The Permit: An Audrey Lord Mystery, #1

By G C Chase

A suspicious death. A grieving father. A journalist hellbent on finding the truth.

 

When journalist Audrey Lord is asked by her former boyfriend's father to find out what happened to his son Jack, she's keen to help. She left Bennington and Jack, for good reason two decades earlier, but Jack's death looks suspicious, and this feels like a chance to make amends with the past.

 

With the help of Jack's father, Leonard, they start digging and find themselves drawn into Bennington's underworld. Jack's workplace is a minefield of government "minders" and property developers with too much power. It's hard to see the truth and know who to trust. But powerful people want Audrey's investigation stopped and they will go to any lengths to silence her.

 

Can Audrey find the truth before it costs her everything?

Perfect for readers of Sally Rigby, Robert Galbraith and Anthony Horowitz.

What readers are saying about The Permit...

"Thank you for writing this wonderful book!"
"Really enjoyed this story. I read it straight through! Great who-done-it."

"Great story, plenty of twists to keep you engrossed, great characters."
"It was an emotional roller coaster watching Audrey reach the truths she needed... exciting to watch Audrey's investigative skills develop."

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: G C Chase
• Release date: Aug 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201095710

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Leonard was in the driveway washing his new Camry, his gift to himself when he retired from teaching a year ago when it happened. His son-in-law, Nick, had given him a kit with all these fancy products to use, including a spray-on foam that removed the dirt. Leonard thought it was a stupid idea as washing the car was exercise, but Nick kept asking him if he had tried it. So today, more out of curiosity, he sprayed the foam on and let it do the work for him. As he stood watching it, he had to concede that in the years ahead, when he could no longer muster the energy, this would come in handy.

The dirt-eating foam was almost down to the tires when the police car pulled up. It was just after 12pm and Carmel was putting on the soup. It was a standard that they ate lunch at 12.30 every day. At first, he thought they had come for the young couple who had moved in across the road. The girl was nice, but her boyfriend seemed to snarl when he spoke, and they often heard them fighting. He watched the officer who was driving get out and put on his cap, but it was when the female officer climbed out and he saw the look on her face that he knew they were here for them. That something bad had happened.

It wasn’t Carmel as she was inside. He’d just seen her a moment ago. His children, Jack and Leanne were both at work. Was it the kids? Please, God, not his grandson Sam or one of the girls. The inside of his mouth went dry.

Turns out it was Jack. Carmel began wailing like a wild animal. The nice female officer took her into the kitchen and made her a cup of tea. Leonard went out the back with the other officer and listened to how Jack’s neighbour had alerted the police.

They asked whether his son was depressed, and Leonard said he wasn’t. Was there anything unusual in his son’s demeanour? Yes, but he wasn’t telling the police that. He didn’t want them to write his boy up as another male suicide. Leonard knew something was off the previous Sunday when the family was over for lunch to celebrate Sam’s birthday. Carmel made chicken cacciatore, her signature dish; they had apple pie and cream for dessert—Jack loved his sweets and cream but only picked at it. They opened the presents; the girls watched the movie Frozen, Sam read a John Marsden book Leonard had given him, and the adults adjourned to the back porch. Leonard had bought two six-packs of a new craft beer from a brewery at Mornington, which they all agreed was delicious. Jack had gone through three before Leonard had finished his first. He was always a quick drinker, but this was fast even for him. Leonard put it down to troubles with his ex-wife, Renee. His sister Leanne saw it too and told him to slow down, or he’d have to Uber it home. Leonard ended up driving Jack home. He was glad he did. It would be the last time he saw his son alive.

1

Audrey had never planned to come home, yet here she was, two decades later, with a husband and two kids, living back in Bennington, the Bayside town that sits like a giant border guard between Melbourne and the Mornington Peninsula. The town she couldn’t wait to leave.

Bennington was polarising. It was the home of colourful MPs and the butt-end of jokes by an idiot on a local sports show. Most outsiders preferred to lock their car doors and keep driving further down the Mornington Peninsula to Rye or Portsea. But for locals, it offered proximity to the beach and bay, hidden gems of real estate, parkland and walking tracks, and an enviable lifestyle for half the price you had to pay in the city. The drugs and crime and the occasional serial killer were a small price to pay.

Audrey and Mark hadn’t planned on Bennington, but journalistic jobs in an office with the right hours were thin on the ground and the position at the local newspaper was the first offer after a year looking. After what happened, she didn’t want to come back, but it wasn’t just about her anymore. It had been six months, but Audrey still felt like a reluctant visitor and wondered if the feeling would ever leave.

As she loaded fresh beans into the top of the coffee machine, a gift from her parents and brother for getting the job, the kids moved around her. We’re leaving in ten.

Fine. Beth made a salad sandwich placing the tomato and cucumber on first. She patted the beetroot with a paper towel, so its purple juice didn’t stain her white school shirt.

Yeah, well, I need more time, said Josh, who slapped a blob of peanut butter in the centre of two slices of bread.

She read a text from her colleague at the Bennington Gazette.

Unable to make council meeting tonight. Will need someone to cover. Eve can pick who. Apologies. Brian.

Beth looked over. What’s up?

Maybe it was because Mark was on the rigs most of the time and because it was a small team at the office, but Audrey kept the kids in the loop regarding work.

Brian can’t make the council meeting tonight. He wants someone to fill in for him.

Brian, the lead reporter on all council matters at the newspaper, had to take care of family business, again. If Brian’s family wasn’t such a train wreck, Audrey would continue reporting on why refugees were struggling to fit in, or repairs to the sandbag seawall installed to stop erosion of the local beach. But today editor Eve would tell Brian to take time off to deal with his wayward son and depressed wife once and for all. She would nominate a replacement for who knew how long, and Audrey hoped it was her. She felt a rush of excitement at the thought of the promotion.

Do you think Eve will ask you to take over? said Beth.

Audrey tried to sound nonplussed. Don’t know.

Beth gave her a knowing look and returned to making her sandwich.

Nine minutes.

As the machine ground the beans, Audrey looked at the two iPhones charging on the kitchen bench, each extolling the personality of its owner, her children, in its unique way. When Beth grew up, if anyone looked inside her handbag, there would be no loose receipts or stray mints. Josh’s was a heavy-duty, gunmetal grey case. Perfect for the kid who stepped in puddles and dropped his phone at school or at sport, and whose life has been better since they bought the durable case. The only one missing was Mark’s water-resistant, chip-proof phone, now on an oil rig in Bass Strait. Audrey felt a flicker of guilt. She often did about Mark.

Seven minutes.

Mum, stop it. Josh looked harried.

I like a deadline, said Beth.

Audrey often marvelled at how two children who shared the same amniotic fluid could be so different.

I’m ready. Beth closed the lid on her nutritionally balanced lunch box. Of course, you are my beautiful, uptight, organised girl.

No! Josh ran off to put on shoes.

She could feel the coffee working.

I’ll meet you in the car, said Audrey.

One down, one to go. Audrey watched Beth head inside the school gate. A bright sporty student who realised there was no way her parents could afford to send her to the local private school with its Olympic swimming pool, she took it upon herself to secure a scholarship. Moments later, she dropped Josh off at the local high school. He liked it there because he was out of the shadow of his talented sister. Audrey had given Josh the school doesn’t define you speech and hoped he would find something to do with his life other than play football and Xbox.

Free of the school traffic, Audrey made her way back out onto the highway. She passed a vineyard, more high schools, and a large shopping centre before turning into a row of industrial offices and the carpark of the Bennington Gazette. She unclipped the seatbelt and took a minute to prepare herself for both scenarios. It was a trick her father taught her from an early age. So life didn’t blindside you.

The first option was to picture victory as Editor Eve said that while Audrey had only been at the paper for six months, she had completed an outstanding body of work and showed the tenacity needed to work with the colourful Bennington Council. Audrey let the warm feeling wash over her, but never so long as to seep into her veins, so she could not remove it with the quick slice of a scalpel.

She let go of the steering wheel and slumped her shoulders, this time allowing herself to feel the defeat as Eve decided the only fair way to choose was by tenure, and as a result, chose Stan. Audrey smiled and shook Stan’s hand, but not too much, and then returned to her desk. After a suitable moment, she headed to the bathroom and sat in one of the three cubicles, and held back the bitter, angry tears of defeat. She was used to it, almost expected it, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Audrey let this feeling wash over her for longer, so victory could be sweeter and defeat less painful. Now she was ready and climbed out.

Audrey walked into the office, past Donna at the reception desk checking social media with an elegant swipe of her black gloss fingernail. Hey.

Morning. Audrey was nervous and the stilting in her voice was giving it away.

She sat down in the open-plan office and looked over at Stan writing an article with the heading, Hero Dog Saves Owner. His tapping sounded heavier than usual. They were friends. Today they were rivals. He gestured hi with a wave but didn’t meet her eye. Audrey sat at her desk with a photo of her, Mark, and the kids before they started high school, in Bali, lying across each other on a sun lounge, with huge beaming smiles. She looked relaxed, unlike now.

Eve was in her office on the phone. Any minute now she would walk out to either Stan’s desk or hers, and Audrey would know which scenario to replay. And so, she waited, for what seemed like an eternity, until finally Eve with her pristine grey hair that resembled the coat of a Maltese show dog put down the phone and walked out of her office. Audrey’s lips parted. Her hands were moist. Stan stopped typing. Donna spun around in her chair and waited to see how it would play out.

Audrey won’t be able to tell Mark and the kids until tonight, but she can ring her parents who will say how wonderful it is, but she still has the same job as a reporter, right?

Her heart was beating.

Her friend Heather will say the promotion was only a matter of time, and her friend Tina will drill her on the key issues she needs to get to the heart of when dealing with local government, and then tonight she will ring Mark on the rig and tell the kids and it will all be real. Her mouth was dry.

But if Eve stopped at Stan’s desk, she won’t need to. Mark will say next time. Beth will tell her she needs to understand what Stan brought to the table, and Josh will offer some of his chocolate to make her feel better and she will eventually feel tired and go to bed. Audrey pressed her lips tight.

Eve pushed back her chair and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. Audrey froze. Stan, too. His fingers stopped tapping. They both watched as Eve walked out of her office and over to Stan’s desk. A spike of disappointment hit Audrey so hard it took her breath away. Stan’s face lit up, but then ever-so-slowly fell as Eve handed him a press release and walked to Audrey’s desk.

I have some business to take care of and won’t be back until later. Oh, and I’d like you to take over from Brian at council.

Sure, said Audrey wanting to explode with excitement.

After Eve left, Stan nodded graciously, conceding defeat, and then returned to his article. Audrey smiled and hoped there wouldn’t be any hard feelings. Donna grinned at her before spinning back towards her computer. Audrey headed to the toilet and the sanctity of the cubicle to savour the moment in private. She closed the door, clenched her fists in delight, and did a little dance.

2

Leonard pulled in the golf club carpark knowing today, his first day back playing golf, would be a difficult one. It had been a few weeks since the police pulled up outside his driveway with the news their son had taken his life, and only weeks since they had laid him to rest at Bunurong Memorial Park. He didn’t want to play, but Carmel had insisted they not sit around making each other miserable in their grief any longer. She was out at lunch again with her friends from the school she taught at for three decades because they kept her busy talking about the latest podcast, or what film they should all see the following week. It was annoying how she could just get on with things.

He turned off the engine, but his hands stayed on the steering wheel. He could still turn the engine on and get out of here. It wasn’t too late. But then Alan would call him wondering where the hell he was and if he didn’t answer he would ring Carmel and then he’d have them both calling him until he’d have to answer. His nostrils flared as the rage poured through his veins. Chin raised he could hear his breathing. He flexed his fingers but couldn’t bring himself to take them off the steering wheel.

A deep breath helped. The rage subsided like a wave retreating into the ocean until his limbs relaxed and he could remove his hands from the wheel. It had been like this ever since it happened. At times it frightened him, and a sadness weighed him down like someone had thrown him in the ocean tied to a fridge full of concrete.

As Leonard stood on the second hole preparing to take his shot, his friend Alan yelled out. Wait a minute, Lenny.

The group ahead of them was still making its way to the next hole, and it wasn’t protocol in case the shot went sideways and hit one of them. Alan had retired as director of a construction company but still felt the need to organise their foursome the same way he ran his business. Leonard had been a school principal, so knew a thing or two about running things. Alan had been the one who insisted he learn how to play golf after he retired, introduced him to the other guys at the club, and had never let him be ever since. He knew he was lucky to have a friend like that, and so overlooking his natural bossiness seemed a small price to pay.

As Leonard waited for his shot, he smelled fresh cut grass from the roughs to the side of the green. About time. None of the older members with waning eyesight had wanted to wade in there to retrieve lost balls since a snake appeared on the 17th hole. The new club manager, who was as popular as Snape from that Harry Potter series Sam liked, annoyed the maintenance man so much he left and took his team with him. It had taken so long to appoint a new maintenance team the members refused to play and prevented anyone from coming into the club until he sorted it out. Anything slithering around now would stand out like dog’s balls and so the members felt safe again.

You’re good to go, said Alan, who was now at the back of the golf cart trying to decide which club to choose.

Leonard placed his ball on the orange tee. He looked out over the velvet green, the three bunkers that stood between him and the green and thought of his son. I miss you, my boy.

The mist filled his eyes. He had to make it stop, or he was going to send this shot into the rough, or worse, hit the windows of the new homes on the perimeter. Sniffing helped. He adjusted his stance, shifting left and then right, until his old bones settled into the right position, then swung his club and hit the ball.

It sailed over the first bunker, then the second, and the third, coming to rest on the outskirts of the green. Alan whooped, and the two other guys clapped. His face was mute, but for the benefit of his friends, he raised his club in victory, smiled, and returned to the golf cart.

Alan pressed the accelerator and Leonard held on to the seat railing as the golf cart sped down the hill in comfortable silence. But Alan looked uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck, like he had something to say.

You know that property in Gippsland I was telling you about? said Alan.

The one near Venus Bay?

That’s the one. We’ve put an offer in and the agent’s pretty confident we’ll get it.

Right. Leonard tried to work out where this was going.

But we have to sell the place here to make it all work.

And there it was, the bombshell. Leonard felt it like a punch to his stomach.

But if we do, we’ll be back here all the time.

Leonard clenched the side of the buggy and looked straight ahead. The property was twenty acres and would require constant upkeep. Alan’s wife, Elaine, had always wanted a large vegetable garden, an impossibility in Bennington’s sandy soil. This, along with property maintenance, and the two-hour drive would prevent Alan from coming back. He would join a local club and make local friends, and the visits would be fewer and fewer until eventually they would catch up once or twice a year with the wives. It would be different.

Leonard wanted to plead with him not to go. Not to leave him here alone with Carmel whom he loved but seemed to be getting on with things better than he was. And his daughter who tried to be extra chatty to make up for now being the only child, but which only made Jack’s absence feel even more pronounced. Even his beloved grandson Sam would soon grow tired of spending time with him as his sights turned to high school, new friends, and girls. But instead of pleading, Leonard turned to Alan and said, Sure.

They drove to the green in silence, both processing the only certainties in life: death, taxes, and change. Leonard’s thoughts returned to Jack.

Why didn’t you come and talk to me?

Why didn’t you let me help you?

But then a different question formed.

What the hell made you do it, Jack?

The last people to see Jack alive were his work colleagues. The council had rung and asked Leonard to collect Jack’s work things. He’d head in tomorrow. Maybe someone at work could give him a clue.

3

Bennington Council was a brown brick, flat roof, Modernist style building that had been given a lick of paint and new landscaping to sharpen its looks. Audrey sat at the rear of the planning meeting and watched the