Murder Mystery in Toorak: Jane Christie Mystery Book

By Victoria Kosky

A suspicious death, a hidden secret, and a black widow!
After an attempt on his life, a wealthy plastic surgeon hires Jane to investigate. There is a secret he has been hiding for over thirty years and it comes back to haunt him. The repercussions of his youthful act are shocking.

Jane and Dominic's engagement is on the rocks. If they can't even figure out their relationship, how will they solve a murder? Dominic believes there is a black widow lurking around. Who will be her next target? The body count is mounting. When her life is threatened, Jane knows she is on the right track. Despite the danger, she is determined to find out the truth. If you like amateur sleuths, complex puzzles, quirky humour with a touch of romance, then you'll love this suspenseful page-turner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Kosky
• Release date: Jul 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201969479

Victoria Kosky

Victoria Kosky refuses to let age or approaching senility prevent her from accomplishing a lifelong dream. She writes satirical crime fiction and crafts gay, light-hearted stories of murder and mayhem. As Ray Bradbury said, ‘I don’t believe in being serious about anything. I think life is too serious to be taken seriously’.  With two degrees, she has enjoyed several diverse careers that no one is interested in. Motherhood was a highlight for her; she achieved two high distinctions in child-rearing. One of her son’s is six-foot-four-inches tall, and the other measures six-foot-five. ‘Retirement is the greatest adventure of my life,’ said Victoria. ‘Sure, the body isn’t what it used to be, but as long as I have my marbles, I’ll keep writing.’ Although her primary goal is to not die yet, she has even bigger goals: writing fifty novels before her mind goes. (I’m not kidding her father had brain atrophy in his seventies. You can see that bewildered look, and she’s only sixty-six.) Take pity on the old girl and read her books before her time runs out.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

At first, I waited for the animosity to pass. A year or two went by and still it choked me. I prayed for peace and the grace to forget, for I knew forgiving this man was beyond my grasp.

More time passed as pain fermented into hate. Contrary to the stupid cliché, time had not been a healer. For years, I relied on anti-depressants and consulted with counsellors and psychotherapists, but the injury felt as fresh as the day he had inflicted it. Only the thought of revenge soothed the rage that burned coal-hot inside me.

As I rehearsed the modes of revenge, the pain eased. My wound flourished luxuriant-green while my soul festered. I did not act in haste but lay careful plans to kill the man.

‘This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do well.’ Francis Bacon.

To my injured soul, Mr Bacon’s wisdom sounded more like guidance than forewarning.

Chapter 1

With a knot of anxiety in my belly, I waited until 6:15pm. I imagined him indulging his lifelong habit and pouring the whisky. Never in excess but a good tumbler full. After all, he couldn’t afford to be caught driving under the influence. It would take me ten minutes to drive there and a few more to walk to the clinic. By that time, his drinking and paperwork would be well underway.

My heart raced as I drove, concentrating on the speed, feeling the rhythm of the tram-tracked road through my fluttering hands. I parked beside an elm in a residential side-street and glanced around. Occasional residents arriving home entered the garage of an apartment block opposite. A couple of teens sauntered past, but paid me no heed as I exited the car.

I grabbed the sports bag loaded with the fresh bottle of whisky and other supplies and headed to Burwood Road. A cloud of chirping swallows sailed overhead, seeking perches for the night. My breathing turned jagged as I quickened my steps. I reached the open-sided parking area beneath the clinic and spotted the cleaner packing the vacuum in the back of his van. Right on schedule. I strode past the driveway and ambled further along the road. After two hundred metres, I turned back, noticed the van driving away, and slipped on the leather gloves.

As I rounded the boom gate to the underground parking, I kept out of range of the security camera and donned my ski mask. The wool prickled, and I felt the blood pulsing in my ears. So far, so good.

Only one luxury Porsche remained in the car park. Not a soul in sight. With the spray can ready in my hand, I aimed the paint at the bubble-eye glaring down from the lift entrance. Slowly, I exhaled the breath I had been holding, keyed in the code, and pressed the lift button.

I imagined what I would say to him to purge the pent-up hatred. As the lift doors opened, I chuckled. If all went according to plan, he would be dead to the world and wouldn’t hear a thing. Comforted by the thought, I laughed out loud, forcing myself to calm when I caught the tinge of hysteria. Countless times I’d rehearsed what I’d say, what darts I’d fling to make him regret his treatment of me. But I knew him better than he knew himself; remorse was anathema to him. It was better this way.

Still holding the spray can in my hand, I tensed as the doors swished open into the foyer. Darting forward, I squirted paint on the second camera lens. The glass doors to the clinic were closed and the interior lights were off. Peering inside, I sagged in relief, spotting no one in reception. I entered the door code and marched straight for his office as if I had every right to be there.

I found him slouched over the keyboard, the open bottle beside him. My heart soared. Thank God he hadn’t spilled it on passing out. I nudged him and called his name. No response, only the sound of his deep, steady breaths. An eerie calm descended over me as I placed the sports bag beside his desk. Unzipping it, I pulled out the whisky.

‘Just relax. This won’t hurt a bit. Isn’t that what you tell your patients?’ I jolted at an unfamiliar cackling, startled by the sound of my laughter. Unpacking the rubber face mask with steady hands, I set to work.

Chapter 2

Morning sunlight lanced through the gaps in the bedroom curtains, streaking the room with golden rays. Jane reached across the bed, feeling for the comforting presence of Dominic’s body. But his spot was cold. Her fogged mind clicked into gear. Last night, he’d said he was heading to the detective agency. She hadn’t even heard him leave. After their two-week vacation in North Queensland, it was good to be home, but the days would seem longer without him.

She stretched on her back and spread her arms wide. The gold wedding band on her finger sparkled in the light. Her lips tilted up. This time, she had picked the right man. She had no qualms about accepting his proposal. Well, that wasn’t exactly the way it happened. A week after rejecting Dominic’s proposal, she’d come to her senses and proposed to him. What a fine fix she’d be in if he’d refused. But he loved her. She wondered whether her initial rejection had scarred him. Since their exchange of rings, every night before sleep, he leaned across, eyes of molten chocolate peering into hers. ‘You haven’t changed your mind yet, have you?’ For a no-nonsense, take-charge bloke, he could be insecure.

At least she could remedy that! Throwing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and slipped on her robe. Barefoot, she padded out of the bedroom and across the hall to the study. The shelf-lined room was filled with reminders of Gerry: his favourite Graham Cox landscape, his framed butterfly collection, and the conté portrait of him peering down at her in that lofty way he’d had. His eyes followed her around the room. ‘Are you sure about this fellow, Jane?’ he seemed to say. ‘You’ve only known him for five months. What if he’s just after my money?’

‘Poppycock! You don’t get a say anymore.’ She bit down on the word adulterer. No point flinging accusations at the dead. Too late to make amends now. With a change of mind about firing up the laptop, she trotted downstairs for her iPad. A small mountain of mail waited on the marble credenza in the hallway. She paused, heart rate ratcheting up a notch. The antique credenza had been one of Gerry’s buys. He’d paid a lot, always maintaining that superb wines and antiques were not expenses but investments. How did Dominic feel in this house, she wondered, surrounded by another man’s possessions? They’d never talked about it. Her fingers rifled through the stack until her eyes landed on The University of New England logo. She exhaled, relieved to have the long-awaited response in her jittery hand.

Jane kept a strangle-hold on the letter as she moved towards the kitchen, aiming for the kettle and teapot. She couldn’t face the verdict without a shot of tea. As the kettle boiled, she collected a tray and found her charging iPad. While waiting, she guzzled a glass of water to wet her dry mouth. A few minutes later, tray piled with essentials, she glided through the sun-drenched open-plan living area, past the multiple glass doors leading out to the pool and patio and arrived at her favourite room in the house. The library.

Gerry had had oversight of the rest of the house, but she had furnished this room. Her retreat from the world. Enclosed by bookshelves from floor to sixteen-foot ceiling, she felt embraced by old friends. Books even decorated the spaces above and between the windows with two movable ladders allowing access to the top shelves. Not all the books were mystery-crime classics. The old leather-bound texts covered a range of medicine, art, and history. Another example of Gerry’s collecting addiction.

She forced her eyes away from the university’s letter as she poured the tea. Filled with apprehension, she pondered if the news would be good or bad? She took her cup and saucer to the cushioned window seat that overlooked the garden and gazed out. Locals said Melbourne’s weather cycled through four seasons in one day, but today it was the epitome of spring. The old Japanese maple they’d preserved when renovating exploded with colour as it emerged from dormancy. Jane decided this would make the perfect spot for the wedding ceremony, with the lace-like foliage as a focal point. She sipped her tea, imagining an intimate garden setting next Spring.

Despite the letter calling to her, first, she needed to reassure Dominic of her commitment. Settled on the Chesterfield couch with her iPad, she Googled Melbourne wedding celebrants. The fifth chap on the list seemed just the ticket. A retired pastor, his jovial face radiated humour and maturity. His phone number was included, but since there was no rush, she filled in the form with her and Dominic’s details. Beside the date she entered, ‘Flexible. Anytime next September,’ and pressed send.

She reached for the letter, bowed her head, and sent up a prayer. ‘Lord, help me accept your will.’ It could go either way. She had applied to do the Criminology course at Armidale University in New South Wales. Sleuthing was all very well, but she wanted to be taken seriously as an investigator. Was that pride speaking? For some inexplicable reason, her heart was set on this career path. It would present an immense challenge, but she was ready for it. After wiping her clammy palms on her nightie, she used the teaspoon to tear open the letter.

Her eyes riveted on the first line. ‘Regret to inform you’ and her heart dropped into her stomach. The sour taste of rejection climbed up her throat. She scanned the page again in case there was an explanation. Nothing more; a cold, clinical rejection. She screwed the paper into a ball and tossed it away. Tiredness invaded her limbs as she slumped onto the Chesterfield flat on her back.

Why had she imagined God was directing her towards studying criminology? The door had slammed shut in her face and she was floundering again. Eyes squeezed shut against the tears, she saw the years ahead with little enthusiasm. The days would drag her along as she waited for Dominic at the end of his day. He would come home exhausted from fighting crime. She’d never been good at hobbies or whiling her time away meeting girlfriends for lunch. She envisaged joining the Christian Women’s Association. Along with other elderly women, she’d knit granny squares for volunteers to turn into blankets. Of course, she wouldn’t need her factotum’s help any longer. How on earth would she break the news to Zora?

A Chinese proverb came to mind: ‘Happiness is someone to love, something to do and something to hope for.’ A week ago, she thought she had all three. Now the last two were flimsy and uncertain. An odd sensation churned within her belly, reminding her of when she’d discovered Gerry’s infidelity. Although he’d been the centre of her existence, he had found her lacking. Just as the University of New England found her inadequate for their course.

She woke up with a start, disoriented to find herself still in the library with Dominic hovering over her. He’d settled on the coffee table beside her, concern etching his features. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked. ‘It’s after midday.’

‘I’m tickety boo.’ She wiped the drool from her lip. ‘Must have jet lag.’

‘We didn’t cross any time zones.’ The puzzled look on Dominic’s face said he wasn’t buying what she was selling.

She wriggled up to a sitting position. ‘That’s what you get for choosing a senior citizen. I’m going to need regular nanna naps to keep up with you.’

‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

‘For Heaven’s sake, Dominic!’ Her volume rose. ‘I have not changed my mind! I will not change my mind!’ She bolted to her feet. ‘And if you ask me that one more time, I’ll thump you.’

Chuckling, he gripped her waist and plopped her on his knee. ‘I’d rather see you feisty than down in the dumps.’ He jerked his chin at the crumpled rejection letter beside him. He’d read it.

She snuggled into his warmth and shrugged. ‘They didn’t want me because I’m old. Why take a student of fifty when there are younger minds with years of employment potential ahead of them?’ A loud sigh escaped. ‘Let’s face it. I’m too old to be useful.’

He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent. ‘Poor old chook,’ he said in a gloomy tone. ‘Why don’t we go out and buy you a burial plot?’

She elbowed his ribs. ‘You’re not supposed to agree with me.’

His hand rubbed comforting circles over her back. ‘You’re the one always quoting that verse,’ he said. ‘We Catholics don’t have them committed to memory. I think it’s from Proverbs, trust in the Lord. How does it go?’

Sheepishly, she nodded her head and whispered the words of Proverbs 3: 5-6. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will direct your paths.’

‘Just because God doesn’t want you to study in New South Wales doesn’t mean it’s all over. There are other options.’

‘Like what?’ Her voice sounded surly.

‘Online courses, for instance. Anyway, you’re already a mine-full of information. You know about everything from poisons to DNA.’

‘That’s just the point,’ she said, jerking to attention and eyeballing him. ‘I have plenty of assorted knowledge, but no experience. I thought that earning a qualification would give me some credibility.’

They sat together in silence for a while, foreheads pressed together. It was enough to know that he shared her disappointment, even though he didn’t know how to fix things. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll figure something out.’

‘Why are you home so early?’ She sprang off his lap.

‘The big boss is at a conference and won’t be back until later this arvo. I’ve got an appointment with him. Pete’s wife is having a baby, so he’s off for a couple of days. They handed his case over to me. Dead boring. I tracked a cheating spouse all over Hawthorn trying to catch her on video. She told her husband she was going out with girlfriends, but she ended up at the Crown casino in a hotel room. I hate that kind of surveillance. It’s so sordid.’

‘I suppose detective work isn’t all glamorous,’ she said, running her fingers through his curls.

He nodded his head several times. ‘Try to remember that. I loved being with the police force because the cases mattered. But private detection...’ He shook his head and grabbed her hand. ‘Come on. Enough of this gloom. I’m making it my responsibility to cheer you up.’ He tugged her out of the library.

‘What are you proposing?’

‘Let’s head for Swan Hill. Break the good news to my parents before somebody else does.’

He was striding ahead of her, and she was glad he couldn’t see her terrified reaction. ‘Can’t you just call them? Give them time to adjust.’

‘This is the kind of news you give face to face,’ he said. ‘Don’t think my mum will be impressed with a phone call.’

She braked to a halt in the family room and faced him. ‘Umm... You know that your mother doesn’t like me.’

‘My mother’s not keen on anyone not related by blood,’ said Dominic. ‘She didn’t even warm to Annamaria until they diagnosed her with cancer. And she was Italian.’ That was his wife’s full name, but he’d shortened it to Anna.

If this was meant to help, he was failing miserably. ‘I’d love to tell your family,’ she lied, ‘but by the time I shower and change, followed by an eight-hour return trip, I’ll be too late for my appointment with Dr Norton.’ She’d already told him about the plastic surgeon who had approached her at the Paradise executive retreat. She decided to reward the doctor, in some way, for delivering her from Dominic’s mother.

‘Oh. Is that tonight?’ said Dominic. ‘Okay, we can head for Swan Hill on the weekend. We’ve got heaps of other things to do. We can book the church.’

‘Church?’ she squeaked.

‘Yeah. A stone building with a cross on top.’

‘Why on earth do we need a church? I was thinking of an informal affair...’

‘Listen, Honey,’ he reached for her hand and tugged her across to the sofa. ‘There’s something you should know.’ He didn’t sit beside her but started pacing the parquetry floor. When he started scratching his head as if infested with lice, she guessed it wouldn’t be good news.

‘The first time I married, I was young, impulsive, carried away by passion. Anna agreed, so we eloped. We got married in a registry office.’ Dominic snapped his fingers, showing how simple it had been. ‘This disappointed my family. My mother wouldn’t acknowledge our marriage because we hadn’t been married in the eyes of God. For five years, she wouldn’t talk to me. She’d say to my father, Angelo, tell your son whatever.’ He sighed, lips down-turned.

Jane couldn’t help but smile. That possibility sounded delightful to her. They would surely relate far better if Mrs Petrucci didn’t make endless snide remarks.

‘It’s no laughing matter, Jane.’ His shoulder slumped, and he thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Unless you’re married in a Catholic Church, their Church, in Swan Hill to be exact, you’re not married at all.’

Her anxiety must have been obvious as she fidgeted with her nails. She stared at them; they were due to be repaired. Her mouth dropped open; she snapped it closed. She searched for something positive to say. ‘But I’m not a Catholic.’

His dark eyes filled with hope. ‘That’s okay. You don’t have to convert or anything. But I think we have to do marriage counselling with the priest.’

Her eyes popped wide. ‘The priest?’ That a man who had never been married would instruct them seemed bizarre. He was bound to examine her grasp of the Catholic religion, the papacy, the Holy Mother, and the saints. If so, she’d surely fail and be found wanting again.

‘You look kind of pale. I shouldn’t have brought it up,’ he said, kicking the cushioned footstool. ‘I’m such a drongo for throwing this at you. If anything will get you to dump me...’

‘Dominic, don’t start that again!’ Her sharp tone warned him not to continue. ‘I am a little flabbergasted’ she said, wringing her hands. The understatement of the century! She repeated his earlier words. ‘But we’ll figure something out.’ She tried to shoot him a confident expression, but it wilted on her lips.

A church wedding at fifty? Preposterous! A picture flickered in her mind’s eye like a wedding video replayed in slow motion. Encased in ruffled white tulle from veil to toe, Jane shuffled along the church aisle, wheeling a walker before her. Meanwhile, an ageing Dominic waited at the distant altar, motioning for her to get a move on.

***

As soon as Dominic returned to work, Jane made a call to Dr Norton. Her body did a nervous jiggle as she waited to be put through.

‘Hello Jane. I hope we’re still meeting tomorrow night.’ His tone was wary, as though he expected her to put him off again.

‘Is there any chance we could meet tonight, Philip?’ she asked, biting the inside of her cheek. She hoped she wouldn’t need to fabricate an excuse and add another lie to her tally.

‘That would work. Although I’ll be working late at the surgery,’ he said. ‘Can we make it 7:30pm?’

‘That’s perfect.’ She asked for his business address, and he added directions. It seemed Philip was old school and expected satellite navigation to run her amok. ‘The reception desk will be unmanned, so I’ll give you the entry code.’

‘I’ll see you at 7:30 then.’ She made a note of the six-digit code.

He exhaled a long huff of air. ‘I’m relieved you can make it,’ he said. ‘Things have escalated since we last spoke. The past has come back to haunt me.’ Someone entered his office, and they talked in hushed tones.

As intrigued as she was, she knew it was not the time to ask questions and signed off. She didn’t know what to make of this case. Her first official case! When Philip had approached her at the executives’ retreat in Swan Hill, he’d said that he wanted to engage her services because he was in a tight spot. She pumped a fist in the air, elated by the prospect. He’d requested to engage her services, not just ask her advice. So, whether he asked her to follow a cheating spouse, catch an embezzling employee, or find his lost dog, she intended to oblige. Without this case, her career path was derailed before it had begun.

Next on her agenda was spending some time in prayer confessing her deliberate lies. Why had she lied to Dominic? She had grabbed hold of the lie of seeing Philip tonight, like clinging to a life preserver in a turbulent sea. Why couldn’t she have told him the truth? ‘What a pathetic excuse for a Christian you are.’

She needed to find love in her heart for Dominic’s mother. After all, she’d raised a wonderful man and Jane would reap all the benefits. That’s what she would focus on, she decided. And ask her Heavenly Father to give her the grace that she lacked. She would need lots and lots of God’s grace to face the old battleaxe.

Chapter 3

‘W hat do you know about this bloke?’ asked Dominic as he drove to the Burwood Road address..

‘Almost nothing. He’s a plastic surgeon who knew my husband. He said he wanted to engage my services because he’s in a tight spot.’ She made quote marks in the air. ‘That could mean anything. He needs someone with a low-key manner.’

‘Do you think he’ll mind me tagging along?’

‘I’m sure he won’t. I’ll tell him we’re heading out for dinner afterwards. If he seems bothered, you can stay in the waiting room. It shouldn’t take long.’

‘I hope he’s not expecting a freebie because he knew your husband. Make sure he understands you don’t work for nothing.’

‘You are aware I don’t need the money.’

‘That’s not the point.’ Dominic pulled up at the red-light intersection at Burwood Road and swivelled towards her. ‘He’d be the first to charge you for his time and expertise.’

‘I’m not sure that I have any expertise yet.’

He patted her hand affectionately. ‘Doesn’t matter what the job is, time is money. You’re a natural at getting to the truth.’

‘That’s sweet of you to say.’ She squeezed his hand before he replaced it on the wheel. ‘Let’s see what he wants first.’ Was Dominic too focused on money, or was she too much of an amateur? The Bible said, ‘the worker is worth his wage.’

The traffic was steady at this time of night, so Dominic kept his attention on the road. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Jane was glad he wasn’t studying her. Despite the disappointments of the day, this case offered a balm for the university’s dismissive attitude. After being rejected, she needed something positive to focus on. The wedding was so far off that it didn’t seem real. And Dominic was with her today, offering his support. She’d been half-expecting him to say she wasn’t ready to take on a case of her own.

The car