Waterfall Death

Joan Lane

Description

Time and circumstance are elements never actually visible in our lives but so powerful in their effect. No matter where we live or who we are those two fingers of Fate touch us.
A holiday weekend in the scenic ranges of Queensland leads to the death.
A Picnic and a Hike on a beautiful tropical day leads to tragedy.
A chance happening-an overheard conversation-brings Noelle Kingston into a web of danger and intrigue.
Her own holiday cut short, resuming work she is confronted with the same people concerned in the accident and unwittingly is caught up in the ensuing investigation which is now in Victoria.
Noelle’s own life is changed too, again by unseen hands of time and circumstance when she meets Grant Milburn.

Sujets

• Detective
• Mystery
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris AU
• Date de parution: 30 mars 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781984508102
• Langue: English

Extrait

Waterfall Death
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Joan Lane
 
Copyright © 2021 by Joan Lane.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2021918519
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-9845-0812-6

Softcover
978-1-9845-0811-9

eBook
978-1-9845-0810-2
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 10/11/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
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FOREWORD
T IME AND CIRCUMSTANCE are elements never actually visible in our lives but so powerful in their effect. No matter where we live or who we are, those two fingers of fate touch us.
A holiday weekend in the scenic ranges of Queensland leads to death.
A picnic and a hike on a beautiful tropical day lead to tragedy.
A chance happening—an overheard conversation—brings Noelle Kingston into a web of danger and intrigue.
Her own holiday is cut short. Resuming work, she is confronted with the same people concerned in the accident and unwittingly is caught up in the ensuing investigation which is now in Victoria.
Noelle’s own life is changed too, again by unseen hands of time and circumstance when she meets Grant Milburn.
* * *
 
I WENT UP TO Maplebow for a few days late in the summer.
Neville and Nancy had been urging me for some months to come up and have a break from the city hustle and bustle. I thought they felt concerned because of my marriage break-up.
They wouldn’t know that I felt more free, less restricted, and more me since David left. The flat was now peaceful and quiet without the constant strain of arguments and rows.
Neville was not my brother but was as close as I would ever come to having one. We had known each other forever.
He was now stationed at Maplebow. Police officer-in-charge or some such title was his.
I was lazing under the shade of one of the wide old trees in the huge backyard on the Monday afternoon when I heard the screech of brakes and the spinning of tyres on the gravel driveway of the small police station.
I got up and peered over the dividing fence to see Neville running down the narrow wooden steps, jamming his cap on his head as he went.
It was evening before I had a chance to talk to him.
‘What was all the fuss about this afternoon then?’
‘A woman fell off the waterfall walkway. There were four of them. They had taken their lunch out there, had a few bottles of course. They were skylarking, and she slipped. That track is pretty narrow in parts.’
‘That puts a bad flavour into their long weekend.’
‘It sure does. They were—are—up here from one of the Southern states on holidays.’
‘I had to call in the Namcombe boys of course.’
‘Yeah, that’s the town at the bottom of the range, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, it’s quite big now. The old sugar mill is still there despite the outcry of the local sugar farmers, all crying, bankrupt and broke. The farmers up the track all use the town too. It’s doing quite well, really.’
‘Well, there you are. It’s a change to hear of a small inland town keeping up.’
‘Yeah, sometimes the city newspapers get their lines crossed, I reckon.’
* * *
It was late afternoon the next day. I was back in my favourite spot under the old tree in the yard. Its branches were spread wide out and over the boundary fence of Neville’s place. I was reading and so was silent. I heard voices walking along the old track behind the pub and police station. The fence was lined with the thick red-gold bushes of the abutilon plant so common in this area, so I was not seen by the walkers.
As the voices approached, I could distinguish it was a man and woman. He was saying, ‘But, my dear, you must not worry. It will be all settled down in a few weeks. I’ll have the inquest to go through. That can take months sometimes, but after that, it will be all clear sailing for us. We must just keep our heads—’
‘But . . .’ the woman replied as a passing truck on the main street drowned out the rest of what she said .
‘No buts or ifs, my dear. Just leave everything to me. In a week or two, we can begin to make plans. Trust me, my darling, slow and steady is the way. That is what I thought,’ he said as his voice faded, and they walked on and out of earshot.
I scrambled out of the low-slung deck chair and tried to peer through the bushes after them. In the gathering evening gloom, all I could distinguish were two figures. She appeared fair, and he dark, but in that light, nothing could be accurate.
* * *
The next day, the small village was agog with gossip. All sorts of tales were bandied about the corner shop and the pub.
I went out to the waterfall that afternoon to have a look at the scene of the accident. Was I as morbidly curious as the rest of the town?
I reached the little clearing near the falls after twenty minutes or so driving up into the green forested mountains over a winding gravel road. Summer dust and heat had me covered in perspiration before I arrived there.
I left the car at the edge of the forest and went to gaze at the waterfall in the distance over the deep valley. There was no one about today. All the police and rescue workers and those curious had been and gone.
The walkway began at one side of the clearing and led off into the trees, winding out of sight. I followed it a short distance and then stood at the rusty railing. I tried to picture what may have happened.
The four Victorians up here on holiday, two couples it seemed, leaving their flat or house and setting off to enjoy themselves in the cool of the hills and dense forest.
The sound of the waterfall was audible from here. Today it was calm. I could hear the bellbirds calling through the treetops. It wasn’t windy the day of the accident, at least it wasn’t down in the village.
I pictured the people having their lunch, a nice bottle of white wine for the girls perhaps and a couple of stubbies for the guys. In holiday spirit, they would be laughing and joking, what was it Neville had said, ‘They were skylarking along the path.’
I saw the two girls laughing and giggling, running along the narrow track, the two men running behind them, one playfully pushing and the other along one catching the other playfully in an embrace. I heard the laughter and raised voices. I heard a scream. Silence followed. Another scream and shouting voices barking at one another and the sound of running feet passed me and ran back to the car park.
Who had run back for help?
I tried to put it all together again.
It was a mutual decision not to dine at the old hotel, although they loved its old charm. Today it was overcrowded with visitors. They chose instead to take a picnic lunch and drove away from all that.
They wound around the dirt road for some miles, not certain where they were going. They paused every now and then to look at the panoramic views below them or to listen to the bellbirds high in the tall canopy of greenness overhead.
‘I know the waterfall is somewhere up here,’ Darren said as he turned yet another bend.
‘Yes, I saw the signpost a few miles back,’ Gabby said.
‘It’s supposed to be seven K s from the pub,’ Hayden intoned. ‘Did you look at the speedo when we left there?’
‘No,’ Darren answered with a touch of derision.
‘Hayden, Darren is not as methodical as you, remember?’ Alexis reminded her husband.
‘I think I can see it, up there, through the trees,’ Gabby said, pointing her hand out of the open car window.
‘Great! I hope you’re right. I’m more than ready for a beer,’ Darren answered his wife.
‘You and me too, mate. This driving is hard work, eh?’ Hayden commented.
‘Well, since I’ve been working so hard, you can cook the “barbie” while I pour the beer,’ Darren warned him.
‘I thought you would want to be the first to use that new gas toy,’ Hayden retorted.
‘What are you two on about? We didn’t bring the “barbie”. You told us it would be dangerous in this temperature,’ Gabby interrupted.
‘What a shame. It looks as though the girls will be landed with the job of passing out the chicken and rolls then.’ Hayden laughed at his own guile.
‘I wish we would get there. Gabby and I are starving.’
‘Yes, Darren, are you sure you haven’t got us lost up here?’ his wife complained.
‘No, it’s just around the next bend.’ They all laughed.
‘That’s what you said half an hour ago.’
Darren drew to a stop. ‘There you are.’
He was right. Through the dense tree cover, they could see the sparkle of the white water as it fell several metres from the grey rocks above.
‘The picnic area should be in here,’ Darren said, turning into an even more narrow car way. This track was pitted and uneven. The channels cut by the last heavy rains had not