Tequila Mockingbird Read online

  Tequila Mockingbird

  Morgana Best

  Tequila Mockingbird

  (Australian Amateur Sleuth, Book 7)

  Copyright © 2020 by Morgana Best

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 9781922420657

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book may contain references to specific commercial products, process or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and/or trade names of products, which are trademarks or registered trademarks and/or trade names, and these are property of their respective owners. Morgana Best or her associates, have no association with any specific commercial products, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and / or trade names of products.

  Contents

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Connect with Morgana

  Also by Morgana Best

  About Morgana Best

  Glossary

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  Some Australian spellings and expressions are entirely different from US spellings and expressions. Below are just a few examples. It would take an entire book to list all the differences.

  The author has used Australian spelling in this series. Here are a few examples: Mum instead of the US spelling Mom, neighbour instead of the US spelling neighbor, realise instead of the US spelling realize. It is Ms, Mr and Mrs in Australia, not Ms., Mr. and Mrs.; defence not defense; judgement not judgment; cosy and not cozy; 1930s not 1930’s; offence not offense; centre not center; towards not toward; jewellery not jewelry; favour not favor; mould not mold; two storey house not two story house; practise (verb) not practice (verb); odour not odor; smelt not smelled; travelling not traveling; liquorice not licorice; cheque not check; leant not leaned; have concussion not have a concussion; anti clockwise not counterclockwise; go to hospital not go to the hospital; sceptic not skeptic; aluminium not aluminum; learnt not learned. We have fancy dress parties not costume parties. We don’t say gotten. We say car crash (or accident) not car wreck. We say a herb not an herb as we produce the ‘h.’

  We might say (a company name) are instead of is.

  The above are just a few examples.

  It’s not only different words; Aussies sometimes use different expressions in sentence structure. We might eat a curry not eat curry. We might say in the main street not on the main street. Someone might be going well instead of doing well. We might say without drawing breath not without drawing a breath.

  These are just some of the differences.

  Please note that these are not mistakes or typos, but correct, normal Aussie spelling, terms, and syntax.

  * * *

  AUSTRALIAN SLANG AND TERMS

  Benchtops - counter tops (kitchen)

  Big Smoke - a city

  Blighter - infuriating or good-for-nothing person

  Blimey! - an expression of surprise

  Bloke - a man (usually used in nice sense, “a good bloke”)

  Blue (noun) - an argument (“to have a blue”)

  Bluestone - copper sulphate (copper sulfate in US spelling)

  Bluo - a blue laundry additive, an optical brightener

  Boot (car) - trunk (car)

  Bonnet (car) - hood (car)

  Bore - a drilled water well

  Budgie smugglers (variant: budgy smugglers) - named after the Aussie native bird, the budgerigar. A slang term for brief and tight-fitting men’s swimwear

  Bugger! - as an expression of surprise, not a swear word

  Bugger - as in “the poor bugger” - refers to an unfortunate person (not a swear word)

  Bunging it on - faking something, pretending

  Bush telegraph - the grapevine, the way news spreads by word of mouth in the country

  Car park - parking lot

  Cark it - die

  Chooks - chickens

  Come good - turn out okay

  Copper, cop - police officer

  Coot - silly or annoying person

  Cream bun - a sweet bread roll with copious amounts of cream, plus jam in the centre

  Crook - 1. “Go crook (on someone)” - to berate them. 2. (someone is) crook - (someone is) ill. 3. Crook (noun) - a criminal

  Demister (in car) - defroster

  Drongo - an idiot

  Dunny - an outhouse, an outdoor toilet building, often ramshackle

  Fair crack of the whip - a request to be fair, reasonable, just

  Flannelette (fabric) - cotton, wool, or synthetic fabric, one side of which has a soft finish.

  Flat out like a lizard drinking water - very busy

  Galah - an idiot

  Garbage - trash

  G’day - Hello

  Give a lift (to someone) - give a ride (to someone)

  Goosebumps - goose pimples

  Gumboots - rubber boots, wellingtons

  Knickers - women’s underwear

  Laundry (referring to the room) - laundry room

  Lamingtons - iconic Aussie cakes, square, sponge, chocolate-dipped, and coated with desiccated coconut. Some have a layer of cream and strawberry jam (= jelly in US) between the two halves.

  Lift - elevator

  Like a stunned mullet - very surprised

  Mad as a cut snake - either insane or very angry

  Mallee bull (as fit as, as mad as) - angry and/or fit, robust, super str
ong.

  Miles - while Australians have kilometres these days, it is common to use expressions such as, “The road stretched for miles,” “It was miles away.”

  Moleskins - woven heavy cotton fabric with suede-like finish, commonly used as working wear, or as town clothes

  Mow (grass / lawn) - cut (grass / lawn)

  Neenish tarts - Aussie tart. Pastry base. Filling is based on sweetened condensed milk mixture or mock cream. Some have layer of raspberry jam (jam = jelly in US). Topping is in two equal halves: icing (= frosting in US), usually chocolate on one side, and either lemon or pink or the other.

  Pub - The pub at the south of a small town is often referred to as the ‘bottom pub’ and the pub at the north end of town, the ‘top pub.’ The size of a small town is often judged by the number of pubs - i.e. “It’s a three pub town.”

  Red cattle dog - (variant: blue cattle dog usually known as a ‘blue dog’) - referring to the breed of Australian Cattle Dog. However, a ‘red dog’ is usually a red kelpie (another breed of dog)

  Shoot through - leave

  Shout (a drink) - to buy a drink for someone

  Skull (a drink) - drink a whole drink without stopping

  Stone the crows! - an expression of surprise

  Takeaway (food) - Take Out (food)

  Toilet - also refers to the room if it is separate from the bathroom

  Torch - flashlight

  Tuck in (to food) - to eat food hungrily

  Ute /Utility - pickup truck

  Vegemite - Australian food spread, thick, dark brown

  Wardrobe - closet

  Windscreen - windshield

  * * *

  Indigenous References

  Bush tucker - food that occurs in the Australian bush

  Koori - the original inhabitants/traditional custodians of the land of Australia in the part of NSW in which this book is set. Murri are the people just to the north. White European culture often uses the term, Aboriginal people.

  Chapter 1

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  * * *

  We were sitting in the dining room at Cressida Upthorpe’s boarding house. Mr Buttons had insisted on giving it a good clean to celebrate the fact that his nemesis, Dorothy, had been arrested for murder, and so the silverware was sparkling. All the furniture had been waxed and polished within an inch of its life, and every piece of Victorian glassware and Victorian bone china had been washed.

  The conversation was lively, but that did nothing to lighten the gloomy atmosphere of the formal dining room. Two small windows afforded the only light, and the blockout eyelet curtains in various garish colours blocked most of the early morning sunlight doing its best to find its way in. Of course, it didn’t help that one wall was lime green, and the other, bright red. The gloomy atmosphere was, I figured, also due to Cressida’s latest painting. The huge oil on canvas took pride of place over the fireplace, and was painted in every colour imaginable, primarily red. That was, no doubt, due to the subject matter—a giant octopus eating the head of a sailor. The anatomical detail was minute.

  Cressida addressed the new boarders. “It’s lovely that you all arrived in time for breakfast, so we can all meet.” Cressida, and the only permanent boarder, the English gentleman, Mr Buttons, and I had become good friends in the short time that I had been in Little Tatterford, a small country town in rural New South Wales. Cressida had a penchant for applying make-up with a trowel, although she used far more finesse on her paintings. Right now she looked as though she was auditioning for the lead in a new version of the scary film, It.

  “I don’t think that French chef is really French,” Mr Buttons said in a stage whisper.

  Cressida looked alarmed. “Hush, Mr Buttons. He’ll hear you.”

  I groaned and put my head in my hands. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to turn against every cook from now on,” I whispered to Mr Buttons. The last cook had been Dorothy, a particularly unpleasant woman, and Mr Buttons had insisted she was responsible for every crime in Little Tatterford. In the end, it turned out she was responsible for a murder. With Dorothy in prison, Cressida had wasted no time in replacing her with Albert Dubois, a French chef direct from Paris.

  “Lord Farringdon advised me to hire him,” Cressida said in a tone that showed she would brook no argument. Lord Farringdon was Cressida’s fat cat, and she was convinced that he spoke to her. Of course, no one had ever heard him do so. Still, it was uncanny how accurate his ‘advice’ had turned out to be. Cressida stood up and fetched a cat treat from the nearest walnut credenza. Lord Farringdon accepted it graciously.

  Mr Buttons rolled his eyes skyward in response, and I was tempted to do the same. “Mr Buttons, you have to admit that he’s better than Dorothy,” I said, hoping to placate him.

  “Anyone is better than Dorothy.” Mr Buttons offered me a cucumber sandwich, minus its crusts.

  I took one, and popped it in my mouth.

  “Did you check his references thoroughly, Cressida?” Mr Buttons raised one particularly bushy eyebrow.

  “Of course not,” Cressida said snappily. “Lord Farringdon vouched for him. I already told you that. Besides, Dorothy had references, and she was a murderer. What good are references! Oh, here’s Chef Dubois now.”

  The French chef appeared through the door with a flourish. “Eez ze breakfahst to zee liking?” he asked in such a thick French accent that I was hard pressed to decipher what he was saying. He was a short man, stick thin, and with a combover—as far as I could remember, as he was usually wearing a rather outsized chef’s hat. He sported a particularly large handlebar moustache, and he looked like one of the line drawings from my high school French grammar book. All he needed was the French loaf of bread, a bicycle, and a spotted necktie.

  “The French toast is delicious,” Cressida said, and then popped half a slice in her mouth in one go.

  “French toast isn’t actually French,” Mr Buttons whispered, more quietly this time. “It’s only a slice of bread, most likely stale, soaked in egg and milk and then fried. It’s not French, and he’s not French, I tell you. Why, I spoke to him the other day in my perfect French, and he muttered something unintelligible in response.”

  “He told me he came to Australia to learn English,” Cressida whispered. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to speak French.”

  Mr Buttons nearly choked on his cucumber sandwich. “My dear woman, why would anyone want to come to Australia to learn Englis
h? That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard.”

  One of the new boarders, a rather large and powerful looking man by the name of Dennis Stanton, addressed the chef. “This food is good. What’s your name again? Albert Dubois, isn’t it?”

  The French chef gasped and clutched his throat. “Non! It eez certainement not Al-bearh Du-bwuh! It is Al-bearh Du-bwuh!”

  Dennis Stanton frowned. “That’s exactly what I just said.”

  The chef’s face turned red, so red that I thought he might have a stroke. “Non! You said, ‘Al-bearh Du-bwuh,’ but it eez Al-bearh Du-bwuh!” He made a strangling sound at the back of his throat.

  Dennis appeared perplexed, and I was also. One of the other new boarders tried to stifle a giggle without much success. The chef left the room in a hurry. “Now, please tell me your names again,” Cressida said, “and don’t be upset if I get them wrong at first. We’re on a first name basis here. In case you’ve already forgotten, I’m Cressida, and this is Mr Buttons.” Her hand flew to her throat. “Oh, Mr Buttons is the only one not to use his first name. He’s English, you see.” She smiled and nodded as she said it. “And this is Sibyl, who lives down the end of the lane in that little cottage. Please introduce yourselves to each other.”

  Dennis went first. “My name is Dennis Stanton. I lived in Sydney for years, but I’m escaping the hustle and bustle of city life and having a sea change. I’m looking around Little Tatterford for a nice house to buy.”

  “And my name is Wendy Mason,” the woman who had tried not to laugh said. “I’m just here on a holiday, panning for gold. I’ve heard Little Tatterford is an old gold mining town.”