Wicked Little Lies- Molly Page 17
“I know his every move. I know your every move. He needs to leave it alone now or there will be consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” My knees started to shake, and I leaned my hip against the counter for support. Lizzie frowned and mouthed ‘who is it?’
“If he doesn’t leave well alone then you will end up in the morgue lying alongside Paul Pritchard.”
I gulped and a little bit of wee came out.
The line went dead before I could respond.
“Are you okay?” Lizzie asked, taking my arm and leading me to a nearby seat.
Sucking in a few deep breaths, I attempted to stop the heart palpitations beating their own tune behind my breastbone.
That was scary.
As I recounted the phone call, Lizzie speed dialed Ed Helms, and handed me the phone.
Ed took the call very seriously, and by the time I asked him if the tracking device I’d found in my handbag was related to the caller, he was ready to have a police officer shadow me twenty-four seven.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I explained. “I no longer have the tracker because I gave it to Matt, so the caller doesn’t actually know where I am anymore. If the two are related that is.”
I could hear Ed grind his teeth despite the phone connection not being the best.
“Molly, I don’t need to remind you what recently happened to Lizzie.” He gulped. “I don’t want a repeat of that.”
“Me either.”
“Did you get the license plate number of the green wagon?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and sighed. “No. I should have but in the heat of the moment it didn’t occur to me.”
“Alright, but if you see it again, call me immediately.”
“I will. I promise. Ed, Matt told me that Paul Pritchard was murdered. Do you think this caller is the one who murdered him?”
“I can’t say.”
“Oh. Is this because of privacy laws or something?”
“No. I just don’t know the answer. Yet. But we will find out.”
I had no doubt they would. I just hoped it was before the caller followed through on their threat.
Chapter Seventeen
I leaned back on my hands and looked up at the heavens, all the tension of the day easing out of my shoulders. The stars twinkled bright against the inky night sky, the full moon dancing across the waves as they pounded against the shore filling the air with salt, as the breeze whispered through the palm fronds. The lights of the Westport Esplanade shimmered, and the sounds of laughter permeated my Zen like state as I wiggled my toes in the sand.
The beach at night was one of my favorite places.
Date night had been Matt’s idea. He’d brought a seafood basket and paired it with non-alcoholic wine (not quite the same as the good stuff, but I loved that he’d considered the babies). I had also peeked into the picnic basket and seen the large block of Turkish delight ready and waiting for dessert and I think I fell in love with him just a little bit more.
“Some day, hey?” he commented, offering me a prawn.
I’d already checked my app and knew seafood was fine as long as it was cooked, so I happily accepted his offering as Harper sniffed around the basket to see what he could find.
“Yeah. This is such a lovely way to finish it though.”
“I know you always feel relaxed at the beach.”
“That threatening phone call stressed me so much. Have you had any like it?” I asked, popping the prawn in my mouth.
“Yeah. I told Ed about it a couple of days ago.”
“What?” I spluttered, my half-chewed prawn landing in Matt’s lap. “You never mentioned it to me!”
“I didn’t want to worry you.” He casually flipped the prawn onto the sand before choosing a Moreton Bay bug to dig in to. Harper saw the opportunity gifted to him and gobbled the prawn before either of us could change our minds.
“Well I am worried. I’ve never had a call like that and it scares me.”
“Try not to think about it. It’ll just get your blood pressure up and that’s not good for you or the babies.”
I inhaled deeply into my diaphragm, filling my lungs with salt air. Allowing it to slowly release I let my anxiety go with it.
After doing that three times, Matt asked, “Feel better now?”
“A little bit. I’ll feel a lot better when this is all over and life goes back to normal.”
“Have you had any more text messages with photos of me not where I should be?” he asked, his cheeky grin widening.
“Not since the last one I showed you, but did I tell you about the woman in the green wagon disappearing into Lara’s rooms?” I asked him, choosing another prawn.
He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he dug into his seafood. I filled him in on what I knew so far.
“So, my stalker—as you call her—is a client of Lara’s also?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I wondered that, but when I asked Adele about her, she said the woman hadn’t gone in there. I was skeptical until I went back to my car and the wagon was gone.”
“Where do you think she went?”
“There’s that side door once you go into Lara’s rooms. I think she must have seen me following her and ducked in there. By the time I spoke to Adele, the woman had run around the back of the building and driven away.”
“Don’t stress Molly. Whoever she is, she’ll get bored and move on.”
“Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll find another celebrity to fall in love with.” My grin matched his.
He laughed yet I saw the tension in his shoulders.
“Have you got your DNA test results back yet?” I asked, accepting the glass of non-alcoholic wine he’d poured for me.
“No.”
“Surely they’d be back by now.”
“You would think so. Carol got her results days ago.”
“Have you called them and asked?” I prompted.
“Yeah. I called this afternoon, but Adele had already left for the day. The other receptionist Amy said the results were there, but when she went to open the file it was corrupt.”
“Well that’s weird.”
“She’s going to ask Adele about it, but she thinks they can just download the results direct from the pathologist.”
“Fingers crossed they tell us you and Grannie Carol aren’t related.”
“It’s bothering you a lot, isn’t it?” he asked.
I didn’t want to admit it to him, but it did. “I think when we know for sure then I can find peace with it.”
Matt turned to the ocean, staring at the horizon. “Do you know that in 1966 Westport had a population of nine and half thousand people. That’s not a huge population, but it’s a large enough number to have not expected you and I had the same Grandmother.”
“Yeah. What were the chances?”
Matt sighed. “It’s just bad luck, Molly. No one knew Carol had an illegitimate child, that she adopted him out, and that years later he would meet my mother and get her pregnant.”
“So, we have no guilt in this what so ever.”
“Exactly.”
The thought settled my mind, just a little bit.
“I’ve been looking into the records at the time of Darryl’s birth.”
I nodded, unsure what we could learn.
“I have a source who works for the records office at the hospital. She’s helped me out a few times when I’ve needed research done.”
“I thought this kind of information was private?” I didn’t like the idea just anyone could access my personal data.
“It is. She never gives me anything illegal.” He grinned. “But a patient can access their files, and as both Grannie Carol and Darryl are alive and well, if there was something I could learn from the archives then I had legal channels to access it. All Bronwyn tells me is if there is a path I need to follow, if you get my drift.”
“Clever.”
“I try my best.” He flashed a meg
a grin, pretty pleased with himself.
“But what are you going to learn from the records?” I queried. “You know Darryl was born there, and he was adopted. You know who the real mother is, and you know who the adopted parents are. What are the records really going to tell you?”
“Who the attending midwife was. I thought if there was some sort of issue maybe they would have some memory of it.”
“Did you ask Grannie Carol?”
“All she could tell me was there were two midwives on duty that day to one student, and they were very busy. She couldn’t remember any of their names.”
“Did Bronwyn help you find what you needed then?”
Matt swiveled onto his hip to look at me, his eyes bright and animated. “Kind of. Here’s the strange thing. In Westport General, hospital records are destroyed after ten years if the record has been inactive. This happens for birth records after twenty-eight years.”
“So, the records have been destroyed.”
“Yes. Well those records have, but Westport General kept a Birth Entry Book dating as far back as 1947. It listed every birth, the mothers name, the sex of the baby, date of birth, time of birth and the weight of the baby. Plus, it shows the signature of the attending midwife and the doctor who signed off on the birth.”
“What’s so strange about that?”
“The record book from 1966 has disappeared.”
“Whoa. When did it disappear?”
“Bronwyn wasn’t sure. She said she’s been in the records department since the late 1970’s and she’s never seen it, and the records show it was never sent to the archives.”
“Do you think it’s misfiled?”
Matt shook his head. “I asked the same question, but she said her predecessor was pedantic about the records. She worked with him for nearly ten years, and apparently he was OCD about everything. She doesn’t believe he was capable of making such a mistake and besides, the book hasn’t turned up in any of the searches she’s made since then.”
“Did you ask the guy’s name? Maybe we can track him down and see if he remembers anything.”
“Yeah. Are you ready for this?”
I frowned but nodded.
“It was Paul Pritchard. The same guy who wanted to spill all the hospital secrets.”
I gasped as alarm bells rang in my ears.
“Matt, this is huge!”
“I know. It sounds like this book is a missing piece of evidence.”
“Evidence of what, though?”
“That’s what I would like to know.” He grinned, the reporter in him excited about a story.
“Do you think the book was stolen from the hospital?”
“When Paul Pritchard called me and wanted to talk to me about all of this, I did some background research. I learnt that his job in the records department was the only job he held, and when he retired, they gave him a watch for his service. He never married, had no known children, and didn’t have very many friends. Bronwyn mentioned he was a bit eccentric and didn’t gel with a lot of people. But he was good at his job. I believe if the book was stolen then he would have reported it at the time.”
“Then how would he have lost something like that?”
Matt rested his chin in his hand, his lips pinched. “That’s a good question.”
The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, bathing the ocean in its cool light. Using my handbag as a pillow, I laid my head back and stared at the clouds allowing my mind to wander over the possibilities.
Matt sighed and laid beside me.
“Matt, do you think he would have the book? After all, you said he wanted to speak to you about hospital cover ups. He could have taken it as evidence.”
“But Bronwyn said the book went missing a long time ago.”
“Maybe it’s something he’s kept, waiting for the opportune moment.”
“Possibly.”
“Come on,” I coaxed, sitting up. “Surely a man who is OCD about everything wouldn’t contact you unless he had something to back up what he was going to say?”
“We’ll never know,” said Matt, sounding more dejected than I’d heard him in months.
“Maybe we will.”
“How? He’s dead, remember? Dead men tell no tales.”
“Exactly. Which sounds a lot like a good reason for him to have been murdered. Have you spoken to Ed about this?”
“Not about the book, but I have spoken to him about the story.”
“Great. Let’s assume Ed doesn’t know about it yet then. This means if the book is still around, we have a good chance of seeing it before it goes into evidence.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“If I’d taken that book all those years ago, I would have kept it somewhere safe.”
“Like a security box at the bank maybe?”
“Possibly. But if I had arranged to speak to you about the story, I would have the book close at hand.”
Matt nodded, following my theory. “So, you’re guessing the book is in his home.”
“Ahuh.”
“Okay, let’s think this through. If Pritchard had the book at home, and we believe he was murdered to stop him talking about the cover ups, then what’s to say the murderer didn’t take it?”
“What’s to say they even found it? You know what I think?” I was on a roll, theories tumbling over each other as I pieced information together in my mind.
“It looks like you’re about to tell me.” Matt smiled.
“I think we need to go and take a look.”
“Break into his house?” Matt gasped.
“Sssh. Not so loud,” I hissed. “We don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”
“Molly, this is real life. People don’t just break into houses.”
“Sure, they do. You report it on the news daily.”
“Okay you got me there. But we don’t break into people’s houses,” he protested, waving his hand between the two of us.
“It’s not like anyone’s there. You said he had no family and no friends. My money is on that house is empty.”
Matt sighed and laid back on his hands.
“Do you want to know what that book says?” I pushed.
“Of course, I do.”
“And what happens to the book if the police find it first?”
“It’ll go into evidence and it’ll be years before I could learn what’s in it.”
“Exactly. So how important is it that you learn who the attending midwife was at your father’s birth?”
Matt chewed his bottom lip. “Very important. I need to find an explanation for the whole blood type issue. I know how much peace you would have if there was a way to learn we’re not related.”
****
I wasn’t sure how much Paul Pritchard got paid working for the health department, but if I was judging it based on his house alone, then I figured it was a lot.
Hidden behind the tall immaculate hedges was a grand home sprawling in front of us. The timber Queenslander was surrounded by verandas on all sides, the wrought iron railing painted a bright white. A large fountain stood in the middle of the path that led to the front door, the manicured gardens highlighting its stateliness. Thankfully it was situated in an older part of Westport where the blocks of land were larger, placing the neighboring home a good acre away.
I grabbed Matt’s hand as we stuck close to the hedge and tiptoed towards the rear of the house, the silencing of the Cicada’s the only clue to us being there.
We’d left Harper sleeping on the back seat of the car, the windows down far enough for him to get all the evening air he needed. The full moon lit the way as we looked for a way to get inside, keeping to the shadows as much as we could. I was grateful I’d brought my sweater as it not only protected me from the cool breeze that had whipped up, but it was also black, disguising me a little bit more than Matt’s bright yellow shirt was doing for him.
“Is that...?” I froze as the police tape came into view.
I shivered as we sidestepped it and made our way towards the steps leading to the back door.
“This is a pretty fancy house,” I whispered.
“He inherited it from his parents. His father was a prominent doctor in Westport and from what I learned the family made a lot of money from investing in the growth of Westport at the time. This was their reward.”
“Paul Pritchard—an only child then?”
“How did you guess?”
The timber decking on the veranda creaked under our weight, making me jumpy.
“Remind me who’s idea this was,” I asked, my fingers tingling from the tight grip I had on Matt’s hand.
“Yours,” he stated, his tone definite.
“Why didn’t you talk me out of it?”
“Are you serious?” he asked, spinning to face me. The bullnose covering of the veranda shielded us from the light of the full moon, and I couldn’t make out his expression. Which was probably a good thing.
“How do we get in?” I asked, choosing not to respond to his question.
“We’ll try the doors and windows. If they’re not open, then we’ll look for a key hidden in the garden somewhere.”
My gaze fell to the grounds behind us and I really hoped Paul didn’t lock his windows as I had no idea where we would even start looking in that garden.
The rattle of the door handle brought my attention back to Matt. His sigh told me getting inside wasn’t going to be that easy.
Still there were a lot of windows left to try. As Matt moved to the nearest one, I stepped around him and tried a few others.
My gloved hands made it a bit trickier to jiggle the casement window as my fingers kept wanting to slip on the painted surface, but after the third window I felt one give.
“Matt. Matt,” I loud whispered. “I think this one will open.” The thing with old wooden windows is that they stick, due to the frame changing size depending on the weather, but with a bit of man handling you can get them open.
Matt moved in behind me and took over jiggling the frame. With a bit of strength, it lifted.
I sucked in a breath both jubilant and scared at the same time. This was a good idea when we were safely sitting at the beach, but the reality of actually doing it was a whole different ball game.