The forest town of Shady Bend is known for its crafts, preserves, and local produce. It is not known for disappearing bodies let alone a mysterious spate of crimes!
Daphne came to officiate a funeral for Edwina Drinkwater but in a shocking twist, the deceased vanishes before making it to the grave. The sudden death of a mourner who kept records of other people's indiscretions evokes Daphne's inner sleuth. Was the murder payback?
Who has hidden Edwinaâs remains? Was it the neighbour who wants her land, the disgraced local doctor, or her fiercest competitor in the world of preserves and jams?
With judging underway at the local country show, the suspects come together all determined to obtain Edwinaâs famous secret sauce recipe. But as the body count rises, Daphne is the only person standing between the killer and the truth.
The Shadow of Daph is book two in this new cozy series by the author of The Stationmaster's Cottage, where Daphne first appeared as a supporting character.
The forest town of Shady Bend is known for its crafts, preserves, and local produce. It is not known for disappearing bodies let alone a mysterious spate of crimes!
Daphne came to officiate a funeral for Edwina Drinkwater but in a shocking twist, the deceased vanishes before making it to the grave. The sudden death of a mourner who kept records of other people's indiscretions evokes Daphne's inner sleuth. Was the murder payback?
Who has hidden Edwinaâs remains? Was it the neighbour who wants her land, the disgraced local doctor, or her fiercest competitor in the world of preserves and jams?
With judging underway at the local country show, the suspects come together all determined to obtain Edwinaâs famous secret sauce recipe. But as the body count rises, Daphne is the only person standing between the killer and the truth.
The Shadow of Daph is book two in this new cozy series by the author of The Stationmaster's Cottage, where Daphne first appeared as a supporting character.
âDaph, youâll need to check the map again. Iâm worried Iâll miss the turn off with so little light. We just passed Conways Track.â John Jones didnât take his eyes off the narrow road.
 Daphne Jones grabbed the map which had fallen into the footwell near her handbag. âGot it. Conways Track? Hm.â She traced the route with her finger which John had highlighted in red at their last stop. Then she turned it upside down. âOkie dokie. Another three curves, no, two seeing as youâve done one. Another two curves and then thereâs a bridge. Just after that you need to take a left.â
âIs there a street name?â
âShady Bend Road.â
John laughed shortly. âPlenty of shade here.â
He slowed to navigate another long curve and Daphne glanced in the side mirror at Bluebell. Their beautiful caravan made their travels a little more challenging at times but was a blessing they would never leave behind. Turning the car and caravan around on such a narrow road was not something John would want to try if they missed their turnoff. And not so close to nightfall. Daphne leaned forward to better see the road ahead.
âKangaroo at two oâclock!â
John touched the brakes as the headlights reflected in the eyes of a grey kangaroo staring at them from the side of the road.
âStay there, Mister Roo.â A joey popped its head out of an oversized pouch. âWhoops, sorry. Missus Roo.â
When theyâd left their last stop a few hours ago, theyâd planned on already being settled into a new town, where Daphne would officiate a wonderful wedding on the weekend.
But then her phone had rung and within minutes they were on a different road.
âDaph, you said a bridge then a right turn?â
âLeft, John. I wish there were some lights along here. One might break down and never be found.â
John really needed to put one of those digital location things in the car. A GPS. Maps made little sense to Daphne and she navigated under duress.
âI think thatâs it!â she pointed ahead. âOver the bridge and almost straight away thereâs a sign.â
A moment later theyâd turned onto Shady Bend Road, which curved up a steep hill. Bluebell weighed them down and John changed to a lower gear. According to the car clock it was a little after six, which in late spring was still daylight. It was the heavy canopy of gum, wattle, and blackwood trees towering over the road which made visibility so poor.
âWeâll pull in somewhere in the town to find out where we can stop tonight.â John said.
âIâve got the name of the place but not an address. Shall I check the message?â
âThink weâre almost there.â Even as he spoke, they reached the crest of the hill and the trees gave way to houses. Bigger properties at first, then smaller and closer together as they approached a township. The speed limit dropped and houses changed to a row of shops on either side of the road. Unlike the roads theyâd left behind, there was hardly a tree in sight. For that matter, hardly a car or a person either.
âGuess it is after closing time for most shops. Is that parking space big enough for us?â
John nosed the car alongside the pavement about halfway through the town. âGood spotting, doll.â
âDoesnât look like much is going on here.â She checked her phone for the message which had arrived after the phone call. âShady Bend Camping Ground. Canât be too hard to find?â
âHow about we duck into the supermarket over the road? We can get directions and pick up the shopping you wanted.â He climbed out and met Daphne on the footpath. After locking the car, he held his arm out. âBe good to get to our camping site before night completely falls.â
Daphne tucked her arm through his. âIâll zoom around the supermarket while you get directions. Only need a couple of things for dinner so it wonât take long at all.â
***
It was just as well both she and John were flexible with arrangements.
There was no room at the suggested camping ground thanks to a local event which had drawn competitors from around the state. They were directed to an unpowered ground in the next town. At least it was only a few minutesâ drive away and the lack of power would be manageable for one or two nights. As John performed his ritual of checking Bluebell was secure and had no ill effects from what had been a relatively short drive, Daphne read the message again.
Dear Daphne, following our phone call I want to thank you profusely for changing your plans to accommodate our late notice request.
The phone call from Fred Yates had surprised Daphne.
The deceased is a local resident of some note and her passing leaves many of our community saddened. On consultation with her daughter, a decision was made to reach out to someone with a proven record of great compassion. Your name was put forward.
Who had recommended her services?
The funeral tomorrow has every arrangement made, but the deceasedâs daughter asked me to find a suitable person to help say goodbye to our beloved Edwina and celebrate her memory. Attached is information about her life, her place in the community and achievements, along with certain requests.
Sheâd look at those once they settled in and had the generator going. Easier to view on the laptop.
âThink weâre right. Not much point using the awning tonight.â John unlocked Bluebell. âSorry, thought Iâd done this.â
âOh, I could have used my key but I was keen to take another look at the message from Mr Yates.â
âIf I turn on the lamps, are you happy to do a quick check in here while I get the generator going?â
âCan you pass me the shopping first?â
It took little time to unpack the shopping and turn on the lamps which were a clever addition when Bluebell was refurbished. An addition to the usual lighting, these lamps were solar powered from panels on the roof of the caravan. Perfect for using at times like this and meant once the generator was off, theyâd still have light.
John kicked the generator into action and then joined her with a smile.
âNot ideal but weâre getting better at making do.â
She glanced at her watch. âI should get the pasta started.â
âWhat if I do dinner?â John gave her a big hug. âYou, my celebrant sleuth, have to prepare for tomorrow.â
Daphne grinned. Johnâs funny term always made her smile. âAs long as you donât mind. But Iâm not here for sleuthing.â She squeezed him back and wiggled out of his arms. âI shall find my notebook and get started.â
Halfway to the bedroom, she glanced back. âJohn? Thanks for this. For agreeing without hesitation to come here on a momentâs notice.â
âAnytime. It is a small detour and will give me an unexpected chance to visit another graveyard. Assuming you donât mind me being there at the same time, albeit in another part?â
Johnâs passion for genealogy fitted well with Daphneâs new career. He visited the local graveyards and small churches to work on a project he said little about. But it made him happy and Daphne loved seeing him enjoy doing something for himself.
âYou are most welcome. Always.â
Notebook and pen in hand, Daphne settled at the table. John set a pot of water on the gas cooktop alongside a deep pan. He chopped lots of tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and a selection of herbs. As the aromas drifted across, Daphneâs tummy rumbled in response. She enjoyed Johnâs cooking and now they were on the road most of the time, he more than shared the load. The only thing he couldnât outdo were her homemade cookies.
She scribbled a shopping list on a spare piece of paper. Flour. Choc chips. Extra butter. Tomorrow would be a busy one but there was always time to do a bit of baking.
After opening the laptop, Daphne located an email from Fred with the extra information and printed the couple of pages out. The little printer was so useful and took up barely any space in one of the cupboards. At the top of the page, she wrote out the timetable for the next day.
10am. Meet with Mr Yates and concerned parties to go over the ceremony. (Allow one hour)
1pm. Quick lunch and get ready.
2pm. Funeral.
In between the meeting and lunch, sheâd finalise her words. She had a lot of ideas bubbling in her head based on what sheâd read so far and would write them first thing in the morning. Her mind was at its sharpest early in the day. Sheâd not officiated many funerals but she would make Edwinaâs send-off special. A memorable day for her family and friends.
***
Over dinner, Daphne filled John in on more of the details. He wasnât disappointed by the sudden change of destination as this region was on his âto visitâ list anyway. The list he kept on his phone.
âEdwina Drinkwater passed away at her home from natural causes. Sheâs only sixty though, so it seems a bit young for natural causes. Anyway, she has one relative, a daughter. Sonia.â Daphne read from the notes sheâd handwritten on the printed pages.
âSome more mineral water?â John collected the bottle from the fridge. âNice with the lime, isnât it?â
âVery. And this pasta is as good as any from a restaurant, love.â
Daphne was always the first to compliment a person. Her kind heart and generous soul drew him to her in their last year of high school, and if anything, her love of people was even more obvious with this late life change of career.
âShe lived alone, although her daughter has her own cottage on the same property. She had a busy life. Owns a small shop. Oh, this is interesting. She sold the wares of local craftspeople, artists, and amateur cooks. Preserves, jams, cakesâŚthereâs a list. And she was president of the Rural Craft, Cooking, and Creation Society. RCCCS. Sounds a bit like the Country Womenâs Association.â Daphne rolled linguine around her fork. âI imagine sheâll be missed.â
âWhat else do you know about tomorrow?â
âMmâŚthis was so nice.â Daphne said. âEdwina lived in Shady Bend most of her life. She was divorced but there is no mention about her ex-husband. Sounds like a normal life in a normal town. And she donated to a local wildlife sanctuary.â
âIâm sure you will find some beautiful words to comfort her loved ones, Daph. It must make it so much easier when youâre officiating for someone who was a nice person.â
âYes. Yes, I think Edwina Drinkwater was a nice woman who will be deeply missed.â
The Shadow of Daph is a cozy murder mystery centered around Daphne Jones and her husband John. The book follows the two as they travel across the Australian country-side, ending up in an odd small town and getting caught in the midst of an unsolved murder. The setting is interesting, and the odd cast of character-suspects are unpredictable and engaging.
The book opens with an immediate and complex hook. Daphne and John arrive at a small town for a funeral, and though everything leads them to expect a warm and tight-knit community, they are met with an odd hostility and awkwardness. They hear polarized and conflicting opinions about the nature of the town, and their attempts to uncover the truth about the community make for an immersive read. Clark masterfully ensures that the feeling that something is off and you canât-quite-put-your-finger-on-it doesnât dissipate, even as the characters grow familiar and the dynamics between them become clearer.
The most endearing part of the book, and presumably the series, is Daphne herself. Daphne is a 60-something year old celebrant who drives from town to town with her husband to perform ceremonies. Daphne and John, with their realistic physical limitations and genuine dislike of being caught in situations that get in the way of their peace and quiet make for extremely likable main characters. Unlike most detectives who claim to hate being caught in mysteries while clearly revelling in it, Daphne refreshingly comes across as genuinely uncomfortable with the macabre, toxicity, and unpleasantness she finds herself in. Despite the perfectly crafted unsettling atmosphere, Clark ensures that this is the kind of fictional universe where not only do things work out, they donât get all that bad - except for murder, of course. Reassuringly, Daphne is the kind of sleuth who feels things in her bones a lot, and John always shows up when things get too hostile. The dynamic between the two sets Clarkâs series apart and imbues the plot with an air of wisdom, love and authenticity.