Till Daph Do Us Part

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “Take a break if you like. This must be upsetting for you.”

  “I’m fine to keep going, Senior Constable. Finding the murderer is all that matters.”

  “Daphne was a strength to those around her.” John chimed in. “She helped at the pool and then offered comfort to others. And from the start she believed it was a suspicious death.”

  “Why is that, Mrs Jones?”

  So many people with something to gain. Or for revenge.

  “Weddings are interesting events. At least for an outsider, like me. Many are filled with genuine love and happiness. Some also have an element of disapproval, or having some guests along who would be better left at home. But this wedding—or at least the time around it—had an adversarial feel.”

  “You’ve mentioned, to Matty and to me, some comments directed towards you that weren’t pleasant. I take it this isn’t your normal experience?”

  Daphne shook her head. “Far from it. I’m so lucky as a celebrant to be the one person most people treat well. Even at funerals. But it wasn’t about how I was treated. Everyone was at each other, one way or another. Lisa was upset at her mother. Bertie was upset at everyone. Bob as well. Steve might have been one of those people who speaks without thinking or maybe he liked to stir the pot.”

  Matty wandered over. “Sorry to interrupt. Barbs, she’s been picked up for questioning. They reckon they’ll be here in twenty.”

  Barbs? Short for Barber. Nobody would call their child Barbara Barber. Unless she’d married a Barber. Stifling a giggle, Daphne realised everyone’s eyes were on her. She was sensitive to being watched, much like this morning at the café.

  “I just remembered something.”

  “About the wedding?”

  “About this morning. The waiter was watching me from over the road while we had coffee.”

  “Which waiter?”

  “Well, I did phone Matty about it… How fast can you type?”

  “Sorry?”

  “There’s a lot to fill you in on.”

  As the interview continued, John’s eyes wandered around the station. Desks. A couple of whiteboards. Posters on walls, some for wanted criminals and others with motivational quotes. A small kitchen was through one door, a second one led outside, while another had a sign ‘Interrogation and Cells’. Gave him a small shiver.

  Daphne and the senior constable were in deep discussion. Matty had gone through the door to the cells and now emerged. Who was coming in? Assuming it was to do with the murder, was it Lisa or Margaret? What if one of the bridesmaids was a suspect Daphne hadn’t pick up on?

  He honed in on Daphne’s words.

  “I don’t know the lady’s name, but Bob referred to her as the cook. And she told me Margaret wants ‘them’ all dead.”

  “She left with a suitcase? Matty?”

  Matty hurried over.

  “Look into a staff member of the Brooker’s, please. The cook, perhaps. She left their employ yesterday in an upset state and may have some useful information.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He headed for his desk.

  “Mrs Jones, you’ve been most co-operative. And there is a lot of information here so I’d like to go through it and then make up a report for you to sign. You mentioned you’ll be staying until Wednesday afternoon?”

  “Yes. Once I do the farewell ceremony, we’re leaving for my next appointment.”

  “Lovely. Either Matty or I will be in touch before then.”

  Everyone stood and shook hands.

  The back door opened and a police officer entered, followed by Lisa. A second officer closed the door as he came in behind them. Lisa’s eyes were red and puffy as she glanced around.

  The minute she spotted Daphne, she ran towards her. John instinctively moved to cut her off, as did the senior constable, but she got to Daphne first. And flung her arms around her.

  “Daphne. Thank goodness you’re here. Telling them the truth.”

  “Of course, dear. Telling the truth is all that matters.” Daphne looked surprised, of course, but there was her genuine kindness shining through. She patted Lisa’s back as she disentangled herself.

  “They think,” Lisa stopped, sobbed aloud, and put her hands over her eyes. “They think I killed my Steve.”

  “I would imagine these lovely officers are just getting statements from anyone involved. Witnesses.”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been wrongly accused. But Dad will get our lawyer here and then they’ll have to release me.”

  Behind her, Senior Constable Barber rolled her eyes, then nodded to the other officers. One stepped forward and gently took Lisa’s arm.

  “You’re not under arrest, Ms Brooker—”

  “Tanning! Mrs Tanning.”

  “Sorry, Mrs Tanning. Let’s go have a chat and your father’s lawyer is free to join us.”

  Lisa went with him, her sobs getting louder until she was out of sight and the door closed.

  “Do you think she did it?” Daphne asked.

  “Lisa is just one of several people of interest. And again, thanks for coming in and we’ll be in touch.”

  John took Daphne’s hand and nodded to Matty. They’d been dismissed and he, for one, was happy to leave this behind and step out into the sunshine.

  A Chance Meeting

  “Do you mind if we stop at the supermarket, John? In this heat, I’m thinking of taking some ice cream home.” Daphne wiped her forehead. Clouds gathered in the far distance. “And some sedatives.”

  John laughed aloud and Daphne joined in. She’d never taken a sedative in her life but always joked about them when it was stormy. Laughing was every bit as therapeutic and by the time they reached the supermarket, some of the stress from the police station was gone. John parked not far from the door.

  The air conditioning was ramped up high inside and Daphne considered staying there for a while. But there were only a few items to select and they lined up at the one open checkout. The sales assistant chatted to each customer at length and it took a few minutes until they were next. It didn’t bother Daphne. Not when she’d had plenty of chats at the supermarket in River’s End over the years. But the sales assistant interested her and she whispered to John. “Steve’s aunt.”

  This time her hair was neat in a bun and she wore the supermarket uniform. But her voice carried as she regaled every customer with the sad news of Steve’s death and the curse of Lisa Brooker. Either the customers weren’t friends with the Brookers or they were too polite to say anything. With a bit of luck she wouldn’t recognise Daphne or John, particularly as she’d barely glanced at them in the police station.

  No such luck.

  “You’re that celebrant person.” She crossed her arms and stared at Daphne.

  John unpacked the basket without a word and from his body language, he was ready to intervene if it got nasty.

  “I’m Daphne.” Forcing a friendly smile, Daphne put her reusable bag on top of the shopping.

  “A little bird told me you are doing something for those evil people. Some kind of ceremony.”

  Daphne was unsure how to respond. Her arrangement with the Brookers wasn’t something she would talk about, at least, not with a person who made it clear they were enemies. Her heart sunk. Was Mrs Tanning about to do as Bertie did. Call her names. Or worse?

  Dropping her arms, the other woman began scanning the shopping. “I’m Marlene. Steve meant the world to us all. His parents are inconsolable.” She stopped and leaned across the counter. “Would you come and do a ceremony for us?”

  “A ceremony?” Talk about unexpected. Daphne’s mind worked overtime. This might be a gift of sorts. A chance to evaluate for herself if anyone from Steve’s family might be responsible for his murder. “Of course.”

  John turned to her with his eyes wide. Daphne winked at him.

  “Good. What about tonight?” Marlene said.

  A gust of wind rattled the long glass windows.

  “I need a little more no
tice. The best I can do is tomorrow.” Daphne said.

  Shopping scanned and packed, Marlene nodded. “Pretty sure everyone is around mid-morning. I start here at lunch time. Can I get your phone number to confirm?”

  Daphne found a card in her handbag. “Email is best. Let me know the time and the address. Oh, and anything special you want said. And I will send you a return email with any questions and my fee.”

  A few minutes later Daphne and John were back in the car.

  “Are you sure?” John turned the engine on. “All we know about the Tannings is what we’ve seen. People quick to anger and not afraid to get into a brawl.”

  “True, but there were extenuating circumstances, love. Fancy losing someone you love under such conditions.”

  “Even so.”

  “Let’s see what the email says and make a decision then.”

  Daphne had already made her decision.

  “I’m sure the Tanning family are nice people.”

  John’s silence indicated he didn’t share her optimism.

  The sky was darkening as they drove towards Bluebell. Storm clouds loomed over the town, heavy with rain. The wind scattered small branches across the driveway.

  “I might lock the awning down. Make sure nothing is loose in this weather.” John pulled into their parking spot. “Let’s get the shopping inside and I’ll get started.”

  “And I’ll help.”

  “You sure, love? Storm’s close.”

  “Four hands will get it done faster.”

  As it was, they only just managed to pack the outdoor kitchen away, roll the awning into its travelling position, and secure the caravan before the first rain drops fell. John insisted Daphne go in as he did a final check and then, a minute after he joined her, a streak of lightning tore through the sky.

  A Story of Suspects

  While Daphne busied herself making a pot of tea, John did a quick tour to make sure there were no leaks. The rain was heavy and relentless but Bluebell was rock solid. Not a sign of water where it shouldn’t be. Daphne set their cups and the teapot on the table and sat, staring out of the window and jumping with every lightning strike.

  “You’re going to exhaust yourself doing that.” John put her notebook and a pen on the table. “I know you have a million thoughts running through your mind, so what about you pretend I know nothing of this week’s events?”

  “You mean, tell you the story?”

  “I was listening to you talk to the officer earlier and it had me thinking.”

  It was obvious John wanted to distract her from the storm, give her something else to consider. And he was the sweetest man because he must be bored silly with hearing about the murder.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “The cook. There has to be a story there. So why don’t you run through your suspects—for want of a better word?”

  She didn’t need a second invitation. There was a lot she hadn’t added to her notes. Daphne picked up her pen.

  “Where shall I start?”

  “Who and why?”

  “I can do that.” She flicked back through the pages and glanced at John with a smile. “There’s a few of them.”

  “Perfect. We can pretend we’re working on a game. Like Cluedo.” He picked up the teapot. “I’ll do this and you work through your list. Who is the chief suspect?”

  Good question. It changed. And the more information that came out, the more often it changed. Much as her gut said the woman was innocent of murder, there was a stand out.

  “The obvious one is Lisa.”

  “Why?”

  “History. She married three men from one family group, all cousins. Each one is dead following what appeared to be an accident.” Daphne made a note, reading aloud as she wrote. “Find out how Sam and Shane died. And how long the marriages were.”

  “Doesn’t mean Lisa is responsible though.”

  “True. But she has a flair for the dramatic. As if any kind of attention is good attention. The wedding, for example. She made a big deal out of the wrong colour ribbons and carpet. And a lot of her crying produces nothing but big sobs. Now I sound cynical.”

  John put a cup near Daphne. “Not cynical. Looking with a critical eye. The way a detective would.”

  “Fair enough. In that case, I’m curious why she kept marrying Tannings.” Daphne tapped her pen against her fingers. “The Brookers and Tannings appear to have some feud going on—Gina said as much the other night—so why would she bring the enemy of her family into their home?”

  “Good point. Does she think it will stop the feud? Bring everyone closer? Or is it to rebel against her own family?”

  Thunder boomed overhead and the rain intensified. Daphne’s heart pitter-patted faster and she bit her lip. It was just weather. She forced herself back to the notebook.

  “I feel I’m missing something. There are a lot of odd connections and I can’t work out where they lead. Not yet.”

  “If nothing else, you’ll end up with a lot of stories to tell. You should write a memoir.” John said.

  “Only if you take photos for me to include. Something else bothers me about Lisa—those close to her have little in the way of nice words to say. One example is her own father telling her she would never keep a husband.”

  “Which is coming true.”

  I wonder if he’s making it come true. No, that’s plain silly.

  “Quite. Then there is her own bridesmaid joking about wearing black next time so they use the same dress for the funeral. The other strange comment was from Gina, Lisa’s great-aunt. She asked me if Lisa had told me where the group was having dinner. Either Gina is paranoid, or Lisa has a history of bizarre behaviour.”

  “Or both.”

  He was right. The whole Brooker family might be a den of irrational fears and dark secrets.

  Daphne started a new page and titled it ‘Margaret’.

  “She isn’t high on my suspect radar, but Margaret has made the list.”

  John tried to hide a smile and Daphne kicked him gently under the table.

  “More tea?” He asked.

  “Thank you. And you don’t have to sit with me, love. I’m really alright.”

  Before John could reply, thunder cracked overhead and the lights flicked off. Daphne squealed. Water poured down the outside of the windows in a sheet as if the sky had unleashed the ocean on them and the earlier heat of the day was well and truly gone.

  The lights came back on.

  “We have plenty of candles, doll, should the power go out.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scream like that!” Time for this storm to be on its way. Daphne took a few deep breaths. “Actually, I take it back. I would like you to stay right here with me.”

  “I have no plans to be anywhere else. What if I take something from the freezer for tonight and we can have an early dinner.”

  It did sound good. At least if the storm continued, Daphne could cuddle under the blankets and hope the sound of the rain would send her to sleep.

  More Suspects

  With the oven warming, John returned to the table. “On to Margaret.”

  “Yes. And she is of special interest.”

  “I’m curious, Daph. Lisa is in her thirties, married three times, but still lives with her parents?”

  “I know. Unusual.”

  “Money? Security? But why if she’s marrying someone? Wouldn’t she move out?”

  “Good questions. More to add to my future queries.” Daphne scribbled the question down. “When I first met Margaret, I saw a mother who believed she was disappointing her daughter. She was crying and I thought it was because she couldn’t please Lisa over the colour of the ribbons and so on. But what if she genuinely didn’t want her daughter marrying Steve. She didn’t like him.”

  “Because of how he spoke to people?” John asked.

  “Probably didn’t help. But I feel in my bones that something sinister happened between the two families in the past. She began
to tell me about Bertie’s caravan business and how he’d needed a partner, which was when Lisa stormed off. I have to wonder if this partner was a Tanning and it all went bad.”

  John opened his phone. “Happy to do a bit of research, love.”

  This was nice. The two of them working together to solve a terrible crime. Even if they were holed up inside with a savage storm rattling Bluebell’s windows.

  “The other thing about Margaret is her background. From what I’ve gathered, she moved from the city to marry Bob and was accustomed to a different lifestyle. Insisted on the design of the house being so—is ostentatious an unkind description?”

  “With our lifetime in real estate we’ve seen every kind of home. But hers is out of keeping with the area and my first thought was if it is a way of showing off their wealth.”

  “Just going to the restroom. Be right back.” As Daphne washed her hands a few minutes later, she stared in the mirror. Something was off about this whole family feud thing. She couldn’t make sense of it yet, but it had to do with Bertie, and money, and him living in his old caravan by the river. “You’ll figure it out, Daph. Let it simmer away.”

  “Think your phone just made the email arriving sound.” John had got a piece of paper for himself and was copying information from his phone. “Anything else about Margaret?”

  “Only the comment by the cook that Margaret wants everyone dead. Sounded as if it was straight out of the Lisa Brooker/Tanning book of how to dramatise events.”

  For a while, the only sound was the rain and thunder, as John wrote and Daphne read the email. From Marlene Tanning, it was surprisingly long and detailed, including a brief story to use about Steve as a child. Daphne found herself wiping a tear away. These people loved Steve and were no less entitled to a beautiful eulogy than the Brookers. More, if anything.

  “Okay, love?”

  “I’m going to write a lovely farewell ceremony for each family in the morning. For now though, we haven’t discussed Bob yet.”