Deadly Start Clark Nefri (new reading .TXT) 📖

Something was very wrong in Kingfisher Falls. Charlotte didn’t know what was going on, but there was more to this break in than a simple desire to take a Christmas tree.

Chapter Seven

Charlotte work up a little after seven the next morning, checking the clock twice. How pleasant to sleep in. No thunder, nor breaking glass. Before settling down, she’d checked all the doors were locked and turned off all the lights. Tiredness from too many nights of interrupted sleep kicked in the moment she climbed into bed.

After a shower, she took the time to cook breakfast and enjoy coffee on the balcony. The town was quiet and the sky blue, without much heat in the air. From here, the hills were a pretty backdrop to Kingfisher Falls, enticing her with the promise of winding roads and interesting places to discover. She’d collected a map of the area from downstairs, preferring to pore over a real one than cope with those on her phone.

Within a few kilometres radius there were three other towns. Hanging Rock was a little further away and she decided to leave that for another day. She’d always been intrigued by the story of the curious schoolgirls who disappeared there, not that it was a true story. Or was it?

She tossed sunscreen, phone, keys, wallet, and hat into a bag, then carefully backed her car from the garage at the back of the driveway and turned onto the street. She’d memorised the way to her first stop. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to an upbeat song as she drove out of town, to an unexplored place.

The road climbed gradually until as Charlotte rounded a bend, the town was below her. How beautiful it was, with willows following a long creek on one side, and the town on the other. A moment later, the sign for the Christmas Tree farm sent her along a side road. What began as tarmac changed to gravel and she slowed to reduce dust and stones flying everywhere. The road narrowed and she was unsure whether to turn around or keep going.

But then a big, bright sign on one side declared she’d reached the Christmas Tree farm, and with a small sigh of relief, she followed the driveway. Pine trees of varying sizes were on either side as far as the eye could see, and their fresh smell replaced the dusty one from a moment before. She pulled to one side to let a car and trailer with a tree tied on it pass from the other direction.

The driveway opened into a huge carpark. There was an old, two storey house at the bottom and on the far side some sheds, where the main activity was going on. She parked and turned off the motor. The buzz of a chainsaw was somewhere nearby amongst the trees, reminding Charlotte that Octavia had accused Darcy of damaging the environment by cutting trees down.

Charlotte locked the car, then wandered across to the shed, stopping twice as cars with laden trailers passed her. One open-sided building had a sign at the front. Sales. Just behind that was an area with potted trees.

All were too large for her. There was plenty of room in her house for even the larger trees, but all she wanted was something small to go on the balcony. Right at the back, a smaller tree was on its side, and she righted it.

Its branches were sparse, and some had browned on the ends. Perhaps this was a reject. She poked the dried-out soil in the pot.

“Whatcha doing?”

Straightening up, she looked around. A boy of around seven or eight stood staring at her with his arms crossed. He wore oversized gumboots, shorts and a large, floppy hat, and a T-shirt proclaiming, ‘Christmas Tree Farm Official Helper’.

“Hello. I’m Charlotte.”

“That tree’s kinda dead.”

“I like it. And I think it just needs a bit of water and sunshine.”

“You some kind of tree doctor?” he stepped a bit closer to peer at the pot. “I think it’s dead.”

“I might buy it anyway and take a chance on it.” Charlotte bent to pick it up but the boy grabbed it first.

“I’ll take it for you. Man’s gotta earn a living.” He wrapped both arms around the pot and raised it with a grunt. The tree wobbled around as he carried it through to the shed. A young woman, heavily pregnant, sat behind a long trestle table. On one end were a series of open boxes with ornaments for sale, and then rows of tinsel.

“Here we go.” The boy placed the tree in front of the table and spoke to the woman. “Customer, Mrs Forest.”

“Thanks, Lachie. But it really is fine to call me Mum.”

Charlotte hid a smile at Lachie’s serious response. “No can do, Mrs Forest.”

“Okay, then. Oh, but that one looks almost dead. Let’s find you something better.” Mrs Forest began to push herself to her feet.

“I quite like it. I’m a bit of a fixer.” Charlotte held out her hand. “I’m Charlotte.”

“I’m Abbie. You’re Rosie’s new assistant.”

Small towns.

“I am. And I really just want a little tree to put on the balcony, so this one is perfect.”

Abbie settled again, frowning. “If you’re sure. But I can’t charge you for it.”

“I’d feel better if you do, Abbie. You’ve put money into growing it. And I need ornaments. I’ve never had my own tree!”

Charlotte spent a few minutes selecting ornaments and tinsel. A few trees were sold as she browsed, mostly cut trees going straight onto trailers. Darcy waved as he helped lift and secure a tree. After Charlotte paid—which was much less than she thought she should pay—Lachie again hauled the tree into his arms and led the way to her car.

“I imagine Mum and Dad love having you help out.” Charlotte opened the back door and helped Lachie set the pot on the floor.