Till Daph Do Us Part

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “So, it isn’t an actual ceremony yet.”

  Bertie had phoned just after John arrived back with a couple of fish in his bucket and a smile on his face. They’d had a nice salad for lunch before Daphne changed into tailored pants and a button up blouse. It would have to do until she could dry clean her jacket.

  “No. Apparently Lisa wants to ask a few questions first.” Daphne had kissed John’s cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  Once John turned the corner and the car disappeared from view, Daphne adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder. If nothing else, she might get the opportunity to go into the back garden. Take a few secret photographs.

  At the front door she knocked twice before footsteps approached. Rapid footsteps. The door swung open and a woman—tears streaking her face—hurried past, gripping a suitcase.

  “Are you alright, dear?”

  At the top step, the other woman stopped. “That terrible woman…how could she?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She wanted them all dead.”

  Other footsteps approached and the woman started down the steps.

  “Wait.” Daphne followed. “Lisa?”

  “Margaret.” The word was hissed and then, the woman was off again.

  “Mrs Jones?”

  Bob was again the person to greet her at the front door and as before, he wore a black suit. Perhaps he was an undertaker. Which would be useful with the amount of dead sons-in-law he had.

  Daphne Jones! Too soon.

  Afraid she might giggle from her nervous humour, Daphne kept her eyes down as she turned around.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Me?” she raised her head. “Um…yes, just admiring the mosaic tiles.”

  He screwed his face up. “Another one of Margaret’s fancy ideas. Me, I’d be happier with a cabin in the woods. Please, come in.”

  All was quiet inside.

  “I hope the cook didn’t startle you.”

  “The cook? Oh. She was a bit upset.”

  “Happens all the time. This was because we got caterers in for the wedding.”

  A snippet of a memory popped into Daphne’s mind. Walking past the kitchen where two women glared at her the other day. Yes, she’d seen her before.

  “The others are outside on the deck.” Bob led them outside.

  Lisa, Margaret, and Bertie sat around a glass top table on a corner of the large deck in an area covered by clear roofing. A ceiling fan pumped warm air down, which didn’t really help. Daphne was glad her jacket wasn’t cleaned yet because even in the past hour, the temperature had risen.

  Although it was early spring, this part of the country was considerably warmer than coastal towns. Little Bridges was surrounded by flat plains and known for its hot summers and cold winters. And now, as all eyes turned her way, at least one set were as icy as the season just gone.

  “Daphne. Oh, I’m sorry…” Lisa burst into tears. She covered her face with what looked like a silk handkerchief and sobbed.

  Bertie patted her back from the next seat. Bob pulled out a chair for Daphne and once she sat, he plonked himself down with a scowl, ignoring his daughter. Margaret smiled at Daphne. It was as forced and artificial smile as Daphne remembered seeing, and she’d seen a few over the years. And those cold, cold eyes of hers sent a short chill up Daphne’s spine.

  A young woman wearing an apron placed a tray with a jug of lemonade and glasses on the table and almost tripped over her own feet in her hurry to leave.

  The sense of dread Daphne experienced leading up to the wedding was back in force. The Brookers were as dysfunctional a family as any in her experience. Mum and Dad at odds. Adult daughter who lived at home and lost her temper a lot. Grandfather on a decline but possibly manipulating them all. And staff frightened to do or say the wrong thing.

  Why are you here, Daph?

  Telling them to get counselling was an appealing idea. But leaving wasn’t going to help uncover the killer. Assuming it was one of them. And now Margaret was top of the list thanks to the throwaway comment by the cook.

  “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. All of you.” Daphne began. “My heart goes out to you and Steve’s friends and family.”

  Lisa dropped her handkerchief. Her eyes were suspiciously dry. “His family? Do you not know anything about them?”

  Daphne shook her head.

  “They are awful. Dreadful people who prey on others.” Lisa glanced at Bertie. “Steal their hard work and dreams.”

  Interesting.

  Bertie pulled a silver flask from a top pocket and took a swig.

  “Dad, it isn’t even mid-afternoon.” Bob admonished.

  “Isn’t it? My bad.” Bertie had another drink.

  “My bad?” Margaret shook her head. “Really, Bertie. Time to stop being on the internet so much.”

  “Nothing else to do.”

  He exchanged a look with Lisa. A strange look which Daphne couldn’t decipher.

  Bob poured glasses of lemonade and passed them around. “We thought Dad’s idea was a good one. Having a small ceremony to say goodbye to Steve.”

  “Except that is what a funeral is for.” Margaret grabbed her glass.

  “But Mum, we don’t know when it will be. The police said they won’t have any news until at least tomorrow from the coroner and you must remember how long these things can take. I imagine Mrs Jones needs to leave sometime soon for her next appointment and then who will we get to say nice things about my husband. My…poor…husband.” Lisa touched the handkerchief to her eyes.

  Nobody in her family took any notice of her action but Daphne kept an eye on her. After a moment, Lisa dropped the fabric away and sniffed, then picked up her glass and drank. The silence dragged and only the distant mooing of cattle cut through the quiet.

  “This is such a lovely spot you have. The house, gardens. How big is your property?”

  Bob grinned. It was the first time Daphne had seen him look remotely happy.

  “Almost a hundred hectares. Two hundred and fifty acres old school.”

  “I hear cows. Is that what you do here? Breed cattle?”

  “We have half a dozen bovine grass mowers. And a couple of retired racehorses and a few sheep. Bit of a menagerie. No, we just like our space.” Bob laughed.

  “Besides,” Margaret added. “We might live in the middle of nowhere, but showing the locals what a proper lifestyle is matters a great deal.”

  “It is a grand house.” Daphne said.

  “Isn’t it? I had an award-winning architect come from the city to draw up plans.”

  “Good thing I love you, Mags. Spending all that money on the place.”

  “Well someone had to do something. Bertie would still be living in the last of his caravans near the river if I’d not intervened.”

  “Loved my caravan.”

  “It was a dump, Bertie. You were holding onto the past.”

  “Mum. How about facts?”

  But Margaret had an audience and was on a roll.

  “Mrs Jones doesn’t understand what we’ve had to contend with. You see, Bertie once ran this town. Owned the biggest business and employed almost everyone. But he needed a partner and—”

  “Mum! Stop it.” Lisa stood so fast that her seat fell over. “Mrs Jones came to discuss a farewell ceremony, not hear about the worst of my husband’s family.”

  “Isn’t it three husbands?”

  “Dad!”

  With that, Lisa flounced away.

  Bertie swigged from his flask, but he didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked amused.

  As interesting as these insights were, Daphne wanted to go after the younger woman and offer some comfort. Even if she was seeking attention with her exaggerated sighs and crocodile tears, losing her husband minutes after saying ‘I do’ was a dreadful tragedy. Daphne couldn’t even imagine what she must be feeling. And she never wanted to know.

  “Sorry about Lisa,” Bob said. “She’s an emoti
onal girl at the best of times.”

  Margaret hadn’t taken any notice of Lisa’s exit. She’d sipped her lemonade and stared into the distance but when the conversation stopped, she glanced around the table, then to the chair on the ground.

  “Tell us more about this farewell ceremony, Mrs Jones.”

  A History Lesson

  “Did I mention what Bertie said about our Bluebell?” Daphne and John sat under the awning in twilight. Their dinner of grilled fish, potatoes baked in foil, and fresh bread rolls from the Little Bridges bakery, was now a delicious memory. John was doing far too much of the work, which did tend to happen around the times Daphne officiated ceremonies, but tonight a twinge of guilt reminded her it was time to give him a break. Tomorrow she’d manage all the meals and even find time to make cookies.

  “What is that little smile for, love?” John leaned over and topped up her glass of apple cider.

  “You look after me so well.”

  “Easy to do. Now we don’t need to be involved in the day to day running of the real estate business, I am enjoying doing a bit for you.”

  John’s original plan for retirement was to sell the business, but an offer from a young realtor changed his mind. Gavin wasn’t in the position to buy but was managing the business with the view to buying in a few years. It suited Gavin. And them.

  “And no, you didn’t tell me what Bertie said.”

  “He said she’s a beauty and the use of colour is good. He asked if we’d fixed her up ourselves.”

  John chuckled. “Much as I’d love to be that clever, it was a bit outside my skillset.”

  “You can turn your hand to anything.”

  It was pleasant sitting here as the sun set. The air carried the ruckus of native birds settling for the night, squabbling over perches and finding their spot. Little else moved close to their site. Only a handful of other caravans were in residence and none of them close by.

  “You’ve not told me much about the meeting with the Brookers. Only up to the point of Lisa upturning her chair and leaving the conversation.”

  “She came back after a few minutes. Either she’d walked off her upset or…”

  “Or?”

  “I’m going to sound cynical and unkind. But it strikes me Lisa thrives on attention. Nobody followed her into the house.”

  “So the impact of storming off was quickly lost.” John said.

  “Her mother didn’t even seem to notice Lisa had gone. She stared off in the distance the whole time. Oh. Not the distance.” Daphne tapped her glass with her fingers. “It was at the pool.”

  “I would imagine that pool will give the whole family sad memories for a long time. How awful to have someone die on your property under such circumstances.” John sighed and leaned back in his seat.

  “I wonder where the others died?”

  “Others?”

  “Sam and Shane. Electrocution and falling off a ladder.” Daphne reached behind her chair to a table beside the caravan and collected her notebook. “Might be worth finding out a few details of their respective demises.” She scribbled some words. “Depending upon the coroner’s findings about poor Steve, one would think Lisa would be a suspect.”

  “Love, don’t you think you’re speculating? For all you know, Sam and Shane might have had their accidents at work and anyway, they would have been investigated at the time.”

  Daphne grinned. “Which is why I need to find out!”

  A magpie landed nearby and elegantly tiptoed towards the awning without a care in the world. The stately black and white bird stopped a few feet away and tilted his head.

  “Feeding a baby?” John got to his feet and uncovered some uncooked fish pieces. He took one piece and tossed it close to the magpie, who wasted no time spearing it with a sharp beak before gliding away. “I heard a young one calling for food up in a tree near the river. Guess we’re right in hatching time. I’ll wash my hands and be right back.”

  As John disappeared into the caravan, Daphne added another note.

  Why did Lisa choose three men from one family to marry?

  It was a puzzle indeed. She gathered the Tannings were a large extended family but even so, Little Bridges wasn’t so small that there wouldn’t be other men to meet, let alone any further afield.

  “Here I am.”

  “Where would you go to look for a husband?” Daphne said.

  His eyes widened. “Sorry?”

  She giggled. “If you were a woman living in a small community, where would potential husbands hang out? I never had to go looking, thanks to my high-school sweetheart.” She smiled at John. “Market research.”

  With a slightly pained expression, John shook his head. “I’m struggling with it. But what if we turn it around and ask where would a young man be likely to find a potential wife?”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “My interest in genealogy might help us on this occasion.”

  “Oh. Research on marriages.”

  “Yes, along with other things. Some of the websites have interesting snippets about people’s backgrounds, even where they met. Or where they were employed. So a shopkeeper might meet a customer. Church is a popular place for many reasons, not the least being the common ground of sharing a faith.”

  Daphne grabbed her pen. “Keep talking, love.”

  “A young man might be in a trade. A carpenter, possibly at a home to build an extension and meets the daughter of the house.”

  “An electrician who gets zapped at his new wife’s house.” Daphne was writing and only glanced up when there was no response. “Bad taste?”

  “Daph.”

  “Sorry. Please keep going.”

  “Some things have changed over the years but people would still meet at school or college. They might work together.” John said.

  “What about socially?”

  “Also shared interest in sports. Or hobbies.”

  After putting down her pen, Daphne swallowed some of the sweet apple cider as she thought about it. At the restaurant, they’d overheard the waiters say the Tanning boys were part of the cool set. Lisa came across as belonging to that crowd but would have left high school before Steve started.

  “I wonder who Lisa went to school with? How would we find out when her previous husbands died? Or lived?”

  “Best way to get a look at when they died is a quick walk through a cemetery, assuming they were buried locally.” John said.

  Daphne clapped her hands, scaring away the magpie which had returned. “Oh, sorry, birdie. But you are so clever, John. Can we go now?”

  “In the dark?” John shook his head. “You go. Not me.”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  “Still not going. Why not finish telling me about the meeting?”

  He was right. She’d see more in daylight than with a flashlight in an unfamiliar graveyard. “The long and the short of it is they’ve asked me to do a farewell ceremony of sorts on Wednesday. Lisa is going to email some ideas across and Margaret will invite the bridal party to join the family. Keep it very small and quiet.”

  “Shall we plan on leaving on Wednesday afterwards? Gives us time for the drive to your next wedding location and to settle in.”

  “Excellent plan, love. As long as the coroner finds no evidence of a murder, there’s no reason to believe we need to be here any longer.”

  Hearing and Seeing Strange Things

  Daphne finally got the chance to have a proper look at the shops in Little Bridges. John was content to go wherever she wanted. He didn’t mind browsing with her, or waiting if she wanted to look at something he didn’t find interesting. Which wasn’t often as they had similar tastes and interests most of the time. Today they planned to be tourists. No talk of the wedding. Not even any writing up of the farewell ceremony.

  While she was cooking breakfast for them earlier, Daphne announced it was time they enjoyed their visit to the area and forgot about everything else. She’d already spent an
hour on the laptop checking her website. Thankfully no more cancellations but no new bookings either.

  The first place they headed was the dry cleaners. Daphne handed over her jacket and pants with a smile and was promised it would be done by the next afternoon. Outside, he gazed around.

  “Which way, love?” he asked.

  “If you don’t mind, I may need to buy another suit. With everything that happened…well it made me take a good look at my wardrobe. I have plenty of casual wear but not a lot for the ceremonies.”

  They spent the next hour or so visiting the half dozen ladies’ boutiques. Daphne told John he didn’t need to wait around for her but he was doing a bit of research on his phone and was happy enough to find a bench along the footpath.

  John’s interest in genealogy began years ago. Daphne came from a troubled background which he suspected was why she’d opened her heart and their home to foster children. And then, in midlife she’d found out about some discrepancies between her birth certificate and what she’d grown up believing.

  Although she’d refused to look into startling revelations about her father, John made some quiet enquiries which led nowhere. There was no immediate family to consult. With the busy business they ran, he put it on the back burner and they’d rarely mentioned it since then. Now he had a little project of his own to make Daphne happy. He had no intention of telling her until sufficient facts came to light, and their current itinerary around Victoria was perfect for his research.

  “Here I am!” Daphne sat beside him, both hands filled with clothing bags. “What are you up to?”

  He slid the phone away. “Taking a look at a map of the area. I take it you found some clothes?”

  “I’ve got two new jackets and then some pants which go with either.” Then the other hand. “And some cooler tops seeing how warm the weather already is. I hope you don’t mind.”

  John kissed her cheek and took all the bags. “Why would I ever mind? I love seeing you doing something nice for yourself.”

  Their next stop was an ice cream shop. Cones in hand, they crossed the road to the shade along the river. A long path meandered between the water and the main street, old trees offering respite from the growing heat of the day.