Till Daph Do Us Part

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “During the storm the other night, I had the strongest sensation of being watched. And I know it was only a feeling, but when I was walking the next morning there were deep footprints around those trees.”

  John touched her arm. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Thought I was imagining things.”

  “What if we take a look?” Matty headed in the direction she’d indicated and the others followed, catching him up just before the trees, where he stopped. “Can you still see the imprints, Mrs Jones?”

  I’ll look silly if I can’t.

  Daphne was careful where she stepped as she circled the largest of the trees, glancing back to Bluebell. This was the spot. And the footprints?

  “There. Just before the grass line. Facing our caravan.”

  Matty took out his phone and took a series of photos before getting close enough to inspect the area. “Looks like boots, large ones so most likely a man. And deep. Might have stood here for a bit. During the storm, you say?”

  Daphne nodded. Someone had stood here watching them then returned and slashed their tyres. Quite apart from the cost of replacing the tyres was the knowledge someone wanted to harm them. She blinked rapidly and swallowed. No time for tears. Whoever the someone was, they were sending a message.

  “At least you can rule out Gina!”

  Both men turned to her with confused expressions.

  “She has been telling me to leave town since Monday. Slashing our tyres means we have to stay longer.”

  Matty smiled. “We’ll exclude Gina from our enquiries.”

  “But only for this. I just performed the farewell ceremony for Steve Tanning at the Brooker residence. Gina referred to his family as ‘the thieving Tannings’ and made a number of nasty comments of how other members of the family should have stopped Lisa marrying the three men. Her parting words to her brother were along the lines that he shouldn’t be surprised if the police come calling and she’d been forced to do it.” Daphne stared at Matty. “I wonder if she meant she’d felt forced to do something about Steve and had decided to confess.”

  Matty put his phone away. A long silence followed, broken only by birdsong. As if he’d made a decision, Matty nodded. “If Gina had anything to do with it, it was from a distance. She didn’t stab Steve. Height is wrong and besides, she has an alibi. Everyone does.”

  “Everyone?” John asked. “What about Bertie when he disappeared?”

  “Except he didn’t disappear. He went to sit under a tree near the caravan waiting for Dempster to finish feeding stock or something. For some reason, the younger man can calm him when he gets worked up or confused. They came back together. And before you ask how we know, they were seen on the other side of the property at Steve’s time of death.”

  Another suspect to cross off.

  “Who saw them?”

  “Shall we go back? I want to check for matching footprints around the caravan.” Matty headed off without waiting.

  Daphne hurried after him. “Please, may we know? It isn’t like I’m going to go and accuse anyone!”

  She was sure she saw a grin on Matty’s face but he said nothing until they were back at Bluebell.

  “Okay, it was Gina who saw them both. She was pretty angry about it because in her opinion Steve would still be alive if Bertie hadn’t vanished and caused everyone to go searching.”

  “But she didn’t want Lisa to marry Steve.”

  “A lot of people didn’t but it doesn’t make them murderers. You need to trust me that we’ve spoken to her at length about this and the missing phone and at this point, it is up to homicide to pursue any other angles.”

  “Missing phone? Was it Gina’s phone that called Steve?”

  Matty rolled his eyes and clamped his lips shut. It was fine with Daphne. He’d said enough to fill in some blanks. She couldn’t wait to find her notebook.

  Night Notes

  “We finally have neighbours.” John stuck his head through the door. “Apparently the people who were further up the river heard what happened and arranged to move closer. Strength in numbers.”

  “Were they concerned they might be next?”

  “Nope. Didn’t want us feeling alone.”

  Daphne shook flour off her hands. “What a lovely gesture. I should go and thank them.”

  “We will once they finish setting up. Thought I’d pop into town and pick up a bottle of wine to give them. Happy to wait until you can come with me.”

  “No, no. You go. I’m about to slide these cookies into the oven and thank goodness I’ve made a big batch so we can give some to those nice people. Do you mind if I give you a small shopping list? I fancy making lasagne for dinner.”

  A few minutes later the cookies were in the oven, John was on his way to town, and Daphne had her notebook on the table. After Matty left, John had climbed under Bluebell with a torch to make sure there was no damage he’d missed. Four wrecked tyres was bad enough. Nothing else was out of place and some of John’s expression of worry eased a bit.

  Making cookies for him was the best way Daphne could think of helping. It was only a little thing but making something nice which he loved surely would provide some much needed comfort.

  As the delectable smell of the baking filled Bluebell, Daphne added to her notes about the death of Steve Tanning. The police might have discarded Gina as a suspect but there were too many unanswered questions about her for Daphne’s liking. For example, what did Gina mean about the police? Perhaps she had an idea of how to pin it all on someone else in the family. Like Bertie.

  Daphne wrote down her thoughts until the oven timer buzzed. The cookies were choc chip and looked as good as they smelled. Perfect for a quick snack once John returned, before she started on dinner. Then, they could finally do a proper catch up on the events of the day.

  After dinner, John did one final walk around outside, flashing his torch at the trees for good measure. Daphne closed the last of the blinds as he turned to come inside. The new neighbours were a couple of camp sites over and had their outside lights on as well. Best to keep everything illuminated overnight. Just in case.

  “Matty said he’ll arrange for the patrol car to drive through a couple of times tonight.” John climbed inside and locked the door. “For all we know this might have been nothing more than a random act of vandalism.”

  Daphne disagreed.

  “Would you like another cookie?”

  “Um. Thanks but I’m still full. Dinner was delicious.”

  “In that case, I’d love to hear more about your visit to the library.” Daphne dropped onto her seat.

  John collected the laptop and his phone. “The library didn’t give me a lot of new information but I was on one of the genealogy apps earlier, digging around to find Mary Brooker. Mary Smith. Let me go back to where I was because there were queries about her.”

  “So a person can join up and add their details to see if anyone is related to them?”

  “Kind of. There are DNA tests people take—often just to get an idea of where their ancestors came from—and they can lead to discovering an arm of a family or a lost cousin. That kind of thing. Ah, here we go.” John turned the screen so Daphne was able to see. “About twelve years ago there was a query about Mary Brooker of Little Bridges. An anonymous responder provided information including that she died in Melbourne aged sixty leaving behind a daughter. Well, well.” He glanced up. “The child was born seven months after the deaths of Richard and Joseph.”

  “I wonder who the father was?”

  “Excellent question.”

  “What if…” Daphne trailed off as she tried to connect her thoughts. “What if the query twelve years ago was from someone thinking they might be related to her, and therefore the Brookers? They find out about the Brooker wealth and come to claim their share. But the money is Lisa’s inheritance. She’s only a Brooker because her mother married into the family. So there would be no claim to stake.”

  “You think the Tanning d
eaths might be payback? Lisa didn’t pay out so her husbands all get to die? Dunno. Seems extreme.”

  He was right. Sounded like a B-grade television show rather than real life.

  “Here’s another theory. This person descended from Joseph Tanning and came to join the family but was rejected. Actually, scrap that. Why only kill off those who marry Lisa?”

  The lights flickered and Daphne jumped. John patted her hand. The lights settled and she told herself to get a grip.

  “Right. Well, according to my notes, we are running out of suspects. Assuming we believe Matty that Gina is not one of them.”

  “Which you don’t believe. Do you?” John stood. “Care for a glass of wine?”

  “Great idea. I’d like to exclude the woman but really, how can I?” Daphne turned to the page headlined as ‘Gina. Not a nice person’. “Let’s recap as if you’d never met her or heard any of this and tell me what you think.”

  John poured two glasses of red wine and returned to the table. “Might be hard to pretend given how mean she’s been to you, but let’s give it a whirl.”

  They raised and tapped their glasses together with a ‘cheers’.

  Daphne put down the glass after a lovely long sip. “I do like the local wines here. Anyway, let me introduce you to Regina…don’t know her married name. But a Brooker through and through.”

  “Nice to meet you, Regina.”

  “Funny. Although I’d like to mention that Gina takes herself very seriously, to the point of wearing pearls for any occasion and putting down other people to make herself feel better, I won’t.”

  “Very charitable of you.” John grinned.

  “I thought so. Moving on to the facts as known. She is the younger sister of Robert Brooker, better known as Bertie, Dad, Granddad or Gramps. She has been known to say—on multiple occasions—that Steve Tanning didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Which makes her a good person.”

  “On the other hand, she hates the Tanning family with a vengeance and has been overheard by a creditable source telling other members of her family they should have stopped any marriages between the clans.”

  “A creditable source. Well, that is reassuring.”

  Daphne giggled and drank some more wine.

  “Why is this beacon of light even considered a suspect?” John asked, his eyes bright with mirth.

  “Well,” Daphne leaned a bit closer, “there are some things you may need to consider. Did you know she owns a phone which she claims was stolen before it was used to phone Steve on his wedding day? A phone call which lured him to his death?”

  “Intriguing.”

  “Methinks she made herself sound sympathetic to Steve to draw attention away from her real purpose.”

  “Which is?”

  Daphne leaned forward and whispered loudly, “Murder any of those thieving Tannings before they get another chance to steal.”

  John went back to the laptop, typing into the search bar. “Did you get more information about the deaths of Lisa’s other husbands? Sam and Shane?”

  “Some. Maurice from The Chronicle told me there had been investigations into both deaths but there was no evidence of foul play. Sam was an electrician working for himself. He was rewiring an old house and made a mistake. Was alone at the time and there was nothing to indicate anything other than a tragic accident. He was Lisa’s first husband and they were together for seven months.”

  “Not long at all. And what about Shane?”

  Daphne went back through her notes. “Fall from a high ladder. This was at the Brooker house and he was helping with a broken branch of a gum tree. Overbalanced and fell. Despite attempts to resuscitate he was pronounced dead at the scene. Married for three months.”

  “I’m on The Chronicle’s website,” John read from the computer screen. “This old article mentions Shane falling during an attempt by two men working alone to remove a dangerous branch. He was at the top of an eleven metre ladder with no safety gear and according to this, misjudged his footing and fell straight down.”

  “Nasty. And stupid. Why on earth take such a risk!” Daphne fanned her face with her hand. “Does it say who the other man was? Presumably, a professional tree lopper, although why they wouldn’t bring their own people—”

  “Love? The person with him was Dempster. And get this. His name is Dempster Smith.”

  “I can’t find my phone, John. It definitely isn’t in the car?” Daphne turned her handbag upside down on the bed, lipstick, purse, and other small items spilling everywhere. But no phone.

  “Even looked under all the seats and in the glove box. What is the last time you remember it in your hand?”

  Daphne sat on the edge of the bed, concentration wrinkling her face. They’d spent the past ten minutes searching in the usual places. After the bombshell of finding Dempster’s surname, she’d wanted to let the police know there might be a connection to Mary Smith and the original feud between the families.

  “I sent you the text message. Yes, I’m certain I’ve not used it since.”

  “You were at the ceremony.”

  “I was in the room where they keep the cleaning stuff. I’d put my handbag down to replace the lid on my water. Then I sent the message and dropped the phone back into my bag. Except I was also listening to the argument so I must have missed my bag.” She put her hand over her heart. “I have to get it back.”

  “We will, love. But not at night-time. Even if the family is still awake, it would be best to go there in daylight. And after speaking to the police. Don’t you think?” John helped Daphne toss everything back in her handbag. “I’ll give Matty a call now.”

  Daphne was quiet and followed John back to the table. He dialled the now-familiar number and got the voicemail. He kept half an eye on Daphne as he left a brief message and then hung up. He held his arms out and Daphne came straight in for a hug. Her heart raced against his chest and she was shaking. Wrapped up in his arms she gradually relaxed and dropped her head onto his shoulder with a sigh.

  The phone rang.

  “Sorry.” John released her and kissed the tip of her nose before answering. “John here. Hello, Senior Constable, and thanks for calling back.” He sat at the table and Daphne joined him as he outlined their latest information before disconnecting the call.

  “What did she say?”

  “Not to go to the Brookers tonight. Sorry, I know you want your phone back and we’ll drive over first thing. She said she’ll pass the information to the homicide detectives. She also said it is best if we stop nosing around.” He smiled.

  “We’re not nosing around. We’re contributing relevant details which the police may not have had access to. I can’t imagine they have time to look at genealogy sites and why would they connect a dispute that happened a hundred or more years ago to a series of recent murders?” Daphne’s voice broke a bit. “I think…I am pretty sure Dempster and Gina are behind the murders. All three murders.”

  A Tragic Twist

  The approach of dawn was a relief after a night which had passed slowly, with a head full of worries and fitful sleep. At least for Daphne, for John was a good sleeper and kept her thoughts company with his soft snoring. For once he wasn’t up before her and she let him sleep until the sun lifted above the horizon. If she’d had her way, she’d have gone to collect her phone last night. It wasn’t just not having it which upset her, but the knowledge a murderer might have found it. If she called her own number would Dempster answer?

  Pushing aside the thought, Daphne put the kettle on then began opening the blinds. Everything outside appeared normal. The car looked fine, which was one of her overnight fears. Replacing four caravan tyres was bad enough.

  “Morning, love.” John disappeared into the bathroom.

  By the time coffee was poured, he’d emerged and dressed. As he reached the table, his phone rang.

  “Bit early.” He peered at the number. “Don’t recognise it.”

  “It looks like Lisa’
s number.”

  John tapped ‘accept’ and put the call onto speaker. “This is John Jones.”

  There was a long sobbing noise. Definitely Lisa.

  Daphne and John exchanged a ‘what now’ glance.

  “Is Daphne there?”

  “I’m here, dear.”

  “Can you…can you both come here?”

  “To the house?”

  “Yes. And please hurry.”

  “Lisa, what’s happened?” John asked.

  More sobs, followed by a faint, “She’s dead. Please come.”

  Then the connection ended.

  “What on earth?” Daphne hurried to collect her handbag. “Margaret?”

  “Or the cook? Don’t even know if she came back.”

  “We have to go.”

  John gazed sadly at his coffee, but gathered his keys, wallet, and phone. “I guess we were going there anyway.”

  The blaring siren and flashing lights of a patrol car loomed behind them as John drove towards the Brooker house. It overtook in seconds.

  “At least we know they’ve called for more help than just us.” John said. “I’m not entirely happy about Lisa wanting you there.”

  “As you said before, we were coming here anyway. We’ll see what happened, get my phone, and be out of here. What time are the tyres arriving?”

  “Late morning and they’ll give me a call before they bring them. Decent of them to fit them for me and to be honest, I was concerned I’d be trying to change them on my own.” John parked a little way from the Brooker’s driveway. “We might leave the car here in case it becomes hard to leave later.”

  On cue, another siren approached and as they got out of the car, Daphne and John turned to look. An ambulance.

  “I’m wondering if we should go in, love.” John watched the ambulance go into the driveway.

  “If the authorities tell us to leave we will. But Lisa sounded distraught. And my phone.”

  As they walked to the house, people emerged from other homes and came to their front gates, all heads towards the Brooker property. With every step, the sense of déjà vu intensified. Another day, another dead body. What else would be repeated? Bertie disappearing? Gina having another go at her?