OF FUNERALS AND FEUDS

  PHILLIPA NEFRI CLARK

  ALSO BY PHILLIPA NEFRI CLARK

  Temple River

  The Cottage at Whisper Lake

  The Bookstore at Rivers End

  The House at Angel’s Beach

  The Secrets of Willow Bay

  The Lost Girl of Seahaven

  A Travelling Celebrant Mystery

  Of Marriage and Murder

  Of Retreats and Revenge

  Of Vines and Victims

  Rivers End Romantic Women’s Fiction

  The Stationmaster’s Cottage

  Jasmine Sea

  The Secrets of Palmerston House

  The Christmas Key

  Taming the Wind

  Martha

  Detective Liz Moorland Series

  Lest We Forgive

  Lest Bridges Burn

  Lest Tides Turn

  Lest Nobody Lives

  Lest Angels Weep

  Last Known Contact

  Charlotte Dean Mysteries

  Christmas Crime in Kingfisher Falls

  Book Club Murder in Kingfisher Falls

  Cold Case Murder in Kingfisher Falls

  Plans for Murder in Kingfisher Falls

  Festive Felony in Kingfisher Falls

  Bindarra Creek Rural Fiction

  A Perfect Danger

  Tangled by Tinsel

  Doctor Grok’s Peculiar Shop Short Story Collection

  Simple Words for Troubled Times

  CONTENTS

  1. Change of Plans

  2. Not Missed at All

  3. Too Much to Bear

  4. A Catastrophe

  5. Where is Edwina?

  6. Side Trip

  7. Art, or Artful?

  8. A Fear from the Past

  9. A Change of Heart

  10. Question Time

  11. Truth in Talk

  12. Little Shop of Secrets

  13. Into Thin Air

  14. Saying Goodbye

  15. Preserved

  16. A Terrible Day

  17. But, Why?

  18. Stay or Go?

  19. Clues and Secrets

  20. Photographic Evidence

  21. Best Laid Plans

  22. Cookies and Cardboard

  23. What Fred Did

  24. Fred’s Explanation

  25. Chasing the Truth

  26. A Grave Affair

  27. Handbags and Roses

  28. In Her Garden

  29. Not Fair

  30. Families and Friends

  Of Retreats and Revenge

  1

  2

  Email Signup

  Also by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  A Letter from the Author

  Of Vines and Victims

  The Cottage at Whisper Lake

  The Bookstore at Rivers End

  The House at Angel’s Beach

  The Secrets of Willow Bay

  ONE

  CHANGE OF PLANS

  “Daph, you’ll need to check the map again. I’m worried I’ll miss the turnoff with so little light. We just passed Conways Track.” John Jones didn’t take his eyes off the narrow road.

  Daphne Jones grabbed the map, which had fallen into the footwell near her handbag. “Got it. Conways Track? Hm.” She traced the route with her finger which John had highlighted in red at their last stop. Then she turned it upside down. “Okie dokie. Another three curves, no, two seeing as you’ve done one. Another two curves and then there’s a bridge. Just after that you need to take a left.”

  “Is there a street name?”

  “Shady Bend Road.”

  John laughed shortly. “Plenty of shade here.”

  He slowed to navigate another long curve and Daphne glanced in the side mirror at Bluebell. Their beautiful caravan made their travels a little more challenging at times but was a blessing they would never leave behind. Turning the car and caravan around on such a narrow road was not something John would want to try if they missed their turnoff. And not so close to nightfall. Daphne leaned forward to better see the road ahead.

  “Kangaroo at two o’clock!”

  John touched the brakes as the headlights reflected in the eyes of a grey kangaroo staring at them from the side of the road.

  “Stay there, Mister Roo.” A joey popped its head out of an oversized pouch. “Whoops, sorry. Missus Roo.”

  When they’d left their last stop a few hours ago, they’d planned on already being settled into a new town, where Daphne would officiate a wonderful wedding on the weekend.

  But then her phone had rung and within minutes they were on a different road.

  “Daph, you said a bridge then a right turn?”

  “Left, John. I wish there were some lights along here. One might break down and never be found.”

  John really needed to put one of those digital location things in the car. A GPS. Maps made little sense to Daphne, and she navigated under duress.

  “I think that’s it!” She pointed ahead. “Over the bridge and almost straight away there’s a sign.”

  A moment later they’d turned onto Shady Bend Road, which curved up a steep hill. Bluebell weighed them down and John changed to a lower gear. According to the car clock it was a little after six, which in late spring was still daylight. It was the heavy canopy of gum, wattle, and blackwood trees towering over the road which made visibility so poor.

  “We’ll pull in somewhere in the town to find out where we can stop tonight,” John said.

  “I’ve got the name of the place but not an address. Shall I check the message?”

  “Think we’re almost there.” Even as he spoke, they reached the crest of the hill, and the trees gave way to houses. Bigger properties at first, then smaller and closer together as they approached a township. The speed limit dropped, and houses changed to a row of shops on either side of the road. Unlike the roads they’d left behind, there was hardly a tree in sight. For that matter, hardly a car or a person either.

  “Guess it is after closing time for most shops. Is that parking space big enough for us?”

  John nosed the car alongside the pavement about halfway through the town. “Good spotting, doll.”

  “Doesn’t look like much is going on here.” She checked her phone for the message which had arrived after the phone call. “Shady Bend Camping Ground. Can’t be too hard to find?”

  “How about we duck into the supermarket over the road? We can get directions and pick up the shopping you wanted.” He climbed out and met Daphne on the footpath. After locking the car, he held his arm out. “Be good to get to our camping site before night falls completely.”

  Daphne tucked her arm through his. “I’ll zoom around the supermarket while you get directions. Only need a couple of things for dinner so it won’t take long at all.”

  It was just as well both she and John were flexible with arrangements.

  There was no room at the suggested camping ground thanks to a local event which had drawn competitors from around the state. They were directed to an unpowered ground in the next town. At least it was only a few minutes’ drive away and the lack of power would be manageable for one or two nights. When they arrived, as John performed his ritual of checking Bluebell was secure and had no ill effects from what had been a relatively short drive, Daphne read the message again.

  Dear Daphne, following our phone call I want to thank you profusely for changing your plans to accommodate our late notice request.

  The phone call from Fred Yates had surprised Daphne.

  The deceased is a local resident of some note and her passing leaves many of our community saddened. On consultation with her daughter, a decision was made to reach out to someone with a proven record of great compassion. Your name was put forward.

  Who had recommended her services?

  The funeral tomorrow has every arrangement made, but the deceased’s daughter asked me to find a suitable person to help say goodbye to our beloved Edwina and celebrate her memory. Attached is information about her life, her place in the community and achievements, along with certain requests.

  She’d look at those once they settled in and had the generator going. Easier to view on the laptop.

  “Think we’re right. Not much point using the awning tonight.” John unlocked Bluebell. “Sorry, thought I’d done this.”

  “Oh, I could have used my key, but I was keen to take another look at the message from Mr Yates.”

  “If I turn on the lamps, are you happy to do a quick check in here while I get the generator going?”

  “Can you pass me the shopping first?”

  It took little time to unpack the shopping and turn on the lamps, which were a clever addition when Bluebell was refurbished. An addition to the usual lighting, these lamps were solar powered from panels on the roof of the caravan. Perfect for using at times like this and meant once the generator was off, they’d still have light.

  John kicked the generator into action and then joined her with a smile.

  “Not ideal but we’re getting better at making do.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I should get the pasta started.”

  “What if I do dinner?” John gave her a big hug. “You, my celebrant sleuth, have to prepare for tomorrow.”

  Daphne grinned. John’s funny term always made her smile. “As lo
ng as you don’t mind. But I’m not here for sleuthing.” She squeezed him back and wiggled out of his arms. “I shall find my notebook and get started.”

  Halfway to the bedroom, she glanced back. “John? Thanks for this. For agreeing without hesitation to come here on a moment’s notice.”

  “Anytime. It is a small detour and will give me an unexpected chance to visit another graveyard. Assuming you don’t mind me being there at the same time, albeit in another part?”

  John’s passion for genealogy fitted well with Daphne’s new career. He visited the local graveyards and small churches to work on a project he said little about. But it made him happy, and Daphne loved seeing him enjoy doing something for himself.

  “You are most welcome. Always.”

  Notebook and pen in hand, Daphne settled at the table. John set a pot of water on the gas cooktop alongside a deep pan. He chopped lots of tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and a selection of herbs. As the aromas drifted across, Daphne’s tummy rumbled in response. She enjoyed John’s cooking and now they were on the road most of the time, he more than shared the load. The only thing he couldn’t outdo were her homemade cookies.

  She scribbled a shopping list on a spare piece of paper. Flour. Choc chips. Extra butter. Tomorrow would be a busy one but there was always time to do a bit of baking.

  After opening the laptop, Daphne located an email from Fred with the extra information and printed the couple of pages out. The little printer was so useful and took up barely any space in one of the cupboards. At the top of the page, she wrote out the timetable for the next day.

  10am. Meet with Mr Yates and concerned parties to go over the ceremony. (Allow one hour)

  1pm. Quick lunch and get ready.

  2pm. Funeral.

  In between the meeting and lunch, she’d finalise her words. She had a lot of ideas bubbling in her head based on what she’d read so far and would write them first thing in the morning. Her mind was at its sharpest early in the day. She’d not officiated many funerals, but she would make Edwina’s send-off special. A memorable day for her family and friends.

  Over dinner, Daphne filled John in on more of the details. He wasn’t disappointed by the sudden change of destination as this region was on his ‘to visit’ list anyway, a list he kept on his phone.

  “Edwina Drinkwater passed away at her home from natural causes. She’s only sixty, though, so it seems a bit young for natural causes. Anyway, she has one relative, a daughter. Sonia.” Daphne read from the notes she’d handwritten on the printed pages.

  “Some more mineral water?” John collected the bottle from the fridge. “Nice with the lime, isn’t it?”

  “Very. And this pasta is as good as any from a restaurant, love.”

  Daphne was always the first to compliment a person. Her kind heart and generous soul drew him to her in their last year of high school, and if anything, her love of people was even more obvious with this late life change of career.

  “She lived alone, although her daughter has her own cottage on the same property. She had a busy life. Owned a small shop. Oh, this is interesting. She sold the wares of local craftspeople, artists, and amateur cooks. Preserves, jams, cakes… there’s a list. And she was president of the Rural Craft, Cooking, and Creation Society. RCCCS. Sounds a bit like the Country Women’s Association.” Daphne rolled linguine around her fork. “I imagine she’ll be missed.”

  “What else do you know about tomorrow?”

  “Mm… this was so nice,” Daphne said. “Edwina lived in Shady Bend most of her life. She was divorced but there is no mention about her ex-husband. Sounds like a normal life in a normal town. And she donated to a local wildlife sanctuary.”

  “I’m sure you will find some beautiful words to comfort her loved ones, Daph. It must make it so much easier when you’re officiating for someone who was a nice person.”

  “Yes. Yes, I think Edwina Drinkwater was a nice woman who will be deeply missed.”

  TWO

  NOT MISSED AT ALL

  “She was a horrible person and I’m glad she’s dead!”

  Those were the last words Daphne had expected from the daughter of the deceased, let alone spat with a venom completely at odds with the woman’s appearance.

  Silence cut through the room like the proverbial knife as all eyes turned in various levels of shock to Sonia Drinkwater. She folded her arms and lifted her chin, defying anyone to disagree. A slender woman with oversized glasses and long straight hair, she gave off a sweet girl-from-the-country vibe. Until she opened her mouth.

  Daphne had arrived at the funeral home on time, soft briefcase in hand with her notebook and draft speech ready for approval or adjustments. Shady Bend Funeral Home was set in pretty gardens surrounded by gum trees, with a circular driveway and a central lawn, not far from the middle of the town. Fred Yates was outside the front door with a woman he’d introduced as Tracy Chappell. He was in his early sixties while she was a decade younger, by Daphne’s estimation. In a sombre suit, Fred was solemn, balding, and double-chinned. Tracy wore jeans and a T-shirt proclaiming ‘Judge and Juror’ with a picture on its front of a cake being hit with a gavel.

  Fred ushered them inside.

  Through double doors was a small entry area with an unattended desk and a bell. Hallways went off in several directions, but Fred led them through another set of double doors to a large but quiet reception room with soft lighting and sofas. Sonia, perhaps thirty years old, was already there. She sat cross-legged and didn’t get up, but removed her glasses to stare at Daphne.

  Ten minutes into the meeting, Daphne asked if there was anything special to highlight about Edwina and the resulting explosion of fury and bitterness ensued. In the sincere hope she wasn’t making things worse, Daphne got to her feet and joined Sonia.

  “I’m so sorry, dear.”

  Sonia blinked at Daphne and then a single tear trickled down her cheek. Fred moved fast to provide a box of tissues and Daphne took it with a smile, holding them close to Sonia.

  “What would you like to happen at the funeral?” Daphne kept her voice soft. “How do you want to say goodbye?”

  In the few months of Daphne’s new celebrant life, she’d officiated at a handful of funerals, plus a few goodbye ceremonies. Actually, two of the latter and both in a town they’d left only a few weeks ago. And that was a whole other story. Although her practical experience might be limited, she had a lifetime of being a people person. Always the shoulder to cry on for friends and acquaintances. The person who would listen and then gently offer kind words. It worked most of the time.

  “I’d like… I think that…” Sonia’s tone hardened. “I want to see her dropped into that hole and covered up as fast as possible. There’s already been far too much money spent on an elaborate casket, let alone flowers and all the other costs.” She leaned back and crossed her arms as well. “That sounds like the best way to say goodbye. See the back of her.”

  “Enough, Sonia, give it a rest.” This was Tracy. “You’ll still get a nice little windfall. Not like anyone will throw you off the property.”

  The two women glared at each other and Daphne retreated to her previous seat. Whatever history there was should be shelved until after the funeral. She glanced at her notes. There was nothing in them to indicate anything other than a community filled with love and respect for the deceased.

  Fred poured water into four glasses from a jug on a stand near the door. “Who would care for some water?”

  Daphne nodded and he brought one across.

  “Only if there’s something… extra in it,” Sonia announced.

  Tracy rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. “Thanks, Fred.” She took a glass from him. “Mrs Jones, I’d like to speak at the funeral. I’ve known Edwina for decades and we’ve worked together on committees for longer than I care to admit. So how do we make this happen?”

  “Once Sonia approves the ceremony, I’ll then add anyone who wishes to speak in order and will introduce them. Do you know of any others?”

  Fred sat opposite. “Only two others apart from Tracy. The first is Desmond. Desmond Rogers. He considered Edwina to be a close friend and⁠—”

  “Get real.” Sonia reached for a handbag and stood. “Nobody liked her, so it is all lip service.”