“Bet you’re pleased that’s over.”
She jumped. Lisa’s grandfather glowered at the backs of the happy couple.
“Always nice to see a couple married.” She said in the cheeriest tone she could summon.
He turned his gaze onto her. “You have no morals marrying them two. No conscience. Shame on you.”
The book slipped from Daphne’s fingers, hitting the floor with a thump, notes falling here and there. Her mouth formed a question which couldn’t come out, so tight was her throat. What did he mean? Why was he angry with her? Did he hate Steve so much he thought the world should conspire to stop the marriage of two grown adults?
“There you are, Dad.” Bob appeared through the crowd. “Time for photographs.”
“Not with me.” The older man shook his head and pushed past his son, disappearing in a moment behind the backdrop he’d helped build.
“Dad, wait on!” Bob sighed. “Sorry about that. Dad is losing his faculties and can’t remember his own name half the time.”
Daphne didn’t know his name but didn’t care to ask.
“Nice ceremony, Mrs Jones. Will you stay for a glass of champagne?”
Her voice returned with a bit of a squeak. “I need the couple to sign their marriage certificate.”
Bob nodded. “Of course. I’ll go and find them. And thanks for being such a good sport. Can’t imagine anyone else putting up with the behaviour of my family yesterday. And that little rat’s comments at the end of the vows.”
It took Daphne a minute or two to compose herself once he left. She collected the fallen notes and her book, packed everything back into her briefcase and then stepped off the podium. The dread was back in her stomach and she had to remind herself this was almost over. Sign the certificate and other papers and then walk away and never return.
Nothing was that simple.
The signing table had been forgotten about, so space was hastily made in the middle of the gifts table. Daphne stood back as gifts were moved to one side by Margaret and staff. Quite a number were already open. A set of crystal glasses, placemats, toasters. Photo frames. Cutlery. And lots of envelopes, probably containing cash or gifts cards. If this was the third wedding in a few years, some guests might have run out of ideas.
Daphne handed her phone to Margaret and asked her to take a few images of herself with the couple she could add to her officiant website. Once the table was dressed with some flowers, the happy couple sat and signed, stopping often for photos and kisses while their bridal party drifted away to a bar.
Once finished, Steve joined his friends for another drink and Lisa’s bridesmaids returned with a bottle of champagne. Hopefully, none of them were driving later. Not that this was her concern.
Daphne made it as far as the back of the deck when Margaret caught her.
“Have you seen Bertie?”
“Bertie?”
“Bob’s father.”
Bertie Brooker, Bob Brooker. Steve, Shane, Sam. Did every family in Little Bridges keep to an alphabetic theme naming their children?
“Last I saw him was right after the ceremony. He went in the other direction from the guests. Behind the backdrop.”
“Oh dear. He’s been known to try and cross the river at the back of the property. We’ll have to search for him.”
By ‘we’, Daphne sincerely hoped Margaret meant ‘they’. Finding a rude and grumpy man was not on her to-do list.
“Marg? Still can’t find Dad so we’re heading to the river.” Bob called from near the gate. He had a group of guests with him, some carrying full glasses as though they were going on an excursion. “Can you search closer to the house?”
Margaret waved in response.
Steve and his friends followed Bob. Just before the gate, Steve stopped, reached into a pocket and removed a phone. He answered the call as the others went on ahead.
“My husband will be here to pick me up soon. I can look around out the front if you like.” Daphne said.
“Yes please. I have to help the others.” Margaret hurried off in the direction of the reception area and Daphne breathed a sigh of relief.
She wasn’t waiting to be stopped again and took a short cut through the house, diverting to use the restroom. The place was deserted and her heels echoed on the floorboards in the long hallway. There were family photos all the way along, some on the wall and others in frames on side tables. Lisa’s previous weddings to two men who resembled Steve. Bob and Margaret’s wedding which made them look as though they’d not aged a lot. Bob as a young man holding a trophy aloft. No, that wasn’t Bob but Bertie. The next photo showed him crossing a finishing line in a running race.
“Probably ran to the river to get away from the wedding.” She grumbled. Outside again, Daphne glanced around. “Bertie? Are you out here?” He didn’t answer and there was no sign of movement.
The driveway and the street was like a carpark with cars and flatbed utes parked at angles on verges. Four-wheel-drives lined up in rows. Half the town must be attending. Except the Tanning family.
A large white van was parked on the lawn. Its back doors were wide open and a young man, carrying a crisp white apron, emerged from its depths just as Daphne went around it, startling them both.
“Oh my! Sorry.” Daphne laughed. He glowered at her and slammed the doors, then swiftly pulled the apron over his head before striding away. Poor thing must have spilled something over himself and was embarrassed. His shirt, now covered with the top of the apron, had wet splashes on it.
Daphne took a minute to send a text message to John, then found herself a spot where she’d see him drive down the street. Time to think about dinner tonight. Somewhere nice with a glass of wine and a laugh about the events of the day.
When John appeared in the distance she was well and truly over standing around. The car was almost close enough to see his face when a cry from the house made her turn and look. It sounded like a woman in pain. And again, this time the voice was recognisable.
Lisa.
And she shrieked one word over and over.
Steve.
Three Times a Widow
Daphne’s head shot back towards the street where John was searching for a place to stop.
“Steeeeeve!”
John waved.
She couldn’t wait.
Daphne turned and ran towards the sound of shrieking.
“Daph? What’s wrong?” John called.
“Emergency!” She managed to call over her shoulder as she wound her way around and between cars.
The screaming stopped. Daphne puffed her way past the house, her eyes darting to the reception area and then…to the pool area.
Lisa slumped on her knees near the swimming pool with her mother, staring into it. But at what? Daphne pushed on and went through the open gate.
Bob and a waiter were in the pool, fully dressed and drenched from head to toe as they paddled either side of someone floating in the water. Someone wearing the exact wedding suit Steve had been in. Sobs wracked Lisa and as Daphne stepped to the edge of the pool she saw why.
Her heart almost stopped. It was Steve in the pool.
Face down.
“Turn him over!” Margaret cried.
A third man jumped in, stirring up the water. Between the three, they managed to rotate Steve onto his back.
Daphne rummaged in her bag for her phone and rang John. She didn’t wait to explain. “You need to phone an ambulance and let them know there is a drowning victim here. Give them my number if they want a contact.” She hung up and shoved the phone into her pants pocket.
The men got Steve to the side of the pool. Daphne tossed her bag to one side and dropped to her knees, leaning over the edge to hold his arm as Bob and the waiter climbed out. Steve’s eyes were open and staring straight at her. Lifeless. Beneath him, a cloud of red panned out, seeping into the shirt of the third man, who remained at his side. It was the man who’d been polishing the tiles yesterday.
> Bob virtually pushed Daphne aside in his haste to grab Steve and she plonked onto her behind. She shuffled out of the way as the men lifted Steve onto the tiles. On the far side of the pool, a small red mark marred the pristine white edge above the water.
“Doll, are you okay?” John was there, his hands strong under her arms as he helped her get to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, words unable to find their way out.
“There’s an ambulance coming.” Arm around her shoulders, John guided her a few feet away, scooping up her bag. Daphne looked at the hand she’d held Steve’s arm with. It was red with his blood. She yanked her jacket off.
More people piled into the area and a woman announced she was a nurse and would everyone step back. She began to work on Steve, snapping orders at Bob and the other men to help her position him.
“We need an ambulance!” Margaret screamed.
“On its way.” John answered. “Perhaps people could move their cars to make a way through for it.”
A few guests took off in the direction of the street.
“Daph? I need to move ours as well. Do you want to come with me?”
She shook her head again.
“I’ve got your bag and jacket. You’ll be here?”
How could she leave? Less than an hour ago she’d pronounced Steve married to Lisa. He’d been rude and stupid but nonetheless was a living, breathing person. How on earth had he ended up in the pool of all places?
Lisa collapsed in a heap, letting out loud, heaving sobs. Margaret patted her back but gazed at Steve with a vacant stare. Three times a widow. Something snapped Daphne out of her shock. Surely this wasn’t possible. Three men from the same family all meeting with lethal accidents when married to the same woman. Something was terribly off. She narrowed her eyes to memorise the scene.
A large swimming pool surrounded by tiled flooring. A handful of sunchairs. Two buildings on the opposite side with their doors facing each other. The first had a sign ‘change room’. The other was smaller and closed up. This building had a tap at the front with a short hose snaking off to one side. Clear pool fencing and gate surrounded the area. There were a lot of people standing outside the fence, while inside, the attempt to resuscitate Steve continued.
Bob joined his wife and daughter, water streaming down his clothes. The waiter stood apart, his hands clenching and unclenching and his teeth chattering.
Daphne hurried for the change room. She pushed the door open. A shelf against the far wall held a variety of folded towels and Daphne collected a selection, hugging them against her chest as she closed the door behind herself. The door to the other building suddenly opened, revealing a glimpse of pool cleaning equipment and tins of paint before a man stepped out and shut then locked the door.
He slid keys into his shorts pocket as he saw her and what she carried.
“Good idea.” He held out his hands and Daphne noticed he was also drenched. It was the other man who’d been in the pool. The one polishing the tiles yesterday. “I’ll hand these out.”
She let him take them. At least he had a shirt on if sopping wet with streaks of Steve’s blood. He tossed one of the towels over his shoulder and took the others to Bob and then the waiter. The latter he spoke to and patted on the back and after a minute, the waiter nodded and left the pool area.
Some of Lisa’s friends got her back on her feet and led her away. Margaret still stared at Steve. At the people working on him. All for nothing for he was gone.
“I have to find Bertie.” Margaret announced to nobody.
“Let me help.” Daphne touched Margaret’s shoulder. “He wasn’t at the river?”
“River? I don’t know. Everyone came running when Lisa…”
“Come on, there’s nothing we can do here. We’ll find your father-in-law.”
No sooner had they left the pool area they found him. He sat alone at a table in the reception area, back to the pool, drinking a beer.
“Dad! We looked everywhere for you.”
Bertie stared at his beer. “Didn’t look hard enough.”
Margaret began to cry.
“What’s wrong now, Mags?”
With a gulp, Margaret sat at the table. “Steve. In the pool.”
Daphne hurried away to the bar and poured two glasses of water. All the catering staff had vanished. Perhaps still looking for Bertie or else curious about Steve. She swallowed one glassful and took the other back for Margaret. “Here, sip slowly.”
Bertie suddenly looked straight at Daphne. “You’re still here.”
She wished she wasn’t. If John had arrived a moment sooner she’d be back at Bluebell. If this mean old man said one more nasty thing…
“Wanted to apologise. My head gets muddled sometimes when there’s too much going on.” He held out his hand to shake. “Will you accept my apology?”
A bit of Daphne’s hurt drained away. “Oh, of course I will.” She reached her hand out and gasped. She’d forgotten about the blood on it, now dried around her nails.
All three of them stared at her hand. “I need to wash this off.”
She dashed off to the house and locked herself in the bathroom again. After scrubbing both hands as clean as she could, she dried them, talking to herself all the time.
“None of this is your problem, Daph. Take a deep breath and soon John will be back for you. We can go to Bluebell and I’ll have a long shower and a cup of tea.”
A siren wailed as she made her way outside. Guests congregated in the reception area, some seated, others walking aimlessly around. Some of the waiters stood at the bar not knowing what to do. One was the young man Daphne had startled at the van. He stared at her and a chill crept up her spine.
His shirt had been wet. He’d been getting a fresh apron.
“There you are, love.” John put his arm around her shoulders. “Thought you were staying by the pool.”
“There was blood on my hand. From holding his arm. Steve’s.”
“Do you want to go?”
“I don’t think I can. Police might need a statement.”
“But it was an accident.”
They walked towards the pool area. The siren had stopped. The nurse still worked on Steve, her movements as precise as at the beginning, but her face lined with exhaustion. Blood formed a puddle around him which trickled across the tiles and dripped into the water.
“I don’t believe it was accidental, John. And I think I know who is responsible.”
“You’re wrong!”
Daphne and John turned. Lisa swayed behind them, one of her friends keeping her from collapsing with an arm around her waist. Black trails of mascara cut through her makeup, all the way down her neck to the top of her white dress, leaving dark smudges along the lace.
“It was an accident. The tiles were polished for the wedding when the pool area was spruced up. Dad insisted everything look new again. He just slipped.” Her voice broke. “Slipped. My poor boy.” She had no more tears and there was an emptiness in her eyes which tugged at Daphne’s heart. “All my poor boys.”
With that, her eyes fluttered and she fainted.
Suspects Galore
Two paramedics wheeled past with a stretcher loaded with medical equipment. As Lisa fell to the ground, they stopped, confused.
Daphne pointed to the pool. “She’s just fainted, we’ll look after her. You need to go there.”
John, with the help of Lisa’s friend, managed to get her onto her side and she came around almost immediately.
“Just rest a minute. We’ll get you some water.” John said.
Margaret and Bertie hurried over and Bertie sank to the ground next to Lisa, patting her shoulder with soothing sounds. His eyes though flicked to the paramedics and the scene around the pool.
“What’s going on?”
“I told you earlier, Bertie.” Margaret said.
“I’ve lost my Steve, Gramps.” Lisa lifted her head. “I’ll never keep a husband, just
like Dad used to say.”
Daphne’s ear pricked up. Who would say such a thing to their own child?
“He never meant it, sweetie,” Margaret said. “You always got bored so fast. New toys lasted a day before you’d break them. You’d make a friend then decide they weren’t good enough. But that was a long time ago.”
John’s mouth had dropped open and Daphne took his arm. “We might go and sit for a bit. If you are all okay here?”
Nobody answered.
Daphne was happy to find a table away from the pool and from the lines of worry on her husband’s face, so was John. He reached for her hand.
“Are you doing okay? This must have been a shock.”
“I’m fine now you’re here, love.” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “So much happened today and when I saw you driving down the street all I longed for was to have a shower and cup of tea and tell you all about it.”
“Surely there’s no need to stay though?”
“I know things.”
“O…kay.” He said.
“Suspects.”
“But we don’t even know if a crime’s been committed. The poor young man may very well have slipped as the bride suggested.”
Another siren sounded.
“I guess we’ll find out.” Daphne said.
John leaned closer. “Before, you said you knew who is responsible. Daph…what do you know?”
Daphne looked over her shoulder. Most people now stood in a semi-circle around the pool as the paramedics did their job, but a few guests and a couple of waiters remained in the reception area.
“Quick rundown, love. Not everyone approved of the wedding. For a start, there’s none of Steve’s family here.” Daphne’s eyes widened. “Oh goodness. Has anyone contacted his family?”
“Quite a few people are on their phones.”
“This is terrible. Can you imagine not attending your loved one’s wedding and then they die?” She heard her voice rising and put a hand over her mouth.
“Stay here, doll.” John went to the unattended bar and overfilled a glass of champagne. He returned and put it in front of her. “I know this is highly inappropriate given the circumstances, but there’s only that or beer and I feel a little drink might settle your nerves.”
Till Daph Do Us Part Page 3
