Deadly Start

by Clark Phillipa Nefri

  She imagined showing these to Sid. Would he fall over from laughing, or slap her into handcuffs? If Trev was here, he’d take her seriously. After he’d told her off for putting herself in danger following a suspicious vehicle. And keeping secrets.

  Yet that’s what she did best. Keep secrets. Err on the side of caution every time. At least now she did, after the mess she’d made of her life and her patient’s life in Queensland.

  The phone went back in her handbag. There was nothing she could do. What proof was there that Veronica was involved in this anyway, other than by having some romantic relationship with one of the thieves.

  You can’t even prove he’s one of them.

  Her heart sank. All this excitement for nothing. It would take a lot more than a few photos and a statement to catch a criminal.

  A car and trailer pulled into the carpark and after a family climbed out and went into the shop, Veronica kissed the man again and then followed them inside. He made a phone call and began walking back toward town.

  Very carefully, Charlotte trailed him. She waited until he was almost out of sight, then drove at a crawl, hugging the kerb, until she had a clear view. This she repeated until the blue ute appeared from the other direction, did a U-turn, and picked him up. By the time she accelerated and got to where he’d been, the ute was gone.

  Frustration sent Charlotte home after half an hour of fruitless searching the neighbourhood for a sign of the ute. She carried her purchases from Gisborne upstairs and left them on the sofa. She still had much shopping to do and worrying about Veronica and her friend was getting her riled up with no means of resolving it.

  Bags in hand, she ran downstairs ready to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. She promised herself a picnic at the waterfall if she stayed on track now. Perhaps the kingfisher would show itself again.

  The bookshop might be closed, but most of the other shops in town were open to capture the last of the Christmas shopping frenzy. Esther was busy with customers as Charlotte passed her shop but managed a quick smile and wave. A few doors along was a lovely little liquor store and to Charlotte’s relief, the assistance knew exactly what Esther and Doug liked to drink.

  One down.

  Was Trev really coming up here for Christmas?

  Charlotte stopped outside the liquor store. If so, she really needed to have a gift for him, but what? Nothing that said, ‘I missed you’, or ‘there’s a future’. Nope. No false hopes being handed out. More along the lines of, ‘nice to see you, person-who-is-a-bit-more-than-an-acquaintance’.

  How about, ‘Merry Christmas. I enjoy your company’.

  Slightly better.

  She headed for the homeware shop with no idea what she was searching for.

  “Hello! You must be Rosie’s new assistant.”

  The voice came from the back of the shop, but it wasn’t until Charlotte looked up that she found the source. At the top of a ladder against the back wall, a man grinned down at her. In his late sixties, he had a full head of white hair and white eyebrows above small spectacles.

  Charlotte couldn’t help smiling in return as she made her way to the bottom of the ladder. He climbed down with surprising sprightliness and shot out his hand for her to shake.

  “Greetings and welcome to Kingfisher Falls,” his voice had a distinctive English accent. “I’m Lewis, owner of this little shop of offerings”

  “Nice to meet you, Lewis. And yes, I’m Charlotte and work for Rosie.”

  “The way I hear it, you are working with her, not for.” His smile was genuine and his eyes sparkled over the spectacles.

  How had she not met this lovely man yet? Charlotte gazed around. “This is such a nice shop! I’ve looked through the windows at night a few times but had no idea you have so much in here.”

  “Then please spend as much time browsing as you wish. Do you have something in mind?”

  “I do love the ceramic teapots.”

  “For you, or a gift?”

  “I thought for Rosie.”

  “Indeed! Shall we take a closer look?” Without waiting for an answer, Lewis was off.

  At the counter half an hour later, Charlotte’s mind was a whirlwind of patterns, colours, brands, and materials. Not just for the gorgeous teapot set Lewis was now gift wrapping, but for a couple of gifts she’d bought for herself. And one for Trev, which she still wasn’t sure about. It wasn’t for wrapping yet. Not until she’d decided.

  “So, you mentioned earlier you’ve been window shopping at night?” Lewis unravelled a long piece of red ribbon with snowflakes and snipped the end.

  “Yes, after work. I’m trying to find my way around. There are a few empty shops. Is that normal?”

  He frowned. “No. But this past year there’s been people opening, shutting, opening, shutting all over the place.”

  “What kind of shops?”

  Lewis released the ribbon and it curled back on itself. “Excellent question, Charlotte. Have you seen the shoe shop?”

  “Around the corner?”

  “Yes. Another shoe shop opened next door to it.”

  “Wow, that’s a bit close.”

  He leaned toward Charlotte with none of the earlier sparkle in his eyes. “They are a good business and the intruder closed in weeks. We had a drink and sighed in relief for our fellow long-time trader. A week later, the same person moved in next door.”

  “Next door, here? With the shoes again?”

  “No, my dear. With giftware. Kitchenware. All kinds of things for the home.” Lewis gestured around his shop with both arms. “Not good products as mine are. Cheap stuff.”

  Charlotte’s mind raced back to the garden centre. Those boxes piled along the far wall. What was scribbled on them? Shoes. Clothes. Saucepans. Books.

  “Veronica.”

  “How do you know this?” Lewis raised both eyebrows. “I didn’t mention her.”

  Charlotte filled him in on what she’d seen. “Did she explain herself? Targeting shops by moving in next door with the same products?”

  Lewis sniffed. “Not the same. Cheap. But that…lady, gave no explanation. She even had the nerve to start rumours that I was closing down. As if that would happen!” He picked up the ribbon and began tying it around the present.

  “I don’t know a lot about retail but would imagine there is a fair amount of cost setting up a shop. And then paying rent?” Charlotte bit her bottom lip. Was this the motive for the break-ins, some kind of revenge for the town not supporting her?

  “She would have had some costs, mainly the stock, but she didn’t bother with nice stands, or anything to enhance the customer experience. And rent? Both landlords offered her a rent-free period.”

  “And she closed before that ended. So, there are landlords out of pocket as well.” Charlotte said. “Did she already have the garden centre?”

  “There you are, all beautifully wrapped for dear Rosie.” He gently placed the box closer to Charlotte. “As for Veronica? She had already chased off most of the garden centre’s customers with her lack of attentiveness and if I may say, rudeness.”

  Oh, you may!

  “I have enjoyed meeting you, Lewis.” Charlotte offered her hand over the counter.

  “And I, you. Shall I expect to see you at the Christmas Eve party?”

  “Um, I didn’t know about it.”

  “Ah. After we close tomorrow night, many of us gather in the plaza for a get-together. Very informal. Both restaurants are closed because they do Christmas lunches, so we all bring a plate of something nice and share it around. Our little tradition.”

  “Sounds lovely. Merry Christmas.”

  Back outside, Charlotte decided to leave grocery shopping for first thing in the morning, before work. She had her hands full with bags and boxes, so made her way home. It was time to look at the photos she’d taken.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Charlotte closed her laptop. She’d uploaded her photos to see them on the larger screen and search for any clues to h
elp. But there was nothing. Lots of images of Veronica at different angles, quite a few of her boyfriend. The ute. No luck at all with the driver.

  She’d gone further back to the night of Esther’s window being broken but shards of glass told her nothing. Even the images from the roundabout were of little value. There were several photos of the men as they pulled down the tree, but none were face on and it was difficult to tell if one was indeed the passenger from earlier.

  Nothing to prove the man with Veronica was even there.

  If only Charlotte had seen their faces when the masks came off at the bookshop. Or if one of them had turned around at the roundabout.

  She had no ideas about what to do next and nobody to bounce ideas off.

  Before her head exploded, she needed to fulfil that promise to herself and visit the waterfall.

  She changed into shorts and T-shirt, grabbed a hat, and threw a sandwich and water bottle into a backpack. In minutes she was striding out in the warm air, longing to get to the steps and work off the tension of the morning. Although she’d planned to have an evening picnic, she’d missed lunch, so mid-afternoon sandwich at the falls it was.

  The further she walked, the clearer her thoughts became. Finding the bad guys wasn’t her job. It was Sid’s. If he failed to fulfil his job, then there were authorities who were responsible for changing that.

  She didn’t like what was happening in and around town, but this wasn’t her fight. For now, and hopefully a long time, she was a book seller. A local trader. The corners of her lips flicked up. Trader. Sounded nice.

  Charlotte turned onto the path to the falls. The sounds and smells of the bush surrounded her, and she breathed deeply of the fragrant air. It wasn’t long before the familiar roar of the waterfall interwove with the birdsong. She stopped at the information board.

  She’d not looked at it since the first night when she’d run in an emotional panic into the dark. The map of the area showed several walking tracks with expected time for the average person. One led a longer way, avoiding the lookout to climb to the top of the falls.

  Perfect.

  After a sip of water, Charlotte found the entry to the new track, a bit excited to see some new part of the falls. The walk, according to the board, was a one-hour round trip, so she’d be back home before dark, even with a stop for photos.

  Whoever came up with one-hour timeframe must have been a power-walker. The track was even worse than the ramp past the lookout. At times, Charlotte had to grab branches to support herself as she clambered up spots where steps had completely rotted. Coming back would be interesting.

  The track did a long, slow curve and then abruptly stopped at the bottom of a high flight of steps. As in, so high Charlotte could barely see the top. Her stomach rumbled. Keep going or turn back and find somewhere to sit for while? She didn’t recall anything other than dense undergrowth and trees on either side of the path, so sucked on the water bottle again and began the ascent.

  Halfway up, she seriously reconsidered the decision. These steps were steep and deep, requiring more than normal work. Her calf and thigh muscles screamed at her.

  Think how strong you’ll get if you did this more often.

  If she survived.

  One last push and she was at the top, breathing fast and feeling just a little lightheaded. The roaring in her ears died down and she blinked to clear her vision. Except, the roaring wasn’t just from her elevated heartbeat. Up here, the falls were loud as a river rushed to the edge of the cliff and threw itself over.

  The view was spectacular. From here, the peaks of the hills around the town surrounded her. In the distance was a mountain. Mt Macedon, she assumed, from the shape and direction. And below was the pool with its surrounding meadow of green and a narrowing river that would eventually become little more than a wide creek that wound past the township.

  Charlotte moved closer to the river and found a place to sit beneath a tree. There, she ate her sandwich as clear water rushed by on its descent to the next phase of its life.

  A bit like me.

  From one place to another. Always Charlie but changing a little each time. She enjoyed the analogy. The river had no concept of its approach to the falls yet flowed with purpose and courage. No deviations or sudden stalls in case something ahead might be scary.

  She took some selfies with the river in the background. These would go onto her screensaver as a reminder of the power of nature and the value of its lessons.

  Phone in her hand, Charlotte climbed over a few rocks to reach the edge of the cliff. The late afternoon sun still stung, in fact, it was hotter now than earlier in the day. Distant clouds were dark and thick and heading this way. She’d need to leave soon.

  But first the scenery demanded her attention. She was just far enough away from the point the water cascaded to get some beautiful images. Then, there was the pool from this vantage point. It was clear to the bottom apart from the base of the falls which churned and clouded the water. Finally, back across the canopy to the lookout.

  Someone was there.

  She zoomed in.

  Two someones. A young dark-haired man and older lady. Glenys.

  How curious.

  The man carried a bunch of flowers which he handed to Glenys. She nodded to him, then held the flowers out over the rail. It was too far for Charlotte to see details, but when the flowers were released, Glenys covered her face. The man put a hand on her shoulder.

  Rosie’s voice crept into Charlotte’s mind. Words about Glenys. “…her poor husband—God rest his poor soul…I hope nobody fell down the steps to the Falls again.”

  A chill crept up Charlotte’s spine and she lowered the phone. Had Mr Lane fallen from the lookout? This might be a remembrance ritual for Glenys. She didn’t want to intrude but needed just another quick look at the man she was with.

  When she raised the phone and zoomed the camera in, it was straight into his face. He was no more than twenty-five, with a tattoo on his neck of some sort. And he was staring back at her as if he had eagle eyes.

  “How?” She backtracked, slipping behind a taller rock. How did he know she was there? Or was this pure coincidence and he was gazing up at the top of the falls, waiting for Glenys to want to leave. It was such a long way she doubted if anyone could identify a person. But the chill remained.

  After a moment, she took a careful peek around the rock. They were gone. If they were heading back to the road, she wouldn’t come across them. She’d hate to interrupt what appeared to be a sad event for Glenys. And a part of her hoped she hadn’t been seen.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Even as Charlotte attempted to sweep the pavement outside the shop, customers wanted to go inside. She smiled, followed them in, and let them browse as she put the broom away. There’d be time later.

  The heavy clouds from yesterday never made it to Kingfisher Falls but the day was less humid, and Charlotte hoped the nice weather would bring shoppers out in droves. So far, so good.

  Rosie arrived as the first customers left, the frown on her face at odds with her cheerful Christmas hat. She wheeled straight around the counter and tapped on the computer.

  “Good morning.” Charlotte joined her. “Okay, since when do you have a Facebook account?” Rosie had refused Charlotte’s offer to walk her through the setup the other day, preferring to avoid social media.

  “One learns when one must.”

  “And why must you be on Facebook?”

  The look Rosie gave her was serious. “When a neighbour tells me there are things I need to see on my bookshop’s page. That’s why.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte sat.

  “Oh, indeed.” Rosie scrolled through the bad reviews, the frown deepening. “Why not tell me?”

  “Because they are fake reviews.”

  “I don’t understand. This one says we told a customer to leave.”

  “Exactly. May I?” Charlotte gently took the mouse. “Right. This one…see the name of the reviewer? It
belongs to a made-up account. And I’ve reported it. And this. This. And look, another with almost the same name.”

  “Sid Browne. Backwards.”

  Charlotte’s mouth opened in surprise.

  “I play a lot of word games. I’m going to call him.” She reached for the phone.

  “No, no, don’t. Please.”

  “Charlie, I am tired of this nonsense! And hurt. Ever since Christmas trees began disappearing, this shop seems to be under attack! Octavia, and Marguerite, even Glenys! And Sid’s had it in for you from day one.” Rosie’s eyes glistened.

  “Don’t cry. And please don’t call him. Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” Rosie drew in a long breath.

  “I’ve also reported his own Facebook page so it is possible all of this will disappear soon. Rosie, I think we need some advice about how to handle Sid Browne, don’t you?”

  “A lawyer?”

  Charlotte smiled. “Was thinking more of asking another police officer about the processes to make a complaint that will stick.”

  “Trevor.”

  “Can we shelve this until we see him?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Rosie took off her glasses to dab her eyes. “Right. So, what did you get up to yesterday?”

  Keeping an eye on the front door for customers, Charlotte gave Rosie an edited version of the previous day’s events. Not wishing to upset her further, she left out her venture as an amateur sleuth following the ute, and where it ended up, as well as her suspicions about Veronica. Although she did ask about the woman’s history of opening and closing shops.

  “I’d forgotten about that. At first, we…you know, the older traders and I, thought she simply had no idea what she was doing. The existing shoe shop was appalled but tried to be friendly. It was Veronica’s rudeness from the beginning which surprised us all.”

  “What about the homewares?”

  “Dear Lewis was beside himself. He’s owned his shop for decades and was always a fair trader. Looks out for other people. Veronica moved in over a long weekend when his shop was closed, and he arrived the following Tuesday to find her A-frame signage blocking his front door. Anyway, customers worked her out quickly and she was packed up and gone within weeks.”