Deadly Forest: A Green Witch Mystery, page 11
The earlier setback forgotten; Anna clapped her hands. “Yay!
“So, what’s the plan?” Luke asked. “Everyone’s here to pay their respects.”
“We’ll have ourselves a little remembering session, share a few tales about Elvira, maybe belt out some tunes. We’ll sort out the final rites when we bring her back,” Grandpa said.
“I know some good songs,” Anna said, reaching for Rhianne’s hand. “Can you sing?”
Without waiting for a reply, she pulled Rhianne towards the gathering circle, where the crowd mingled. All eyes turned, the weight of their gaze weighing on Rhianne as if she had stumbled into a spotlight. Grandpa cleared his throat.
“All right, everyone. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, this is my granddaughter, Rhianne. She’s going to be sticking around for a bit.”
The response was a mix of nods and shy smiles. Rhianne shrugged off the tension in her shoulders, trying to relax. It wasn’t the warmest of receptions, but she’d take it.
Anna, with the unwavering determination of a pint-sized diva, pulled Rhianne into the heart of the circle. As she launched into “Wind Beneath My Wings” with a volume that belied her small stature, her voice, pure and earnest, sailed over the heads of the assembled group. Each note was delivered with the kind of sincerity that only a child could muster, even if a few notes ambitiously aimed for the stars and landed somewhere in the stratosphere.
Rhianne, coaxed into the limelight by Anna’s unyielding grip, found her own voice blending into the ensemble. The mix of Anna’s enthusiastic, untamed vocals with Rhianne’s polished harmonies created a charming duet. It was akin to pairing sparkling grape juice with a fine wine — a combination that shouldn’t work, yet somehow it did, creating a flavour of its own.
Grandpa’s baritone soon joined, grounding the performance with a depth that only years could bring. His dignified voice, paired with Anna’s unbridled energy and Rhianne’s harmonies crafted a heartwarming performance.
The inclusion of other voices, initially hesitant but growing in confidence, transformed Anna’s solo into a communal expression of solidarity and shared joy. Even Toto added his voice and, together with Martin’s deep bass, rounded out the song.
When the final notes rang, many faces wiped tears from their eyes. Despite the earlier talk about people disliking Elvira and her gossip, it looked like many here loved her.
“Elvira would have loved this,” Grandpa said, his voice cracking a bit.
Luke nodded, and even Brenda lost her smirk.
After the tunes of “Over the Rainbow” and “What a Wonderful World” had softened into a gentle backdrop, the clearing grew quieter.
People grouped here and there, mostly talking in low voices, with a bit of laughter sprinkled throughout.
Rhianne figured this was her chance to find out more about Elvira.
She decided to kick things off with someone she’d already met — Rose. And since Anna, her daughter, was already acting as her ‘official tour guide’, it seemed like a good way in. Plus, Rose kept shooting looks over to where Anna was. Sooner or later, Rose would approach her, and Rhianne would get her chance.
Anna pointed out the local flora and fauna, including a brush box and coral tree. But she was most excited about a pademelon happily munching on some native grass.
“Look down there,” she whispered, “a koala.” She gave Rhianne a look like she was letting her in on a big secret. “He must be looking for a mate; that’s why he’s moving like that. Watch!”
Sure enough, the koala was doing a slow shuffle from side to side. But then, when it hit the next tree, it zipped up like it was nothing, powered by its strong legs.
“Hey, I think your mum wants a word with you,” Rhianne said. It was a small fib, though she had a hunch her presence caused Rose a bit of uneasiness. At that moment, as if on cue, Rose started heading their way.
Rose wagged her finger at Anna. “You shouldn’t bother…” Rose’s eyes darted away, and a flush crept up her neck, painting her cheeks a telltale pink.
“Rhianne,” Rhianne said with an easy smile.
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” Rose’s smile was brief.
“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Anna’s large eyes sought Rhianne’s, who laughed.
“Not in the slightest. You even showed me a koala.” Rhianne gave Anna a playful wink. But this was her chance, and she wasn’t going to miss it, so she turned her attention to Rose. “You knew Elvira well?”
“In a tight-knit community like ours, everyone knows everyone pretty well.” Rose shrugged.
Not exactly an endorsement. Rhianne realised that the locals were probably in the dark about the whole murder thing — except, of course, for whoever did it — so she’d better tread lightly. She didn’t know when the elders would communicate the news.
“I believe she dealt in herbs and medicines?” Under the flicker of small fires and the bright moon above, the scars on Rose’s face formed a constellation of pitted marks and subtle ridges — remnants of the acne battles Brenda had mentioned.
A glower vanished as fast as it appeared. “Yeah, Elvira believed she was a bit of a healer.”
“Was she not very good?”
“She fancied herself a wizard with herbs, but really, she was just mixing teas.” The words came out clipped, and her eyes flashed. “Her ‘magic’ had a habit of backfiring.”
Rhianne winced, thinking of her own flawed healing magic.
Rose reached for Anna, drawing her close. “Time to turn into a pumpkin, munchkin.”
“I don’t wanna turn into a pumpkin yet. I’m making friends!”
Ruffling her hair, Rhianne flashed her a wide grin. “Remember, we can hang out after school tomorrow, but you’ve got to wake up early to do your chores.”
Anna’s shoulders drooped. “Yeah, all right.” She pulled at Rhianne’s sleeve, prompting Rhianne to bend down closer.
Anna whispered, “Could you make some shortbread biscuits? Elvira used to bake them for me.”
“I’ll do my best,” Rhianne whispered back. She stood upright again. “Coconut oil or bio-oil,” she told Rose.
“What?” Rose blinked.
“For the scars. They work wonders, but patience is key.” With a cheery wave at Anna, who was now grinning, Rhianne pivoted on her heel.
She was setting off on her next mission. Antonia, Peter’s daughter, was up next.
Peter was with a small group. It included a willowy woman with dark, braided hair who looked like she was about to declare war on him. She was using her finger as a sword, aimed at his chest.
A couple of teenagers, in their battle-worn jeans and concert tees, watched on with the enthusiasm of tortoises on a jog. Their slouched postures and vacant stares suggested they were veterans of adult drama.
One of the teens noticed Rhianne and gave her buddy a poke, glancing over her shoulder. Following the teens’ eyes, the tall woman, in the middle of her finger-jousting, caught sight of Rhianne. Her hand paused, frozen in mid-air.
Rhianne managed to catch the tail end of the woman’s muttered ultimatum to Peter. “We’re not finished with this conversation,” she hissed.
Peter’s face twisted into a scowl, his eyebrows drawing together and his lips pressing into a thin, rigid line.
“Hello,” Rhianne said, her voice breezy as if the undercurrent of tension had bypassed her. “Are you Antonia?” Drawing nearer, the etchings of time became apparent on the woman’s face, mapping out a network of lines.
The woman’s hands fluttered down to smooth the fabric of her floral dress before she pivoted towards Rhianne, her smile bearing a touch of caution. “No. I’m her mum, Pamela. But please, call me Pam. It’s a treat to be confused with my daughter.”
“I’m Rhianne.”
“We know,” the boy said, a smirk dancing on his lips, only to be met with an eye-roll from the girl beside him.
“Rude!” she said, sticking her tongue out at the boy. Shifting her gaze back to Rhianne, she added, “I’m Jasmine, and this specimen of manners is Hunter.”
The boy towered close to Peter’s height, their matching prominent noses a dead giveaway of their relationship — his son, then. The girl, luckily for her, missed out on the nose lottery and instead mirrored her mum’s look with her delicate features and striking cornflower blue eyes.
“Antonia’s hit the town with her mates,” Jasmine explained, flicking her mid-length hair with a casual flair. “She’s got a job there; really enjoys it.”
Peter made a show of clearing his throat, his brow knitting together. “I doubt Rhianne wants to be bogged down with all that.”
Actually …
“Where does she work?” Rhianne chose to sidestep Peter’s warning, curious to see how willing Jasmine was to dish the dirt in a moment of defiance.
Toto, seizing the moment to join the action, zigzagged between the teens. Hunter dropped his cool teen façade and crouched to engage Toto in a tug-of-war with a stick.
Jasmine laughed at their antics before answering. “At Maggie’s Hair Salon. It’s a fancy place in town; they even do those high-end treatments and styles, you know, the ones with all the exotic oils and keratin stuff.”
Yep, Toto was a definite asset in Rhianne’s investigations. “Right,” she nodded, though, in truth, she was clueless about those upmarket treatments. Her long hair only saw scissors for a trim now and then — her own. “So, did you all know Elvira well?”
Peter cleared his throat again, sounding like a frog gearing up for a big night. At this rate, he’d need a lozenge or two before the night was over. “Elvira was well-liked by us,” he said.
“Didn’t ever talk to the old lady,” Hunter said, earning himself a squinty look from his father.
“I did,” Jasmine said, missing the vein popping in her dad’s neck. “She was nice, if a bit cray-cray.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say at her memorial,” Pam said.
The rebuke from her mother must have stung a bit because Jasmine pursed her lips but then shrugged it off. “Not in a bad way. Just… you know, into herbs and magical cures. Didn’t like doctors and wasn’t happy when I went to one in town for my monthly cramps. Her herbs didn’t do squat for me.”
At this point, Peter’s face was turning a shade of beetroot that was veering into uncharted territory. Rhianne thought it might be wise to take her leave before Peter exploded like a poorly aimed firework at a backyard barbeque.
After crafting a polite but hasty retreat, Rhianne ventured out to mingle with the other locals on her mission to dig up information about Elvira.
But unfortunately, she mostly got platitudes from everyone, confirming what she already knew anyway. The collective opinion painted Elvira as the neighbourhood’s unofficial herbal enchantress, with a mild allergy to anything invented after the rotary phone and a gossip network that could rival the internet — if she had believed in using it, that is.
The crowd slowly dwindled, and finally Grandpa, Toto, and Rhianne left as well.
Back at the fortress of solitude, also known as Grandpa’s cabin, Rhianne scrolled through her smartphone. Messages from Kai popped up, bringing a grin to her face and prompting a rapid-fire exchange of heart emojis.
On the other hand, Isobel’s digital silence was loud. But it would have been too much to hope for some early pathology findings.
At least she knew what to do tomorrow.
Her master plan? Conquer the local market and brave the gossip gauntlet at the hairdresser’s.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, Rhianne was catapulted out of sleep by the world’s most annoying feathered alarm clocks, the kookaburras, who apparently mistook dawn for their own private comedy club. Who needs a rooster — or a snooze button — when you’ve got a squad of hysterical birds right outside your window?
The moody sky, not quite ready to admit it was morning, hovered in that odd not-black-yet-not-blue limbo. Rhianne, groggy and blinking away dreams, stumbled out of bed. She managed a shower without falling asleep standing up, but it was a close call.
A bit chilly now, but it would warm up during the day, so she opted for shorts and a T-shirt. She dressed it up with a jacket in a wild green and red pattern — a mismatched ensemble that reminded her of the forest.
In the kitchen, Grandpa was already in full chef mode, hacking away at some bread, and — music to her ears — the kettle was belting out its morning hiss.
Toto, the four-legged fruit enthusiast, was working over some mango Grandpa must have generously donated to his bowl. He looked up when she came in. “Good morning, possum. Did you reflect on your findings from yesterday?”
They hadn’t had much chance to debrief last night. Neither Grandpa nor Toto, with his top-notch eavesdropping, had turned up anything else of interest about Elvira or any additional suspects.
Rhianne leaned against the counter, her eyes drifting towards a window where the sky began to dress itself in morning pastels. “Not really. They all thought she was mostly harmless but very much set in her ways.”
After Grandpa slid her a steaming cup of tea and a plate with toast, Rhianne slathered the slice with a generous blob of butter and took a satisfying bite.
“I’m trying to see if there’s any bread under that butter,” Grandpa said, his laughter filling the kitchen.
“It’s dairy,” she replied. “Essential food group right there.”
Toto lapped the remaining juices from the mango and yipped. “Speaking of essential and returning to the concept of harmless. It stands to reason that she was considered a threat if an individual was compelled to resort to murder.”
“True. Maybe she tripped over a secret someone hoped would stay buried.” Rhianne added milk to her tea and sipped it, letting the warmth of the liquid soothe her soul.
Grandpa spread his toast with a razor-thin smear of Vegemite over the butter. “Would someone be desperate enough to shut her up for good?”
“You’d be surprised at what people think justifies murder,” Rhianne said.
Grandpa chewed on his toast as if pondering her statement. “Nah, reckon I wouldn’t be all that surprised. Been knocking about this world long enough, possum. Seen people at their shining best and their dismal worst.”
After breakfast, Rhianne hopped into the van, which was already groaning under the weight of Elvira’s stash of jams and chutneys. Grandpa, doubling as mission control, handed her a map of the markets. He’d drawn an X on Elvira’s stall, like it was a treasure waiting to be discovered.
Unfortunately, Grandpa had to don his superhero cape for a neighbour whose machinery had decided to throw a tantrum. So Rhianne left to navigate the high seas of the market day. Toto was coming but opted for aerial reconnaissance — metal did not agree with his fae sensibilities.
He’d transform into an eagle to do a flyby and then morph back into his dog form on the ground, presumably shaking off his spy feathers before casually trotting up to meet Rhianne.
Tucked away near Coffs Harbour, the food market was a bustling hub that felt like a giant outdoor family barbeque.
The moment Rhianne stepped out of the van, a banquet of scents surrounded her — fresh coffee strong enough to wake a hibernating bear, fruits and veggies in every colour of the rainbow begging to be instagrammed, and something frying that whispered sweet nothings to her stomach. It was a full-on sensory assault that had her belly rumbling a symphony, nearly convincing her she’d imagined breakfast.
A maze of stalls under canopies vibrant enough to make a lorikeet jealous lined the area, each one crammed with the cream of the crop — plump veggies, cheeses of all shapes, and bread so fresh it must have risen from a baker’s indulgent dream.
Even at the crack of dawn, the stallholders were already deep in gossip and laughter, setting up their spaces with the efficiency of a race track pit crew — only instead of cars, they were peddling kale and artisan sourdough.
Following the map like a modern-day pirate hunting for treasure, Rhianne ended up at a quaint stall that seemed to whisper, ‘Ahoy, matey!’
She embarked on the unglamorous task of lugging boxes from the van and setting up shop. Among the treasures was one of those card reader machines. Grandpa credited Asher for that small technological wonder, and it only got used when he was around to help at the market. Otherwise, it was old-school, cash-only deals.
Rhianne didn’t plan on sticking around all day, but she had to make it look good. Grandpa had asked her to keep quiet about Elvira’s passing for now, so she was going with the story that Elvira was feeling unwell, and Rhianne was stepping in for the day.
She was trying to work up the nerve to introduce herself to the vendors next door when the lady from the adjacent stall came over.
“Hi there, I’m Louise. Where’s Elvira?” The woman smiled, reaching out for a handshake.
“I’m Rhianne, covering for her today.” She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping Louise wouldn’t dig any deeper, yet she kept the conversation flowing to avoid suspicion. “To be honest, I’m a bit out of my element here.” She waved at the jams she’d arranged in what she hoped was an appealing manner.
“Oh, you poor thing, you’re a city girl, aren’t you?” Louise didn’t even pause for a breath before diving in, reshuffling the jams with the expertise of a seasoned market maestro. She then set up a tasting station using sticks and bowls that Rhianne had been clueless about, transforming the stall from amateur hour to gourmet showcase in minutes.
“Yeah, from Sydney,” Rhianne said, and Louise nodded as if that was obvious. “Do you know Elvira well?” Rhianne asked.
“Oh yeah. We regulars are pretty tight-knit; it’s like a buddy system here. Otherwise, trying to sneak off to the loo turns into an epic quest, and not all of us have a sidekick. Asher usually was Elvira’s Saturday squire, but he’d be at school today.”
Louise showed Rhianne how to use the contactless card reader. Before Rhianne could navigate back to the topic of Elvira, another stallholder popped over. “Hi, I’m Tom. Where’s Elvira?”
