Up to No Gouda

by Katherine Hayton

  Murdered.

  Even Bocconcini’s rough tongue couldn’t bring Charlie out of her stunned state. She walked through the motions of a standard morning but even the beloved cheeses in her cheese cave couldn’t bring her out of the funk.

  As soon as she’d left the site, driving the short distance back to town, Charlie couldn’t even remember for sure she’d visited. Only the odometer convinced her for certain she’d made the journey at all.

  The fog was still wrapped tightly around her brain when she turned up at the morning Pilates class.

  “Hey, are you alright?” Amanda asked, grabbing Charlie by the elbow and pulling her aside.

  When she opened her mouth to explain that no, she wasn’t, Charlie’s throat seized, and her eyes filled with tears. She stared at the floor, the best she could manage a single shake of her head.

  “How about we put you at the back today? You can sneak out the side door if you need to.”

  The kindness contained in those simple words almost undid Charlie, but she desperately wanted to keep on with her morning routine. If she could just get through this exercise session, she’d be able to go to work. If she could go to work, she’d be able to make it through to the end of the day. And, if she made it through to then, she could go home and rest and try not to think about anything.

  Especially not about the dead body lying in the alley underneath her shop’s back window.

  “The police have the entire back alley cordoned off,” a woman said, taking a spot beside Charlie. “I had to go the long way around.”

  Amanda’s head jerked up at the words and she shot another concerned glance towards Charlie.

  “I heard on the radio they found a dead body in Hanmer Springs overnight,” a man said from the front row. “I wonder if that’s why.”

  “Okay. Enough rampant speculation.” Amanda clapped her hands to grab the class’s attention. “Let’s start the session with the One Hundred. I’m sure whatever is happening outside will still be happening after our muscles get a nice workout.”

  The movements and the burn in her muscles that resulted were a godsend to Charlie. She allowed all her concentration to shift to what was happening in her body. When Amanda announced the cool down routine at the end, it came as a surprise. Unlike most days, when the class reached a point it seemed never-ending, this one had flown.

  Charlie jiggled on the mat to shake her muscles out while the other members of the class jostled their way out the door. She didn’t want to walk outside and face the shop just yet. Her mind was too blank to function, let alone heat up food for waiting customers.

  “Did you know the man they’re talking about?” Amanda asked, walking over and placing a kind hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

  “It’s Ben,” she whispered, running a tongue over her cracked lips. She didn’t want to spread gossip but if the radio news was already reporting details, Charlie knew the information would be around the entire township by midday. “Somebody stabbed him and left the body out the back of my shop.”

  Amanda’s stunned gasp made her feel a bit better. Charlie smoothed her right eyebrow and stared at the floor.

  “Did he…? Was there…?” Amanda shook her head and gulped.

  “The police are investigating. A detective dropped by at the crack of dawn this morning to break the good news and ask a load of questions.”

  “Goodness.” Amanda pressed a palm against her chest, eyes dazed. After a second, her gaze sharpened. “They don’t believe you had anything to do with it, do they?”

  Charlie shook her head. “He just wanted to know general stuff. The detective didn’t think I was involved.”

  It wasn’t until she let herself into the front door of the cheese shop that Charlie considered her words might be baseless. She didn’t know what the detective was thinking. For all she knew, the man had her pegged as suspect number one.

  Chapter Four

  It took Bocconcini five minutes of barking and leaping against the front door before Charlie realised she’d forgotten to unlock it and turn around the sign. Almost the moment she did, Noah came steaming through, a look of embarrassment on his face.

  “I’m so sorry about the guys last night,” he said, the words tripping over each other in his haste to speak. “Believe me, if you ever let us gather here again, I’ll make sure they’re quiet.”

  “Or tell them to order something really expensive,” Charlie said with the first grin of the day. “You know that I’ll forgive someone for anything if they’re spending their hard-earned cash.”

  Noah snorted. “If they banded together, they could probably afford a grilled sandwich between them.”

  “Big spenders.” Charlie pressed the inside of her wrist to her forehead. She felt hot but her temperature check told her it was all inside her head.

  “Hey, tell me to shut up if I’m overstepping…”

  “You know I’m happy to ask you to keep quiet, any time.”

  Noah chewed his lip for a second, eyes shifting away from Charlie’s face. “Is it true they found Ben dead out back this morning?”

  “It is. How’d you hear about it?”

  The young man rolled his eyes. “Through my Facebook feed, three text messages, and my mum telling me to be careful at work today because I don’t want to end up like him.”

  “Oh, great.” Small towns and access to the internet were an explosive combination. When she was growing up, it took a full day for gossip to reach every corner of Hanmer Springs. It seemed like social media had cut that to a few hours.

  “Did you see him?”

  “Just his shoes.” Charlie shuddered and checked over her shoulder, as though the rear wall to the shop might suddenly have turned see through. “That was enough for me.”

  “A policeman was standing guard out there when I tried to go past. Sergeant Matthewson.”

  Andrew Matthewson had been based at Hanmer Springs Police Station for at least ten years now. The arrival last month of a full-time detective might have put his nose out of joint but, if so, he hid it well.

  “I can’t believe they’re using someone of his rank to perform crowd control.” Charlie dragged the specials board from the wall into the middle of the shop, then stopped, tapping a piece of chalk against her bottom lip. “And I can’t remember what I planned for today’s special.”

  “Just leave it with the Roquefort,” Noah said, pushing around the assortment of cheese in the display cabinet. “We’ve still got plenty left.”

  “Which is often a sign nobody wants to eat it.” Charlie walked over and squatted, eyeing up the wide array. “How about we put Gouda on the menu, with a sprinkle of Parmesan for added tang?”

  “Sounds good.” He moved the required dishes out onto the counter where they’d be easier to grab. “Do you want to put mayo on the bread and toast it with the Parmesan before flipping it over?”

  Charlie would do it if it were just for taste—toasting the two items on the inside of the bread before adding another filling gave the entire sandwich extra flavour and crunch. The time constraints would hurt them during the mid-morning and lunchtime rushes though.

  “I won’t add it to the board, but if there are less than five customers in the shop, we’ll do it that way. More and we’ll toast it all together.”

  Noah clicked his tongue. “Nobody told me this job would involve maths.”

  “If you can perform the calculation on one hand, it doesn’t count.” Charlie finished up the blackboard and dragged it out the door.

  “Is that what the dead guy was eating?” a man asked from a few metres away, his lips twisting into a sneer.

  “What?” Charlie was so taken aback she could only stare at him, confused.

  “The dead guy. The news said eating here was the last thing he ever did.”

  Charlie’s face flooded with colour. “What rubbish. Ben’s death has nothing to do with my food.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” The man held up his hands, feigning a push backwards. “
Think I’ll pass just to be on the safe side.”

  His horrible laughter rang in Charlie’s ears as she walked back inside. She put her brown curls into a hairnet with such ferocity, she needed to use the dustbuster to pick loose strands off the floor.

  “What’s got into you?”

  “Just an early morning idiot trying out a new comedy routine.”

  Noah raised his eyebrow but kept quiet. On reflection, Charlie supposed her voice had come out loud.

  “Hey, Bocconcini? Do you want to share a peanut butter cookie?” Noah asked, helping himself from the stack.

  “Please don’t,” Charlie said, giving up when the dog eagerly trotted to the edge of his run, wagging his tail. “Okay, but you need to watch out for that stuff. Otherwise, my little Bocconcini will have to change his name to Buffalo Balls.”

  Noah sniggered, letting Charlie know she’d inadvertently stepped into the middle of a double entendre. It was an unintended consequence of employing someone in their late teens. A lot of the language she used without thinking had been twisted into slang of one type or another.

  “Don’t tell me,” she said, holding a hand up to forestall him. “I’m better off not knowing.”

  Their first customers of the day arrived soon after. A couple, the woman with cheeks flushed from the chill morning air and the man with a nose turned such a deep crimson it looked like it was burned.

  “We’ll have two of your special, thanks,” the man said, pulling out a phone and snapping a few photographs.

  “Please don’t,” Charlie said, covering her face as the gadget turned towards her. “Noah, do you think you can handle the maths on this one?”

  The small quip earned her a broad smile, and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  “I don’t know,” the man said, turning a delighted smile at his wife. “We don’t want to order anything that would get us stabbed.”

  His companion burst into giggles while Charlie’s stomach writhed in anger.

  To his credit, Noah handled them with aplomb. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. We have tea, coffee, or hot chocolate.” He pointed up to the main menu board above the counter. “They’re the best when there’s such a cold start to the day.”

  “Hot chocolate,” the wife said, her smile slipping. She grasped hold of her husband’s upper arm with both hands, turning to look at the street. “Can you make them to go?”

  Charlie busied herself with the sandwich preparation and tried not to seethe as she took snapshot glances at the couple from the corner of her eyes.

  “I hope we don’t get any more like those, this morning,” she said as soon as the door closed behind them. “My nerves are frazzled enough without dealing with snide comments all day.”

  But all the genies must have been in hiding because her wishes weren’t granted. For the most part, the shop was empty. The few customers who came inside to order only wanted to crack jokes, gloat, or prod for gossip.

  The stares full of curiosity were almost too much for Charlie to bear when she left the shop to take Bocconcini on his lunchtime walk. “I think we’ll both need a cookie when we get back,” she muttered to her dog as a man tapped his friend’s shoulder, then pointed straight towards Charlie. “If it gets much worse, I’ll start to wish we stocked wine in the shop as well!”

  She survived the half hour break and took over solo duties from Noah. When he walked back inside after his lunch, his expression was grim.

  “Tell me,” Charlie ordered.

  “There’s a protestor outdoors with a sign,” he said, dragging each word out with great reluctance. “It says, ‘Justice for Ben,’ and it looks like she’s arranging for company.”

  Charlie tried to angle herself in the window so she could look outside without being seen. It was impossible. Instead, she steeled her nerve and walked onto the street front. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked Gladys Philburton, a long-term customer. “How is this going to help Ben?”

  “We’ve all heard the news,” Gladys yelled back, holding her sign out in front of her like a joust. “And I’m here to warn those who haven’t. Justice for Ben!”

  The woman turned and paraded up and down a few steps. Another woman sat nearby, putting the touches on her own signpost.

  “This is illegal,” Charlie insisted, stamping her foot with frustration. “I had nothing to do with Ben’s death and you have no right to drive customers from my door. I’m calling the police.”

  “You do that. See how long before they drag you away in handcuffs.” Gladys strode another length of her protest march. “No justice, no cheese.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Charlie said as she walked back inside. “It’s like a nightmare. Ben was my friend more than he was any of theirs.” She waved her hand across the two—no, three now—protestors. “Why would they think I had anything to do with his death?”

  Noah swayed from side to side, staring at his feet. “There’s a post on Facebook saying Ben was found with a cup from our shop.”

  “So?” Charlie put her hands on her hips. “You know he often stopped by at night for a meal here. We’ve already sent a few people out of here today with our cups. It’s not like they’ve all dropped dead. Besides, if I was going to stab somebody, I’d hardly leave them holding something incriminating. I’m not an idiot.”

  As she stared at her employee, a niggle of unease tugged at the back of her mind. “I’m also not a murderer! You don’t think I hurt him, do you?”

  “Of course not!”

  Noah’s indignation assured Charlie he was speaking the truth. She sighed and wiped down the counter, although it didn’t need it. They’d barely had customers and with the mounting protest outside, she couldn’t imagine they’d gain any more this afternoon.

  Throwing the towel into the hamper, Charlie pulled out her phone to make good on her threat. If the protestors wouldn’t see sense by themselves, the police might sway them.

  When Detective Wolverton answered, Charlie didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I’ve got a load of protestors outside my shop, spouting nonsense about how I killed Ben Butler. I’d like you to come down here and explain things, so they go away.” Charlie tapped her free hand on the counter while waiting for a response.

  The detective cleared his throat, then barked, “What’s that got to do with me?”

  Charlie’s mouth fell open. “It’s your case, isn’t it? The information you’re releasing to the public has put me in this situation. I can’t afford to wait around until you catch Ben’s true killer. Someone needs to come down here and drive the protestors away.”

  “You appear to have mistaken me for someone else, Ms Hewitt. If you want to stop people walking outside your store, I suggest you take up the matter with the local council. I’m a policeman investigating a murder. If you don’t have information relating to the case, then please don’t call my number again.”

  The line clicked, leaving Charlie full of frustration. His jibe about the council was useless. They’d take three months just to acknowledge her request.

  Within the hour, she sent a restless Noah home for the day. Charlie would have shut up the store altogether except she didn’t want to give the people marching outside her door the satisfaction. Instead, she stood in the window, glaring harder as each new member joined the parade.

  “If they had jobs to go to, they wouldn’t be bothering with all this nonsense, would they Bocconcini?”

  The pug’s ears twisted towards her and he jumped to his feet.

  “That’s right. They’re all a bunch of silly people who should know better. I agree.”

  A half hour before closing, a police officer knocked on the back door, announcing she was free to use the exit again. “Do you know who killed Ben?” Charlie asked and received a curt shake of his head in return.

  When the end of the day came, Charlie turned the shop sign to closed and watched as the protestors packed up. She hoped they wouldn
’t bother to come back again, but the huddle before they all went their separate ways suggested otherwise.

  It was hard enough to attract customers to pay the bills without an upset mob outside actively driving them away.

  Charlie’s mouth set in a grim line. If she wanted Ben’s murder solved and things to go back to normal, it was time she took matters into her own hands. With the crime scene now free of policemen, it wouldn’t cause any harm for her to take a peek herself.

  With the front door solidly locked—and checked—Charlie walked out the back and stared around her, hands on hips. Her lower lip wobbled as her memory painted Ben’s body onto the scene, but a toss of her head dismissed that image.

  “What do you think, Bocconcini? Is there anything back here I should concentrate upon?”

  The pug barked, happy to be playing the game. He rushed off to sniff around the dumpster where powder residue showed the police had lifted fingerprints.

  Although Charlie scanned the ground, she couldn’t see much. From her untrained eye, it appeared the bloodstains on the rough concrete had been washed away. Good. The images burned into her mind were bad enough, she didn’t want to confront physical evidence.

  Bocconcini snarled at the dumpster and Charlie walked over, frowning. He was a sensitive dog when he wasn’t being pug-headed, so she overcame her reticence and opened the lid to poke around.

  “Drop your phone in there, did you?” Dwayne said from close behind her.

  Charlie’s body jerked, sending her hand straight into an open container of half-eaten noodles. While her mouth drew down in disgust, she moved aside. “What are you doing out here? Spying on me?”

  Dwayne laughed. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I don’t find you interesting enough to stalk you.” He hefted a rubbish bag over the lip of the dumpster, then upended a box, giving the base a thump before holding the empty container against his hip. “Just taking out the trash. Nothing sinister.”

  He tipped her a wink before heading back inside and Charlie poked her tongue out at his retreating figure. She turned back to the pile of rubbish and continued to ferret around. Now her hand was covered in goo, she wasn’t as cautious. With her clean hand, she lifted Bocconcini up, letting him direct operations.