The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  Martha Hodge took hold of his sleeve and pulled him down to sit next to her.

  “Don’t worry, darling. Mother is here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She turned to Chief Macgregor. “I am ready to give you a full statement, Chief. And I’m sure once I have spoken to my husband and to Marcia they will be ready to do the same. We have been guilty of greed and foolishness, but I assure you we have never been guilty of murder.”

  Carson Fairweather sank into a seat and stared at her. All his years of faithful service seemed to flash before his eyes. He was one of the family. To all intents and purposes, he was a Hodge. And now they were betraying him. It had all been for nothing. Everything he had done in the name of Hodge Consortium counted for nothing. As he saw his life’s work collapsing in front of him, he seemed to deflate before the eyes of everyone in the room.

  The ADA stood up. “I’ll take those statements now, Mrs. Hodge.”

  Epilogue

  Eulalie had rarely felt such a sense of incompleteness at the end of a case.

  She didn’t have all the answers, and that was frustrating.

  Who was it that had pushed that boulder into the path of her friends when they were twelve years old? Or had it merely fallen?

  And what about the feeling of dread that had overcame her on Monk’s Cay? Had it been just her imagination?

  If an unquiet spirit really lingered on Monk’s Cay, who was it? Was it the troubled monk put to death unfairly and without due process all those years ago? Or was it his executioner?

  And, more importantly, why was Eulalie Park – a modern, twenty-first-century woman – wasting her mental energy wondering about this in the middle of the night?

  Turning her pillow over and punching it into shape, she rolled over in search of a comfortable spot. Her mind slipped back to that night on the island.

  What would have happened if Chief Macgregor hadn’t been there? She cringed when she remembered how she had clung to his hand, trying to draw strength and warmth from his body.

  Pathetic – that’s what it was.

  Eulalie was okay with wanting someone, but she had never been comfortable with needing them. The only person she had ever needed was Angel. The only person who had never let her down was Angel. She wasn’t sure she could make room in her life for someone else that she truly needed.

  When she remembered the warmth that had flowed from his body to hers, soothing and comforting her during her worst moments on Monk’s Cay, the panic threatened to overwhelm her. Her need for him had the potential to become very real indeed. It was something she wasn’t ready for.

  For someone who had been abandoned by both parents before she was even three months old, trust came with difficulty, if at all. Her grandmother was the only person she truly trusted. In Fleur du Toit, she had a friend that she was learning to trust, but it was a slow process.

  Now she had a man in her life who was rapidly turning into a need rather than a want. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to put the total trust in him that he deserved – the trust that he was perfectly willing to put in her.

  As she drifted off to sleep, Eulalie knew she was going into a place of uneasy dreams and difficult thoughts. An unpleasant night lay ahead of her. She would wake up in the morning restless and unrested.

  The bed jolted as something landed on it. The movement almost, but not quite, jerked her into wakefulness.

  Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle.

  The bed moved as the thing came towards her.

  A heavy weight descended onto Eulalie’s chest and warmth seeped into her heart and lungs. A deep rumbling vibrated against her sternum.

  Almost blindly, her hand came up to entangle itself in thick fur.

  The cat was back. A sleepy part of her recognized that. She knew she should chase it away. She should chase it out and slam the window shut. But her fingers continued to pull at the fur and the rumbling against her chest grew louder.

  It wasn’t only Chief Macgregor who could impart comfort, she realized. This creature had the power to chase away her demons. Perhaps she would start to need it too. Her independence was being whittled away, bit by bit. She was too tired to decide how she felt about that now.

  Once again, she felt herself slipping into sleep. But this time she wasn’t going into the place of uneasy hallucinations. She was sinking into comfortable dreamlessness.

  BOOK ZERO

  Prologue

  Ten years ago

  Eulalie

  Everything was wrong.

  Everything looked wrong, sounded wrong, smelled wrong, and felt wrong. The sea was on the wrong side and so were the mountains. The water and the air were too cold. The wind came from the wrong direction and carried a hint of the Antarctic with it.

  An airplane had flung her across the ocean and landed her here away from her home, from her heart.

  Everything was wrong, but it was new and exciting too. Eulalie Park was eighteen years old and starting her freshman year at the University of Cape Town in South Africa. She had never been away from home before. Home was Prince William Island – a tiny dot in the Indian Ocean not far from Madagascar.

  Eulalie hadn’t felt this disoriented since she was twelve years old when her grandmother had taken her to live in Queen’s Town, the capital city of Prince William Island. Until then, she had grown up in a remote village in one of the most inaccessible places on earth. Rather like the Amish of Pennsylvania, the villagers had turn their backs on the modern world. They lived according to the old ways, without electricity, engines, plumbing, or technology.

  Eulalie’s grandmother had decided that her twelve-year-old granddaughter needed to see more of the world and had moved them both to live in Queen’s Town. It had been her home ever since.

  At least Cape Town was close to the sea. This strange almost Mediterranean city was built on a spear of land that separated Eulalie’s beloved Indian Ocean from the much colder Atlantic. The only thing that had made coming to live in Queen’s Town bearable at first had been the proximity of the sea, and it was the only thing that made Cape Town bearable now.

  “And on your left, you’ll see a sign for the Jammie Shuttle, a service that runs day and night between the halls of residence and main campus.” The guide continued his orientation tour for freshmen, oblivious to the conflicts raging in Eulalie’s soul. “Even if you do happen to get lost, you’ll never be far from one of the shuttle stops. You might not know how to get back to your residence, but the driver will. And here’s another top tip for you. If you have the mountain on your right and the sea on your left, you’re facing north. Of course, if you’re on the other side of the peninsula, it swops around, which can be a bit confusing.”

  “Dude,” said a drawling voice. “Some of us live here. We know this stuff.”

  The guide blushed. “Yes, uh… sorry about that. There are quite a few foreign students in this group. We want everyone to know where they're going.”

  “You’d think they’d, like, get a map or something.”

  Eulalie turned to look at the girl who was speaking. It wasn’t hard to see why the guide had blushed. She was tall and model-skinny with yards of wavy red hair that reached almost to her hips. She was very pale with a dusting of golden freckles on her nose. By any standards, she was quite beautiful.

  Where Eulalie came from, that red hair would be taken as the sign of a quick temper. Eulalie just thought she looked stuck up – the entitled rich daughter of a patrician Cape family.

  “We’ve been told to remind students, especially women, to use the shuttle service wherever possible rather than walking,” the guide said. “You’ve probably heard that there have been incidents of women students being assaulted on or near campus. In each case, they were walking or jogging alone. The university is deploying extra security, but we do ask you to be cautious.”

  Eulalie saw how the women in the group seemed to shrink into themselves. Nervous glances skittered across their faces. She knew they could see themselve
s in the role of the women who had been attacked.

  She tried to imagine one of them falling victim to this predator, whoever he was. The tall redhead, perhaps, or the student in the motorized wheelchair. A chill rippled down her spine at the thought.

  Not once did she picture herself in the role of the victim. It would never happen, so what was the point in thinking about it?

  Donal

  “Who’s up for a pint after this?”

  The shift was coming to an end as the usual rallying cry went out.

  “Iain, Alastair, Brodie?”

  There was a flurry of nods and affirmatives.

  “I need to get back to the missus, lads,” said Declan Smail.

  Howls of dismay greeted this suggestion.

  “One pint, Dec.”

  “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

  “Tell your missus we ran into overtime. Chasing a dangerous criminal all the way from Police Scotland College to the Eagle and Child.”

  The room echoed with guffaws.

  “Ten minutes, Dec. Just ten.”

  “Oh, all right,” said Declan. “But you lot will be my alibis if she doesn’t buy the overtime thing.”

  As the clock struck seven, there was a general exodus from the training facility.

  As they jostled their way out into the night, someone turned and said, “Coming, Donal?”

  “No, you’re all right, lads. I’m for an early night.”

  The lads didn’t press him as they had the reluctant Declan. His refusal barely caused a ripple in their plans. One or two lifted their hands in farewell, and then they were off. Their thoughts were focused on the Eagle and Child, and not on the man they had left behind.

  Donal Macgregor turned away from their retreating backs, jammed his hands into his pockets, and walked briskly towards his lodgings. He had a small studio apartment in a low building on Moffat Place.

  Back in his apartment, he warmed up a portion of the stew he had prepared over the weekend and ate it with a green salad. When he had washed up, he thought about doing what he had said he was going to do and getting an early night. He had completed a mandatory fitness test that day and was feeling a little fatigued. He was in the ninety-second week of his two-year police officer’s training program. At the end of that week, he would write another written assessment, which would bring him that much closer to graduating from the program.

  Donal had spent a lot of time in his local division police station over the last few weeks. Once he had graduated, he would join that station as a full constable. They had already offered him a position.

  Why did the prospect leave him feeling so flat? This was what he had been working towards for the past two years. Perhaps someone like him wasn’t capable of feeling excited as he advanced up the career ladder. Perhaps his lack of empathy also extended to an inability to feel joy for his own sake.

  But that couldn’t be right. He remembered how happy he had been when he had first been accepted into the training program. It was only as the reality of life as a trainee constable sank in that he had become less enthusiastic.

  But if this wasn’t the right career path for him, what was?

  It was only eight-thirty – too early to go to bed. He was getting a second wind now that he had eaten. Perhaps he would put in a couple of hours on the side project he had been working on.

  During the course of his computer training, he had become aware of some discrepancies in the budget of the police station. He wanted to unravel them and present his sergeant with a solution to the problem. No doubt, it was just a matter of some miscalculations, but it would be helpful to have it sorted out in time for the financial year end.

  He booted up the computer that his parents had bought him to celebrate his acceptance into the training program. As he waited for the dial-up modem to connect to the internet, he heard a knock at the door.

  This was unusual. The only visitors Donal ever got were related to him by blood and there were precious few of those. Switching his computer to screensaver, he went to peer through the spyhole. The identity of the person on the other side of the door puzzled him even more. He opened the door, trying not to look as mystified as he felt.

  “Macgregor, my lad.”

  “Inspector Petrick.”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in? I could use a brew if you have one.”

  Mentally reviewing the contents of his refrigerator, Donal breathed a sigh of relief. There was a can of lager in there.

  “Certainly, sir. Please come in.”

  Inspector Petrick settled himself on the skinny two-seater couch that had come with the furnished apartment, while Donal got the beer and a glass. His mind whirled with speculation as to what this could possibly mean. Detective inspectors did not commonly visit trainee constables after hours in their lodgings.

  Donal wondered if he had done something wrong. Perhaps he was going to be removed from the program when he was just weeks away from completing it.

  He handed Inspector Petrick his beer and settled himself opposite the couch on a wooden chair.

  Part of him wanted to come right out and ask the reason for the Inspector’s visit, but he knew better than that. His twenty years on this earth had taught him that it would be better to wait for the Inspector to declare himself.

  “Is everything okay, Macgregor? Are you happy with your course so far?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Everything is just fine.”

  “Trainee Constable Iain Campbell tells me you have been looking through our budget. He says you noticed certain irregularities.”

  “I wouldn’t call them irregularities, sir. More like discrepancies. I am sure they are nothing more than clerical errors. Once I have unraveled them, it will be easy enough to straighten them out. I’m just trying to make myself useful, sir.”

  “Indeed, Macgregor, indeed. Useful is your middle name, isn’t it?”

  Donal didn’t know how to respond to this. He didn’t have a middle name but knew it would be wrong to point this out.

  “I came here tonight to tell you that you don’t need to worry, Macgregor. It’s all under control.”

  “Is that so, sir?”

  “It is, son. We noticed the same discrepancies as you did and hired a reputable auditing firm to look through our finances. They will soon sort out those clerical errors you’re talking about. You don’t need to waste your time on that anymore. You should be concentrating on your final exams. You’ve been flagged as a very promising young man, Macgregor. Very promising indeed. Leave the accounting to the professionals. You go out there and knock ‘em dead in that final exam, lad. That’s an order.”

  Donal gave a small salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Inspector Petrick finished off his beer and stood up.

  “I knew you’d be sensible about this, Trainee Constable Macgregor.”

  “I always try to be sensible, sir.”

  Donal let his superior officer out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.

  For a moment, he just stood, staring at the flaking paint on his front door. Then he went back to his computer. His cursor hovered over ‘close’ to exit the program. Instead, he found himself clicking ‘next’ to proceed to the next statement.

  For the next two hours, Donal shut everything out of his mind and scrutinized the finances of his local division police station.

  Chapter 1

  Eulalie

  A pounding on the door startled Eulalie.

  She jumped up from her bed and went to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Eulalie.”

  It was another freshman – a girl who had been on the orientation tour with her. “A bunch of us are going to Obz Café tonight. Do you want to come along?”

  “Uh… sure.” It sounded better than staying in her room and staring at the ceiling. “Are you leaving now? Do I need to dress up?”

  “We’re meeting in the common room in fifteen minutes,” said the girl. Eulalie remembered that her name was R
ehana. “It’s a casual place, but if you want to change your clothes you have time.” She scooted away to pound on the next freshman’s door.

  The more Eulalie thought about it, the better it sounded. Homesickness had her in its sticky grasp. She really needed to get out of her dorm room.

  It had been a surprise to find that she had her own room. As a freshman, she had assumed that she would share with a roommate, at least for her first year. Now, she almost wished that she were sharing. It would have been a good way to meet people. This was her third day here and she hadn’t yet made a friend. Perhaps tonight would change that.

  She opened her closet door and looked at herself in the mirror that had been stuck up there with double-sided tape. Her soft cotton shorts and T-shirt had been fine for the orientation tour, but she should smarten up for the evening, even if it were a casual place.

  Eulalie pulled on a pair of low-waisted, bootleg jeans, and topped them off with a tight crop-top. It left several inches of her flat stomach exposed and would certainly have earned a frown from her grandmother. But Angel wasn’t here, with her ridiculously strict ideas of what constituted good taste.

  Thinking about Angel only made her more homesick, so she stopped.

  She brushed out her mane of black hair and tamed it into a braid that she wore straight down her back. She added a few swipes of mascara and a lashing of colored lip gloss and looked at her reflection again.

  She was no Paris Hilton, but she would do.

  Scooping up the messenger bag she had bought on Lafayette Drive back in Queen’s Town, she checked that she had her student card, her cellphone, and some money. Then she went downstairs to join the others.