Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

By Sarah Jackson

Feathers fly when the president of the district poultry club and his prize-winning rooster are brutally murdered just days before the district agricultural show.

 

Senior Constable Ivy Driscoll has been transferred to the rural police station of Donnywell following a scandal at her city precinct. But no sooner has she arrived than crimes start being committed. Even though she is the granddaughter of the Country Women's Association royalty, Ivy is quintessentially a city girl, knowing nothing of domestic life, baking or rural daily life and goings on. 

 

Ivy must solve the murders to prove herself fit for the job, win the hearts and minds of the locals, and restore calm in the small town she would very much like to call home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Serenade Publishing
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215003961

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The little yellow Honda struggled up the well-worn road, its driver barely visible through the myriad of boxes, clothes, and loose possessions that filled every spare gap of the interior.

I promised myself that I’d never wind up in a rural backwater. The slim-built woman took one hand off the wheel and attempted to push the unruly blond curls out of her eyes. She grunted, puffed out her cheeks and yelled at the plastic bobble-head Tweety bird stuck in the centre of the dashboard. What the hell is wrong with me?

Ivy slammed her fist into the console, temporarily releasing her grip from the steering wheel. What am I doing, Tweety? She half-smiled as she looked at the yellow bird nodding relentlessly in time with the movement of the car.

She looked out the window at the scrubby landscape. The fresh growth on the trees and roadside were working hard to cover up the charred bark and ground, but the signs of the too-recent bush fires were there for anyone to see. Maybe this imposed transfer would be the new start she needed.

As far as Ivy was concerned, everything in her life was an A1, disaster. Her finances were non-existent, her work-life a bombsite, her personal life had more drama than a cheesy daytime soap opera, and almost everything she owned was currently stuffed into her small, crappy car. She glanced at the rear vision mirror, seeing the items randomly shoved into unsuitable spaces in the back seat.

What a piss-poor excuse for a life? Hey, Tweety.

After spending the last five years working up to the rank of Senior Constable in the police force, Ivy had been relegated to the charming and completely undesirable outpost of Donnywell. Why? Because her stupid ex-boyfriend, Gareth Ronson, the golden-haired boy, and Chief Inspector of her former Drug Squad Unit in Melbourne, outranked her. Following the abrupt and very public end to their relationship, Gareth decided that the post at Donnywell would be a great opportunity for Ivy.

Great for him, more like. I must be going nuts, sitting here talking to a plastic bird. She let out a little laugh as she suppressed the tears welling in her eyes. Ivy had found out that the supposed love of her life was still married when his wife, with their two children in tow, decided to make a huge scene in the foyer of the Police Headquarters in Melbourne. Ivy, was, of course, the home wrecker and hussy, who had clearly been the cause of it all.

Okay, she was prepared to admit that the situation was partly her fault. She should have looked into it all a little more, instead of allowing herself to get carried away by his good looks and snake-oil charm. She’d had her suspicions, like when he sometimes wouldn’t take her calls, and he was never available on weekends unless it was after a shift, but she had foolishly pushed her concerns aside. Ivy had not had much success with men, not ever. She had to ask the brother of a friend to the school formal, and before Gareth, she’d had a grand total of one boyfriend. A guy she met during her time at the Police Academy, and that had only lasted six months. She’d really hoped that Gareth was going to be the one. He seemed to support her career, was fun, handsome and someone she hoped would make a great husband and father. Ivy felt a little foolish fantasising about married life. She was married to the job. It was far more important that she work for the community and get the bad guys than think about silly girly things like that. There were plenty of better suited women to live those lives.

Ivy felt her cheeks flush with a combination of anger, embarrassment, and shame as she recalled the meeting after the incident in the foyer. She scowled at the memory of his smug face when he and that bimbo from HR told her the ‘good news’. Prick!

It's a great opportunity, Ivy, the HR officer had said. It's the best placement you can wish for. You'll get to see a bit of everything. You won't be stuck in traffic or behind some desk like you would be in a city assignment.

She could have protested that it was unfair that she should be the one to move. After all, she hadn’t been the one to lie about their personal circumstances. But as a Senior Constable and a newly appointed one at that, they expected her to make the sacrifice. She could have gone to the Union and kicked up a stink, but what would that have achieved? She was already a laughingstock, and her former lover’s wife and family had already suffered enough humiliation.

On the plus side, the move meant that at least she'd be shot of him and the sniggers of her fellow officers. Getting away from the city, even if only for a little while, couldn't be a bad thing. Could it? She needed to start again and living in her mother's house at Albert Park wasn't what the 26-year-old considered a suitable arrangement. If she worked hard and made the best of it, she could apply for a transfer in a few years.

Ivy wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her long blue T-shirt. She was determined not to cry anymore. What was done was done, and she needed to get on with things. She checked her rear-view mirror. The storm clouds were racing across the sky, lurching towards her tiny, overstuffed car like a menacing bogeyman. She sighed knowing that she would not reach her destination before the skies opened.

Bugger she muttered as her car protested the drive over the steep hill. Ivy could imagine her mother frowning at her. That’s no way for a lady to talk, and certainly not one who is an officer of the law. She rolled her eyes as she imagined her mother’s displeasure. She could hear every word of the lecture about how great the rain was for small towns like this. How it was a blessing and that she should be grateful.

The move to Donnywell meant she was going to have a station of her own, even if it was only an insignificant outpost of the Darcy's Rest District service. Sure, it was a one-person station, but at least she got a house with the deal. Aside from the items stuffed into the car, everything else was in the moving van, not due to arrive until after the weekend. So, it was sleep on the floor of an empty house or stay with her cousin, James, for a couple of days. She had firmed up the arrangement with James the week before. He apparently lived just around the corner from the station, but Ivy knew that in the country that could mean ten kilometres away.

She hadn't seen James since his wedding. Not that his now-former wife Julie was on the scene anymore. Ivy suspected that she would get all the gory details on that one when they settled down for a drink, which knowing James, would be the second the door opened. She was looking forward to it, both the drink and the company. They would swap war stories, and her cousin would tell his tale with that special flourish that only a journalist could muster.

James had described his job to her during their recent phone call. He was the editor, chief writer, and photographer for the local rag, 'The Darcy District Weekly'. Aside from a very part-time office trainee, he was the only employee of the paper. He’d told her that the paper serviced the entire area and all of its 1,247 residents, and with her arrival, 1,248.

As she came over a peak, the trees parted slightly, giving a glimpse of the main road, with its tiny block of shops and roads to the various properties that made up Donnywell.

BANG

Her car suddenly swerved violently. She hit the brakes hard and skidded to an unhappy stop.

Bugger! she slammed her fist against the steering wheel, accidentally sounding the horn. She flicked on her hazard lights and edged the car over onto the narrow dirt shoulder. Just as she went to open the door, the rain came down with a vengeance. Ivy scanned the front seat for something to protect her from the elements, but finding nothing, reluctantly opened the car door.

Dandy! Just dandy she stomped out into the weather and walked around to the rear of the car to discover a limp circle of black rubber. She put her hands to her face, ran them across her office-pale cheeks, and pushed her now-sodden, blond curls away. She stared at the tyre then kicked it hard.

BUGGER, she yelled, banging a fist on the boot. I knew I shouldn’t have left the spare in Melbourne. But, no, I had to make room for my CD collection instead of putting it in the van. You shit of a thing, she kicked the flaccid rubber again.

In the time Ivy had been yelling at the dead tyre, a white van had pulled up onto the shoulder of the road behind her car.

Well, hello there!

Ivy turned to see a man with a large black umbrella coming towards her. You must be Ivy Driscoll.

Hi. I hope you didn’t hear my extraordinarily loud swearing just then?

Not above this rain. he gave a cheeky smile. The tall, well-built man smiled at her.

Ivy felt her breath catch in her chest. He was so handsome. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but she’d always been a bit taken by a bald man–thank you Patrick Stewart. She starred a little too long at his bright blue eyes, which sparkled against his lightly tanned complexion. He couldn’t have been older than 30, definite dating potential. She shook her head, drawing herself back into the moment. This was not the time for silly fantasy. After all, she was a police officer, not a fourteen-year-old girl.

The man handed his umbrella to Ivy and bent down to look at the offending tyre. Ivy held the umbrella over him as best as she could, but the increasingly heavy rain pelted down on his rather dirty mac. She looked over at the van he had arrived in. It was a standard white transit van, possibly a four-wheel drive, which would make sense, considering their location. A bright pink decal of a cartoon pig wallowing in a pool of mud graced the side panel, along with the text Pig in Mud Veterinary Services.

Oh yeah, that's knackered. Do you want to get the spare out of the boot? I'll help you change it if you like?

Well, um. Slight problem. The spare's sitting in my mother's garage back in Melbourne. Ivy grinned sheepishly.

Not exactly what I expected from our new police officer, The man smiled and sat back on his haunches, as if oblivious to the drumming rain.

I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage. I have no idea who you are. I mean, you’re obviously from the Vet Surgery, unless you stole their van. And how do you know who I am?

No, I didn’t steal the van. I'm Paul Ross. The local veterinarian and long-term Donnywell resident.

Ivy Driscoll, she extended her hand to shake his, but I guess you already know that.

You know how it is in small towns. I don't need to be a detective to figure it out. And besides, your charming cousin ran a big story in our local rag about your imminent arrival.

Serious? I'm big news?

Afraid so. Especially seeing as how you are the granddaughter of the famous Judith Ann-Marie Driscoll. CWA queen.

Ivy groaned at the mention of her grandmother. Her father’s family had lived on a dairy farm in the Gippsland district for generations. Her grandmother had been the head of the Country Women's Association for twenty years before her retirement. Judith Driscoll had been a big wheel in the CWA and as such, was responsible for determining the rules for many a competition - and that’s not to mention the four CWA cookbooks she had personally written. When Ivy’s grandfather died, she sold the property and moved to Melbourne. She had done well from the sale and could afford a small townhouse in a nice part of town, but she missed the rural life. She was already threatening to follow Ivy to Donnywell.

Despite her ‘heritage’, Ivy had no idea about rural life. She had lived in the city all her life, had attended a very nice private girl’s school, and after completing her HSC, had enrolled at the Police Academy.

I hate to disappoint, but I'm not exactly CWA material. I can barely boil an egg, and I'm not exactly a person you would describe as good with craft.

Paul smiled, Well I guess we have something in common then. He stood up a little too close to her and bumped his head on the umbrella.

Sorry Ivy lifted the umbrella a little higher and took a slight step back.

No, no, my fault entirely. Why don't I drive you into town? I can drop you off at the garage and we can arrange for Larry to come and tow you in.

I'd appreciate that, Ivy smiled and tried to look confident and in control. I’m a bit damp, what about your car?

You haven't seen the inside of the van. Smells like wet dog, and you'll be sharing the front seat with a box of bovine supplements.

Ivy rushed back to her car, grabbed her keys and her bag from the passenger seat. She locked the car and ran up to the side of the van.

Get in city girl, Paul gestured towards the door he’d opened for her.

Huh? Ivy smiled and shot him a puzzled look.

Paul pointed over at her car, It’s really cute that you bothered to lock your car. Trust me, no one’s going to come by this way, let alone steal a sedan with a flat.

Oh, yeah, right, She was about to make a comment about her possessions, but a glance over to the car assured her they would not be items of high interest to the farming community.

Paul ushered her into the front of the van and closed the door behind her. He wrangled with the sodden umbrella as he hauled himself into the driver’s seat. He chucked the damp mess of plastic and metal behind his seat and pulled out a towel from a box on the floor. It’s clean, but not flash.

Thanks, I really appreciate this, she buckled herself in as Paul started the van and moved off into the sheets of rain.

No problem at all. I don't get many passengers. Not human ones, at any rate. It’s nice to have someone in the car I can have a conversation with. Besides, I know that if the situation was reversed, you'd do the same for me.

Ivy smiled and nodded.

Have you been to the station before?

I’m afraid to say that I have never even been in this part of the State before. I’m heading into the district head office at Darcy’s Rest this afternoon and then going to look at the Donnywell station house — my station — this afternoon. I haven’t even met my supervisor yet. I guess I’ll be introduced to the officer from the Archer’s Field station at some point down the track. She shook her head slightly. Sorry, I’m rambling.

You’ve got a lot on. It will all fall into place fairly quickly, and the locals are friendly. Mostly. If you need a hand with anything, feel free to pop in. The station house is three doors down from my place. I live behind the surgery.

Ivy made a mental note. Thanks. I’m not due to start work until Wednesday. And my furniture doesn't arrive until Monday. So, I'm staying with my cousin until then.

Oh.

Oh? Is that bad? He's not doing anything dodgy, is he?

No, Paul paused for a little longer than Ivy would have liked. No, nothing like that. He doesn't break the law or anything. Bends it… A lot. But doesn't break it… He's just... well, let's just say that he's a bit of a character.

Yeah? Ivy stared out the window at an overflowing creek.

Yeah. Nice guy, but you might need to get your drinking shoes on.

Ivy laughed.

I hope you like cats, he added.

Sure. I guess. Why do you ask? Does James have one?

No, but you do. Or rather, you will.

Huh? No, I don’t.

Yes, you do. Esme, she comes with the station. Part of the deal, I’m afraid.

Ivy laughed. Oh, okay then.

Don't worry, I've been feeding her while the station's been empty. She's mostly an outdoor cat. I reckon the two of you will get on like a house on fire.

How long has the station been vacant?

It's been about nine months since Charles and his family moved to Mildura.

Nine months! Ivy looked forlorn, as images of a rundown shack formed in her mind.

Hey. It'll be great. That little station sees a lot of action. Kids loitering around the cafe, sweets nicked from the shop, cow tipping...

Cow tipping? Ivy laughed.

Don’t ask. Here we are. Welcome to Donnywell. Paul turned the van into the main street.

The local tavern at the edge of the township, with its bright red exterior and almost excessive signage surrounded by flashing light bulbs, was doing its best to promote itself as the village draw card. On the opposite side of the road was a smallish white weatherboard church, complete with a small graveyard. Ivy made a mental note to have a look at some point. She enjoyed reading the epitaphs and inspecting the monuments in cemeteries and found that it gave an insight into the history of a place and its residents.

That’s the School and Scout Hall, Paul leaned across Ivy and pointed out at the standard rural-style wood buildings, and over the road here we have the Country Fire Association.

Ivy leaned over to see the tiny, hanger like CFA station, with a small fire truck parked under the wrought iron structure.

And this is our local general store come post office, come newsagency, you get the picture.

Ivy nodded.

And over here, we have our petrol station. Paul continued to drive up the road. Ivy looked over at the 1950s style petrol station, with its little diner style café nestled off to the side of the pumps.

Next to the petrol station was a small Doctor's surgery and at the end of the block, if you could call it a block, was the vet's surgery emblazoned with a pig decal on the window, which matched the one on the side of Paul’s van. "That's my place at the end. Next to Dr Singh's. He's only in on Fridays and Saturdays. On the other days, he goes into Darcy's and Archer's.

He continued up the road, slowing down as they passed a weed-covered vacant block. Then Paul pointed out the small police station that would soon be Ivy's home and main place of work. This is you.

Uh-huh. Ivy stared out the window, trying to disguise her dismay.

Don't worry. You'll get used to it. It's only half as bad as it looks.

Ivy watched as Paul's face broke out into a cheeky smile. So, is there anything much to do around here?

There's the local tavern. We passed it on the way in, but I doubt you saw it through all this rain. They have a DJ on Friday and Saturday nights. Pretty crap, but better than nothing. It has a beer garden and does counter meals. There are a couple of okay restaurants in Darcy's Rest, and there's a cinema of sorts. It's open from Thursday to Sunday. They have a lot more shops than here. They even have a bookshop and a few clothing stores. There's a bowling alley too, if that takes your fancy.

Hmm, not really. But that sounds okay. Could be worse, I guess.

No doubt James will drag you out to the pub tonight. It’s at the end of his road. He’ll want to show you off and do the whole 'welcome to town drinks'. Thursday's always a big night - meat tray raffle and pub quiz, it's all go here. Might see you there?

Sure, that’d be nice, Ivy smiled.

They pulled up outside the petrol station. An older male came out of the garage. Paul jumped out of the van and walked over to him. Ivy watched on as he gestured to her and then pointed up the road. The man - presumably Larry - waved at her, so she opened the door and walked around the puddles to join them.

Hi, Ivy. Welcome to Donnywell. I'm Larry. Give me a minute to clean this grease off my hands and we'll take the truck out and tow you in.

Well, I'll leave you in Larry's capable hands. I've got to unload this van and get ready for my afternoon appointments. See you tonight?

Thank you so much for your help. I wouldn't have appreciated having to walk into town. And, yes, sure. I'll see you later. I owe you a drink.

I'll hold you to that, Paul smiled and gave her a quick wink before turning to walk back to his car.

Ivy looked around to see Larry busying himself with some tools, clearly pretending not to have noticed the interactions between the new cop and the local vet.

Ready, he smiled. She nodded, and they made their way to the truck.

CHAPTER 2

Having towed her car back to the garage, Larry set about his work. He squeezed his large frame into the passenger seat of Ivy’s car so he could drive it into the workshop. She grimaced as his attempt to push the driver’s seat back into a more comfortable position was stymied by homewares precariously stacked in the back. He shot her a reassuring before driving into the shed.

Good drive, luv? He asked as he walked around to the offending tyre.

Aside from the flat, it was okay, She shuffled behind him, I’ve no idea how I got a flat…

Oh, don’t worry about it, luv. Probably something that fell off the back of a road train coming through. Oh, look. Here’s your culprit, Officer, Larry pointed to a menacing metal u-shaped spike.

What on earth is that?

Fencing nail.

Right. Do I need a new tyre? Ivy asked, mentally calculating the cost.

Nah, hon. I can repair this lickety-split. I’ve got a spare you can use for the rest of the day. You just bring the car back when you’re settled, and I’ll refit your one.

Great. Thanks. Will it take long? To fit the replacement, I mean. She didn’t want to seem rude, but she needed to get moving and head out to the Darcy's Rest district office, and then check out the Donnywell station, before meeting her cousin at his place at 5:30 pm.

Give me five. Larry began jacking up the back of the little car. Gee luv, what have you got in this thing. Weighs as much as a tractor,

I’m sorry, she said in a flustered voice.

Cheer up, I’m only teasing.

Larry set to work changing the tyre. Ivy, aware that she was hovering over his shoulder, busied herself by looking at the motor oil display stand.

So, your cousin tells me that you're Judy Driscoll’s granddaughter.

Um, yes, father’s side of the family. But I guess you realised that with me being Ivy Driscoll and all. Ivy scrunched up her face, why was she making such an idiot of herself?

Sure. It’ll be nice to have someone back at the local station. Been a bit quiet since Charlie left. You on your own, then?

Yes, just me, Ivy tried to sound cheerful.

Never mind, luv. You never know, you could meet some young farmer type out here. Paul seems to have taken a shine to you.

I was very lucky he drove by when he did.

Larry tinkered with the tyre, replacing the damaged one and