“Daph? Why don’t we stay a day or so. Have that walk around town and enjoy the river. Would love to get some photos of the bridges.” John rubbed her back. “Check out some of those boutiques you like browsing.”
“Hmm.”
“We’ll get a coffee somewhere nice and have a talk if you like.”
“A coffee sounds good.”
Constable McIntyre returned with his notepad. “You are staying at the caravan park in lot seventeen?”
“In Bluebell.”
He glanced up with a question in his eyes.
“Bright blue caravan with white highlights. You won’t miss her.”
Now, he smiled. “Great name.”
Daphne smiled back.
He checked the phone numbers for both of them were correct and shut his notepad. “Mrs Jones, your willingness to help is appreciated but please don’t do your own investigation. One of us will be in touch.” With a nod, he returned to his desk.
At the front door, John reached for the handle just as it burst open. Three people pushed past without as much as an excuse me, or sorry. They crowded into the area, forcing John and Daphne to squish up against the wall to avoid contact. John put an arm in front of Daphne.
“Where’s the sergeant?” The speaker was a woman in her late forties. She wore pink tracksuit pants, orange sheepskin boots, and a red sleeveless top, half tucked in. Her hair was a mix of grey and light brown and needed a good brush. “I demand to speak to him.”
Two people were with her. A man about her age, balding, dressed in shorts and singlet with mud-caked leather boots. The other was an older teen and by his expression, he didn’t want to be there.
Constable McIntyre returned to the counter. “Sorry Mrs Tanning, he’s out.”
“Out where? Why hasn’t he arrested the serial killer?”
“Come on, love.” John whispered and gently tugged Daphne’s arm.
She pretended not to hear, her eyes on the scene at the counter.
“I’m not at liberty to say where.”
She slammed her fists onto the top of the counter.
“That’s quite enough, Mrs Tanning.”
“No, you lot haven’t done enough.” That was the older man. “We want answers about our nephew’s murder.”
“We have no evidence of the cause of death as yet and—”
Mrs Tanning threw her head back and laughed. Everyone looked at her, including her husband and son. She stopped abruptly.
“Lisa Brooker married three men from one family over the course of five years and each one died within months of the wedding. Steve within hours.”
Minutes, even.
“I am sorry for your loss. We are gathering information and will be in touch with any questions.” The young constable’s face had reddened but his manner was calm and steady. If the Tanning family were all like this, no wonder the police had their hands full.
The man spoke again, more under his breath than out loud. “Feud is killing us off.”
“I’m not moving until someone in authority presents themselves to me.” Mrs Tanning crossed her arms and leaned against the wall and her husband followed suit. The teen rolled his eyes and got his phone out.
John tugged a bit more on Daphne’s arm and this time she let him lead her outside. A large flatbed ute was parked half on the footpath and they went around it.
“Well, that was different.” Daphne said. “Are we having a coffee?”
“You sound cheerful for someone who wanted to be back on the road in a couple of hours.”
“There’s something to be said for not being too hasty. I may have allowed my emotions to run a way a bit.”
John glanced at her. “So, we’re staying?”
“Let’s start with the coffee and see what happens.”
What happened was a text message that shocked them both.
Sitting outside in the morning sun was pleasant and they elected to sit in the fresh air with their coffees. The café they sat outside was small and quite crowded as people hurried in and out.
Daphne was in two minds about what to do thanks to the visit to the police station. It was clear how hard the small team was working to investigate Steve’s death. If there was one thing she was familiar with, it was understaffed police stations. Back in their home town it was a one-officer set up. When Trev Sibbritt was the leading constable there, he’d managed. Just. Since he’d left to move to a new post in Kingfisher Falls, there’d been a quick succession of appointees who’d decided not to stay. Hard work for one person when there’s a large region to cover.
Little Bridges was bigger than River’s End, but still a small town. It appeared they had four police officers in attendance which was probably sufficient for most situations.
“Doll? You are deep in thought.”
Daphne smiled at John. “I was thinking about home.”
“Anything in particular?”
“The police situation and how different it is from here. Lots more officers but my observation is they also have more trouble to contend with.” Daphne picked up her cup. “Did you hear what Mr Tanning said under his breath?”
“Something about a feud.”
“Yes. Feud is killing us off. I wonder…” she took a sip.
John leaned back in his chair with a small smile.
“What?” she asked.
“I can see your mind ticking over, Daph. But it isn’t up to you to fix their problems.”
“Oh, I wasn’t considering that. Mrs Tanning is quite scary. But it does raise some questions about the history of the Brookers and Tannings. What is this family feud about? Are there more suspicious deaths on either side, I wonder.”
“I would imagine the police have it under control, love.”
He was right, of course.
Daphne gazed around as she sipped her delicious coffee. Many towns they’d stayed in recently had quiet Sundays with few or no shops open apart from the obligatory café or bakery. But Little Bridges was different. In either direction from where they sat, shops were open and people wandered. The atmosphere was almost festive and invited her to explore.
The strangest sensation gripped the back of Daphne’s head and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. Someone was watching her. She always knew.
With a casual movement, she let her eyes drift until she found the source.
It was the waiter.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Across and down the road, on the footpath, he stared at her.
Hoping he didn’t know she’d seen him, she moved her eyes away. “John, don’t be obvious about it, but if you look over my left shoulder to the other side of the road, can you see a young man?”
John took a moment to find him. “The one who is walking away?”
Daphne’s head shot around. He had stalked off, glancing at her with a scowl before turning onto a path leading to one of the bridges.
“He’s the one you saw coming out of the caterer’s van? Possibly Lloyd?”
“He is. I could feel him staring at me.”
“But why? If he’s guilty of something, it doesn’t make sense for him to draw attention to himself.”
“Perhaps he wants to scare me.”
“What?” John half-stood then dropped back in his seat. “Sorry. I think we need to finish our coffee, go back to Bluebell, and head to our next town.”
The waiter’s odd behaviour didn’t frighten Daphne. It made her curious.
Her phone beeped as a text message arrived.
“Hold that thought, love.”
Her eyes read the message but her brain didn’t understand.
“Who is it?”
“Um…the mother of the bride of the wedding I’m officiating in two weeks. But why?”
“Can you read it to me?”
She would if she could find her voice. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips, stumbling over the words. “Daphne, I’m letting you know we’ve decided to use another celebrant. Considering
what is being reported on the news I prefer not to bring bad vibes to an otherwise positive day. Will send you some money to cover your expenses.”
“Huh?” John sounded as confused as she felt.
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes but only for an instant. Her heart thumped an uncomfortable beat and she dropped the phone onto the table to clench her hands.
John scooped up the phone and read the message to himself, his forehead creased. “I don’t understand. News has already travelled about Steve? And even so, what does his probably accidental death have to do with their wedding two hundred kilometres away?”
“Bad vibes.”
“Doll, it isn’t your fault.”
“Do they think I pushed Steve into the pool?” her voice rose and a passer-by turned to look at her with a horrified expression. Daphne clamped her lips together.
“Come on. Let’s go back to Bluebell and make some plans.” John stood and offered his hand.
They walked arm in arm, following the direction the waiter took. When they were at the middle of the bridge, Daphne stopped. “I’ve made a decision, love. We’re not going anywhere.”
A Matter of Who
John had to sprint to catch up with Daphne after her bombshell on the bridge. He’d frozen in surprise as his fired-up wife took off at a cracking pace towards the caravan park.
“Hang on a min, Daph!” he puffed as he reached her side. “Can’t talk if…if you go so fast.”
“Oh. Sorry, love.” She slowed right down and slipped her arm through his. “Thought you were right behind me.”
It took a minute to catch his breath. At least Daphne didn’t look upset now about the text message. But what she’d just announced…
“Can you repeat what you said before you took off?”
She glanced at him with half a smile. “Which bit? That we have to stay in Little Bridges for a bit longer? Or the part about finding out what really happened to Steve Tanning?”
“The second part.” He said. “You’re serious.”
“Of course I am. The poor police department is overworked and it can’t help them having the Tanning clan fronting up and wasting valuable time.”
“But it’s their job, Daphne, not yours. No matter how much your desire to help comes from a place of kindness.”
Daphne stopped abruptly and turned to John. “I don’t feel very kind. I’ve lost a client. What if I lose more?” Tears glistened in her eyes and John put his hands on her shoulders. “Being a celebrant means the world to me and all because of something happening which had nothing to do with my ceremony, I’m seen as…well, I don’t know what. A bad omen?”
“Oh, doll.” John dug around for a handkerchief as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Here, this is clean.” He tapped at the tear and then wrapped Daphne’s fingers around the cloth. “You are not a bad anything. There’ll be a silver lining somewhere in there once you get past the shock.”
“Lisa and Steve chose me. I promised them a perfect day and somebody stole that away from them. And from me.”
“That’s the point, love. Somebody else did this. Either by accident or design.”
To his relief, she nodded. “You’re right, John. But it hurts and from a practical, business perspective, I need to make sure my other clients understand how serious I am about my role in their important moments. They have to trust I will always put them first, even if I have to solve a murder to do so.”
“Daphne?”
They continued on, following the path towards the camping ground.
“Daph, I know you have suspicions but what makes you believe the groom was murdered? You said he’d been drinking before and after the ceremony, so maybe he really did fall in.”
“A definite maybe.”
He had to grin. Her mind was ticking over and who was he to stand in her way? If there was one thing he knew about Daphne Agatha Jones, it was that she didn’t give up. Once she set her mind to something, she was going to get answers.
John was the wisest person Daphne knew. And if he told her it was a mistake to pursue this new direction then she would listen.
Most likely.
There’d been the odd time in the recent past when she’d carried out her own investigations without his approval. Well, without his knowledge because that way he didn’t have the chance to say no. Not that he’d ever try to boss her around. Their marriage was one of equality and true love. She’d seen his smile earlier and it warmed her heart.
“First things first.” She announced as they climbed into Bluebell. “I think a pot of tea is in order and some more of those commercially prepared, overly sugary but somehow delicious biscuits of yours.”
Daphne collected her large notebook, the one she used to scribble ideas for ceremonies. After finding a fresh page, she sat at the table while John made tea. “I’m going to write down everything I remember from the last two days. Every person I met or saw. All the incidents like people arguing and words spoken.”
“Good idea. After our tea, do you mind if I do a spot of fishing? Let you have some quiet and I can find us something for dinner.”
He needed some time to himself. Daphne understood. He’d want to process all the ups and downs of the past day or so.
“Sounds delicious! Well, once we cook what you catch.”
She pushed the notebook away until they’d enjoyed their tea and gave John her full attention. By the time he changed into shorts and polo top and headed outside to collect his fishing gear, he was smiling and relaxed again. The way it should be.
You’ve got to be careful not to worry him, Daph.
Easier said than done, given how well he knew her.
An hour or so later, she stretched and got to her feet. She’d covered several pages of her notebook in writing and she’d clarified some things in her mind. What she needed to do was go back to the Brooker house and try to get some photos of the grounds. But how? She discarded the thought about sneaking around in the middle of the night. How would it look if she was caught? No, she needed a reason to visit them and then find a way to access the grounds.
A tap on the door interrupted her musings. “Forget your keys, love?” She swung the door open.
“G’day.”
“Oh. Mr Brooker.”
“Bertie. Nobody calls me mister anymore.”
This was a surprise. Bertie stood a few feet back from the door, gazing at Bluebell. “She’s a beauty. Did you fix her up yourself?”
Daphne climbed down. “We consulted on the work and I decorated inside. But we both were working full time so left the actual rebuild to professionals. Do you like caravans?”
“Used to build them. Had a big company. Once.” He frowned. Moving closer to the side, he ran a hand over the join where a line of white cut through the blue. “Clever use of colour. Beautiful job.”
This was a different Bertie from the one Daphne had met the last two times. The earlier disdain was gone, as was the sense that his mind was a long way away. Dementia was such a dreadful disease.
“Thank you. John and I are very happy with Bluebell…that’s her name.”
“And it suits her.” He stepped back and crossed his arms. “Things aren’t good at home.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
His eyes didn’t move and the longer he stared, the more Daphne got a sense he was sizing her up. She didn’t think he meant any harm but his visit was unexpected.
“I didn’t lose anything. But the place is like a mad house. Lisa weeping and throwing herself onto any comfortable surface whenever anyone looks her way. Bob and Margaret arguing all the time. House staff keeping out of the way.”
“Grief affects everyone differently.”
“Yeah. Hoping you’d come to the house.”
“Me?”
“Say a few words. Don’t celebrants do deaths as well?”
Daphne opened her mouth and closed it again as her mind raced. She’d wanted the chance to take photos. But the idea of another c
eremony for those people had her blood pressure shooting for the stars.
“Nothing formal. Just the family gathered around. Thought Lisa might feel she has some closure. She likes ceremonies. All the pomp and glamour.” He continued. “Not like a funeral. Just something to make her happy.”
“Well, I guess I could.”
“Good.” He turned to go.
“But when? And I’d need some details.”
“I’ll talk to them. Want me to call you?”
“Please. Just give me enough notice.”
Bertie waved as he walked away. He moved fast and with purpose in the direction of the river, but further north than where John fished. Daphne estimated the Brooker property backed onto it about two kilometres away. Bit of a hike for a man in his late seventies if her guess was right.
Back inside, Daphne added to her notes.
Under ‘Lisa’ she wrote:
Appears more upset when being watched.
Loves ceremonies.
The idea that Lisa killed Steve didn’t sit right with Daphne. She might be a bit of an attention seeker but her shock at seeing her new husband dead was genuine. She was sure.
Beneath ‘Bertie’ she added:
Used to own a big company building caravans
Physically fit
The elderly man was at the bottom of her list of suspects but it paid to keep a record of her thoughts. One never really knew another person so how could anyone be above suspicion?
A Family at Odds
Here she was, back at the Brooker residence as if it was two days ago. This afternoon there were fewer vehicles around, only a couple of cars in fact. The expansive front garden was empty of people and the place might have been deserted if not for Lisa’s now-familiar raised voice coming from somewhere inside the house. Her words were muffled but her anger was clear.
Daphne sighed and glanced down the road. John was right at the end. Too late to turn back. He’d dropped her there after voicing his concerns.
“What if they treat you badly, love?”
“Bertie assured me everyone wants me there to discuss his idea.”
Till Daph Do Us Part Page 6
