Deadly Start

by Clark Phillipa Nefri

  Dread clutched Charlotte’s stomach.

  “A past? Everyone has one.”

  “Talk is that you know people.”

  A little bit of the panic subsided.

  “Any particular people?”

  “Yes.” Glenys was so far across the counter she might fall if one palm wasn’t on the timber top. “The rich and famous. We think you might have been one of those consultants, or publicists, the ones who tell them what to say and how to say it.”

  Charlotte managed to keep a straight face. She leaned a bit closer to Glenys. “Well, I can tell you—”

  “Hello, Glenys. Back again?” Rosie arrived with a box on her lap.

  Glenys straightened, annoyance flashing across her face. “Rosie. Nice to see you.”

  Even Rosie picked up this wasn’t true, but she just raised her eyebrows and moved around to her spot behind the counter. She placed the box on the counter and Glenys immediately looked at it.

  “Are you buying another book for the giving box?” Rosie asked. “Everyone is being so generous.”

  “No. Not today. I have a doctor’s appointment so will take my leave.” She shuffled off, using her walking stick until she was almost past the window, then picked up her pace without it.

  Charlotte groaned and leaned against the counter. “May I lock the door when you aren’t here? Please?”

  “And what was that all about?”

  “She and the ‘ladies’ have decided I am some kind of past consultant for, as she says, the rich and famous.”

  “You could go with that. Come up with some fancy stories and have them eating out of your hand. Think of all the sales you’d make.”

  “You want me to lie? Just to make money?” Charlotte grinned. “What’s in the box?”

  “This is a present for Trev.”

  Charlotte’s heart did a silly little jump.

  “Oh. Will it reach him in time?”

  “I hope he might make it up in the next few days. He normally visits, depending of course on what antics that town of his is up to.” Rosie laughed. “As you well know, he can’t turn his back when somebody needs him.”

  “This is true. He’s pretty good at fixing things.”

  That was an understatement. When Charlotte was being held in a cave by a former patient, Trev risked his life propelling down a cliff despite his fear of heights. He wasn’t the only person out to catch the man but seeing Trev’s face when all seemed lost was a moment she’d never forget.

  “Charlie?”

  “Oh, sorry. So, is it chocolates?”

  “No. Actually, I am still of two minds. Would you give me your opinion?”

  “Sure. Not that I know him well enough to be a good judge.”

  Rosie gave her one of those looks she was getting familiar with. A touch of disbelief and a smattering of ‘get real’.

  Nestled amongst tissue paper was a photo frame made of timber. The photo was at a sportsground. Three people had their arms around each other, and it took a moment for Charlotte to work it out. Rosie, a man who must be her husband, and Trev as a teenager. He wore cricket gear and held a trophy.

  “When was this taken?”

  “Trev’s team had won the Grand Final for the region and he was named Best and Fairest. That’s his dad, my Graeme. He coached the team, so it was double celebrations.” Rosie traced Graeme’s image with a finger. “I used to go to every game. Take the lunches and do the scoring. Such lovely memories.”

  “Why are you of two minds? It is a beautiful photograph.” Charlotte sat next to Rosie.

  “This was the last game Trev played. He was all set to play the following season, and Graeme was coach again, but then I had my accident…”

  Charlotte took Rosie’s hand. “So, it changed all your lives. And you’re worried Trev might feel some regret or relive the fears he would have experienced.”

  Rosie nodded. There were tears in her eyes and her lips trembled.

  “I can understand you might worry about his reaction, but seeing as you asked for my opinion, I’m going to give it to you.” Charlotte passed a box of tissues to Rosie with her spare hand. “This photograph captures an important and wonderful moment in time. Whatever happened afterwards is unrelated to the excitement and pride I can see in all three of these faces. This celebrates not only the win, but a family who support and love one another. And now I might take a tissue if you don’t mind.” Her voice squeaked uncharacteristically.

  Rosie passed them back and Charlotte dabbed her eyes. As a psychiatrist, she’d heard many stories of loss and regret, but knew how to file them into her collection of mental boxes to avoid the powerful emotions of her patients. This was different. She had no box set up to lock away this kind of reaction. One borne from caring about the subjects.

  She sipped some water as Rosie replaced the cover of the box.

  “Good. That’s settled then. Would you wrap it for me, please?” Rosie didn’t look at Charlotte and there was a tell-tale quiver in her voice.

  “I will. So, go and freshen up before the book club ladies arrive and get all judgemental.”

  With a startled glance out of the window, Rosie wheeled off toward the bathroom. “They’d better not start!”

  There was no sight of them, but it got Rosie moving and gave Charlotte a moment to blow her nose and pull herself together. Hopefully, Trev wouldn’t react this way. Not that she’d be around when he opened it. Or probably even see him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  All afternoon the shop was bursting with customers, some panic buying with Christmas Eve looming. There was no time for anything other than a quick sip of water anytime Charlotte made it to the counter, which was mostly to drop off armfuls of books for Rosie to put through the register.

  There was a backlog of books to be gift wrapped, and Charlotte had offered to finish this after the doors closed so the new owners could collect them tomorrow. Rosie was exhausted and when things began to quiet down at about five, Charlotte made her go.

  “Because if you insist on staying, I’m going to drive you home, and you have no idea what kind of driver I am.” She’d threatened.

  “How bad could it be between here and my place?” Rosie was collecting her bag as she talked. “Unless you are like Sid.”

  “How rude!” Charlotte chuckled. “I can drive much faster.”

  “Very well, I shall go. I need to shop so appreciate the extra time, darling. I feel bad leaving you to finish gift wrapping.”

  “No need. I shall close and then wrap, perhaps with a glass of wine. I want to add those last-minute gift ideas to the Facebook page, so can sit down here and upload photos.”

  A family hurried in, the mother with a look of desperation Charlotte was getting used to seeing. She shooed Rosie out and looked after them. Their arrival was followed by a series of late shoppers and the next half hour flew by.

  With a small sigh of relief, Charlotte closed and locked the front door. She turned off all the lights except the one above the counter and counted the takings. Once they were in the safe, she did a quick sweep and tidied up the shop ready for the morning. From upstairs she collected a glass of red wine and returned to the counter, ready to wrap the remaining books.

  A tap on the door surprised her and she waved and shook her head as if to say ‘closed’. But it was Esther, who mouthed something Charlotte couldn’t hear.

  Charlotte opened the door a crack. “Hello, I’m sorry but I’ve closed the registers.”

  “Oh, I was going home and saw the light. Not buying, just hoped to have a word.”

  “Come in. But I’ll lock you in with me.”

  Esther slid inside and waited at the counter as Charlotte closed and relocked the door. Her face was the most relaxed Charlotte had seen so far.

  She smiled. “I won’t hold you up, Charlotte. We sent the photos to the insurance company and they’ve said they’d like you to provide a brief statement, if you don’t mind. They were very nice on the phone, and I got
the impression they’ll help us.”

  “Oh, wonderful! Yes, let them have my email address and I can fill in their form or whatever they need. Have the police let you know anything?”

  “Sid? He doesn’t care. Don’t let his car chase through town fool you for a minute because it was all for show.” Esther turned red; her hands balled at her side. “There’s something going on and us traders? We’re all caught in the middle of it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Council wants us to contribute to a new tree for the roundabout. We already paid for one mid-year when Jonas came around crying poor.”

  “I heard about them asking for money now, but if you’ve already paid once it seems unfair. Would you like to sit?”

  “No. I really have to get going and I’m sorry to get all upset. We’d all really like some proper policing.” She glanced at where Rosie usually worked. “I’m sure we’d all be happy if Trevor was in charge.”

  “I think he’s pretty happy in River’s End.” Charlotte wished someone would tell her exactly why he wasn’t here in Kingfisher Falls.

  “I know. He always tells Doug and me he loves it there. But we need good policing and instead we have Sid Browne.” Esther headed for the door. “Perhaps he’ll come back now you’re here.”

  “Trev? Me? No, it’s nothing like that. Here, let me get the lock, it tends to be a bit stiff to turn.” Charlotte opened the door and stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. “I was so pleased to hear Doug say what he did last night.”

  “He is one for telling things as they are. Both of us are angry anyone would even consider Darcy to be behind all the thefts. I’ve known him since he was born and there’s nothing in him but a good heart and kind spirit.”

  Back inside, Charlotte took a sip of wine before beginning to wrap. Why did Esther believe she and Trev had something going on? Rosie knew better, although she did worry about her son’s love life, or lack thereof, so it probably wasn’t coming from her. Maybe just a typical small-town response. People like to gossip. Pity there was nothing to gossip about when it came to Trevor Sibbritt.

  The wine glass was long empty by the time there was a row of beautifully wrapped books lining the top of the back counter. Charlotte was pleased with herself. As with decorating Christmas trees, she had little experience with gift wrapping, but once Rosie showed her a few tricks, she enjoyed doing it. Using her hands to create something pretty was surprisingly satisfying.

  She took a couple of photos of the newly made display near the children’s section. It was filled with colourful picture books right up to young adult novels, all discounted until close of business on Christmas Eve. These she uploaded to Facebook, adding a catchy description.

  The page had grown again, and there were new reviews. Charlotte couldn’t help smiling as she recognised some names who left glowing comments. But then the smile faded. Someone called ‘Disenworb the Great’ had given one star. Fine, but the words below chilled Charlotte.

  Overpriced. Rude staff. Don’t shop there.

  “What? Rude? Us?” Charlotte heard the shock in her voice and took a deep breath. This was someone having a go. Possibly a competitor. Her mind flew back to the Santa from the next town, happily encouraging the folk of Kingfisher Falls to take their business to his store. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard to respond. Instead, she exited Facebook, and turned off the computer.

  Any response needed to be cleverly worded to take the sting out of the review. But not to engage with someone who had an axe to grind. She’d think it over and speak to Rosie in the morning.

  Last of the lights off, Charlotte rattled the front door to be certain it was locked. Sid’s police car drove past, ever so slowly, then he did a U-turn. She wasn’t about to speak to him today, not after hours and in a dark shop, so Charlotte retreated behind a bookcase, where she hoped she couldn’t be seen from the street.

  He parked outside and climbed out. Sid wasn’t in a hurry. He lit a cigarette and leaned against his bonnet as he smoked, staring into the shop. Charlotte’s senses were on high alert. He tossed the still-smoking butt onto the pavement and wandered along the shopfront. For a moment he looked through the window with the Christmas tree, then took out a phone and possibly took a photo. She was too far away to be certain.

  The phone returned to his pocket and he moved along the windows to the door, turning the handle then pushing on it until it creaked. Charlotte’s heart raced and she clenched her hands to keep herself still. What the hell was he up to?

  At the other window he put both hands against it and peered in. His eyes seemed to be directly on Charlotte, and she held her breath. This was not normal behaviour for a police officer. Esther was right. Something was wrong in this town and it included at least some shire councillors and the only police officer in the area. A couple wandered past taking their dog for a walk and nodded to him. He nodded back. The minute they were gone, he shot back to his car and slid in.

  Charlotte waited until his car was gone and then she sped out of the shop, double checking she’d locked the back door, and up her stairs. She locked the door and pulled the chain across, something she didn’t normally worry about.

  From the balcony she looked for his car. He’d gone. At least out of sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Too tired and distracted to cook, Charlotte wandered across to Italia in the hope she’d get a table without a booking. The other night from her table at the Indian restaurant across the road, she’d seen how busy this one was.

  Tonight, it was almost deserted, and she was whisked to a round table with a bright tablecloth near a window. Although there were few patrons, the kitchen was noisy and several delivery drivers with ‘Italia to Home’ on their tops waited for their bags to be packed. Behind the pass, Doug called orders and cut pizzas.

  “Welcome to Italia. I’m Bronnie and will look after you this evening.” A friendly faced older woman, red hair pulled back in a bun, appeared tableside with a menu and notepad. “Would you like to order a drink first?”

  “Hello, Bronnie. I’m Charlotte. Um, yes, maybe a glass of red wine.”

  “We have some nice Chianti if you wish?”

  “I’d like that.”

  When Bronnie returned with her wine, Charlotte ordered pumpkin gnocchi, suddenly ravenous and longing for a nice meal. She was no kind of cook, not really. From a young age she’d been responsible for feeding herself and often her mother and taught herself some basics. Enough to get by.

  The months she lived at Palmerston House made a difference, with Elizabeth happy to let her help with meals and teaching her little tricks. Such as knowing when fish was cooked properly, and how to make delicious wedges in the oven rather than frying them. It didn’t interest her enough to make her take lessons, but at least now she had more than the standard five or six meals she’d rotated for years.

  What did interest Charlotte was people watching. Humans were such intriguing things. She missed her practice at times. Missed some of the patients she’d helped.

  An elderly couple were shown to a table and then a young family to another. The couple smiled at the children and then at each, holding hands over the table. They reminded her of Thomas and Martha Blake from River’s End. They were a couple with stories to tell, and such love for each other.

  “Here we are. The gnocchi is steaming hot so please give it a minute.” Bronnie set a large bowl in front of Charlotte.

  “This smells lovely! Bronnie, I’m surprised it isn’t any busier. Or is this a weekday thing?”

  Bronnie frowned. “No, this is a Christmas tree thief thing, I’m afraid. People don’t want to leave their houses in case they are next. Takeaway is busy, but not the restaurant. I sent home all the other waiting staff early.”

  Charlotte savoured a mouthful of the wine as Bronnie went to collect menus for the other tables.

  The whole town was being hurt by the people behind the thefts. Was this their objective? To frighten families and th
e shopkeepers for some reason?

  “But why?” she murmured. “Who is benefitting?”

  Sid came to mind immediately, but this was baffling because all he’d got out of it was criticism for the car chase. Maybe it was just some bored thugs with nothing better to do.

  The gnocchi melted in Charlotte’s mouth. She took time to enjoy the meal and atmosphere. Doug noticed her and waved.

  Deciding she was too full for dessert, Charlotte paid and thanked Bronnie for a lovely meal and service. The air was warm and there were people walking along the main street, so she went window shopping. She wanted to find something to give Rosie for Christmas and so far, had little in the way of ideas.

  A couple of shops caught her interest. The first was a homeware shop. Its window was brightly lit to display shelf upon shelf of Christmas ideas. Dinner sets, vases, glassware, beautiful tea towels and lined, thick towels, and all kinds of knick-knacks. There was a row of ceramic teapots and these appealed to Charlotte. Rosie drank coffee at work but had mentioned her morning cup of tea more than once. She filed that idea away for later.

  Esther’s dress shop was more than simply clothing. She sold shoes, belts, wraps, hats, and scarves.

  The scarves were all lightweight for summer, cotton or silk, and in a range of patterns and colours from pastels to bold. Charlotte particularly liked one with a soft green background and a vibrant dash of emerald. It said ‘Rosie’ all over.

  Happy with her finds, Charlotte crossed the road. There were less people about now and she found herself walking faster than normal.

  You’re braver than this.

  She deliberately slowed her steps, enjoying the walk in the evening air. The corner was ahead and once she went over the side street, the bookshop was only a little bit further. There were some people looking in its window.

  Charlotte didn’t want to disturb them so stepped onto the grass verge. She glanced at the window. Their faces were reflected in the glass.