Daph on the Beach, page 1
part #1 of Daphne Jones Mysteries Series
Daph on the Beach
Have Camper, Will Marry Cozy Mystery Prequel
Daphne Jones Mysteries
Phillipa Nefri Clark
Contents
A quick note…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
About the Author
Also by Phillipa Nefri Clark
Three series in one world
Daph on the Beach
Copyright © 2022 Phillipa Nefri Clark
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher and the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Cover design by Steam Power Studios
Editing by NasDean.com
A quick note…
This series is set in Australia and written in Aussie/British English for an authentic experience.
* * *
The celebrant/officiant role Daphne undertakes is fictional, so there will be some variation from the role of a real celebrant, particularly between countries.
Chapter 1
The sun was peeking above the horizon as Daphne walked across the old timber boards to the end of the jetty. The soft slapping of water against the pylons below accompanied the cry of a seagull circling her in the hope of breakfast.
With another sweltering day forecast, she’d left the house early. Once she’d finished here, she’d go home and change for work but for now she had fresh sea air to inhale and a beach to herself. Fingers of pink and gold lit the sky in a typical midsummer Rivers End dawn. If there was any sight more beautiful, she hadn’t seen it.
“But you’re not here to admire the scenery.”
She turned to face the beach. The sand glowed gold from the sunrise and the waves whooshed in unison, the foam sparkling as it was left behind. It was a fabulous backdrop for a wedding…or was the sea the backdrop? Either way, this was the first time she’d officiate a wedding in this spot, but certainly not the first time one had been performed here.
Her dear friends, Thomas and Martha, held their own wedding here a little over a year ago. She touched her heart and her lips lifted with a smile. The reunion of the older couple brought joy to many in Rivers End. Their romance and wedding was one of the factors in her becoming a celebrant. She’d fallen in love with love.
A dog barked from further up the beach. It was Randall, who’d spotted her and galloped in her direction as his owner, Martin, raised a hand to wave. Even as Randall ran along the jetty, Martin was paddling his surfboard out. The beach might not be hers alone but she’d share with these two any day.
“Hello, Randall.” The golden retriever flopped against her legs, soft brown eyes bright and tail thudding on the timber boards. “Are you coming to the wedding?” He licked her hand and then tore back to the beach to fossick.
As the sky lightened, Daphne took some photos on her phone. The wedding, which was two days away, would begin as the sun set. Barry and Sylvia wanted a simple ceremony, which Daphne had already written and had it approved by them. It was now about choosing the perfect spot for them to stand and practice how loudly she needed to speak, given that this part of the jetty was over the water and some of the guests would be further away.
Randall was barking again, but this wasn’t his welcome bark. He was fixated on a spot in the shallows not far from the jetty where something floated in the water, bobbing about. Her gaze shot to the direction Martin had paddled. The waves were hardly strong enough for him to come off his board and be hurt, not with his experience. And he was still there, a fair way out, waiting for a big enough wave to bring him in.
Daphne hurried to get a better look. Randall was knee-deep in the water, his bark now a low growl at a mound of material, or clothing. Why would anyone throw clothes into the sea? Unless they’d fallen off a boat. Either way, she’d wade in and fetch them.
“Settle down, boy. I’ll fix this.” She removed her sandals and tossed them back, further away from the tideline.
There was a winter glove swirling around in a circle and Randall scooped it up and bounded to the beach where he dropped it on the sand. A brimmed hat picked up a wave and followed him in.
The water was warm as Daphne waded deeper. Good thing she’d worn shorts. There was an undertow which pulled the clothes just out of reach. She went in a bit further and grabbed the end of a long, heavy scarf.
“Come on. We’re getting you away from the sea creatures,” she muttered. “Not going to risk harming any of our marine life with this.”
She tugged at the pile and when the scarf didn’t make a difference she reached for the arm of a shirt. There was something inside the material. Something solid.
A wave lifted the pile.
Strands of seaweed floated around it.
Except…it wasn’t seaweed.
It was hair.
Long, flowing hair.
Heart in her mouth, Daphne lifted some of the hair.
And screamed.
“Come and sit for a minute, Daph.”
Sit? This was no time for sitting around. John had her hand in his and that was enough to keep her steady, despite the shock of finding a woman beneath the hair.
A deceased woman.
She gulped and her legs went all shaky. Before she knew it, her bottom plonked onto the sand.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we were a bit further away, doll?” John gazed at her, then leaned down. “You’re not okay, are you?”
“Got shaky, that’s all. I’ll be good in a minute.”
They were a few metres away from where the pile of…where the body now lay. After her scream, Martin had dragged his surfboard from the waves and raced along the sand. Daphne had pointed and he’d ploughed into the sea, scooping up and carrying the woman out before resting her on the sand as though she was simply sleeping. Now, Martin was talking to the town’s only police officer, Leading Senior Constable Trev Sibbritt, his hand on Randall’s head.
Daphne clambered to her feet. Sitting around wasn’t helping anyone.
“Daphne, are you up for a few questions?” Trev called.
In the distance, Christie was running from the direction of the path beneath the cliffs. Martin was on his way to meet her but Randall was way ahead.
John held her hand as they gave the body, now covered with a tarpaulin, a wide berth. Trev was on a phone call. He’d been the first person she’d rung. Before John. There was no point phoning an ambulance and even dialling had taken all her concentration thanks to shaking fingers.
“Thanks for waiting. Are you doing all right?” Trev’s eyes were worried…and kind. Always kind.
“I’m rather shocked. But I imagine the poor soul I found—well, Randall found—was far more shocked to find herself in this awful shape. Oh, dear, that didn’t sound right. I meant that she—”
“Take a breath. I know what you were trying to say.”
John put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Trev’s phone beeped and he glanced at it. “We’ll have company soon. Detectives are on their way from Warrnambool and a crime scene team won’t be far behind. You’ve already told me Randall’s barking got your attention and you thought it was a pile of clothes in the water. What else can you add?”
She blinked a couple of times to push away the vision of the bloated face beneath the hair.
Get a grip, Daph.
“Not a lot. I do think it odd she’d be wearing a scarf in this weather. And the glove and hat are more suited to the middle of winter.”
“Good observations.” Trev gazed in the direction of the body. “She’s dressed in jeans and a long sleeved blouse. Runners on her feet.”
“But it is too hot for a jacket today so did she…um, die, earlier? Last night?”
“We’ll get a better idea when the crime scene team arrive but you might be onto something. Daphne, I know you saw her face. Was she familiar?”
“She is, Trev. I think I can identify her. What are they doing?”
Christie and Martin reached the tarpaulin where they stared at the covered mound. Randall had moved to a spot beneath the jetty where the sand would be cool and the shade offered some protection from the rapidly warming sun.
“Martin recognised her. I guess Christie needs to see. I’ll be back.” Trev jogged the short distance and Daphne leaned her head on John’s shoulder.
“Who is it?” John asked.
Trev lifted the corner of the tarpaulin and Christie covered her mouth with both hands and nodded.
“Lana Tyson.” Daphne managed as her eyes misted. It wasn’t that she’d ever been friends with the woman, but Christie would be upset, which in turn upset her.
“Oh. S
“For about a month. I think she left to care for her father.”
She straightened as the other three headed their way. Christie brushed tears from her eyes.
“It is Lana, isn’t it?” Daphne put her arms around Christie in a hug. “What a dreadful shock.”
“I’m so sorry you found her like that.” Christie squeezed Daphne before stepping back. “I just can’t imagine what happened to her. How could she end up in the sea?”
Onlookers gathered. People used their phones to take photos.
“None of that,” Trev bellowed. “Please go about your business.”
“Trev, I might arrange a marquee to put over Lana. Some shade might be prudent,” Martin said. Unasked, Christie handed him her phone as if they were on the same wavelength, which really, they were, in Daphne’s opinion. If ever a couple were made for each other, it was those two.
“Thanks, mate.” Trev trudged off through the soft sand, waving his hand at the people still taking photos.
“I can’t believe this,” Christie said. “I was meant to meet her last night.”
“Meet her? I got the feeling last year that you weren’t so happy about her resigning from the salon at the busiest time of the year,” Daphne said.
Christie looked away. “She didn’t resign. Regardless, she asked me to meet her but never showed up. I figured she’d changed her mind and went home. But now…” She turned troubled eyes to Daphne. “Perhaps she fell from one of the cliffs. Or, worse.”
“You don’t think she jumped?”
Goodness, an accident was bad enough, but this? Another thought insisted on creeping into her mind.
Or was Lana pushed?
Chapter 2
Sitting behind the reception desk at Rivers End Real Estate a little later, Daphne opened her notebook to write a few lines. They were meant to be about the upcoming wedding, but somehow became a list of her observations from the events of the morning.
John had gone to the bakery to get coffee and pastries, telling Daphne to try and relax. They’d opened late, of course. She’d had to go home and shower before changing into black pants and a floral top and John had insisted on waiting for her and driving her to work. He’d unlocked the door, put on the air conditioning, and made sure she was settled with some water before ducking out.
Such a good man.
Now, with pen in hand, she wrote down her thoughts before they lost clarity. It wouldn’t matter if she was certain the death was an accident, but her gut told her otherwise.
Lana Tyson moved to Rivers End a few months ago and began working for Christie.
Cause of death—drowning?
Did she fall?
Or was she pushed?
“Goodness me, Daphne. Rather gruesome thoughts,” she muttered.
Why did she have a scarf on in our warm weather?
How did she end up near the jetty?
She nibbled on the end of the pen. Some of these questions would be answered once Lana’s remains were with the coroner. Last she’d seen, the crime scene unit had arrived and was bringing equipment through the gap beneath the cliffs where the river made its way to the lagoon near the tideline.
Why was she supposed to meet with Christie?
And why did she stop working at the salon—Christie said she didn’t resign.
Most peculiar.
The front door burst open and Sylvia, followed by Elizabeth, hurried in.
“Are you all right, Daph? And do we have to move the wedding now?” Sylvia’s voice did something it never did. It wavered.
Pushing herself to her feet, Daphne reached over the counter with both hands to take Sylvia’s.
“Oh, honey, please don’t worry. Not about me and not about your wedding. I am just fine apart from my mind ticking over with a thousand questions. And there is no reason to think the location needs changing.”
Sylvia’s face relaxed. Her engagement to local builder, Barry, was a long time in the making and since he’d popped the question just after Christmas, plans had moved fast. He had adored her for years and wasn’t taking any chances she’d regret saying yes. Sylvia was a cautious woman who took her time to make decisions but once she did, in Daphne’s experience, it was forever.
“We decided to check up on you,” Elizabeth said. “Angus has gone to see Christie who was quite upset when she called. Even though Martin was there to support her, I think she needed to see Angus. He was there for all the years she lived with her grandmother and has a special way of making people feel better.”
“He truly does,” Daphne agreed. Angus was a true gentleman and came to Rivers End to be closer to Christie, but had fallen in love with Elizabeth and stayed. His presence was most welcome and he’d fitted into Rivers End as though he’d always lived here.
“What a dreadful shock you must have had, Daph,” Sylvia said. “Shall we make you some coffee? I should have brought some pastries.”
“Very sweet of you to offer but John is actually at your bakery picking up both coffee and some pastries.” Daphne managed a smile. No point worrying her friends. “And yes, it was a shock but much, much worse for the poor woman.”
Elizabeth and Sylvia exchanged a glance.
“Did you find out about what happened from Christie when she rang Angus?” Daphne addressed Elizabeth.
“Yes. And she didn’t say anything other than a body being found in the water by you. So…a woman? Anyone we know?”
Oh dear. Am I even allowed to say?
“We only ask because we’re worrying now. In case it is anyone special to us,” Sylvia added.
“I’m sure she was special to someone, and I probably am breaking some law by telling you. And you can’t breathe a word because her next of kin may not have been informed yet.”
The other women leaned closer.
“Both Christie and I recognised her.”
And closer again.
“The poor victim is Lana Tyson.”
The door opened and all three of them jumped. It was only John, pushing the door wide with his hip as he backed in with his arms full.
“Oh. Hello, ladies. I didn’t know or I’d have arranged more coffee.”
Daphne hurried around the counter and relieved him of the white paper bag holding the box of pastries, giving the other women a smile.
“But we can share these lovely pastries.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “We have to go. Now we know you are okay.”
“We do?” Sylvia asked.
“Yes. Remember we have to check on the…er…wedding cake.”
“But, why?”
“Well, because we need to look at the icing again.”
“Icing? What’s wrong with the icing?”
“Nothing. And we need to make sure it stays that way,” Elizabeth said.
Whatever are you up to?
With a wave, the two women let themselves out without another word, but as the door closed, a few words drifted in.
“We could have stayed and kept Daphne company,” Sylvia said.
“No. We need to go straight to the…”
And then they were cut off.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have identified the person to them.
Too late now.
“I got you one of those lemon tarts you like, doll.” John either hadn’t noticed the odd exchange or wasn’t worried about it. “Let’s have a coffee and you can talk about how you feel. If you want.”
Hmmm…confusing. The wedding cake was in a safe place waiting for the reception. Why was Elizabeth in such a hurry to go somewhere? Had she caught Christie’s sleuthing bug? A little tingle of something excited her stomach. Rivers End was renowned for mysteries and old secrets and it might well be the dreadful events of the morning was the newest puzzle to solve.
