“I didn’t ask the protestors to parade in front of my shop,” she said through gritted teeth. “They took it upon themselves to do that. If you don’t like them out there, go over there and ask them to leave.”
“No, thanks.” Nick’s ever-present grin grew wider. “That’s one group who look like they might turn into a mob at the drop of a hat. Why don’t you get your young bloke to go out there and send them packing? It’ll give him a nice change from not serving customers.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Charlie doubted he heard the last line. She’d given him a nod and walked off before muttering it under her breath.
The woman with the galaxy rug was approaching the end of the street. Charlie watched her turn into Milers Avenue, then upped her speed to a jog. Bocconcini was back to an energetic state, so dictated the pace with his short legs.
Turning the corner, Charlie thought she’d lost the woman for a second. Then she caught movement from the corner of her eye. “Better hurry, little buddy. She’s getting away.”
But the woman stopped walked and sat on a bus stop bench. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her.
“Hey, there,” Charlie called out as she approached. Bocconcini gave his own version of the greeting in a mild yap. “Were you a friend of Ben’s?”
The question sounded awkward and imposing, but she couldn’t think of another way to phrase it. She gestured at the seat and the woman shrugged. Charlie sat, pulling Bocconcini up into her lap.
“You’re the one who murdered him, according to the town gossips.”
Charlie bit her lip, wishing she could yell directly into the face of all her nameless accusers. Instead, she mimicked the woman’s shrug. “He was a friend of mine. We’d chat when he dropped by the shop after closing.”
“Yeah, I know.” The woman wriggled on the seat, pulling the rug closer around her shoulders. “He mentioned you occasionally.”
The tip of Charlie’s nose burned, and she glanced away as her eyes watered. With all the accusations flying around, she hadn’t yet grieved. Now wasn’t the time either.
She cleared her throat. “That’s his blanket, right?”
“Yeah. He left it under the oak trees in the township centre park the other night. I grabbed it for him when he didn’t come back by nightfall, in case he’d forgotten. Sometimes he got like that. Acid flashbacks would wipe his mind clean for a few hours, or days.”
“Was that the night…?” Charlie trailed off, not wanting to finish the question and not needing to. If Ben hadn’t come back, of course it was the night. “Had Ben been doing anything different lately? Was he mixing with people he normally didn’t, that sort of thing?”
The woman shook her head, her wizened face pinching together as she considered the question. “The only thing I noticed was him spending a lot more time in the town library. He was never much of a reader—said he couldn’t concentrate long enough for the words to make sense—but some days he spent hours in there. I thought it might be for warmth but then some nights he didn’t come to the mission at all. If he’d been feeling the cold, he’d never spend the entire night outside.”
“The library,” Charlie repeated, kicking at a small stone while she thought what it might mean. “Was there someone in there he talked to?”
“Probably. Ben talked to anybody who’d let him. It got him into trouble more than once. People like him and me, we’re not meant to go around chatting with normal folks or getting up in their business.”
Charlie shot the woman a concerned glance at the statement but didn’t challenge her. She didn’t have any experience of being homeless to inform her conversation. If the woman felt like she wasn’t a ‘normal folk’ then Charlie couldn’t presume to suggest otherwise.
“My name’s Charlie Hewitt,” she said instead. “And this little fellow is Bocconcini.”
The woman glanced over, giving the pug a stern glance. “He’s chubby.”
“We’re trying to rectify that,” Charlie said, patting the dog’s head in case he’d taken offence.
“I’m Dee.”
“Thanks for talking with me, Dee.” Charlie hesitated, letting Bocconcini’s sudden tug of war with his leash fill in the awkward silence. “If you ever feel like a grilled cheese sandwich on the house, drop by at closing time and we can share one.”
“Don’t like cheese,” Dee said with a sniff.
Charlie’s expression must have registered her disbelief because the woman laughed. “If you can spare a couple of those peanut butter cookies you have in the window, I’ll keep you company.”
“You’ll have to fight my pug for the pleasure since they’re his favourite too, but sure. I’ll eat my exquisite cheese and you can have dessert.”
Charlie waved and Bocconcini barked goodbye as they traced their steps back towards the centre of the township. “Next stop, the library,” she whispered to her dog, who seemed far more interested in the lampposts than their destination.
They’d just pulled level with the park, when Bocconcini broke into a flurry of barks, pulling at his leash.
Charlie glanced over at the direction he was straining to run towards. Outside the cheesemongers, her sister Mia was gesticulating wildly to Gladys Philburton, the lead demonstrator.
Chapter Seven
As Charlie drew closer, she made out the words her baby sister was shouting. “You have no right to be here, you meddlesome old woman. If you don’t clear off and take your busybody companions with you, I’ll start spreading rumours about you!”
In other circumstances, the fervent defence might have drawn a smile from Charlie, but now she just stared in horror. So much for not inflaming the situation. Gladys’s current expression suggested she could happily torch the entire shop, with Mia and Charlie inside.
“Janis always told me you had no character. Although I hate to say my mother’s right about anything, in this case, you’re showing your true colours. Retirement might be hard on you but that—”
“Mia!” Charlie grabbed her sister’s arm and manhandled her towards the shop entrance. “I think that’s enough for the time being.”
She stopped short of throwing an apologetic glance towards Gladys. After all, the lady deserved the vitriol her sister was serving up, it just wouldn’t help anyone out of the current situation.
“Noah, could you stand guard at the front door for a minute?” Charlie called out as they tumbled inside, Mia still fighting to return to her verbal combat. “I just need to have a word with my sister.”
Charlie let go of Mia’s arm to drop Bocconcini into his dog run, then ushered her out the back to the locker room. She closed the door as an added precaution.
For a second, Charlie just stared at her sister, noting the changes in her appearance since they’d last met. The cut jeans that clung tightly to Mia’s frame were the same, as was the bias-cut blouse, just short enough to show fleeting glimpses of her bare midriff. Even with an oversized cardigan flung about her shoulders, Charlie shivered to look at her.
A shorter haircut drew attention to Mia’s green eyes and sharp cheekbones. Charlie felt a hollow in her stomach as she saw the new wrinkles spreading out from the corners of her sister’s eyes.
Her baby sister had wrinkles. What did that say about her own age?
“Thanks for coming to my defence,” Charlie said, placing a hand on Mia’s shoulder, “but I don’t think yelling in people’s faces will get the desired result.”
“It’ll do more than just sitting meekly inside your store while that harridan drives all your customers away.” Mia stepped out of range, crossed her arms, and glared.
The heated tone reminded Charlie of the last time she’d seen Mia. Before departing down south with her boyfriend, they’d become involved in an argument. Although Charlie now couldn’t remember the exact substance, she could hear her sister’s parting shot. It’s easy to see why Nick divorced you!
Perhaps the same memory had popped up in h
er sister’s mind because Mia suddenly dropped her combative stance and stared at the floor. “Thanks for letting me help here,” she said in a far milder tone. “I’ve been driving myself crazy watching Janis and Joshua make eyes at each other all day.”
“Please, don’t.” Charlie held a hand up too late to stop the images pouring into her head. Their mother had always been a demonstrative woman and Joshua seemed cut from the same cloth. “I’m glad to have you here, as long as you stop provoking people.”
“Looks to me like they’re already provoked,” Mia said, then tilted her head to one side. “Did you kill somebody like they’re saying?”
Charlie rolled her eyes and opened the door back through to the shop. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that.”
“Hey, Mia,” Noah said, crowding close to her as she walked behind the counter. “It’s good to see you.”
“I forgot to say,” Charlie said, narrowing her eyes as Noah’s gaze stayed fixed on her sister. “Mia will help us out for a while. Just half days.”
“Really? That’s great.” Noah’s hand slipped as he tried to lean nonchalantly back against the bench, but he quickly recovered. “It’ll be good to have a new face around here.”
Mia didn’t seem to notice the levels of admiration sent her way. “Are you going to teach me the ropes? It’s been a while since I cooked anything.”
“There’s not a lot to it,” Charlie said, muscling in before Noah got there. “These cheeses at the back are the ones for the daily special. Each platter has tags on it for easy reference if someone orders another variety, or if they’re just ordering their cheese to go.”
She took her sister through the steps involved in the menu, then showed her to the cheese fridge and cupboard where additional mouth-watering offerings were for sale.
“Everything is priced for 100g so if a client orders more, just multiply it.” When Mia’s mouth pulled down, Charlie giggled and showed her the calculator. “It’s got big buttons so you can operate it with your knuckles while you’re holding onto bags.”
“When does it get busy?”
Charlie stared out at the parade in front of her store. “Sometime after the police find Ben’s killer and this lot leave us alone.”
Noah cleared his throat, then did it again with such severity that Charlie glanced over to him. “Since I thought nobody else would be around, I invited my writing group to gather here this morning.”
Mia clapped her hands. “Great! I get to test out my new skills.”
“I thought they didn’t have any money,” Charlie said, rubbing at her temple. “You mightn’t get much practice.”
“I’ve told them if they want to keep meeting here, now is the time to raid their piggy banks and tap their parents for a loan.” Noah wrinkled his nose. “And I’ve asked them to be on their best behaviour.”
Charlie laughed. “It’ll be good practice for them. Mia, be sure to let the group know if they’re reaching unacceptably loud levels.”
“Why?” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Where’ll you be?”
“I’m going to the library. Since you two are more than ample coverage, even with the writing group in residence, I’ll take advantage.” She walked over to pat Bocconcini and his tongue drooped out even further than normal in adulation. “You’ll be a peg below hefty on the vet’s chart before you know it.”
“Can’t you leave the dog behind?” Mia asked with a slight pout. “It’s been ages since we caught up.”
“You’ll be operating the grill and serving, remember?”
When Mia’s face fell, Charlie relented. “If it’s still quiet later this afternoon, you can spend as much time with my little mozzarella ball as you want. Goodness knows, he needs the exercise.”
“Okay, then. I guess we’ll see you later.”
Mia looked uncertain, such an uncommon expression on her face, it took Charlie a few moments to recognise what she was seeing. “Noah knows everything there is about the business,” she said in a soft voice, “and if you run into trouble, just call my cell phone. I won’t be far away.”
Her sister nodded, her mouth firming with determination. “We’ll be fine. After all, how much trouble could a writer’s group be?”
As Charlie caught a peek of bare midriff before turning away, she thought, far more than you’re expecting. On the other hand, Mia would probably have them twisted around her little finger in a few seconds flat.
The vision had Charlie smiling as she exited the store, cutting through the throng of protestors to head for the library. The building stood in the centre of the Hanmer Springs township and had been the second property constructed after the complex which ran the healing mineral baths. Every day, it ran tours through the collection of old books and oddities in its stacks.
Some of them were early settler diaries, from those folks who’d seen the possibilities of this small place where the groundwater bubbled up from the earth hot enough to form a permanent steam cloud in the surrounds. Others were dry-as-dust records of the city planning and council permits issued over the last century.
A tour had just started when Charlie entered, and she slipped into the small group of tourists eager to learn. The librarian hosting the tour used expressive gestures and a sing-song voice to cover up the lack of excitement in her talk.
Although she’d joined the group just to have a peek around the building, Charlie made a mental note to come back one day and do it properly. As a local, she was often blind to the opportunities sitting right in front of her nose.
With Bocconcini tucked inside her cardigan—now buttoned up to her chin—Charlie half expected she’d be thrown outside at any moment. She hadn’t seen any signs prohibiting her dog from entering the library but had to admit it was probably due to the general expectation nobody would think to bring along their pet.
So, when the pug began to push his paws into Charlie’s chest, she dropped back from the tour and let him direct her along a long line of bookshelves, dusty volumes piled high. To her eyes, there was nothing of interest, but she knew Bocconcini’s senses were keener than hers.
Of course, that could just mean someone had passed by here an hour ago with a dog treat!
She was about to turn around and head back to the group when a door creaked open. Ducking behind a stack, Charlie peered through a gap in the shelves as Dwayne emerged out of a back room.
What on earth was Amanda’s cousin doing here? On their admittedly brief acquaintance, the scowling Australian hadn’t struck Charlie as much of a reader.
With one eye on him and the other on the closing door, she tracked Dwayne’s progress as he glanced in all directions before sauntering towards the main library exit. Once clear of the door, she watched him through the window until he was out of sight.
The door to the back room had swung closed and Charlie walked over, expecting it to be locked. However, the handle turned—giving her a brief flash of hope before a hand fell on her shoulder. “Excuse me, but this is staff only.”
Charlie turned to find a young librarian giving her a stern smile and pointing to the sign stating the same information. “Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom.”
“Then you’re in the wrong place.” The young woman turned and pointed outside, to a public facility on the edge of the park. “Try over there.”
Bocconcini gave a small growl as Charlie turned and headed for the exit. Even though she rubbed her stomach as an excuse for the sound, the librarian’s deep frown had her scurrying outside at a fast clip.
“I wonder what Dwayne was doing in there,” she mused as she unbuttoned her cardigan to let Bocconcini down onto the ground. A child, sitting on a blanket underneath an oak tree, stared with wide eyes, clapping as the pug danced in a circle.
Charlie chose a seat nearby, staring across the road at the cheese shop where it appeared the writer’s group were in full swing. “He was out by the dumpster just before I found the towel,” muttered while Bocconcini ignored her.
&
nbsp; The pug sniffed at the edge of the bench before deciding it needed a touch of his scent. “Don’t do that, you little rascal,” Charlie warned. “Only mark the trees from now on, okay?”
Dwayne had arrived in town just before Ben got killed. Charlie didn’t know how long Ben Butler had lived in Hanmer Springs. Certainly, for the few years since she got her cheese shop and cave off the ground, but before that? She didn’t know for sure. It was possible the two knew each other from long ago.
“If Dwayne threw out the towel with bloodstains on it, when did he get it from the shop?”
Bocconcini didn’t answer and Charlie spoke in such a low voice, nobody else heard. Just thinking aloud wouldn’t solve this puzzle.
“Let’s go visit Amanda,” Charlie announced, standing and giving a small tug on Bocconcini’s leash. “We’ll have to be careful with our questions because the last thing this town needs is another rash of unfounded accusations, but she might give us the answer.”
With a wave to the young girl, who was still staring in rapt attention at the pug, Charlie set off across the road.
Chapter Eight
Amanda was just letting a class out when Charlie arrived.
“Sorry,” Charlie apologised, standing back out of the flow of students. “I didn’t realise you had a late morning Pilates session.”
“I don’t,” Amanda said, pulling at Charlie’s wrist until she sat down crosslegged with Bocconcini in her lap. “We’ve just done a meditation class for an hour. Want to try?”
Charlie’s mind was racing so quickly she didn’t think it would slow down long enough to meditate. Still, Amanda was so insistent that she soon gave in. If she wanted answers, it was easier to comply with her friend’s suggestions.
“Try to empty your mind of all your worries,” Amanda said in a soothing voice.
Charlie snorted and cracked open one eye. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” Amanda gave a stern nod of her head. “And keep your eyes closed, no peeking.”
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