Deadly Start by Clark Nefri (recommended ebook reader .TXT) 📗

families were close, very close friends, until Octavia’s husband…well, he took too much of a liking to the Mrs Forest of the time. Two divorces later, they moved away leaving both families shattered.”

“Oh, how awful!”

“Well, you’ve met Octavia.” Rosie smiled. “I’ve known her since high school. Divorce didn’t make her that way, but she now has a grudge against the Christmas Tree farm.”

Charlotte climbed the stairs to her apartment, mulling over the earlier conversation. Rosie had explained how Darcy came home from the city after his father passed away, bringing his own young family to a property allowed to deteriorate since the divorce.

She unlocked the door and carried everything inside. How sad that the poor decisions of one generation in a family were now impacting on the next. As she closed the door and locked it, Charlotte rested her forehead on the timber.

This isn’t about you.

So why was her stomach tensed up? Time to stop worrying about the past. Being here was about making a new life. Not living with the sins of her parents.

In an attempt to lighten her mood, Charlotte played Christmas songs on her phone as she created a salad with a side of homemade chips. She made notes about which songs might be added to the bookshop’s playlist.

The evening was warm, so Charlotte sat out on the large balcony to eat. Rosie had mentioned in passing that the apartment was built by the family who originally owned the building so they could run what was then a bakery and be close to work.

Imagine the smells wafting up.

Directly across the road, an alley ran between two old buildings to the next street. A car park was on a corner. For such a small population, the town sprawled with shops and cafes over four or five blocks. Further up was the small park where Rosie had lunch. Charlotte really needed to go for a long walk and get to know the town better.

What made the town special though were the decorations. Not only in the shops, but the streets. Streetlamps and trees were covered in fairy lights. At the far end of the main road was a roundabout and, in its centre, a tall Christmas tree. Artificial, but quite impressive with layers of purple and silver baubles the size of basketballs and a giant star on the top. At night, it was brightly lit.

Dinner finished, Charlotte washed up, yawning enough to decide an early night was in order. Perhaps a chapter or two of her book first. Or three.

Chapter Four

This time it wasn’t a clap of thunder rousing Charlotte from sleep, but shattering glass. A lot of it. Not even bothering to find her errant slippers, she had the dressing gown around herself in seconds and was peering through the window. The sky was clear, and the main road was quiet. But she hadn’t imagined the sound.

The silence was broken as tyres squealed and a motor revved. Charlotte sprinted to the balcony, wrinkling her nose at the stench of burnt rubber. Below, a car streaked past. A dark coloured ute, with of all things, a Christmas tree in the back, tinsel trailing behind. It turned the next corner with another screech and ornaments bounced down the road.

What on earth?

Charlotte stared back where it came from. Huge shards of glass covered the footpath and road outside the ladies’ boutique.

There was no clanging alarm. Nobody else was around. And Charlotte didn’t even know if Kingfisher Falls had a police station.

She threw on jeans, T-shirt and runners, grabbed her keys and phone, and tore down the stairs. At the bottom, she dialled police emergency, then headed for the boutique.

Emergency services answered and put her through to the police. She answered their questions as she hurried there. They asked her to wait near the scene.

Sure, where else would I want to be in the middle of the night?

After hanging up, she checked the time. Three in the morning. Not promising for getting back to sleep.

She took a lot of photographs. Glass spread across every surface in the radius of the shop was from a full pane. There was glass inside as well, but she wasn’t going to do more than zoom in with the phone camera. Charlotte searched on the internet for the shop but there was no website, after hours number, or even an email address to be found, only the landline. She dialled this in the hope it might be redirected at night, but after hearing it ring out in the shop gave up.

The minutes ticked past. Charlotte planted herself under a streetlamp a little further up the street. Running out here alone in a town she didn’t know just after a break-in, was beginning to feel like a stupid decision. She could have called the police from the balcony. Instead, she was by herself with not another soul in sight.

The sound of a car approached. What if it was the thief coming back for a second go? Her heartbeat increased as the car came through the roundabout. But it was a police car, which pulled over on the opposite side of the road.

Charlotte shoved the phone into her pocket and began to cross.

The car door swung open. “Stay where you are!” A heavyset man in tracksuit pants and singlet hauled himself out, eyes on Charlotte.

Planning on shooting me if I don’t?

Telling her sarcasm to stay quiet, she stopped as he strapped a police belt around his gut. If she was the perpetrator, she’d be long gone at this rate. He finally slammed the door and lumbered toward her.

“Is your accomplice inside?”

“My what?”

“Don’t smart mouth me, missy. Who else did this with you?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “For goodness sake. I phoned you. The person who did this drove that way,” she pointed. “in a dark coloured ute. With a Christmas tree on the back.”

Up close, the man smelt of sweat and was in his fifties. Maybe older.

“Identify yourself.” He barked.

“No. You show me identification. For all I