Deadly Start Clark Nefri (new reading .TXT) 📖

Rosie was suddenly very solemn and quiet. She held a hand toward Mayhem, who opened his eyes and ignored her. But Mellow hopped off her chair and climbed onto Rosie’s lap as if she knew her owner was troubled. For a few minutes, Charlotte let Rosie think and finished her drink. Perhaps she’d overstepped her position. Rosie wanted to retire, but even if Charlotte took over eventually, and it was too soon to know, she shouldn’t be forcing her ideas onto the other woman, who’d successfully run the business for decades.

“Charlie?”

“Rosie, I’m sorry.”

“Well, I don’t know what for. I feel a little foolish for not exploring ways to expand our…”

“Reach? Grow the customer base?” Charlotte prompted.

“Yes. Our horizons, as it were. Please go ahead and do whatever you think will work but let me know how many hours you work outside your normal days so I can pay you.”

Charlotte stood. “No extra payment required. That day I came here with Trev? I asked him if you had a Facebook page and rattled off a whole lot of ideas. So, I was invested then, and I am now. I think the free rent thing deserves a little repayment.”

“Thank you. Are you leaving?”

“I’d like to get started on this and have a lovely salad to make at home, so yes. Please stay were you are though.” Charlotte collected the glasses. “See you tomorrow.”

Charlotte left after washing the glasses and saying goodbye to the cats, although Mayhem hissed at her. She stepped onto the street in near darkness. The air was warm with a touch of humidity. Hopefully not another storm. But there was a smell on the breeze and not a pleasant one. Cigarette smoke. Nobody was around when she looked up the street and down.

A few steps along, there was a lit butt on the pavement. Charlotte stepped on it to extinguish it and felt around in her handbag for a tissue. “Right in the middle of bushfire season!” she muttered, folding the butt into the tissue. She’d dispose of it once she found a bin somewhere. Holding it away from herself, she headed for the main road again. No point being upset about other people’s carelessness. There was a lot to do this evening and, in a few minutes, she’d be home and able to write a list.

Almost at the corner, a prickle of alarm swept along Charlotte’s spine. There were no odd sounds, no more bad smells, just a feeling from nowhere. She moved a bit faster and then at the corner, stopped and stared back down toward Rosie’s house. It was quiet. No cars or people coming and going. Houses were mostly lit up with Christmas lights, adding to the festive feel of the town.

Charlotte decided she was over-tired from too many nights of disturbed sleep and dealing with a few less than pleasant locals. With a shake of her head, she hurried home.

Chapter Fourteen

Laptop open on the kitchen counter, Charlotte perched on a stool as she ate with one hand and set up the shop Facebook page with the other. Tomorrow she’d take photos in and outside the bookshop and upload those. For now, she did the basics and prepared what she could without images.

Next on her long list was to create signage for what she and Rosie had decided to call the ‘giving box’. Rosie suggested covering a large cardboard box with Christmas paper and placing it near the counter, so Charlotte added this to her job to do, but this one for first thing in the morning.

After playing with fonts and images for a while, Charlotte was satisfied with the wording and appearance of the signs. They’d be printed in colour downstairs, then put around the shop and in the windows. Charlotte wrote herself a reminder to ask Rosie who would be best to speak to about the donations. Most likely a local church group or other care workers who’d know where a little extra would be appreciated.

Charlotte already planned to add a few books. Something told her the Forest family were putting their all into keeping the Christmas Tree Farm afloat, so hopefully they wouldn’t mind a couple of books heading their way for Lachie.

She got up to stretch and get some water. It reminded her to water the pine tree, so she filled a jug and went to check on it. This time it took less water to soak in properly, and Charlotte was certain the branches were a little more robust than this morning.

“You’re going to be just fine.”

She adjusted a bauble, then wandered to the railing.

A police car cruised past. Charlotte couldn’t see the driver but was there anyone else but Sid in this town? It slowed to a crawl near Esther’s shop, then parked a little further along, closer to the roundabout. Keeping an eye on things? About time.

Before she could get riled up at Sid and his council friends, she went inside, locking the door behind herself as if to shut them out. If they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do their work in finding the thief, then she wasn’t about to do it for them.

Or was she? Charlotte came to a halt in the centre of the living room. Three thefts of artificial Christmas trees in three days. And the audacity of stealing the one belonging to the town. What was motivating the person, or people, behind it?

Charlotte returned the water jug to the kitchen and opened her emails. There was one person who loved a mystery even more than she did and was brilliant at solving them. Christie Ryan. She started an email.

Hey Christie,

I know you have your hands full but if you’d like a distraction, let me know and I’ll fill you in on some odd happenings here in Kingfisher Falls. Someone is stealing Christmas trees, of all things! Artificial ones, or perhaps that is coincidence. And I’ve managed to put the