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

by Sonia Parin

  “Ice-cream and wine?” Jill asked.

  “It can’t hurt.”

  “I’ll ask again tomorrow.” Jill stretched out on the couch and dug into her ice-cream. “I heard Reginald had another altercation at the bakery.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday. He went in to complain about the donuts. Said they’d given him the runs.”

  “Oh.” Eve sat up and topped up their glasses. She didn’t want Jill to know she’d gone to the trouble of baking the man a batch of donuts and she still couldn’t believe they’d made him sick.

  Her donuts.

  They had to have been the ones from the bakery.

  He’d eaten two lots?

  The man gave gluttony a bad name.

  “They banned him.”

  Eve’s mouth gaped open. “I should be careful what I wish for.” She had him right where she wanted him. If she waited a couple of days, she could then approach him again, never mind that he’d launched a serious smear campaign against her donuts. He’d be desperate for them... salivating... drooling. Begging her for them.

  “Do you think he’ll go into withdrawal?” Jill asked.

  She was counting on it.

  Eve sat forward and looking out the window, she narrowed her gaze. “Did you see that?”

  “I saw something,” Jill said, “What was it?”

  “It might have been a balloon,” Eve said.

  “I don’t think so. Look, there it is again. Now it’s gone.” Jill surged to her feet and strode toward the French doors. “It’s round. There it is again.”

  “Yes, but what is it?”

  “It makes me think of the bat signal.”

  “A donut signal?” Eve’s mouth gaped open. “It really does look like a donut.” A giant donut reflected against the clouds.

  “Why does it keep appearing and disappearing?”

  They both stepped outside and looked toward the end of the cove.

  “The lighthouse. The light’s on again. Do you think it’s coming from there?”

  Jill giggled. “Maybe Reggie’s sending out a signal for more donuts.”

  They stood there watching it until they both started to shiver from the night air and went back inside to polish off the rest of the wine. By the end of the third bottle, they’d forgotten all about the lighthouse.

  Chapter Six

  “I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

  Eve sunk down in the passenger seat of her car and blinked. “FYI, I just blinked in agreement.” Eve winced, the sound of her own voice too loud for comfort. “Tell me again why we couldn’t have breakfast at the house.”

  “You need a breath of fresh air well away from the smell of wine still lingering in the house.”

  “So why are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning?”

  Jill shrugged. “I’m young.”

  “What does that make me?” Eve grumbled under her breath. “And what’s with breaking the speed limit?”

  Jill shifted in her seat. “I... I just want to beat the morning rush hour.”

  “We’re the only ones on the road,” Eve said.

  “The rush hour at the café,” Jill said as they drove past it.

  When Jill reached the end of the street and appeared to be aiming the car toward a space, Eve cringed. “Do me a favor and drop me off outside the café.”

  “But that means driving around the block again.”

  “And your point is?” Eve asked.

  “What happened to your health kick?”

  Eve shrugged. “Nothing but a fad.”

  Jill pulled up outside the Chin Wag Café and, glancing out the driver’s window, peered up and down the street.

  “Are you looking for someone?” Eve asked.

  “No.”

  “Is there someone you want me to keep an eye out for?” she asked and bobbed her eyebrows up and down.

  “It’s amazing how cunning you can be even with half your brain cells shuffling around with a hangover.”

  “Practice makes perfect. Now go park the car. I’ll get us a table.” Eve slid out of the car and focused on taking one step at a time as she wondered if someone had caught Jill’s attention. Living on the island meant her choices were limited. The island wasn’t exactly a magnet for young men her age...

  “Hey, there.”

  Turning required far too much effort so she waited for the person who’d spoken to approach her.

  “See, I recognized you.”

  Poster Boy!

  She remembered babbling on about being a nonentity and not having a memorable face the day when she’d taken the donuts over to the lighthouse... “Hello, what brings you to town?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. The poor boy looked frazzled. Pushing out a breath, he pointed at the bakery.

  “Doing a donut run?” she asked as the previous night’s conversation swum in her head. Reggie boy. Banned from the bakery. Ha! Of course, he’d send someone in to get his fix.

  Poster Boy waved a piece of paper. “My to-do list for the day. Get Reggie his donuts.” He shoved the paper inside his pocket and shrugged. “I tried to get some, but word has spread. We’ve all been banned from the bakery.”

  “We?” She supposed he meant the entire entourage.

  He grinned. “I don’t suppose...”

  Eve folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t suppose what?”

  He brushed his hand across his face.

  Eve leaned forward. “You’ve got a smudge.”

  “A what?”

  “A smudge on your cheek.”

  He swiped his hand over it and only managed to make it worse.

  “Still there.”

  He brushed his other hand over it.

  “It’s gone now.”

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said, “How about I buy you a cup of coffee. You look in need of one.”

  “Lead the way.” Inside the Chin Wag Café, Eve forced herself to crank up her brain. She needed to be tactical and not come across as too desperate. Realizing she held the upper hand, she decided she had to play it to her best advantage. “It seems I have something you want.”

  He gave her a boyish grin. “And you want to negotiate.”

  They sat at a table by the window. Seeing Jill approaching, Eve knew she needed to work fast. “Okay, let’s put our cards on the table. You want donuts and I want to get access to Reggie’s studio.”

  He took a second to think about it and then nodded. “How soon can you deliver them?”

  Eve scooped in a big breath and geared herself up. “What’s the best time for my friend to visit the studio?”

  Poster Boy brushed his hand across his chin. “How about Friday week.”

  “No studio visit. No donuts.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Do I look as if I trust you?”

  He sighed. “Okay. When do you want to do it?”

  “Today.”

  “Today?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can swing that.”

  Seeing Jill about to enter the café, she said, “You have ten seconds to decide. It’s your choice.”

  “You’re twisting my arm. All right. How long does it take you to bake them?”

  “Two hours. I can be there by midday.” That would be long enough for her to consume copious amounts of coffee and then get some donuts from next door. There was no way she’d be baking a fresh batch.

  “You drive a hard bargain. Okay. I’ll see you then.” He got up and left.

  A second later, Jill sat down, her cheeks glowing bright pink, her gaze following Poster Boy as he crossed the street.

  “Even in my morning after haze I can recognize the spark of interest,” Eve said.

  “What?” Jill asked.

  “I knew there had to be a reason for you to be in such a hurry to get to the café.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve got your eyes on Poster Boy
.” Eve grinned. She was going to kill two birds with one... bag of donuts.

  “I suppose ours is not to reason why,” Jill said under her breath.

  “Speak up, I think I’m losing my hearing.”

  “Nothing.” Jill huffed. “Okay, why did you buy an extra large family size bag of donuts? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Is it meant to?”

  “Shouldn’t you be having a hair of the dog—”

  “Ugh! Wine? This early in the morning?”

  “It’s nearly midday. Is your hangover still lingering?”

  Grumbling, Eve set the bag of donuts she’d just purchased from the bakery in the back seat and then buckled up for the ride home.

  “I guess I’m driving again. Now, are you going to tell me why you needed so many donuts?” Jill asked.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t like those,” Jill said, “They can blow up in your face.”

  “I suppose you’ll put two and two together soon enough.” And if Jill really did have her eye on Poster Boy, she might appreciate a moment or two to brush a comb through her hair. “We’re delivering these to the lighthouse.”

  “What?” Jill slammed her foot on the break.

  “I’ve cut a deal with Poster Boy. In exchange for the donuts, he’ll get us into Reggie’s studio. We’ll go in, have a look around, you can ask Reggie questions, but don’t expect him to answer.”

  “What about all the stuff Reginald Bryant Burns has been saying about you?”

  “All forgotten... for the greater good.”

  “You have no pride.”

  “Pride doesn’t serve any purpose in life other than to hold you back. Now drive. I need a proper breakfast and there’s some bacon and eggs with my name on them at home.”

  “Do you think the others will be there?” Jill asked as they made their way to the lighthouse.

  “Who?”

  “The wives. The gallery owner... and the others. I’ve seen them around town.”

  “Are you saying those elegant looking women were married to him? What could have attracted them to a man like him? Not his charm...”

  “There’s no accounting for taste. You know the artist Frida Kahlo was madly in love with the Mexican muralist, Diego Rivera. And he was... robust.”

  Eve slanted her gaze at Jill. She’d assumed Jill had been keeping an eye out for Poster Boy. But what if... “Um... Jill?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just how fond are you of Reggie’s art?”

  “I’d happily clear out all the pictures hanging on my walls to make way for one of his paintings.”

  “What about the man?”

  “Oh... I’m willing to make concessions.”

  “You are? You don’t think he’s... a bit too old for you?”

  “Who?”

  “Reggie.”

  “Ugh.”

  Eve sighed her relief. “For a moment there I thought I was going to have to hit the bottle again.”

  “You thought... Me and him? What gave you that idea?”

  “Well, in a strange way, it sort of made sense. You love his art, I imagine loving the man would be the natural next step.”

  “Promise me you’ll never try to imagine me with a man who’s old enough to be my father. It’s icky.”

  “Okay.”

  Jill looked over her shoulder at the back seat. “One more question. Why did you put the donuts in a basket?”

  “Presentation,” Eve said and looked out the passenger window.

  “I doubt he’ll notice or appreciate the gesture.”

  Reggie wouldn’t. But she’d promised Brandon she’d bake the donuts herself... not that it would have made any difference. Although, now that she thought about it, Brandon had looked quite relieved when she’d said she’d bake them. Did that mean Reggie preferred her donuts over the bakery’s?

  Just as they were pulling up to the lighthouse, Eve’s cell phone rang.

  Jack!

  “Hello there, stranger. Have you emerged from your backlog of paperwork unscathed?” She imagined him brushing his hand across his face.

  “All done,” he said. “Did Mira meet her deadline?”

  “Yes, her latest manuscript is now in the hands of her editor.” She felt a light blush rise up to her cheeks as she thought about Jack being the inspiration for Mira’s swashbuckling hero.

  “Eve.”

  The sound of her name on his lips made her smile. “Yes.”

  “Are you staying out of trouble?”

  She sat up. “Yes, sir. I am.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She had to wonder if Jack had a sixth sense. “Absolutely sure.”

  “You hesitated.”

  “Jill’s driving and I need to keep my eye on the road. You know what they say about two heads being better than one.” Eve could easily imagine Jack smiling.

  “Now you sound as if you’re trying to cover your tracks.”

  “And you sound like a detective.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Friday night is looking good for me. How about you? Are you free?”

  “Absolutely.” She glanced over at Jill who did a good job of pretending she wasn’t listening to the conversation. “I’ve tried out Shelby’s Table in town. The food is superb.”

  “Dinner on the island?” he asked, his voice carrying his surprise.

  Until now, she’d insisted on meeting him on his home turf on the mainland. Eve gave a small nod. Yes, it was time to step it up. Eve took a moment to check how she felt about it. “Yes. Dinner on the island.”

  A moment of silence followed. She wondered if Jack had sat back to think what it might all mean. Eve bit the edge of her lip. What if he’d been comfortable with the way everything had been moving? Slowly.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled. Had she remembered to add Jack to her pros and cons list? His name would definitely tip everything in favor of staying on in the island.

  After disconnecting the call, Eve hugged the phone and enjoyed the buzz of excitement surging through her.

  “Okay. We’re here. How does my hair look?” Jill asked.

  Eve had never seen Jill looking so jittery. “Your hair looks shiny and in place.”

  “Do you think he’ll mind if I take some photos?”

  “He’ll probably be too busy stuffing himself to care.” She hauled the basket from the back seat and followed Jill who’d trotted ahead of her like a kid eager to get to the candy store.

  The door opened immediately after they knocked and Poster Boy took the basket and waved them in without saying a word.

  Eve looked at Jill and shrugged.

  Inside, the place was as quiet as a cathedral.

  “Where is everyone?” Eve asked.

  “Gone to lunch in town.”

  “Um... sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Brandon. Brandon McKay.”

  He led them along a narrow corridor and through a door that opened to a large, high-ceilinged room.

  The studio. At the end of one wall stood a large easel with a huge canvas on it and a stuffy old chair in front. Trestle tables lined the walls, some with stacks of paper, others with mounds of paint tubes and brushes and a selection of bottles. Varnish. Turpentine. Painting medium...

  “What’s that dreadful smell? Eve asked and covered her nose. “It’s so pungent.”

  “Turpentine,” Jill said and rushed toward the canvas where she stood staring at it with her mouth gaping open. It was massive and covered with large blocks of faint washes. A work in progress, Eve assumed.

  “So... is the man around?” Eve asked.

  Brandon shook his head. “No. I’m afraid I couldn’t swing that.”

  Jill didn’t seem to mind. She stood there absorbed in the painting. After a few moments, she pulled out her camera and began taking pictures.

  Eve tried to find something to like about the painting, but it seemed too... too faded, too
vague, as if the artist couldn’t quite grab hold of an idea.

  “So... are you some sort of groupie?” she asked Brandon.

  “Reggie’s mentoring me.”

  “You’re an artist.”

  “I’m working toward my first show.”

  “Where’s your stuff?”

  “Stuff?” he asked and edged toward the door.

  “Your work. Your paintings.”

  “Back at my studio in the city.”

  “Taking time out, are you?” Eve asked as a way of buying Jill more time in the studio.

  He frowned. “I’m working on some drawings.”

  “Are they like blueprints?”

  He nodded and took another step back toward the door. Eve could swear he was about to break into a sweat.

  She sidled up to Jill. “You look as if you’re having a religious experience,” she whispered.

  “Trying to,” Jill said.

  Behind them, Brandon shuffled his feet. “Um...”

  “Ready?” she asked Jill.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Eve gave Brandon a small smile. “Pity we missed the man himself. You’ll be sure to tell him we came by,” she couldn’t help teasing.

  He stepped aside to let them through.

  Eve stopped and turned back. “By the way, I saw the lighthouse light on the other night and last night again.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought Brandon flinched. “It hasn’t been working in a while. I was surprised.”

  He shoved his hands inside his pockets. “Reggie likes to tinker around. I guess he fixed it.”

  Reggie, a Mr. Fixit Man? She couldn’t imagine it.

  “Thanks for the tour, Brandon.”

  He nodded. “See you around town.”

  They made their way to the car, neither one saying anything until they were half way home.

  Jill cleared her throat. “That was hardly worth our time. But thank you for organizing it.”

  Eve tapped her chin. Brandon hadn’t said anything about organizing more donuts. She wondered if that meant their stay on the island was coming to a close. “You didn’t like what you saw?”

  “I expected more. His paintings are usually so simple... yet complex. Maybe it wasn’t finished.”

  Or maybe, Reggie was finished.