“It needs a littlelesscharacter, if you ask me,” Evie mumbled. “But thank you.”
“Does this mean you’re closing up shop for a while?” Taya asked. “I’m still recovering from the trauma of my own renovation at the inn.”
“I suppose I’ll have to, although I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself.”
“You could take a holiday,” Penny suggested. “I highly recommend New Zealand. Rowan and I had such a wonderful time there—it’s beautiful in a completely surprising way.”
“Maybe,” Evie replied. “I’ve never gone on holiday by myself. It’s not nearly as much fun as going with someone else. That’s why I haven’t taken a trip in years.”
“You could go on one of those organised tours that has a whole bunch of single people on board a bus or something,” Bea said around a mouthful of rice.
Evie couldn’t imagine anything worse. A party bus full of young single people looking to get drunk and score. Nightmare. “I suppose, if I found a tour with people my own age.”
“I’m sure you could,” Penny said.
Suddenly Evie felt pathetic. It was the way her friends were looking at her, with pity and compassion in their eyes. She’d never seen herself as a sad sack before, but she was beginning to feel like one. She pushed a grin across her face. “I’ll figure something out. Changing the subject—Bea, did anyone tell you about the secrets we uncovered while we were at your wedding reception?”
Taya and Penny exchanged a glance.
Bea frowned. “No. What are you talking about? What secrets?”
“Chaz and I were looking up Buck’s pseudonym on my phone, and we stumbled across something interesting.”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Taya interjected.
“Right, of course,” Evie agreed. “We don’t know for sure, but we found an article — it was old and had been scanned into one of those websites that collects and organises newspaper clippings. Anyway, it talked about a woman who had kidnapped her son and was on the run. I did some more searching, and it turns out that this woman, Betsy Anne Gilmore-Alton, was still wanted by the police in California. They never found her or her son.”
“The name Gilmore matches Buck’s pseudonym, Samuel Jay Gilmore,” Penny said. “That opens another can of worms I’ve never talked about — does that mean my last name is really Gilmore too, since he’s my biological father?”
“I don’t think so,” Taya replied. “Your name is still your name.”
“Maybe it’s a coincidence that this Betsy shared the name Gilmore,” Bea replied, a crease between her brows. “It’s not exactly a rare name.”
“Could be,” Evie replied. “It’s worth looking into, although I’m not sure how we’d find anything more, since it was so long ago and happened on the other side of the world.”
“There’s one more thing,” Taya said with a dip of her head. “We figured out that the mystery woman in those photographs from your cottage is Betsy. It has to be her. And the boy is her son. He doesn’t look much like that cute little kid anymore, but I’m certain that was him.”
Bea’s expression grew serious. “I think you’re right. I’ve seen photos of Betsy, and it certainly could be her. It’s hard to say, of course, since the images are grainy and the film was so old when we processed it. But it makes a lot of sense.”
“The only person missing from those photographs is my mother,” Penny added. “So perhaps she took the photos when Betsy was in them, and then Betsy took them when Mum was posing. Who else could’ve been there?”
“I guess your mother would know.” Bea cocked her head to one side. “You could ask her.”
Penny groaned. “I can try, but I’m not sure I’ll get much from her. She hates talking about anything to do with the murder. She pretends she doesn’t remember and changes the subject most of the time.”
“That’s frustrating.” Taya shook her head. “But understandable, I suppose. She doesn’t want to be reminded of the pain she went through.”
“There’s a lot of shame around her relationship with Buck as well,” Penny added. “For a long time, she wouldn’t admit he was my father and didn’t want to discuss anything about my parentage. Her lack of clarity on the topic has been an issue most of my life.”
“It’s all out in the open now,” Bea said.
“And yet there are still so many secrets,” Evie murmured.
Three
The droneof music and gunfire was a constant reminder to Charmaine that her brother, Sean, was never going to leave. At least, that’s how it felt. For weeks now, he’d lived with her in the tiny unit above the florist where she worked for Betsy. And he’d given no indication that he had any intention of leaving. The fact that he’d brought his PlayStation with him and had taken over her brand-new tiny television set, his legs splayed apart as he slouched in her bright blue bean bag while he shot bad guys, didn’t help matters.
She sighed as she stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her cup of tea. “Any plans for the day?”
