“We’re talking! Kindly don’t interrupt.” Marguerite turned her back.
Charlotte considered dropping the book on Marguerite’s foot but took it back to the counter. No smiling though. Rosie might be a saint, but Charlotte wasn’t. She tapped on the computer to find the book to order. It had a longer than normal lead time due to the holidays and its popularity. That would make Marguerite even happier. Not.
She was right.
“Two weeks! We need those copies on the second of January. Not a day later.”
Charlotte’s fixed smile was back. “And if they happen to arrive in earlier, we’ll let you know. Unfortunately, the wholesaler closes for a week at this time of year so all I can do is request these as urgent.”
Octavia leaned over the counter. “I doubt that’s all you can do. You’re probably not even doing it right. How could you? You’re not really qualified for this kind of work. Are you?”
“She most certainly is!” Rosie was just inside the door, her face furious. “Octavia, kindly let me pass.”
Octavia’s jaw dropped, and she stepped to one side. Rosie pushed herself around to Charlotte’s side of the counter and put her hand on Charlotte’s arm. “Let me say this once and then we’ll move on. Charlotte is here because I want her to be here. She brings skills and a passion for books which has already made a positive impact to the bookshop. When I’m not here, Charlotte is in charge and I would take it as a personal favour for you all to respect that.”
Warmth rose inside Charlotte. Nobody had ever stood up for her like that. Octavia’s face reddened, Marguerite scowled, and Glenys nodded. Well, well, well.
Rosie removed her hand from Charlotte’s arm and tapped the keyboard. “Right, so the earliest you’ll get these books is January seven. Perhaps next time you might need to plan ahead if there are any holidays. Wholesalers are entitled to a break the same as anyone.”
She lifted her chin to stare at the three ladies. Charlotte stayed still and quiet. Rosie was a fireball in a controlled, polite way. One by one, the ladies looked away.
“Do you still wish for the order to be placed?” Rosie asked.
Octavia pulled her handbag closer to her body and huffed as she stalked out of the shop. Marguerite followed without a word or glance. But Glenys grinned at Rosie, then at Charlotte. “Please do order the books. We’ll put our first meeting back a few days to accommodate the delivery. Thank you, Charlotte.” Then she toddled after the others.
Charlotte sank onto a stool. “Oh, my goodness.”
“That’s all you have?” Rosie shook her head. “I am so annoyed with those women. Well, maybe not Glenys, but those other two!”
“What if they don’t come back? I don’t want you losing customers because of me.”
Rosie turned a serious gaze on Charlotte. “Any customer who cannot behave in a civil manner can go. As much as I like trading, the customer is most certainly not always right!”
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you for keeping your cool and looking after my interests in the face of such rudeness. Really, I don’t know where Octavia and Marguerite get their entitlement from. Ever since Marguerite married Sid, she’s turned into a mean woman.”
“I imagine marriage to Sid would do that. Coffee?”
Over steaming cups of coffee and a break between customers, Charlotte filled Rosie in on the events of the night. She left out a bit. No point worrying Rosie about Sid’s odd behaviour, nor Charlotte deliberately hiding from him.
“So, two young men. One called Darro. A dark ute and a trailer. Surely Sid can find them based on that description?”
“I didn’t exactly tell him. There’s something else. He pulled me over yesterday near the Christmas Tree farm.”
Rosie put down her cup and turned concerned eyes to Charlotte. “Why?”
“For existing. First, he wanted to breathalyse me and when there was no trace of alcohol, he inspected the car from top to bottom. Then he spent ages in his patrol car with my licence. And naturally there was nothing to find so he gave it back and let me leave. But in the interim, someone sped past and a stone chipped my windscreen. Do you know who might repair it?”
“Oh dear. I do. There’s a nice mobile man so I’ll find his number for you. Whether he is around or already having a holiday I don’t know.” Rosie searched on the computer. “Did you get a Christmas tree?”
“I did! It’s a bit dried out and sad but I’m going to nurture it back to health.”
“Was it busy up there?” Rosie wrote down a phone number and name on a notepad. “Here you go, give Ivan a call.”
“Thanks. There were people coming and going the whole time I was there. I met Abbie and Lachie.”
“How is Abbie? That baby is due next month.”
“She’s lovely and seemed well, not that we spoke for long. She knew all about me.”
“Small towns.”
“So I’m learning. Lachie is very cute. He calls his mother Mrs Forest and insisted on carrying the tree to the car. I got the feeling though that they don’t have a lot. For Christmas.”
“Darcy’s father left him with a lot of debt, so I imagine money is tight. I do hope they have a good week. As bad as the Christmas tree thefts are, it might generate some income for them.”
A family wandered in and Rosie greeted them. Charlotte folded the paper from the notepad. Esther and Doug had replaced their artificial tree with one of Darcy’s. What would happen with the one from the roundabout?
Chapter Twelve
Small towns were good for more than rumours, gossip, and knowing everyone. Charlotte’s experiences in River’s End was of a community that cared for its own, banding together in times of need.
Kingfisher Falls might be a bit different. Toward closing time, Sid strode in, along with two men Charlotte hadn’t met. One was bald, sixties, sweating under a three-piece suit. The other also wore a suit, but no tie and the two top buttons undone. He was no older than thirty, with dark hair and shifty eyes.
“Gentlemen, how may we help?” Rosie stiffened the moment they arrived and stayed behind the counter instead of her usual cheery welcome from the customer side.
Sid stood back as the older man spoke after clearing his throat. “Ahem, good afternoon, Rosie. You’ll be aware of the incident at the roundabout?”
“Yes, Terrance. Oh, Charlotte, this is Terrance Murdoch, one of the local council members, and Jonas Carmichael, another. Please meet Charlotte, my assistant.”
They both nodded at her. Sid’s eyes had not left her since he walked in. She gave him a bright smile.
Terrance continued. “Most of council are away on their annual holidays, so we’ve been left with the decision of purchasing a replacement tree. What would the town be without one?”
“Indeed.”
“But council’s budget is already spent, so we…well—”
“We need each trader to contribute to a new tree.” Jonas took over. “We’re trying to source one large enough and negotiate a low price, but everyone will receive a bill to pay this week. Council won’t go ahead without every trader agreeing.”
“I see.” Rosie’s hands were balled up. “Not all traders will be in a position to do so.”
“Then they’ll be responsible for the lack of a tree in our town.” Jonas pursed his lips.
“Whoever stole the tree is responsible.” Charlotte mentioned. “This is the second one.”
“Actually, it is the third.” Terrance nodded. “My neighbour came home from work last night to a broken back door and no tree.”
“Was it artificial?”
Everyone looked at Charlotte.
“I’m curious why anyone wants to collect artificial Christmas trees.”
There was a glint in Sid’s eyes that turned Charlotte’s stomach. What was he thinking?
Rosie crossed her arms. “Terrance, Jonas, this is grossly unfair. Council does nothing to attract buyers into the trading area. Now you expect us to foot the bill for
something not of our making.”
Terrance and Jonas exchanged a glance.
“Nobody wants to contribute, do they?” Rosie asked.
“A few have agreed.” Terrance admitted. “Most say they can’t afford it. Not sure what we can do, unless Darcy donates one.”
“I think you’ll get more local support, Terrance, if you ask him for the best price he can do, and then let us all know. And council has to offer some money as well to the pool. Nobody should be out of pocket at Christmas.”
“Knew you’d take the side of those people, Rosie.” Sid spoke up. “For all we know they are behind this.”
Ah, that’s what the look was about. You’ve twisted my words.
“Does Darcy have a dark ute?” Charlotte asked, staring directly at Sid.
“On about that again? How do we know you’re not in with them?”
Charlotte couldn’t help herself. She burst into laughter. Even Terrance smiled, but Sid glowered, and Jonas frowned. “Would you like to search the garage and my apartment upstairs? Happy to show you around. Where would I hide a giant tree, even in pieces?”
“How do you know it’s in pieces, missy?” Sid pushed to the front, hands on the counter. “What did you see last night?”
“You are welcome to call me Charlotte, or Charlie. My name is not missy. Do you really want me to say what I saw last night?”
Go on, just goad me a bit more and I’ll tell them you were watching me.
He pulled back. “We’ll talk.” Then he stalked out. Terrance and Jonas hurried after him, and Charlotte followed them, closing the door in their wake and locking it with a loud click.
“Charlie? What was that about?” Rosie wheeled over to her and took her hand. “You’re trembling. Come and sit down.”
“I’m angry. Sorry, he just really gets me riled up. He was watching the balcony from the alley. Made me feel creeped out, that’s all.”
Rosie released her hand, her mouth open.
“Rosie, I’m making things hard for you.”
“My goodness, darling you are not! We should phone Trev.”
“Trev? No! No, he’d drive up here and—”
“Exactly.” Rosie sighed. “Alright. We’re going to go back to my house and have a drink and we’ll work out what to do next.”
Rosie left first and Charlotte counted the money and closed the registers. She turned off all the lights before locking the money bag in the safe out the back. Still rattled, she double checked the front door was locked before doing the same with the back door on her way out.
She took a few minutes upstairs to freshen up. Rosie had texted her the details of where she lived, so Charlotte walked there. Past the roundabout—where several people had gathered—then on straight for two blocks before a right.
The street was narrow but pretty, with old deciduous trees forming an arch over the road. Rosie’s house was the seventh on the left. It was white weatherboard with a colourful cottage style garden. A wide path took her to the front door, where a black and white cat sat in the late afternoon sun. A Christmas wreath was on the glass and timber door. She knocked.
“It’s unlocked, Charlie. Come on in.” Rosie called from inside.
As soon as she opened the door, the cat ran in, tail straight up. “Oh, um, a cat just came in with me.” Charlotte closed the door, locking it behind herself. She followed the cat along a hallway with polished floorboards. Rooms were on either side. Dining room and bedrooms, all with their doors ajar. At the end of the hallway, a lovely living area opened up, with sliding doors to an outdoor area. The kitchen was to one side. The whole house was decorated, and a row of Christmas cards sat above a fireplace.
“This kitty cat is one of mine.” Rosie was in the kitchen, the cat now on her lap. “Say hi to Mellow.”
“Mellow?” Charlotte grinned and reached out a hand. The cat rubbed its face against it, purring. “Nice cat.”
“Mellow and Mayhem. Siblings I saved from a fate we won’t discuss. This one is a delight. Friendly, sweet, undemanding. Unlike her brother. Where are you, Mister Mayhem?”
With more a growl than meow, a second black and white cat appeared. He stalked into the kitchen and sat, staring at Charlotte with big golden eyes.
“I wouldn’t offer your hand. Not if you value your fingers.” Rosie carefully navigated around Mayhem, who merely watched her without bothering to move. “What would you like to drink?” She wheeled out of the kitchen and across to a small bar. “I have wine, most spirits, even some beer I always keep in case Trev visits unexpectedly.”
“Anything. Whatever you are drinking is fine. How often does he do that?” she followed Rosie.
“Visit? Not nearly enough. Can’t tell you how much I miss him.”
A small pang of something resonated in Charlotte’s chest. She missed him too. A little bit. “You won’t move to River’s End?”
“I love my life here. And one day maybe he’ll get a posting closer again.” Rosie held out a glass. “Gin and tonic, if that’s okay. The gin is from Kangaroo Island in South Australia. My friend there sends me a case every so often.”
Charlotte accepted the glass and followed Rosie, who placed her own drink on a side table and manoeuvred her wheelchair to one end of a sofa which had no arm rest. As Charlotte sat opposite, Rosie manipulated her body to slide from chair to sofa. She positioned her legs and picked up her drink with a smile.
“Now this feels better! Cheers, darling!”
“Cheers, Rosie.”
Mellow jumped onto Charlotte’s lap as she sipped. The cat purred, circled twice, then curled up, warm against Charlotte.
“Oh, she likes you! But if she’s a nuisance—”
“She’s a delight.” Charlotte stroked the cat’s glossy fur. “This is soothing.”
“For you both. Now, I want to hear what really happened last night. All of it.”
Chapter Thirteen
“He was waiting for me to see him. The way he looked at me turned my stomach.” Charlotte had filled Rosie in on more of the details of the night, punctuated by sips of the rather nice gin and tonic.
“But he said nothing?”
“Nope.”
Rosie shook her glass to release the last of the gin from the ice cubes and finished it. Mayhem leapt onto the far end of the sofa and meowed at her. “I fed you already. Stop complaining.”
“Does Sid treat all newcomers like this?”
“I’m afraid it is more by association.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s what you might call bad blood between him and Trev. Not my place to discuss, but they’ve had words in the past and the fact you are here with me is enough to draw his attention. I am sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Charlotte grinned. “I was profiling him yesterday. I came up with a long list of issues I could help with, not that I would. A person needs to want help first and I imagine he enjoys the little world he’s created around himself.”
“You’ve got that right! Would you make us another drink? I’m rather comfortable.”
Charlotte carefully moved the now-sleeping Mellow onto the next chair and collected Rosie’s glass. “You mentioned you knew Octavia at high school. What about the others?”
“Marguerite and Sid moved into Kingfisher Falls about fifteen years ago. She and Octavia hit it off immediately and when Glenys began the book club, they all became good friends. Glenys’s lived here as long as I have.”
After making the drinks, Charlotte handed Rosie hers. Mellow was back on her original chair and blinked up as if to say not to bother moving her again. “Fine, I want to sit on the other chair anyway.”
“Cats have their own agendas. We simply do anything in our power to avoid upsetting their plans.” Rosie was so solemn that Charlotte had to look twice to see the mirth in her eyes. They both laughed. There was a sense of happiness in this home. A contentment with life and enjoyment of her own company.
Charlotte gazed around the room. “T
his is such a pretty house, Rosie. And is that one of Darcy’s trees?” In the corner near the sliding door was a dark green pine.
“Thank you. And it is one of his. My husband and I always took a tree each year and then planted it. There was a land care group who arranged places and the town area still enjoys the benefit our, and many other people’s trees provide.”
“It is a lovely thing to do. Once my tree is strong again, I’ll find a home for it. Mind you, it looks better even after a few hours with plenty of water and a nice outlook.”
“Yes, it’s important trees have a nice view.”
“I’m beginning to understand we have a similar sense of humour. Although I have quite a sarcastic streak I need to keep in check.” Charlotte said.
“Feel free to be yourself around me. I do love my customers, for the most part, but there are days when being perpetually polite and accommodating is exhausting.”
Charlotte reached across to the other chair to stroke Mellow. “Speaking of customers, have you ever had a wishing tree set up?”
Rosie leaned forward, interested. “Tell me more.”
“Not that it needs to be a tree, but a place in the shop where customers might donate a book for someone less fortunate. They select a book, or one of our other gift ideas, and pay for it then we wrap it up and the customer writes a card.”
“And we donate the gifts to those less fortunate?”
“Yes. The customer can either donate with their name or anonymously, and the card would include an indicator of the suitable age if for children, or genre if for adults.” Charlotte smiled as Rosie clapped her hands.
“What a wonderful suggestion, darling! Do we have time to do it this year?”
“We’d need some signs, but I can make those tonight. And some little cards—”
“I have a stockpile of cards so that’s an easy one. I wonder how we let people know?” Rosie sat back with a frown. “Too late for the newspaper.”
Deadly Start Page 5
