Eve Lloyd's A Deadline Cozy Mystery - Books 1 to 5

by Sonia Parin

  “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Nonsense. Come on, let’s go next door and have a coffee.”

  Chapter Three

  “I think that’s everything. Thank you for staying on, Eve. I always worry about leaving the house sitting empty while I go on one of my cruises.”

  Eve suspected this was her aunt’s way of making her feel needed since the island had always been, at least until recently, crime free.

  “My pleasure, Mira.” As well as relief. This time, she knew where Mira was going and when she’d return. Eve shivered as she recalled arriving a couple of months before to an empty house and the chaos that had ensued... “I’ve packed some Macadamia and white chocolate brownies for the trip.”

  “Thank you.” Mira smacked her lips. “What are you getting up to while I’m away?”

  She’d be busy making amends. Mending fences. Building bridges. She hadn’t seen Jill in a couple of days and while Jill had assured her all was well, Eve had seen the signs of disappointment in her friend’s face.

  Eve wondered if she had all the necessary ingredients to make donuts. If she could rely on the old adage, she might find a way to Reggie’s heart through his massive stomach.

  “I’ll find something to keep me out of trouble.”

  Mira gave her a warm smile. “Make that your operative word and you’ll be fine.”

  Eve chuckled. “Have you been talking to Jack?”

  Mira nodded. “It’s refreshing to have a male point of view.”

  Eve smiled at her aunt’s unexpected tact. So far, and to her surprise, Mira had avoided all mention of romance blooming between Eve and the local detective. “I see you’ve been using him to research another one of your books.”

  Mira smiled. “I’ve been playing around with the idea of branching out into suspense. I might even try my hand at weaving in a layer of fantasy.”

  “Please don’t turn him into a werewolf. I’m not a big fan of fantasy books. I’ll have nightmares about him.”

  “All right.” Mira chuckled. “I think I have everything.” Not one for drawn out farewells, she gave Eve a brisk wave, “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Be good,” and drove off, her mind probably already engaged in plotting her next novel.

  Eve turned back toward the house, stopping for a moment to enjoy the view. If she stood there long enough, she knew the gentle lapping of the waves against the breakwater would lull her into complacency.

  Relaxation was all well and good, however...

  Soon she’d have to return to the real world, but first she had to find a clear trajectory, something to aim for and engage her interest.

  She knew she could stay here for as long as it took to decide her next career move. In fact, if Mira had her way, Eve would make the island her permanent residence. But that wasn’t something Eve was prepared to consider, not yet. A part of her still felt she needed to be ‘out there’, although, she wouldn’t have any difficulty making the transition into island living permanent.

  For as long as she could remember, the island had been her home away from home and Mira the mother she wished she’d had. She’d spent every summer vacation here, a cheerful highlight in her otherwise humdrum existence as a boarding school student.

  Her relationship with her aunt had been easygoing, something her high achieving parents had always appreciated as it had minimized the disruption to their careers as high-flying lawyers. Eve had always known she’d been an accident but she’d adopted an air of pragmatism, making the best of the situation without kicking up a fuss, although there had been that one time she’d run away from school. At least they’d loved her enough to take care of her material needs until she could fend for herself.

  She smiled and wondered if they would be as disappointed in her next career choice as they had been with her decision to become a chef.

  While cooking would always remain an important part of her life, she didn’t feel she had the passion to run a busy kitchen again. And after her encounter with Reginald Bryant Burns, the idea of owning a gallery had fizzled. She now knew she wouldn’t have the patience to deal with delicate, overinflated egos.

  She’d find something to do, eventually. She’d sublet her apartment in New York for six months. So she still had a decent chunk of time to play around with possibilities. And if worse came to worst...

  She looked up at the house and then sent her gaze skating along the shoreline.

  Jill had turned to the island as a refuge and appeared to be content with her life here. Perhaps not so much now that Eve had ruined her dream...

  Eve sighed.

  It had been a couple of days since she’d last seen Jill...

  Eve decided not to read too much into it. For all she knew, Jill had thrown herself into one of her painting frenzies.

  Sitting on the veranda, Eve’s gaze bounced around all the knick-knacks and nautical ornaments Mira had collected throughout the years. There was a life buoy hanging by the window, some seashells glued onto the veranda post. A couple of interesting pieces of driftwood. She remembered seeing an old ship’s steering wheel in one of the stores and made a mental note to buy it as her own personal contribution to the display.

  She stretched her legs out and sighed. Thoughts of Jill returned. Eve had never seen her so crestfallen. She hated being responsible. If she hadn’t felt compelled to interfere... If she hadn’t been so pushy...

  Eve nibbled the tip of her thumb. She’d meant well. Jill would have been inspired by a tour of Reginald’s studio. It might have nudged her into doing something about increasing her reach. Selling her beautiful little paintings to tourists didn’t compare to what she could achieve if she set her mind to working toward an exhibition at an art gallery.

  The proper guidance by an established artist could launch her career.

  Eve frowned. Had she even bothered to ask Jill how she felt about aspiring to greater heights?

  When her cell phone rang, she let the call go to voice mail and sat there gazing out to sea for a while longer.

  Half an hour later, she checked her message.

  Abby Larkin.

  Until recently, she’d owned Tinkerbelle’s Bookstore. Now that she’d sold it to Mira, she was making a move to leave the island in search of her happy-ever-after.

  “Please tell me you haven’t left yet,” she said when Abby picked up the call.

  “Nope, still here but hoping to catch up with you before I do leave.”

  “Is dinner tonight too soon? I want to try Shelby’s Table.”

  After they set up a time to meet, Eve checked the pantry and made a list of supplies to get the next day.

  Unless she came up with a better solution, she’d be cooking up a storm to entice Reginald Bryant Burns into changing his mind.

  She had single-handedly ruined Jill’s chances of meeting him. It was now her responsibility to make amends.

  “How final will your move be?” Eve asked Abby later that evening.

  “I’ve put my house on the market...”

  “We’ve only just met and now you’re leaving to go in search of a husband...”

  “Sorry, needs must...”

  Eve took a sip of her wine, her gaze dancing around Shelby’s Table.

  This was her first visit to the restaurant, and definitely not her last. The homey atmosphere appealed on many levels, its rustic decor highlighted by a large fireplace with an old-fashioned stone hearth and a couple of comfortable looking leather chairs. A large cast iron candelabra hung in the center of the room, the candles casting a subtle light and adding to the intimate atmosphere. Antique looking oak tables and chairs were spread at roomy intervals. She could easily picture a romantic dinner for two.

  On any day but today, she thought.

  She tried to ignore the large group of diners congregated in the center of the room. Several tables had been joined to accommodate them. Their conversation came in waves, rising and falling. After polishing several bottles of wine, they we
re becoming quite boisterous.

  Not surprisingly, the man commanding center stage in the lively group was none other than Reginald Bryant Burns.

  Eve sent her gaze skating around the group of fifteen. His house guests, she presumed. A mix of men and women, both young and old, scruffy looking to impeccably stylish.

  “You’re not tempted to keep the house as a weekend retreat?” Eve asked.

  Abby shook her head. “It would feel too much like a security blanket, here for me to come back to with my tail tucked between my legs. I need to make a clean break and stick to my purpose.”

  “Finding a husband who’ll take you overseas on vacation?”

  Abby grinned. “Yes.”

  “You seem to know what you want. You should have attracted someone, like a bee to honey. All these years owning the bookstore and not a single one of your customers caught your eye?”

  “My customers are mostly women and anyone coming to the island for a getaway usually has a family in tow. He’s out there somewhere, Eve, and I’m going to find him.”

  “Yes, you will.” Despite her bitter divorce, Eve had refused to embrace a cynical outlook. Besides, Mira would never hear of it...

  A burst of laughter echoed around the restaurant.

  “... she gasped like a fish out of water. How... how... how dare you...”

  Eve sprung upright in her chair.

  Reggie was having fun at her expense, giving a blow-by-blow account of her pathetic efforts to engage his attention a few days before at the bakery.

  His captive audience lapped it all up.

  “And then she had the audacity to...”

  Eve tipped her glass back, polishing off the rest of her wine in one gulp.

  Unfortunately, Reggie had his massive back to her. Otherwise, she would have speared him with a laser sharp glare.

  “Oh, dear.” Abby refilled her wine glass.

  “I suppose you heard all about that.”

  “A whisper or two,” Abby said, “It’s strange. He’s been coming to the island for a number of years now, and there’s never been even a peep from him.”

  Eve laughed softly. “Suddenly I enter the picture and all hell breaks loose?”

  “You weren’t to know.”

  “What?”

  “He’s an artist and a recluse.”

  “Hardly. Look at him, playing host to all those ego stroking hangers-on.” Even if she tried, she couldn’t avoid hearing the rest of the conversation, or part of it, as the woman speaking hitched her voice.

  “... That sounds like a threat. You might have just cause to pursue it...”

  What? Abby mouthed.

  Eve shrugged. She strained to hear more, but the group had huddled together lowering their voices. Just when it was all getting interesting, Eve thought. Her disappointment, however, was short-lived. Another voice piped in.

  “... defamation... You have a reputation to uphold... Imagine if the newspapers get a hold of this.”

  Just great. He had a blood-sucking lawyer in his entourage.

  “...Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We could do with extra publicity for your upcoming exhibition. The turnout last time was abysmal...”

  Eve slanted her gaze toward the group and identified the person speaking. A woman dressed in casual elegance that spoke of ritzy trips to Paris for the Fall fashion shows. A gallery owner?

  “You should take care, Reg. There might be others like her on the island. They could come after you with pitchforks. You’re still an outsider here. What if they band together...”

  Eve smiled. At least Reggie had one voice of reason in his group.

  “Band together, and do what?” Reginald’s voice boomed. “Ban me from town?”

  “...It could happen. How would you feel about not being able to get your donuts or coffee?”

  “Ha! I’d like to see them try. They need people like you and me here. Look around you. This place would be dead without us. It’s not as if the cuisine here is anything to write home about...”

  Eve smiled. She no longer felt quite so alone in her dislike of Reggie. That snide remark alone would be enough to get the restaurant owner and the chef on side.

  Eve turned her focus back to her meal and tried to make the best of it. “I’ve been dying to try the dessert here but I don’t want the experience ruined,” she said and made a mental note to give Jill another hundred dollars. She set her knife and fork down in a huff. “I can’t believe I was thinking of making him donuts as a peace offering.”

  “Arsenic laced donuts?” Abby asked.

  “Arsenic would be too good for him.”

  Chapter Four

  “Grab the basket. Put one foot forward. Now the other. Good girl. Now... deep breath. On the count of three, swallow your pride.”

  Eve’s back teeth ground together. Despite what she’d said to Abby the night before, she’d hit the ground running that morning, rolling up her sleeves and baking up a storm.

  She could do this.

  She didn’t have a choice.

  She had to do this.

  Reaching the front door, she pinned her attention on the door knocker shaped like a seahorse, drew in another breath and knocked on the door, announcing her won’t-take-no-for-an-answer presence.

  Worse case scenarios had been running through her mind on a loop since she’d packed a basket full of donuts in her car and driven out to the lighthouse to do some serious groveling.

  A slammed door in her face would barely pierce the surface of her thick skin. A snarl accompanied by a diatribe of snide remarks might manage to ruin her day, but overall, she felt confident in thinking no matter what Reginald Bryant Burns said to her, she’d shake it all off like the proverbial water off a duck’s back.

  If her courage dwindled and failed her...

  No, her courage wouldn’t dwindle because she’d stamped an image of Jill whooping with joy when she told her Reggie had changed his mind and had issued an open invitation for her to visit his studio.

  She hadn’t seen Jill for several days now, long enough for Eve to start thinking her young friend had decided she would be better off not knowing her.

  A man with waves of hazel brown hair falling over one eye opened the door. His day old stubble enhanced his poster boy good looks. His easy smile gave Eve some much-needed courage.

  “Hello, I come bearing gifts.” She held the basket out.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  His sparkly blue gaze swept around her face and then did a thorough job of taking in every visible part of her body, and some not so visible, his eyes appearing to glaze over long enough for her to suspect him of trying to picture what lay beneath her clothes.

  Either he was used to women enjoying his appreciative gaze or he didn’t give two figs what people thought about him. Going by his looks, she’d say women clamored for his attention.

  “I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said.

  “I doubt it. I’m only visiting the island.” A half lie, she thought and wondered if she’d seen him out and about in town. She decided she hadn’t, otherwise she would have remembered Poster Boy. Then again...

  Had he been at last night’s dinner?

  Perhaps he’d had his back to her.

  She wondered what he’d think if she asked him to turn around so she could have a look at his back...

  “So what’s this?” he asked.

  “Donuts for Reginald Bryant Burns.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “I think I do know you. Or at least, know of you.”

  Eve shook her head. “I’ve been told I could work as a spy or secret agent because I look and sound average. No one would remember me.”

  “A nonentity?”

  “Yes.”

  He folded his arms and gave a pensive shake of his head.

  Eve took the opportunity to try and estimate his age. Mid to late twenties? He wore paint splattered faded jeans either as a statement or as a hazard of his occupation.

>   Just what the world needs...

  Another artist.

  “Whoever said you look average needs to have their eyesight tested. The bone structure of your face alone sets you apart from the average person.”

  Eve couldn’t believe it. She felt a rush of heat sweep through her body and settle on her cheeks.

  Jack complimented her. In fact, she’d seen him the week before and he’d told her she looked amazing. Granted, she’d worn a body hugging red dress and heels, making it practically impossible for him not to say something complimentary.

  “Is there any chance of speaking with Reginald?” she asked.

  Poster Boy gave her a brilliant smile. “I’m afraid not. Reggie hasn’t come out of his studio all morning. He’s in one of his painting frenzies. So these will come in handy. Save me the trip into town.” He took the basket from her and gave the door a nudge.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Well...” Before she could think of something useful or even intelligent to say, he closed the door.

  Eve stood there, her mouth gaping open.

  After much fuming over what could go wrong, on the drive over she’d turned her thoughts to a positive outcome. She’d been hoping to celebrate mission accomplished. Instead, well... she had no idea where she stood.

  How much time would it take to bring Reggie to her way of thinking? Time... Nope, she hadn’t taken that into account.

  Or the fact it might take more than one batch of donuts to sweeten Reggie up, gluttonous oaf that he was.

  Later that afternoon, Eve went back into town to while away some time. In reality, she wanted to increase her chances of encountering the sweet-toothed artist.

  Not that she really thought that would happen any time soon. She’d seen Jill in one of her painting frenzies. The last one had lasted three days with very little sleep or food. With Jill’s parents away on another one of their road trips, Eve had hovered around, cooking enticing tidbits just in case Jill got hungry. She’d also taken over dog walking duties. During the last couple of months, Mischief and Mr. Magoo had accepted her as an honorary member of their pack, happily trotting off with her.