“He wants me to do my own thing. He thinks the police are looking in the wrong direction entirely.”
“Do you think he is trying to protect himself? Or someone else?”
This was why Eulalie liked to bounce ideas off her grandmother. They were on the same wavelength.
“That occurred to me. Reading between the lines, it sounds as though the police have been focusing on family and friends in their investigation. I’m sure they have good reasons for doing so. That doesn’t suit Mr. Egger, however, so he wants me chasing around town looking for an intruder who broke in to steal his wife’s jewels and other valuables.”
“She had an impressive jewelry collection, that’s for sure. And she wore it too.”
“Her husband tells me she was a very down-to-earth person.”
Angel had to laugh. “If wearing diamonds during the day is the new down-to-earth, then I suppose she was.”
Eulalie knew that wouldn’t suit her grandmother’s ideas of propriety. Pearls were for day wear and diamonds were for evening wear, just as the sun rose in the east and set in the west. Anyone who broke those rules was not Angel’s idea of a lady.
“What are people saying about the murder? Are they pointing fingers at anyone in particular?”
“Now, chérie, you know I never listen to gossip.”
Eulalie just waited with her eyebrows raised.
“Oh, very well, I might have heard a few things. The trouble with Emma Egger is that she was universally disliked. It is difficult to find anyone who has a good word to say about her, least of all the Egger family.”
“Why did he marry her then?”
“Have you seen what she looked like?”
Eulalie said she hadn’t, so Angel reached behind the bar for her iPad.
“Have a look at this. Hello! magazine did a double-page spread on them when their house was renovated. Are you starting to see the attraction?”
Eulalie looked at photographs of Emma Egger posing on a grand staircase in a glittering evening gown. She could indeed see the attraction.
“She was quite a bit younger than him.”
“Ten years.” Angel switched off her iPad and put it back behind the bar. “She was forty-one, but often passed for younger.”
“He’s not the first man to lose his head over a pretty blonde.”
“Nor the last. I don’t know why he had to go and marry her, though.”
“Perhaps if he hadn’t, she would still be alive.”
Eulalie went back to the office to do some internet research.
She found Lorelei Belfast going through her old case files and typing her handwritten notes onto the computer. Anything that was already typed, she scanned onto the computer. The idea was to create electronic copies of all of Eulalie’s files and store them in the cloud. That way they would be safe from flood and fire damage.
It was a job that sounded unbelievably tedious to Eulalie, but Mrs. Belfast seemed to be enjoying herself.
There was a neat pile of message slips on Eulalie’s desk, which matched the texts on her phone. The only one of any significance was from a bottling company that wanted her to look into the background of a man they were considering for the position of Chief Financial Officer. She asked Mrs. Belfast to send them an email acknowledging receipt of the request and promising that she would give it high priority.
With that out of the way, she prepared to do a deep dive into the history of the Egger family.
An interesting picture emerged. Josef and Maria Egger emigrated from Switzerland to Prince William Island during the Second World War. Twenty-one-year-old Josef Egger brought with him a shiny new degree in engineering from the University of Zurich, and nineteen-year-old Maria brought her considerable home-making skills.
On discovering that certain trees on Prince William Island yielded a form of rubber that was very useful in industry, Josef Egger started manufacturing conveyor belts for use in the mining industry. Ore and equipment often had to be transported across considerable distances, and Egger conveyor belts were used for this. As modern industrialization swept the world in the post-war era, Egger conveyor belts grew from a backyard enterprise into a multimillion-dollar concern. The Eggers waited to have children until they were financially stable, which turned out to be the late 1960s. Their first son was named Joe after his father. He was followed into the world two years later by Richard, the middle son. And three years after that, Mark, the baby of the family, was born.
The three brothers were groomed from birth to take over the company, Eggerton, from their father. Joe took care of the financial side of things, keeping the company afloat and thriving through several world recessions. Richard was the engineer who kept up with modern technology, diversified the company, and made sure that Eggerton was always at the cutting edge of the mining industry. Young Mark was the people person – the charming and urbane face of the company who travelled all over the world to bring in new contracts, and to wine and dine the clients.
The three brothers were an effective combination. They had grown the company into an industrial powerhouse that generated eyewatering sums of money each year.
Maria Egger had died of breast cancer twelve years earlier, and Josef never remarried. Now deep into his eighties, he no longer played an active role in the company and was rumored to be suffering from the early stages of dementia.
The Egger brothers were all married, and had each produced three children. There was only one boy among the nine Egger grandchildren. Eulalie wondered what the implications of that would be for such a traditional family.
Emma Egger had also been married before, and had two young sons from that union. They were both at boarding school on St Michael’s Cay off the coast of Prince William Island. Eulalie wondered if their father was still involved in their lives, or if they would get absorbed into the greater Egger clan.
She sat back and stared at the ceiling. She had learnt about as much as she could from an online search. It was time to do some legwork. Every investigative instinct told her to start interviewing family members, but the guy who was paying her bills wanted her to investigate the intruder angle. So, that was what she would do. Fortunately, she had exactly the right contacts for an enquiry of that nature.
Leaving Mrs. Belfast to her typing and scanning, Eulalie left the office to plunge into Queen’s Town’s underworld.
Chapter 3
Just off Lafayette Drive, there was a tiny gap between two buildings that didn’t quite qualify as a street. Most satellite navigation systems didn’t even know it was there. It had never merited a street sign. The locals called it Finger Alley. It was where you went if you wanted to get a tattoo when you were under eighteen, if you wanted to dispose of stolen goods in a hurry, or if you wanted to place an illegal bet. Or, in many cases, if you simply wanted to hang out with likeminded individuals.
Eulalie slipped into the dark gap between the buildings and walked through the gloom. She knew Finger Alley like it was her own backyard. Every weed and paving stone was familiar to her. She knew the exact moment at which it would become wider and lighter, with shopfronts and bars appearing as if out of nowhere.
The voices that hailed her were friendly and unconcerned. They were as unsurprised to see Eulalie as she was to be there.
She was heading for one jeweler in particular. Well, he called himself a jeweler, but ‘fence’ would have been more accurate. When she reached the jewelry store, somewhat ambitiously named The Ritz, she saw that business was being conducted inside. She stayed outside on the sidewalk and called into the shop in French, “Is Jimmy around?”
“I think he’s at Mo’s.”
“Thanks. I could do with a citron pressé.”
“Mo makes the best. See you later, Eulalie.”
Eulalie kept walking until she reached the dive bar known as Mo’s. There she spotted Jimmy the Knife kickstarting his evening with a solitary beer at one of the tables. It was nearly five in the afternoon, which was when Jimmy’s working day began.
She took her drink over to his table and sat down without waiting for an invitation.
“Bonsoir, Jimmy.”
He gave her a baleful look and clutched his forehead. “English, please. I’m not feeling clever enough for French yet.”
“As you wish. I’m looking for information. What do you know about the Egger murder?”
“What’s it worth to you, girlie?”
Eulalie reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a two-hundred-dollar bill.
“I’m on an expense account,” she said. “So it’s worth a lot. Consider this a retainer for any and all information about the Eggers now and in the future.”
Jimmy couldn’t quite disguise the gleam in his eye. His fingers seemed to flicker, and the bill vanished.
“Nice. Thanks, girlie.”
“It’s a pleasure, Jimbo. Now tell me about the Eggers. What do you know about them?”
Jimmy stroked his chin. “Massive mansion in Edward Heights. Really huge. Motion sensors in the garden. An electrified fence mounted on top of the boundary wall. An alarm system that they never forget to set. Two big dogs that roam the property at night and one little one that gets shut up inside the house. Three safes – two wall-mounted, and one cemented into the floor. Their armed response service is Early Bird. I have a buddy on the inside, but we’ve never thought it worthwhile to make the attempt yet.”
Eulalie listened to him ramble on. Then she held up a hand.
“I didn’t ask for your professional assessment of the house’s vulnerability. I asked what you knew about the murder.”
“Oh, right. That. Why would I know anything about it?”
“Because Emma Egger’s husband thinks the murder was committed by an intruder who was after her jewelry.”
Jimmy the Knife laughed heartily. “That’s a good one, that is. Everyone knows it was an inside job. It was probably himself that did it – your client, the hubby. Don’t they say it’s always the husband?”
“They do.” Eulalie inclined her head. “But in this case, he’s paying the bills, so I have to look into his intruder theory.”
Jimmy frowned. He scratched his stomach absently. Eulalie knew his scar was troubling him. In his youth he had got into a fight with someone who had pulled a knife on him. He had managed to escape with an abdominal stab wound, and even more of an aversion to violence than he’d already had. Only those closest to him knew that his nickname came from the knife that had been used against him, and not from his own proficiency with knives.
“So, what do you want from me?”
Eulalie made an exasperated noise.
“Jimmy. You’re not concentrating. I want to know if any items from the Egger household have turned up on the street. These people are loaded, and the late Mrs. Egger had a famous jewelry collection. She used to lend it out for displays. You would know if anything had surfaced.”
“That’s true, I would. But nothing has. Cross my heart. If the Eggers have lost so much as a cufflink lately, I don’t know about it.”
“What about rumors? Have you heard about anyone planning to hit the Egger household, or to target Mrs. Egger herself for her jewels or for any other reason?”
“Look, the Egger house is under constant discussion. We’re businessmen, and we’re always looking for new ventures. But I’ve never heard of the lady herself being a target. Her jewels, yes. But they are very well guarded, especially when they go on tour to museums and galleries.”
“I hear she liked to wear them, not just to keep them in a safe. She used to put on diamonds to go to the store. How can someone like that not be a target?”
“You have to understand that I move in certain circles. The people I deal with would go to great lengths to avoid attracting attention from the police. If her jewelry should happen to come onto the market, that would be a different story. We could find a home for it, no problem. But to attack her in broad daylight, or shove her off a balcony in her own home? That’s just stupid, isn’t it? No one needs hassles like that from the cops. Especially not since your boyfriend took over.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Whatever. He’s a curious, prying, interfering sort of person. We used to have a good understanding with the Queen’s Town police department - a real live-and-let-live attitude. Your Chief Macgregor came in and ruined all that. It’s getting so it’s hard to make a dishonest living around here these days.”
Eulalie mimed wiping away tears. “Times are tough all round, Jimmy. What about the other kind of businessmen? The kind who doesn’t go out of his way to avoid hurting rich, middle-class ladies? Who would I ask to find out if she was a target?”
Jimmy sipped the last of his beer. It seemed to have invigorated him because he looked more alert. It was as though he’d had his morning coffee and was ready to face the day.
“Your friend Antoine should be able to tell you more.”
“He’s not my friend!”
“Okay, okay.” Jimmy held up his hands. “So, the chief isn’t your boyfriend, and Antoine isn’t your friend. Got it. But you come from the same place, don’t you? That crazy village in the deep forest. Hell, you’re probably related.”
“Not even a little bit. Totally different families. But yes, I know him, and I know where to find him. Thanks for the tip, Jimmy.”
Jimmy fingered the $200 bill she had given him. “Anytime.”
The village that Eulalie and Angel came from was situated in the heart of the deep forest – a wedge of jungle behind Queen’s Town that extended into the volcanic heart of Prince William Island. The volcano had been extinct for millions of years, and now its crater formed a deep depression in the middle of the island that had become heavily forested.
The only way to reach the village was on foot, a journey of twelve hours if you knew exactly where you were going and had a great deal of experience in navigating the jungle.
The villagers were often compared to the Amish of Pennsylvania because they shunned the conveniences of modern life and lived according to the old ways. Not many people left the village, but when they did, they tended to fall into two categories – those who remained on good terms with the Council of Elders and were welcome to return at any time, and those who left in disgraceful circumstances and were expelled from the village forever.
Eulalie and her grandmother belonged in the former category, while Antoine belonged in the latter. Angel liked to keep an eye on the renegades. She kept track of where they were staying and what they were doing, and reported back to her son who sat on the Council of Elders.
The renegades couldn’t seem to cut their connection to the village. They stayed in the same apartment building, even though they could barely tolerate each other. It was as though they had formed an outpost of the village in Queen’s Town.
Just like Jimmy the Knife, Antoine would be coming to life now. He was a creature of the night, operating under cover of darkness. Eulalie had a strong suspicion that he had got away with murder just a month earlier. A society lady by the name of Stella Faberge had ordered a hit on a minor criminal who had carried out a job for her. She had admitted to putting out the hit through intermediaries but had claimed not to know who had carried it out.
Eulalie thought she was lying. She thought she had ordered the hit herself, and that Antoine had been the hitman. He had disappeared for a while to allow things to cool down, but now he was back.
There was no love lost between Antoine and the granddaughter of Angel de la Cour. Eulalie preferred to confront him in a way that gave her the advantage. She knew she would find him at Majestic Towers - the misleadingly named apartment building that he shared with other village outcasts.
She considered her options, opening her messenger bag to check what equipment she had brought with her. The plan brewing in her head was diabolical enough to make her smile.
Was it too diabolical, though?
No. Antoine deserved it.
Majestic Towers was just off Finger A
lley. Eulalie circled the building and looked up at the floor where Antoine had his apartment. She jumped and caught the rickety fire escape that ran up the side of the building, and climbed the intervening floors quickly. The back, shoulder, and arm muscles that had made her the best rope climber in Queen’s Town Middle School still served her well.
When she reached the balcony outside Antoine’s apartment, she could hear the shower running. That was good. It would double the effectiveness of her Taser. She let herself into the apartment through a window. When she reached the bedroom, she slowed down to listen. She knew these apartments. It was more than possible that the door separating the bedroom from the bathroom wouldn’t be there. There definitely wouldn’t be a shower cubicle, just a shower head over the bath and a plastic curtain to keep the water in.
The sound of running water was louder now, along with the strains of someone singing Je reviendrai vers toi.
Perfect.
Antoine’s scream when she tazed him was ear-splitting. In any other apartment block, people would have come running to see what was going on. There was no danger of that in Majestic Towers. People minded their own business, especially where screams in the night were concerned.
Eulalie switched off the water, dabbed Antoine dry with a towel, and put a pair of shorts on him. Then she took the heavy-duty rope out of her bag and used it to construct a body harness across his torso of the sort used for zip-lining and abseiling. She made sure it was secure. She was mad at him, but not mad enough to kill him.
When Antoine woke up, it was to find himself dangling head first over his own balcony with the street a dizzying distance away. He was so firmly trussed that he couldn’t move a muscle. When he opened his eyes, and saw how high he was, his screams echoed around the neighborhood. His wriggling made the rope sway under his weight, which made him scream even louder.
“Help!” he said in Guillaumoise, the language of the village he was born in. It was a sign of how terrified he was. These days he made a point of speaking only English and French. “Help, I’m dying!”
The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries Page 25