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

Charlotte filled him in on what she’d seen. “Did she explain herself? Targeting shops by moving in next door with the same products?”

Lewis sniffed. “Not the same. Cheap. But that…lady, gave no explanation. She even had the nerve to start rumours that I was closing down. As if that would happen!” He picked up the ribbon and began tying it around the present.

“I don’t know a lot about retail but would imagine there is a fair amount of cost setting up a shop. And then paying rent?” Charlotte bit her bottom lip. Was this the motive for the break-ins, some kind of revenge for the town not supporting her?

“She would have had some costs, mainly the stock, but she didn’t bother with nice stands, or anything to enhance the customer experience. And rent? Both landlords offered her a rent-free period.”

“And she closed before that ended. So, there are landlords out of pocket as well.” Charlotte said. “Did she already have the garden centre?”

“There you are, all beautifully wrapped for dear Rosie.” He gently placed the box closer to Charlotte. “As for Veronica? She had already chased off most of the garden centre’s customers with her lack of attentiveness and if I may say, rudeness.”

Oh, you may!

“I have enjoyed meeting you, Lewis.” Charlotte offered her hand over the counter.

“And I, you. Shall I expect to see you at the Christmas Eve party?”

“Um, I didn’t know about it.”

“Ah. After we close tomorrow night, many of us gather in the plaza for a get-together. Very informal. Both restaurants are closed because they do Christmas lunches, so we all bring a plate of something nice and share it around. Our little tradition.”

“Sounds lovely. Merry Christmas.”

Back outside, Charlotte decided to leave grocery shopping for first thing in the morning, before work. She had her hands full with bags and boxes, so made her way home. It was time to look at the photos she’d taken.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Charlotte closed her laptop. She’d uploaded her photos to see them on the larger screen and search for any clues to help. But there was nothing. Lots of images of Veronica at different angles, quite a few of her boyfriend. The ute. No luck at all with the driver.

She’d gone further back to the night of Esther’s window being broken but shards of glass told her nothing. Even the images from the roundabout were of little value. There were several photos of the men as they pulled down the tree, but none were face on and it was difficult to tell if one was indeed the passenger from earlier.

Nothing to prove the man with Veronica was even there.

If only Charlotte had seen their faces when the masks came off at the bookshop. Or if one of them had turned around at the roundabout.

She had no ideas about what to do next and nobody to bounce ideas off.

Before her head exploded, she needed to fulfil that promise to herself and visit the waterfall.

She changed into shorts and T-shirt, grabbed a hat, and threw a sandwich and water bottle into a backpack. In minutes she was striding out in the warm air, longing to get to the steps and work off the tension of the morning. Although she’d planned to have an evening picnic, she’d missed lunch, so mid-afternoon sandwich at the falls it was.

The further she walked, the clearer her thoughts became. Finding the bad guys wasn’t her job. It was Sid’s. If he failed to fulfil his job, then there were authorities who were responsible for changing that.

She didn’t like what was happening in and around town, but this wasn’t her fight. For now, and hopefully a long time, she was a book seller. A local trader. The corners of her lips flicked up. Trader. Sounded nice.

Charlotte turned onto the path to the falls. The sounds and smells of the bush surrounded her, and she breathed deeply of the fragrant air. It wasn’t long before the familiar roar of the waterfall interwove with the birdsong. She stopped at the information board.

She’d not looked at it since the first night when she’d run in an emotional panic into the dark. The map of the area showed several walking tracks with expected time for the average person. One led a longer way, avoiding the lookout to climb to the top of the falls.

Perfect.

After a sip of water, Charlotte found the entry to the new track, a bit excited to see some new part of the falls. The walk, according to the board, was a one-hour round trip, so she’d be back home before dark, even with a stop for photos.

Whoever came up with one-hour timeframe must have been a power-walker. The track was even worse than the ramp past the lookout. At times, Charlotte had to grab branches to support herself as she clambered up spots where steps had completely rotted. Coming back would be interesting.

The track did a long, slow curve and then abruptly stopped at the bottom of a high flight of steps. As in, so high Charlotte could barely see the top. Her stomach rumbled. Keep going or turn back and find somewhere to sit for while? She didn’t recall anything other than dense undergrowth and trees on either side of the path, so sucked on the water bottle again and began the ascent.

Halfway up, she seriously reconsidered the decision. These steps were steep and deep, requiring more than normal work. Her calf and thigh muscles screamed at her.

Think how strong you’ll get if you did this more often.

If she survived.

One last push and she was at the top, breathing fast and feeling just a little lightheaded. The roaring in her ears died down and she blinked to clear her vision. Except, the roaring wasn’t just from her elevated heartbeat. Up here, the falls were loud as a river rushed to the edge of the cliff and threw itself over.

The view was spectacular. From here, the peaks of the hills