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

by Sonia Parin

  Eve would bet anything Mel had her stepbrother, Stevie, under her control, but she needed to bring Brandon to heel.

  They heard cars approaching.

  Eve signaled for Jill to follow her.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Jill whispered.

  Eve peered around the corner and saw Jack and Detective Mason Lars heading toward the front door with another officer following behind, a camera in his hands.

  “We’ll go around the building. It’ll lead us back to the road,” Eve whispered. As they trudged their way around the building, they made sure to duck under the windows. Once on the road, they walked at a steady pace, until they came to the squad car.

  Eve looked inside. “There’s a laptop. Do you think they’ve got the crime scene photos stored in there?”

  Jill gave her a tug. “We’ll never know because we’re going to keep walking.”

  The laptop was switched on.

  “Keep an eye out. Tell me if anyone comes. And don’t run away, it’ll only make you look guilty. Remember, we’re out for a stroll.”

  Eve tested the car door and smiled as it opened.

  Crouching down, she pulled down her sleeve to use as a glove and slid the laptop toward her.

  Eve grumbled. “Nothing.”

  “Good. Now let’s go.”

  Easing out of the car, she saw a large manila folder in the back seat.

  “Hang on.”

  “Eve,” Jill warned.

  Eve squeezed in between the front seats and again pulled down her sleeve to use as a glove.

  She gasped. “Holy cow. I was kidding when I said he deserved a death by donut.” Her eyes widened. A part of her wanted to scramble to safety and to wash her eyes with salty water so they’d sting so hard she wouldn’t think about what she’d seen.

  Yet, she kept looking.

  Reggie’s lifeless body... hanging.

  She tilted her head.

  He’d been hung with...

  “A life buoy around his neck.” If it could be called a neck. It looked massive and bright red. She nudged the top photo and peered at the next one.

  “Oh, I thought that was bad. This is ten times worse.”

  The next photo had been taken from a distance.

  From the bottom of the stairs looking up to the lighthouse.

  Eve gasped.

  She scrambled out of the car, grabbed hold of Jill’s arm and pulled her, walking as fast as her feet could move.

  “What... what did you see?” Jill asked.

  She couldn’t talk. She pointed to a path that led off the road and along one of the many walking trails running along the shore.

  After five minutes of hurried walking, she stopped.

  Her breath came hard and fast.

  She looked around them to make sure there wasn’t anyone hovering around.

  “He’s dead.”

  Jill gave a vigorous nod. “Yes. We know that.”

  “I mean, he’s really... really dead.”

  “You look pale. What did you see?” Jill asked.

  Eve pushed out a quivery breath and pointed to her neck. “It was horrible.” She kept pointing to her neck. “He looked bloated and... and he had a life buoy around his neck, and... Oh, Jill.”

  “What?”

  “Remember the other night, we had the chicken and all that wine and then we saw that shape reflected against the clouds and we...” she pressed her hand to her mouth, “We joked about it being a donut.”

  “Yes? And...”

  “It was Reggie. Hanging by the rafter.”

  “But that was... days ago.”

  Eve bit her lip and gave a quick nod. “Think about it. Yesterday... when we were there... he was there, but he wasn’t.” She raked her fingers through her hair and then flung her arms out. “He was there, but he wasn’t.”

  “Slow down and calm down, you’re sounding like Brandon.”

  Eve grabbed hold of Jill’s shoulders and shook her. “Don’t you get it? Reggie. All that time, he was there, but he wasn’t. I hope I didn’t say anything disrespectful. One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead even if they were dreadful. And let’s face it, he was horrible.”

  “Do I need to slap you?”

  “No. No, I’m fine. Or at least, I will be once I get that image out of my mind. Oh, my God. This is going to give me nightmares.”

  “Get a hold of yourself, you’re supposed to be the steady one of the two of us.”

  “It’s easy for you to say, you didn’t see those photos.”

  “Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Never go snooping around where you shouldn’t.”

  Eve drew in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m calm.” She brushed her hand across her face and then stopped.

  “What?”

  “My hands.”

  “What about them?”

  It made sense now. She looked down at her hands. “They took photos of them.” She looked up at Jill, her eyes wide. “They think I killed Reggie. They think I hauled his body up there, and that’s how I got the red marks on my hands. I probably used some sort of winch to do it.”

  “You did?”

  “No. No. I’m saying that’s probably what the police think I did.”

  “You probably shouldn’t mention that to them. Especially not to Jack. Remember, you have to avoid pillow talk with him.”

  Eve just stood there, shaking her head.

  “Are you all right?” Jill asked. “You normally have a come-back line.”

  “Those photos really shook me up.”

  Eve looked down at her hands. It didn’t mean anything. The police would know she didn’t have the upper body strength to pull such a heavy load. And Jack would have said something by now...

  “Eve, your phone’s ringing.”

  “What?”

  “Your cell phone. It’s ringing. Answer it.”

  She dug inside her back pocket and checked the caller ID.

  “It’s Jack. What do I do?”

  “I’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong with you?”

  “What do you expect, the police took photos of my hands.” What did it mean? They couldn’t possibly think she’d killed Reggie...

  “Answer the phone, Eve. And try to sound normal.”

  Normal? She couldn’t remember what that felt like. Normal was getting up in the morning and making coffee and thinking about what she’d like to eat. “Hello? Hi. Jack, hello. Yes, hi. Jack, how are you?”

  Jill shook her head.

  “Where am I?” Eve looked around her. “I’m... I’m home. Where else would I be?”

  Jill slapped her hand against her forehead and shook her head again.

  “Yes, I’m sure I’m home. You what?” He’s coming, she mouthed.

  Jill grabbed hold of her arm and started pulling her along the path.

  “What am I doing? I’m... I’m running up the stairs... I left the tap running in the bathroom.”

  Jill gave her another tug.

  “Why? Because I was washing my hands and then... the phone rang... and I had to look for it and I forgot I’d been washing my hands and the phone... it was downstairs. Yes, I’m upstairs now. Where are you?”

  She picked up her pace and gestured to Jill to keep up.

  “You’re driving to the house. Okay, I guess... I’ll see you soon.” She gulped in a big breath. “Jill? Yes, she’s here with me. Okay. I’ll see you.” She disconnected the call. “Keep up, Jill. He’s coming. Jack and Detective Mason Lars. They’re both on their way to the house. They have some questions for us. For you. And me.”

  “I gathered as much. What made you lie to him? You know it’s only going to make matters worse.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. If he knew we went snooping around—”

  “We? No. No. No we. Please don’t include me in your shenanigans. I had no idea where you were taking me.”

  They burst out of the path and into Mira’s yard, both craning their necks looking for Jack�
��s car.

  “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

  Inside, they tugged and pulled at each other’s jackets.

  “Shoes. Shoes off.” Eve pointed at the couch. “You sit there and look innocent.”

  “I can do that,” Jill nodded, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to run up the stairs. Jack will expect me to be out of breath.”

  “Still?”

  A tap on the window had them both freezing on the spot.

  “I don’t think he trusts you. He came in the back way.”

  Jack strode in, his gaze skating around the sitting room. Eve didn’t know what to do with her hands.

  “Jill, your parents said you’d be here. We need to have a word with you.”

  “Me?” Jill asked.

  “Just a few more questions.”

  “Me?” Jill asked again.

  Jack turned to Eve. “Perhaps you’d like to make us some coffee.”

  “Coffee? Sure. I can do that. Um. Would you like some donuts with your coffee?”

  Chapter Ten

  “I think they’re trying to play us off each other,” Jill whispered.

  Eve looked over Jill’s shoulder at Jack and Detective Mason Lars who were comparing notes in the next room.

  “What makes you think so?” Eve asked and turned her attention back to the coffee she’d made.

  “Jack didn’t say much. He just listened. But the other one, Detective Mason Lars... he’s a cool character. He shoots straight from the hip. He wanted to know everything, from the moment I set foot in the house to every time I saw you in the last few days. That set off alarm bells. And now... well, he didn’t warn me to stay away from you. That’s not a good sign.”

  “Actually, it is a good sign,” Eve said, “It means he doesn’t suspect us.”

  “No. I’m sure he wants us to fight. It’ll be a battle of the fittest. If I think I’m a suspect, I’ll turn on you. And if you think you’re a suspect, you’ll turn on me.”

  “Jill, I’d never do that. Relax. You have nothing to hide.”

  “No, I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “And I do?”

  Jill swung away from her and walked over to the window. “Well...”

  “What?”

  She turned to face her. “The other day when I came over for dinner, I had to wait for you because you weren’t here. You said you had something to take care of.”

  “Yes? So?”

  “Then you made chicken, but you know my favorite food is pizza and you said you couldn’t make it because of your hands.”

  “I know. I showed you my hands. See, I have nothing to hide.”

  Jill looked down at the floor. “What did you have to take care of?”

  “It was a figure of speech. I... I had all this stuff swimming around my head and I needed to walk it all off. Helena and Abby had left messages for me and when I spoke with them, they told me they’d both heard Reggie badmouthing my donuts. I was upset. You would have felt the same if he’d badmouthed your art.”

  “It was a long walk. You were quite late coming back,” Jill said.

  “I had a lot of angst to work through.”

  “Were you mad enough to...”

  “To what?” Eve’s voice hitched.

  “Chefs can be temperamental.”

  “You think I killed Reggie because of what he said about my donuts?”

  “The police are going to ask you about that, if they haven’t done so already.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Eve bit the edge of her lip. “Did you tell them about me being late coming home that night?”

  “Well... it sort of came out. I didn’t mean to implicate you.”

  “Jill. How could you?”

  “It shouldn’t matter. You said you had nothing to hide. And I didn’t straight out say you hadn’t been here when I came to dinner. It was sort of implied between the lines, and that’s why we have to watch out for that detective. He picked up on it. He knew there was something I wasn’t saying.”

  “Is this what you meant by them playing us off against each other?”

  “You’re mad at me,” Jill said.

  “No. No, I’m not. I don’t have anything to hide,” Eve insisted.

  “Eve.”

  They both turned.

  Jack stood by the door and signaled for her to follow.

  “We’re ready for you now.”

  “I don’t get this line of questioning,” she said as she settled in the living room that had now been turned into an interrogation room.

  “We’re only trying to establish a timeline,” Mason Lars said, his attention fixed on his notepad.

  Eve didn’t care for notepads.

  “Now, if you can think back to the day at the bakery when you had your run-in with Reginald Bryant Burns.”

  Eve had to stifle a giggle; thoughts of lying down on a therapist’s couch flooding her mind. She nodded. “What would you like to know?”

  “You said his work was overrated and would probably only be worth anything if someone did the world a favor and snuffed him out. Is that correct?”

  Everyone in the bakery had heard. “It sounds about right.”

  The detective held her gaze.

  “Yes. Correct.”

  “What did you mean by that?”

  “Reginald had been horrible and quite rude. It all just came out. I didn’t even think about what I was saying.”

  “So the remark was impulsive.”

  She nodded.

  “So it wasn’t something you’d been thinking about for some time?”

  She frowned. “No, I’d only just met him.”

  “You told a complete stranger the world would be better off without him—”

  “Those were not my exact words.”

  “That’s right, they weren’t.” He read from his notepad again and included some air quotes.

  “You then went on to say, he was so full of himself he wouldn’t need a life buoy to stay afloat.”

  “It just came out. Like a knee-jerk reaction because of his size and his temperament. You know... full of hot air. I know it wasn’t politically correct, but I didn’t stop to think. Remember, I was lying on the floor and I’d just been publicly humiliated. And... and he’d been mean to Jill.”

  The questioning continued for another half hour, by which time Eve had begun to fidget. “Would you like some coffee?” she offered.

  “We’ll be finished shortly.”

  She wondered what sort of measure of time he used.

  Another half hour ticked by and she suspected she’d bitten her bottom lip raw.

  “So after you had dinner with Jill Saunders, what did you do?” the detective asked.

  “We sat and talked and... and we drank wine.” She sat up and narrowed her gaze.

  “Did you just think of something?” the detective asked.

  Eve gave a small nod. “The night before I’d fallen asleep on the couch and when I went upstairs to bed, I saw the lighthouse light on.”

  “And that was unusual?”

  “Yes. It hasn’t worked in a long while.” She frowned and tapped her chin. “When Jill came for dinner, we both saw the lighthouse light on again, except this time, we saw a shape. Like a donut.”

  All that time, Reggie had been hanging there?

  “Have you determined how he got up there?” Eve asked, “They must have used a winch. I told Jill he probably had one to be able to work on such large canvases.” Eve laughed because she again remembered thinking of Reggie as Humpty Dumpty. “Did the toxicology report show any signs of poisoning?”

  The detective frowned.

  “I’m assuming you had one done.”

  He didn’t answer her. She remembered Jack had given her the same treatment when she’d asked him questions a couple of months before when she’d been under suspicion for another murder...

  “You should be questioning his stepchildren,” She continued, “Have you qu
estioned his stepchildren?” She tried to think of the conversation she’d overheard, but her mind came up with a blank. Except... “They came looking for Brandon. Mel and Stevie.” Eve looked at Mason Lars and then at Jack. “I don’t think Brandon had anything to do with Reggie’s death. In fact, I’m sure he’s the one who called you. He did, didn’t he? He discovered the body. Although...”

  “Yes?” Mason Lars asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Ms. Lloyd. If you have any suspicions, we’d like to hear them.”

  She shook her head. “Are we done here?”

  “For the time being, yes. But we’d like to remind you again to stay on the island.”

  “Brandon had a smudge of paint on his face,” Eve said as she hurried them along the path. She’d waited to make sure Jack and Detective Lars were headed toward town and had then suggested to Jill they go get her dogs and take them for a walk.

  “Mischief, don’t go too far,” Jill called out. “Brandon’s an artist. What’s so unusual about him having paint on his face? I do it all the time.”

  “Brandon said he wasn’t painting on the island. He’s working on drawings, but not painting. So where did the paint come from?”

  “He probably spends a lot of time in the studio. There are paint tubes all over the trestle tables.”

  “His jeans are smudged with paint,” Eve said.

  “So are mine.”

  “Yes, but yours look faded because the jeans have been through the wash several times. Whereas the paint on Brandon’s jeans look fresh. You know, bright.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “What if Brandon’s been doing the painting for Reggie? Think about it. I overheard the gallery owner saying the last show had been abysmal and they could do with the publicity. I’m assuming the gallery is losing money from Reggie’s exhibitions. That must mean his paintings are not up to scratch. Did Reggie have a show coming up?”

  Jill nodded.

  “What if he wasn’t ready? Was he even painting? Was he painting anything worthwhile? You said there was something odd about the canvas.”

  “Slow down, will you?”

  “Me or Mischief?”

  “You. You’re going off on a verbal rampage.” Jill pushed out a breath. “But you’re starting to make sense.”

  “I knew it.”

  “There was something odd about that canvas. It looked awkward. As if the artist hadn’t been sure about the brushstrokes. It looked... it looked contrived. It lacked freshness. That spontaneous touch.” Jill gave a firm nod. “Yeah, that’s it. It didn’t look spontaneous.”