“No. That’s Poppy. She was Lily’s mother.”

  “Well, that’s all very interesting,” Isolde said. “It reinforces what I was saying about securing the cemetery. It could be vandalised, and no one would know about it until months later. Having it on the news just encourages sightseers.”

  Hettie remembered the police tape loose around the site and had to agree. It would be a shame if the area had to be fenced and locked off, but this was the time they lived in. Did people have more respect a hundred years ago?

  “Raise it at the next Trust meeting,” Jack told Isolde. “I’ll support some sort of fencing for the place.”

  As Isolde made to leave, Hettie remembered why she’d come.

  “I’m planning an Open Day at the Club in three and a half weeks time,” she said. “We’ll have the official opening of the new courts, and I was hoping, Mum, that you could officiate. Cut the ribbon. Would you? I’d really like you to do it.”

  Callie’s face flushed with pleasure. “Oh, what a lovely idea, Hettie. Thank you. I’d be delighted.”

  Hettie could imagine the cogs turning as her mother considered what she would wear to such an event. She returned her mother’s smile.

  “I’ll have to give a speech, won’t I? What should I say?”

  “Anything you like,” Hettie told her, glad her request had been well received. “Dad can help you with that. If you need any help,” she added judiciously.

  “So what date is this happening,” Callie asked, picking up her phone from the coffee table. Hettie told her and watched as her mother put it in her calendar.

  “I’ll give you more details closer to the time. There’ll be posters put up, and a notice in the Record.” She explained what else would be happening on the day.

  “How exciting. You’ll come, won’t you?” Callie said to Isolde.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Isolde said. She gave Callie a kiss on the cheek. “I must go. I’ll see myself out.”

  Hettie accepted Callie’s invitation to join them for lunch and enjoyed a pleasant visit. She had just reached home again when her phone rang. She wasn’t surprised to see it was Marlee calling.

  “Hello,” she answered, tentatively.

  “I asked you not to say anything Hettie,” Marlee shouted. Hettie winced and moved the phone away from her ear. “The police have been around hassling Sophie. Her husband’s furious, and they’re both mad at me. What have I ever done to you?”

  “You asked me to tell the police about Roddy Wallace,” Hettie said reasonably. “And I said if they asked, I’d have to say who’d told me. And they insisted. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Of course, you had a choice. Don’t be so stupid. You could have told them anonymously, anyway.”

  “What? Now who’s being stupid. Why in heaven would I do that? Anyway, so could’ve you. You didn’t need to involve me. Why did you anyway?

  “Not everyone likes interacting with the police, Hettie. Just because you seem to enjoy their company.”

  “Whoa. You can do your own dirty work from now on, Marlee. They haven’t arrested you, have they?”

  “Of course not, why would they do that?”

  “And Sophie’s not arrested?”

  “No.”

  “Good. No harm done then.” She clicked off the call and sat, simmering. It had been much more satisfying ending a call like that when you could slam the receiver down. A minute or two later her phone pinged with an incoming message. It was from Marlee, and brief.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Hettie was too angry to reply. Marlee had been way over the top and completely unreasonable. She wondered if the police had accused Sophie of being involved in the trouble between Roddy and Alicia thirty years ago. That could have angered her husband, especially if he was around at the time. And suspected it was true. And Sophie would have been annoyed at Marlee for saying she’d fancied Roddy back then too.

  What a mess. There was a friendship gone bust. It was as bad as being a teenager again. She got up and paced. She needed a walk. Ceefer might enjoy one too. Ten minutes later she was on her way to the Cafe, the bag slung across her body packed with water and a snack.

  She should have known it wouldn’t be a simple in and out. The Mrs. B’s were at their usual table, Ceefer sitting nearby, again as usual.

  “Hettie, have you solved this latest murder yet,” Mrs. Bronson asked, before she’d barely closed the Cafe door behind her.

  “I’m not involved,” Hettie informed them, a little more snippily than usual. She tried again. “How are you? You’re looking more chipper today.”

  “I have an appointment for the hip operation,” Mrs. Bronson replied. “In two weeks.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that. You’ll be up and about again in no time, I’m sure. I just popped in to see if Ceefer would like to go for a walk. How about it Ceef? We can go to the Waterway Park, and you can scare all the dogs.” Ceefer snickered. “I knew you’d like that idea.”

  Hettie went to the Cafe laundry to collect his harness and leash, and after a quick word with Violet, they set off. She was feeling brighter by the time they reached the footbridge over the Cygnet River, but then as she looked at the water, flowing slowly, she couldn’t help picturing a raft with four boys. Had it happened here? Not too far off probably, with almost direct access from the homestead. She pushed the image away and hurried on.

  In the Waterway, they walked around the river offshoot, watching the ducks. As usual, any dogs in the park gave Ceefer a wide berth. Hettie got herself a macchiato from the coffee stand and gave Ceefer some water and a snack. Sitting on a park bench, enjoying her coffee, she tried to figure out what was bothering her, and realised they hadn’t met up with anyone on their walk.

  Had she been subconsciously hoping Ceefer would lead her to someone who would help solve Alicia Feldhurst’s murder? It had been their mode of operandi on previous murders. What was different about this one?

  “You really don’t want to be involved with this investigation, do you?” she said to Ceefer.

  “Mruff.”

  “I wish I knew why. Well, it’s been a nice walk, but I guess we may as well go home.” She tossed her take-away cup into a nearby bin and packed up Ceefer’s water dish.

  He didn’t need to worry, anyway. She was just helping Belle with her research. But she did want to find that diary. Its whereabouts, and its contents, niggled.

  They headed for home. Back on the footbridge there was a man standing, staring into the water. He looked familiar.

  “Jackson?” Hettie said, as she got closer. He started and turned a worried face her way. “Are you okay?”

  He stared for a moment as if pulled back to the present from someplace else.

  “Hettie, isn’t it?” he said after a moment.

  “Yes. Are you all right?” she asked again.

  “No,” he said, turning back to the water. Was she about to hear a confession?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Death always takes us by surprise.”

  “I don’t know how I can keep going without her. She was a natural. She had a great eye for design. Plants just flourished under her hands.”

  “It’s only natural that you’ll miss her,” she offered, realising she was sounding like an echo.

  “Miss her?” Jackson said. “Yes, I will. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep the business going by myself. I don’t have her flair.”

  Hettie wasn’t sure if this was simply Jackson’s way of dealing with his personal loss, or if he really did only see Alicia as a business asset.

  “Are you staying somewhere nearby?” she asked.

  “What? No. The police have released her room at the Airbnb, and I’ve come by to collect her things. We’re taking her home tomorrow. Well, the undertakers are taking her, of course. The funeral is set for Monday. I suppose I’ll have to advertise for someone.”

  “I suppose you will,” Hettie said. “Well, take care of yourself.”

  She moved on. What an odd man. If that conversation had been designed to convince her he hadn’t killed his wife, it had worked. She wondered what the police had made of him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Janelle Issues a Warning

  “Merrooow?” Ceefer called loudly as he and Hettie were passing Elly’s house. A slightly gentler, but just as penetrating, ‘Miaow,’ came from their own garden.

  Hettie knew that voice. Aurora. Trouble in a white fur coat. Ceefer broke into a trot as they rounded the letterbox and made their way up the driveway. Janelle Rice stood up from the garden bench by the front door, Aurora in her arms. She was wearing an elegant kaftan in shades of green today instead of her usual floaty, layered style. She looked quite attractive. She might even have lost some weight.

  “Hello,” Hettie greeted her. “If you’re planning to leave Aurora for a play date, I’m afraid Wednesday is not a suitable time. I have croquet this evening.”

  “I know that,” Janelle replied huffily. Some things didn’t change, anyway. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh, well, come in then. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Once inside and out of his harness, Ceefer chased after Aurora as she raced around the living room and over the furniture in their usual manner of greeting after not seeing one another for some time. Janelle snapped her fingers, and the cats immediately settled themselves on the sofa as if that had always been their intention.

  “That was impressive,” Hettie said. “You’ll have to teach me that technique.”

  Not that she had much hope of doing it herself really. She’d never been able to get her fingers to make that snapping sound, no matter how hard she tried. It had been a losing competition with Larry when they were teenagers. Gwen could do it too, she’d discovered, which didn’t help.

  Janelle settled herself at the kitchen table and produced one of her herbal tea bags as Hettie switched the kettle on and put out two cups.

  “How have you been?” Hettie asked, politeness taking over.

  “I’m fine,” Janelle replied, “but you need to keep out of this murder investigation.”

  Hettie turned to look at the woman. “I’m not in this murder investigation.”

  “You are involved, if not directly, then incidentally. You found the body. You’ve got all the information.”

  Hettie put a plate of Anzac biscuits on the table.

  “Well, that is partly true I suppose. I was one of the people involved in finding the body, but if I had all the information, I would know who killed Alicia Feldhurst, wouldn’t I?”

  “There’s danger ahead,” Janelle said, raising her voice in the aggressive tone Hettie had heard before.

  “Merroow?”

  “You’re upsetting Ceefer,” Hettie said, using her teacher voice. Janelle wasn’t the only one capable of making a point.

  “He’s already upset,” Janelle told her, but she moderated her tone just the same. “He knows you shouldn’t be involved in this. Matters are coming to a head.”

  Hettie poured water into their cups and put Janelle’s tea in front of her. She sat with her own coffee.

  “What matters?” she asked. “What do you know about this murder?”

  “I’m talking about the trouble in the universe. All the signs indicate that it’s escalating.”

  Hettie did her best not to roll her eyes. Not the Loki story again. Murder was an unpleasant thing to be dealing with in its own right. One didn’t need to look to the universe to find reasons for trouble and uncertainty. Humans were quite capable of providing that themselves.

  “Janelle, as I said, I’m not investigating. I can’t not do something that I’m not doing. If that makes sense.”

  Janelle leaned forward, an earnest, if frustrated, look on her face.

  “Hettie, you’ve talked to people, including the police. You need to not talk about it anymore. Not even think about it. There’s still a chance to avoid the worst of it.”

  The woman was serious. “Okay,” Hettie said, humouring her. “I’ll concentrate on the Club Open Day. But what do I do if someone wants to speak to me about it?”

  “Walk away. Change the subject. Just leave it alone. There’s danger. It’s real. Someone will get hurt.”

  The sun was still above the horizon when Hettie walked to the Club with Ceefer that evening, Janelle’s words replaying in her head. What she’d had to say was unsettling, even if you didn’t accept the theory of trouble in the universe.

  She entered the Cafe, planning to have a quick meal before croquet. Aunt Alice and Eddie were sharing a booth. Eddie waved her over.

  “Are you joining us?” he asked.

  “Am I invited?” Hettie parried.

  “What do you think?” Eddie said to Aunt Alice.

  “Oh, she may as well sit down, I suppose.”

  Hettie laughed. “You two are in a good mood.” She helped Ceefer out of his harness, and Aunt Alice slid over to make room for her.

  “We’re planning a holiday,” Eddie told her.

  “Oooh. Somewhere exciting?” This was just what she needed to take her mind off murder and threats of danger.

  “We’re taking the Ghan from Adelaide to Darwin, stopping off along the way to visit Ayer’s Rock.”

  “Train journeys are the best,” Hettie said.

  “And then we’re launching ourselves at Europe.”

  “The grand tour,” Aunt Alice said, beaming at Eddie. “The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, a gondola ride in Venice, biking in Amsterdam, a cruise through the glaciers in Norway…”

  Hettie shivered, and it wasn’t from the thought of glaciers in the land of Norse mythology. How far did Janelle’s warning extend?

  “When are you planning on doing this?” she asked.

  “Next winter, the European summer,” Eddie told her. Hettie relaxed. They were only just heading into spring now. Plenty of time for any trouble to be over and done with. She hoped.

  “Well, that sounds just wonderful, and I really envy you, but I must eat now, or I’ll be late for croquet. Have you ordered?”

  They hadn’t. Hettie waved to Tess, and they were soon tucking into Violet’s lamb and potato bake, between mouthfuls of which, Eddie and Aunt Alice told her more of their holiday plans. By the time Hettie left them with their dessert, still talking, she was halfway to Europe herself.

  Out on Court Two, Judy, and several others, were having a practice hit. Romola sat on the patio nursing a coffee, and a bacon and cheese croissant. There was a folder beside her on the table.

  “This is dinner,” she told Hettie. “I spent the last two hours putting the finishing touches to a lady dragon costume for Lara’s school concert dress rehearsal tomorrow.”

  “A lady dragon.”

  Romola giggled. “It’s all in the face. Long lashes, sweet mouth, alluring side glances.”

  “I’m sure it will look great. Dare I ask if you’ve managed to do anything for the Open Day?”

  “Dare you indeed.” Romola rattled off a number of items from Hettie’s list she’d attended to and pushed the folder toward her. “There’s a timetable for the day’s activities in there,” she said, taking another mouthful of her croissant.

  Hettie took out the printed sheet and glanced over it. “Excellent. I’ve got Mum primed to open the new courts, Elly is working on posters, and Violet has the food trucks and Cafe menu in hand.” She must remember to check on the progress of the posters tomorrow, too. They needed to get to the printer on Friday.

  “We’ll be able to present it as an organised event at the Committee meeting tomorrow night,” Romola said, wiping her fingers on a paper napkin, her croissant done. “Have you spoken to George?”

  “Ah, no. I’d best go do that right now.”

  “You best had.”

  “Can I have this?” she asked waving the timetable.

  “You best had,” Romola said, and giggled again.

  Hettie went inside, crossing the croquet room to the passage leading past the kitchen, offices, and bathrooms, and ending at the bowls room. She could hear Larry’s voice as she opened the door. And then George.

  “No one’s said anything about this to me,” he was saying. He spied Hettie. “When was I going to hear about this Open Day?” he demanded, his face reddening. Hettie wondered for a moment if being president of the Bowls Club caused this transformation from easy-going and pleasant, to angry and loud. Or was she the cause of it?

  “Right now, George,” Hettie replied, stepping into the room. She cast a quick look at Larry, who shrugged. She supposed she couldn’t really blame him. He wasn’t to know she hadn’t spoken to George yet, but now she was in damage control mode and the bowls club members in the room were looking on with interest.

  “Can we go into your office?” she asked George. “We can go over our - um - our preliminary timetable and see what you can add in there.”

  George, still fuming, nodded and followed her back into the passage. Hettie let him open the Bowls Club office door for her. Ten minutes later, after explaining that the food trucks and Cafe goodies would be available for the Bowls Club, and George having decided they could hold a Sunday club tournament of their own, with some fun games open to whoever wanted to join in, all was smooth sailing once more.

  “And how are things at home with you, George?” Hettie asked. “Has Fiona gone off on her travels yet?”

  “She’s working right now,” George replied. “Saving up for her trip next year. Summer in Europe is what she’s planning.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting. Aunt Alice and Eddie are planning on doing the same. Perhaps they could meet up with Fiona at some point. Would it be all right if they got in touch?”

  “Yeah,” George nodded, sounding relieved that someone might be able to check on his daughter’s welfare while she was away. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks, Hettie.”

  “I’ll let Aunt Alice know.”

  George went back to his members in a better mood than when he’d left them, and Hettie returned to the croquet room, relieved that things had gone well.

 

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