Tell Me Why (Georgie Harvey and John Franklin Book 1) by Sandi Wallace

Author:Sandi Wallace
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gumshoe - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2020-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

Georgie turned her focus back to the Pentecostes. ‘What else can you tell me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Pam’s voice trilled. ‘My memory’s not as good as it used to be.’

‘Not so’s you’d notice.’

‘If you knew me ten years ago, you’d think differently. I’m not as quick to recall details or think laterally as I was.’

‘Okay. I’ll give you a specific…’ Georgie realised that what she said next would wound.

Necessary evil.

‘Tell me about the day of the fire.’

She heard Pam take several juddering breaths, and her heartbeat accelerated as she waited. After a long gap, she wondered if Pam would answer at all. She shifted the phone to make room for her notepad on the desk as Pam sighed.

She traced random doodles into the margin and stilled her impatience. Certain things can’t be rushed, like brewing a good beer. She knew if she pressed Pam too hard, she might push her away.

Finally, Pam said, ‘Well, we had lunch together, the three of us, at Abergeldie. As you know, I don’t drive and Roly, as usual, was busy around the farm with Mick and Roger. So, Susan picked me up in her four-wheel drive.’

‘That’s good, keep going,’ Georgie urged.

‘I remember that Roly’s tea went cold because Jenny McGuire from the Advocate arrived.’

‘A journo from the local rag?’

‘Yes. She was writing a story on Roly. He’d gone to the aid of an accident the previous evening. Her idea was to tie this into a piece on his achievements and active involvement in the community, that type of thing. When they finished, we all had afternoon tea. That’s right, we baked scones!’ Pam laughed, recalling the trivial detail.

Georgie grounded her. ‘And then what happened?’

‘Well, Susan and Roly were going to dinner –’

‘What was the occasion?’

‘None. They were taking up a special at Windows on Vincent.’

Georgie vaguely remembered the restaurant but couldn’t picture it in the context of her recent excursions. ‘Is it still there?’

‘It became a pancake place and changed again since. Oh, I am enjoying this detective work!’ Pam sobered. Perhaps it struck her that she verged upon the last time Roland Pentecoste was seen alive. ‘Oh, that’s not appropriate, is it?’

‘It’s okay. Better to laugh than cry, usually.’

‘Yes, well. In any event, Roly and Susan dropped me home on their way to the restaurant. They had booked an early sitting. It must have been between six and six-thirty.’

‘And then?’ Georgie prompted.

‘Well, that’s all I know firsthand. From what Susan told me, they had a wonderful evening. It was just as well, as it turned out. One last special night…’ Pam cleared her throat and continued, ‘They returned home and went to bed after checking all the usual things.’

‘Go on.’

She sighed deeply. ‘In the middle of the night—well, not long past midnight—Roly woke suddenly. He shook Susan awake and they went outside in their pyjamas with jumpers over the top. They found the sheds alight, and Roly jumped into fighting the flames while Susan phoned the CFA.’

Georgie visualised. It morphed into real-time: Shivering in my PJs.

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