were sitting together at a little corner of the center prep table in the kitchen, behind the dining room. He’d set his fedora aside but he was still in that sharp blue suit. A little warm for the weather. Every time he took a bite of stew the buttons on his cuffs flashed a picture of a lion reared up on its back legs. Federal officers must be paid better than I thought.

  I told the staff to stay out of here for a bit. The ovens were cleaned up, finally, and they were serving a cheesy pasta bake out of warming trays anyway, so we had this room to ourselves. Rosie was fretting around from table to table out there, filling glasses and trying not to set anymore tablecloths on fire. Bostwick had asked if we could have a private conversation together and this was the best I could think of.

  The only other place we could really be alone would be my room, and there was no way I was bringing him up to my room. I could only imagine the rumors that would fly if I did that.

  So far the only thing we had talked about was the quality of Rosie’s cooking. True as that is, I had to believe a Federal police officer didn’t come all this way to Lakeshore just to sample my Inn’s food.

  “Look,” I said to him after he’d had a few more bites of the stew. “Officer Bostwick, I have an Inn to run, so can we maybe—”

  “Jason.”

  I blinked at him. He just sat there, tearing a roll apart on the stainless steel countertop. “Excuse me?”

  “Jason,” he repeated. “No need to call me by my title. Call me Jason. Can I call ya Dell?”

  “Officer Bostwick,” I said, on purpose. “You asked to talk to me. I’m here. You’re here. What can I do for the Federal Police before I get back to taking care of my own business?”

  He took his time with a drink of water. His eyes watched me over the rim of the glass and when he finished, he set it down, pushed his bowl aside, and folded his hands together on top of the counter. “Well, Dell, your little town of Lakeshore has been in the news a lot recently. I know your name was kept outta the whole mess but I can read between the lines, as they say. You were right in the middle of it all, weren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” I was really glad I’d dragged a chair back in here with me. Bostwick was going to take forever to get to his point. "I'm just the owner of this Inn. Not exactly worth a mention in the papers.”

  “Ah, c’mon, now. From what I saw of you in the pub, you’re more than a match for most.”

  “I take care of my business,” I said, totally lost. What did this man want from me?

  “That you do. What d’you think of Alfonse Calico?”

  “Alfonse? I hardly know him. He moved to town not that long ago, bought the Thirsty Roo, and now he’s just... wait. Why are you asking about Alfonse?”

  “No reason,” he told me, maybe a bit too quickly. “Just wondering. He’s quite the character. So. There you were today, taking care of your business. That sort of boldness is exactly what got you noticed by my department, as they say. Noticed by some other folks, too.”

  I drew a breath, and tried not to act as tired as I really felt. I knew what he was on about now. Noticed by some other folks. I knew exactly what folks he meant.

  Twice in the past year, I’d gotten involved in police investigations. Partly by mistake, partly on purpose. One time was an attack that put crazy old Arthur Loren in hospital. The other was the murder of my very close friend Jess. Both times, somebody from a shadowy crime syndicate had been involved. Both times, I’d kind of gotten in their way.

  The ‘Ndrangheta. Just like the Mafia, only worse. My son Kevin had arrested two of their, er, associates because of me. They weren’t too happy about it. I’d even gotten a phone call from one of the crime bosses letting me know they planned on keeping in touch. That had made me lose more than a few night’s sleep, sure enough.

  But they hadn’t bothered with me since last month’s little incident. Kevin had expressed the reason for it as plainly as I ever could. The newspapers had made a big deal out of what happened. With so much attention splashed on the town of Lakeshore, the ‘Ndrangheta wouldn’t dare do anything to me.

  At least for now. As long as I kept my head down and didn’t make any more waves.

  Good advice, especially now that my son had gone off to join the Federal Police. With him gone I doubted that I had
too many friends in our local police department. I probably couldn’t step sideways now without getting a ticket for jaywalking. Senior Sergeant Angus Cutter was a right git, and I wasn’t on his good side to begin with.

  Officer Bostwick was watching me, gauging my reaction to what he’d said. I cleared my throat as my hand found the wooden unicorn pendant on my necklace and held it tightly. It was the last gift that Jess had ever given me while she was alive, and it had become my good luck charm. I never went anywhere without it.

  “There’s been some trouble in town,” I admitted. “Not my place to talk about it.”

  That’s as much as I was willing to say. Ever since the arrests and the attempts on my life—yes, and don’t I wish I could forget those bits—there has been no end of newspapers hounding me for an interview. I’ve begged off from each one because I know the only way to stay off the ‘Ndrangheta’s radar is to keep my head down and not make waves.

  So I don’t say anything about it. Publicly. Except to my boyfriend. He’s in the newspaper business, too, and his articles about the things that happened here in Lakeshore are a little more complete than anyone else’s, because I’m there to sort of fill in the gaps for him. He’s smart enough not to print anything that will put me or the town in danger.

  What about Officer Bostwick, here, I wondered to myself. How smart was he?

  How much danger was he willing to put me in to get at what I knew?

  “Miss Powers,” he said, stepping down from the stool. “We know there’s been some trouble. All of Australia knows there’s been trouble here. From what I’ve heard tell, that’s why you’ve got such good business at your Inn. People love tragedy. They love danger, so long as they don’t have to get involved themselves.”

  I checked my little wristwatch. I’d been as patient as I could. “Officer Bostwick, why are you here?”

  “Well, funny thing. See, the Federal Police have a whole task force that investigates organized crime like the Mafia, the ‘Ndrangheta, the Hell’s Angels. We look under the rocks that no one else wants to turn over.”