Lawson's Bend Page 15

  She drove past her turn-off and headed into town to pick up a couple of things at the supermarket; she still had enough time before it closed. It looked as if she and Dover would both be having a late dinner.

  She pulled into a space in the almost-empty car park and hurried in. Walking through the automatic doors, she glanced at the registers and noted that they were manned by a couple of young kids she didn’t recognise. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with Rosalie tonight.

  She buzzed around the store quickly, avoiding the chocolate section, though she couldn’t resist picking up a couple of treats and a new chew toy for Dover.

  ‘Hi, what can I get you?’ the girl behind the deli counter asked.

  Henny didn’t know her but she had a nice smile.

  ‘Um, could I please have some of that fetta, a couple of scoops of the pitted olives and some of the roasted capsicum? Thanks.’

  As the girl handed over the first container she said, ‘Are you the lady who’s opening up The Matchbox?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Henny said with a smile.

  ‘It’s a gallery, right?’

  ‘Sort of. I’m featuring my mother’s artwork but I’ll also be selling some other arts and crafts.’

  The girl handed her another container. ‘I’m Cassie, by the way.’

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Cassie. I’m Henny.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d need extra staff, would you?’ the girl asked hopefully.

  ‘That’s something I won’t know until I open. If all goes well there may be a part-time job available, but that’s not a definite yet.’ Henny saw the disappointment in Cassie’s eyes. ‘Tell you what, when the shop opens, drop in and see me and bring your résumé, okay?’

  ‘Oh, thanks so much, Henny, I will.’

  ‘Good,’ Henny said as she picked up her items and placed them in the basket. ‘Thanks, Cassie. See you later.’

  ‘Bye—have a good night.’

  Henny went through the checkout then headed back out to the car park. From a distance she sensed that something was wrong with her car but she couldn’t make out what it was until she got closer.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Henny exclaimed. What looked to be an entire carton of eggs had been smashed into the windshield, the yellow yolks making smeary trails down the glass before collecting in thick pools over the window wipers. There were more broken eggshells scattered on the ground and the bonnet. Henny scanned the parking lot but she couldn’t see anyone. In a way it would have been a relief to see a group of kids snickering behind the bushes but there was nothing. In fact the car park was dark and quiet and still.

  Rattled, Henny opened the car and shoved her bags inside before grabbing a handful of tissues and trying to wipe off the mess. A few minutes later and half a box of tissues down, she finally slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine and the windscreen wipers. The glass was still smeary but Henny wasn’t going to hang around any longer. She drove away from the supermarket as fast as she could. Deep down she had a feeling that this wasn’t a harmless act of bored youth—it was a warning. She just had to figure out what for.

  ***

  Saturday morning found Henny sitting in Aunt Janey’s kitchen watching Dover dutifully following Napoleon and Josephine around the small courtyard. Aunt Janey’s dogs had appeared to have taken Dover under their collective wing, restraining a little of his enthusiastic bounciness and replacing it with a more subdued snuffling. It was around eleven o’clock and Henny had been invited for brunch.

  ‘Well, did you call the police about it?’ Aunt Janey said as she looked over her coffee mug. ‘If someone empties a carton of eggs on your car, you should tell them.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was that serious. Probably just some kids acting up,’ Henny replied, but even as she said the words she didn’t believe them. However, she wasn’t going to admit that to Janey and get her worrying.

  ‘That’s probably true, but I still think you should mention it,’ Aunt Janey said.

  ‘Hmm, maybe.’

  Her aunt gave her a cross look. ‘Make sure that you do. I see that young Dover is sporting a pretty new collar,’ she said, changing the subject.

  ‘Yes, Harley had Mia make it. I went there the other week to talk to her about putting some of her jewellery in the shop and she gave it to me,’ Henny said.

  ‘I see. Well, it’s very grand.’ Janey went to reach for her coffee again and stopped. ‘I can’t remember anything like that ever happening around here.’

  Henny frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Egging cars,’ Janey explained. ‘I’ve just been racking my brain about it and I can’t think of this sort of thing happening before.’

  Henny suppressed a groan. ‘I’m sure these sorts of things happen all the time and you just don’t hear about them. The underpass is always covered in graffiti, and what about Mr Wilson’s disappearing garden gnomes?’

  ‘I’ll give you the graffiti thing but we all know it was Mrs Wilson stealing the garden gnomes because she hated them. So that’s a totally different thing altogether.’

  ‘How did that end?’

  ‘The Wilsons? Divorced. Apparently there’s a line in every relationship and the gnomes were a step too far,’ Janey said with a straight face.

  Henny giggled.

  ‘And her discovering that he was spending time with the divorcee down the road didn’t help,’ Janey added with a wink.

  ‘Oh, I see how that could have tipped the balance.’

  ‘So, kiddo, what are you up to this weekend? Other than hanging out with your poor old aunt.’

  ‘Not that much. I’m taking Dover on a hike tomorrow and going to the movies tonight with Stephen.’

  ‘With Stephen, eh?’

  ‘You know we’re just friends.’

  ‘Sometimes statements like that need re-evaluating,’ Janey said. ‘He’s a lovely guy, Hen. Dependable, caring and decent—sometimes blokes like that are hard to find.’

  ‘Aunt Janey, you know I don’t do lovely and dependable.’ She said it with a laugh in the hope that her aunt would let the idea go and move on to something else, something safer.

  ‘I know, but isn’t it time to try something a little different? I understand why you do it. I know it’s your way of protecting yourself, but sometimes you have to take a chance. The world can be a big, cold place—it’s good to have people that care about you.’

  ‘I do. I have you and Dover and friends that I’m reconnecting with, like Stephen and Charlie.’

  ‘Yes, but you know what I’m talking about. When I said that you should put roots down and start living, I meant all of it.’

  ‘I don’t need a relationship to define who I am, Janey.’

  ‘You’re right, you don’t. But ask yourself this: are you choosing that path because that’s how you truly feel or because you’re terrified that whoever you love will be taken from you?’ Aunt Janey stood up to give Henny a hug. ‘Either way it’s okay, just as long as you know where the idea is coming from.’

  Aunt Janey’s words hit Henny in the gut. It was true—she pretended that it wasn’t, but in the back of her mind she knew it was.

  ‘I love you, kiddo, and I want you to have a wonderful, happy, fulfilled life. If you’re keeping Stephen at a distance through fear of losing him, isn’t that a weird way of looking at things? My two marriages didn’t last but that doesn’t mean that I regret them. Highs and lows are the light and shadow that make our lives interesting. They prove to us that we can experience joy and that we can get through the tough times. You’ve had awful things happen in your life but that doesn’t mean you should cut yourself off from potential happiness because you’re scared. Maybe you should take a chance—sure, you might fall flat on your face, but maybe you’ll fly. Never going to know unless you give it a shot.’

  ‘Aunt Janey—’

  ‘You’re one of the bravest people I know—all I ask is that you remember that the next time it counts,’ Janey s
aid, giving Henny a kiss on the forehead before letting her go. ‘Now, come on. Let’s eat.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Aunt Janey’s words refused to go away, which was more than irritating. Of course Henny knew the reason they were gnawing away at her brain was because they had actually hit a mark, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  Henny wanted to dismiss the whole idea about her and Stephen. She kept telling anyone who’d listen, including herself, that they were just friends. She’d said it so often it was like a broken record. But if she was willing to admit it, she knew that there was a tiny spark of something there. The trick to getting around that fact was simply to ignore it, to move on and keep yourself busy. It was when she lingered a moment too long on the idea, or the feelings that Stephen stirred within, that she got into trouble.

  Dover let out a single bark followed by a growl as he trotted up the garden path towards the front door. Henny had never heard him growl before, but she glanced around and couldn’t see anything out of place.

  ‘What’s up, Dover?’ she said as she hurried to the front door. She reached down and gave him a pat. ‘What’s up, boy?’ The dog leaned against her leg but continued to stare at the front door, which was disconcerting. Henny tried the doorknob but it was locked fast, just as she’d left it.

  She looked back down at Dover and said with a half smile, ‘You’re just trying to wind me up, aren’t you?’ Henny unlocked the door and as she swung it open, Dover bounded in and sniffed the air. He did a 360-degree spin before looking back at her and wagging his tail. Relieved, Henny stepped across the threshold and almost missed the envelope that was on the floor. With a frown, she bent down and scooped it up. The envelope was blank. With a little trepidation she opened it and drew out the single piece of paper from inside.

  Some things are best left alone.

  A shiver skipped down her spine—maybe she was on the right track after all.

  ***

  Drinks in hand, Henny and Stephen squeezed into seats at a small table at a cosy bar around the corner from the cinema. Henny had found it difficult to keep her mind on the film, as it kept wandering back to the strange note she’d received earlier that day. Normally she’d be right into the newest big-budget action flick, but not tonight. She was going to share it with Stephen on the trip up to Bendigo but decided maybe it was better to wait until later.

  ‘What’s up, Hen? You seem a million miles away tonight,’ Stephen said from across the table. ‘Didn’t you like the movie?’

  Henny tilted her head on one side. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be. I’m afraid I didn’t get into the movie—not its fault. Something weird happened today and I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  Stephen crossed his arms and leant on the table. ‘What happened?’

  Henny rummaged through her handbag for a second before she drew out the piece of paper. ‘This was pushed under my front door today.’

  Stephen took it and read the words before he looked her in the eyes. ‘You’ve gone to the police?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I figured the police have enough to do without worrying about something silly like this.’

  ‘It’s probably nothing but I’d still tell them anyway. You know the old saying—better to be safe than sorry,’ Stephen said. He reached over and took her hand in his. ‘Look, you’re worried about this, so give it to the police.’

  ‘It’s probably nothing,’ Henny said, trying to ignore just how damn good it felt when Stephen held her hand.

  ‘Good chance you’re right but for me, please have a chat with the police.’ He gave her hand a little squeeze before releasing it. ‘Nothing else like this has happened, right?’

  Henny glanced down at her wine glass and fiddled with its narrow sten.

  ‘Oh shit, Hen—what else?’

  ‘Nothing much, only my car was egged the other night outside the supermarket. I figured that it was just some random bored teenagers.’

  ‘I don’t know—I mean, sure some of the kids tear it up and get into trouble, but egging a car seems a bit old-school,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Maybe. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.’ That wasn’t exactly true, but she wasn’t going to tell Stephen that she’d had a couple of sleepless nights trying to work out who would have done it.

  ‘So the questions are who sent the note and what’s behind it.’

  ‘Well, you said it yourself—I guess I’ve upset some people because I was asking questions about Harley’s mental state before he died. It’s probably just one of them.’

  ‘It’s possible, but I think sending anonymous notes and egging cars is a strange reaction,’ Stephen said. ‘But then, who really knows how people behave if they feel threatened.’

  ‘You know, I was talking to Gemma the other day and she told me that Harley was terrified of drowning, which made me wonder why he was out at the res in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Maybe he wanted to pay his respects. He left before the memorial began so perhaps he went back later. Maybe he was standing on the high bank and he got too close to the edge in the dark and it crumbled and took him with it.’

  ‘But he was scared of the place, even thought it was haunted, and terrified of drowning. I doubt that he’d go anywhere near the edge.’

  ‘Henny, I know what you’re trying to say but I can’t accept that anyone would want to hurt Harley. It doesn’t make any sense—I mean, he was harmless.’

  ‘But what if he knew something?’

  ‘Knew something about what? This is Lawson’s Bend, not an episode of Midsomer Murders. Yes, once in a blue moon there’s a fight, the odd joy ride on a tractor or a few sheep may go missing, even a bit of vandalism, but what you’re suggesting . . .’

  ‘I know it’s out there but what if I’m right? Harley warned me to leave—he said that it wasn’t safe and it wasn’t an accident. Just for a moment, let’s believe him. Look, maybe I’ve got it all wrong and am building a mountain out of a molehill. But on the off chance that I’m right, don’t we owe it to Harley to find out what really happened?’

  Stephen blew out a breath as he sat back in his chair. ‘Alright, for argument’s sake, I’ll give it a go. So what was he talking about when he said it wasn’t an accident?’

  ‘I’m not sure but I must be connected to it somehow, otherwise what’s the point of telling me?’ Henny held up her hand for a moment as Stephen looked as if he was going to speak. ‘I’m not saying it’s true, I’m just saying let’s think about it.

  He nodded. ‘Okay, what accident comes to mind?’

  ‘Mum’s, of course, but I’ve been up to where she died. The explanation that she lost her footing and slipped is a credible one. I don’t want to believe it but I think I’m going to have to.’

  ‘So the only other accident that would affect you would be the drowning, right?’

  ‘Right. But I don’t buy that the platform was tampered with, therefore its collapse was an accident and what Harley said doesn’t make sense. But I can’t shake the feeling that he meant something about it.’

  ‘Hen, someone is trying to warn you off. Perhaps it’s someone who just wants the past to be laid to rest. Or . . .’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or asking too many questions could be dangerous. Have you thought about that?’ Stephen said, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘Listen, we’re friends and I care about you—I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.’

  ‘You think I could be in danger?’

  ‘You haven’t thought about that?’

  ‘I guess I was just caught up in the mystery of it all. But you’re right, if this is what I think it is—murder—then I’ll just have to watch my step.’

  ‘Henny, if what you say is true and someone killed Harley, that means they’ve already done it once—what’s to stop them doing it again?’

  ‘You’re right, I know—but I can’t back down now. I will be extra careful, but I won’t stop. Any
way, I promise that I’ll talk to Charlie’s dad as soon as I can.’

  ‘Like tomorrow. I’m sure Senior Sergeant Nichols would want to hear from you. Promise you’ll talk to him?’

  Henny looked into Stephen’s eyes and saw the concern. She gave him a nod. ‘Alright, I promise.’

  ***

  Henny had meant to keep her promise to Stephen, however, as Senior Sergeant Nichols had a couple of days off, it wasn’t until the next Wednesday morning that she was able to speak with him.

  ‘So, Henny, what’s up?’ he said as he sat down across the desk from her. ‘Are you alright?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, fine. I heard that you had an extra long weekend.’

  Nichols grinned. ‘Sure did. Charlie’s mum and I went up the river for a spot of fishing.’

  ‘Catch a lot?’

  ‘Nah, but the scenery and the company were good. So how can I help you?’

  ‘Um, look, this is probably nothing but Stephen insisted that I speak with you,’ she said, pulling out the letter from her bag.

  Nichols took the sheet of paper and read it. ‘So someone is warning you off about what exactly?’

  ‘I’m not a hundred-per-cent sure but I think it could have to do with me asking a few questions about Harley’s death.’

  He stared at her for a second or two. ‘That’s over, Henny. It was ruled an accidental death. I know this must be hard for you—losing your mum, dealing with the grief and then fishing Harley out of the res. You’ve been through a lot, even without adding the Killop Res accident on top. But there’s nothing untoward in Harley Turner’s death.’

  ‘I understand. But at the memorial he sounded so genuine when he warned me about some sort of danger, and did you know that he was scared of the res? Which makes you wonder why he was there in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Henny, he was damaged. Harley never got over the drowning—maybe he went there with a particular idea in mind.’