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

by Sonia Parin

  She poured the coffee and handed it to him with a bright smile. “So, what did you want to see me about?”

  He took a sip of his coffee, set his mug down and retrieved a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  “Sure, that’s a copy of my invoice...” Eve swallowed.

  “And this is the receipt for a deposit?”

  She gave a small nod.

  “A deposit for a painting by Reginald Bryant Burns made the day you visited his studio.”

  He’d joined two dots.

  Eve tried to make the same connection.

  “Um... I don’t suppose your lab people have determined the time of death yet?”

  “Oh, they have.”

  “And?” He had a reason for joining those dots. On any other day, there wouldn’t be anything odd about someone purchasing a painting...

  “I can actually tell you Reginald Bryant Burns had been dead the day you visited his studio. The same day you purchased one of his paintings.”

  “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

  The edge of Jack’s lip lifted slightly.

  “I want it on the record. I did not know Reggie was dead when I bought the picture.”

  Chapter Twelve

  She wasn’t a suspect. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be.

  The life buoy... Used to kill Reggie.

  The purchase of the painting... Purchased on the cusp. Too close for comfort and as bad as insider trading...

  It meant nothing.

  Detective Mason Lars cleared his throat. “The day you visited the studio, did you hear anything unusual?”

  “Are the others being subjected to the same line of questioning?”

  “We’re being thorough, Ms. Lloyd.”

  Eve drew in a breath. So far, so good. They hadn’t insisted she accompany them to the precinct. That would be bad. Very bad, in a formal sort of way. And there had been no more mention of her buying the picture with prior knowledge of Reggie’s death.

  She darted a glance Jack’s way.

  Eve had been doing that for the past half hour, using him as an anchor. The slightest nod from him was enough to keep her calm.

  “Sorry, what was the question?”

  “The day you visited the studio, did you hear anything unusual?” the detective repeated.

  “Unusual?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, her mind suddenly swamped with images of Reggie struggling. Had he been in the final clutches between life and death while she and Jill had been standing there in the studio?

  “A bump. A thud. A cough. A murmur?” the detective explained.

  She shook her head... several times. And just to be sure, she said, “No. No. No and what was the last one?”

  “A murmur.”

  “No. If there had been any sort of noise, I’m sure we would have heard it. We weren’t saying much. In fact, Jill was standing in front of the painting studying it in silence. I asked Brandon a few questions but only to buy Jill more time to study the picture. She’d been so eager to look at the studio and it had been so difficult to arrange, I wanted it to be worth her while.”

  “Did you notice anyone else in the house?” the detective asked.

  “No. No one. I didn’t even notice if there were any other cars. It was midday, so I assume the guests had gone to town for lunch. They don’t strike me as the cooking type, and I’m sure if you ask around, you’ll find they’ve been having lunch and dinner at various restaurants in town and never at home. In fact, I saw them at Shelby’s Table and I know of a couple of people who saw them elsewhere.” Feeling slightly more relaxed about the line of questioning Eve sat back and crossed her legs. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t hear anything in the studio that day, but I smelled something. It was pungent. Jill said it was turpentine.” Had the turpentine been used to mask the smell of...

  Eve cringed.

  If Reggie had been snuffed out that day or the day before, his body would have been decomposing.

  Jack had said Reggie had been dead the day she’d visited the studio but had quite possibly been dead since the day before. He could have been hanging there for a couple of days. And that meant... Brandon would have been working away at the painting while Reggie hung around. Literally.

  “Can you identify this?”

  Eve leaned forward and, at the last second, tensed.

  Detective Mason Lars had pulled out a photo.

  She covered her eyes.

  “I can’t look at a photo of a body. Please don’t make me.”

  “It’s an object, Ms. Lloyd.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She peered between her fingers. “I can’t be one hundred per cent certain, but that looks like the life buoy that had been hanging on the wall outside. It has that sort of vintage look to it. But I’m guessing those things are all over the island.” However, she’d bet anything hers was the only one that had gone missing.

  “Detective Jack Bradford said you’ve only now realized your life buoy is missing from the front veranda.”

  “That’s right. It was there the day my aunt left on her trip. I remember gazing at the display we have on the veranda and noticing it there.”

  “When Brandon McKay came to see you, was that his first visit to your house or had he been here before that night?”

  “As far as I know, that was his first visit here.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he had anything to do with... what happened.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “He’s just that type.”

  “What type?”

  “The type who runs from danger.” She remembered how he’d recoiled from her when she’d held up the fire poker and when she’d leaned in and had wagged her finger at him. “He’s an artist. The sensitive type.” Her thoughts strayed to Mel. Eve didn’t think the young woman would shrink back from anything...

  Eve shook her head. “Brandon depended on Reggie. That’s my guess. He wouldn’t hurt the hand that fed him. It can’t be easy to make it in the art world. Just look at Reggie. He was surrounded by people of influence. Brandon would have benefited from that.”

  “That’s very observant of you, Ms. Lloyd. What else have you observed?”

  “I overheard a conversation between the wives and the art gallery owner.” She figured the more information she gave the police, the sooner she’d be one hundred percent in the clear. And the sooner they found the... perpetrator... the sooner she could resume complete usage of her vocabulary.

  Eve flung her hands out. “I can’t believe someone used my life buoy to kill Reginald Bryant Burns.”

  Jill’s laughter wafted all the way from the kitchen.

  “Find the person who stole my life buoy and you’ll find the killer. Do you realize what’s happened here? Someone wanted to implicate me. I am being framed.”

  Detective Mason Lars exchanged a look with Jack. The sort of look that pleaded with him to take charge of his girlfriend.

  “You’ve been very helpful today, Ms. Lloyd. Thank you.”

  Seeing the detective rise to his feet, Eve breathed a sigh of relief. She followed them to the front door.

  Jack’s hand slid to the small of her back. A feeling of excitement swelled inside her. He hadn’t said anything about canceling their date...

  “Are you an art collector, Ms. Lloyd?”

  Her smile wavered. “No, I’m not.”

  “Are you an impulse buyer?”

  “I can’t say that I am.”

  “So you have a reason for buying a Reginald Bryan Burns painting when you did.”

  She looked over her shoulder. Jill had remained in the kitchen. She lowered her voice. “It’s a gift for Jill Saunders.”

  “An expensive gift. I imagine it would be worth slightly more now,” the detective said.

  “I wouldn’t know. As I said, it’s a gift. Not an investment. That’s not to say other
s wouldn’t take advantage of the situation,” she said. “Especially people in the know.”

  “The nerve of the k—” Eve growled. “The nerve of the evil perpetrator of this nefarious act.”

  Jill laughed. “If anything, this little exercise of omission is helping to keep your brain matter active.”

  “Can you believe they used Mira’s life buoy? How am I ever going to explain it to her? She warned me to stay out of trouble.”

  “If they wanted to frame you, they didn’t do a good job of it. No one in their right mind would think you’d use your own life buoy to kill Reginald.”

  “Why not? Two months ago I was suspected of using my own frying pan to... do away—” Eve huffed out a breath. “I’ve had enough. If the police haven’t found a suspect yet—”

  “What makes you think you’re off the hook?”

  Eve ignored her. “We’ll have to do some digging of our own.”

  “Again with the we.” Jill shook her head. “I knew there was a catch to you offering to buy me lunch. I suppose we’re going to walk up and down the main street until we find the arty set.”

  “We have to position ourselves. Find a vantage point—”

  They peered inside the bakery. “Do you actually believe one of them will confess to killing Reginald right in the middle of lunch?”

  “You never know,” Eve said, “They might consume one glass of wine too many and let something slip.”

  “And that’s how you make yourself a target.” Jill gave a slow shake of her head. “If the killer realizes you’ve heard them say something incriminating, they’ll come after you. And once again, I’ll be at risk too because, of course, I’m always hanging around with you.”

  “Don’t be so paranoid.”

  “I guess there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” Jill said. “Except, that I’d hate to have to pay for it with my life.”

  “There. That’s one of them heading into Shelby’s Table. Good, I’m dying to try their dessert.”

  “Is it called Death By Snooping Around Where You Shouldn’t?”

  “This time, I’m going to sit facing them. I want to observe them. Detective Mason Lars said I have strong observation skills. He didn’t use those exact words, but I’m sure that’s what he meant to say.”

  They went inside Shelby’s Table and waited to be seated. At a glance, Eve identified the art critic from his photo in the newspaper and Alexia, the gallery owner. There were four others at the table. Four men. During the following ten minutes, one of them had his drink topped up twice. Eve assumed he was Alex Green. Reggie’s drinking buddy.

  She drew a diagram of the sitting arrangement on a napkin and wrote the man’s name next to a glass.

  The man sitting next to him drew out his glasses and inspected a document. “I’m guessing that’s the lawyer, Robert Pierce. They like to read the fine print.”

  “The detective was right. You do have strong observation skills. What would you say about me?”

  “That you’re exploitative and willing to make a quick buck from a person’s weakness. And you’re also a loyal friend.”

  Jill chuckled. “You’re saying that because you don’t want me to bail out on you.”

  Eve handed her the menu. “Here. Order the most expensive dish on the menu. I’m having the Muddy Brownie Pudding with Honey Nougat ice-cream so if you choose another dessert, we can share and have a proper tasting.”

  “But what if mine ends up being tastier than yours?”

  “Then... then I’ll get you one to take away with you.”

  “So you’re resorting to bribery.”

  “Just trying to divert your attention away from thoughts of bailing out on me. Now, pay attention and jot down anything pertinent to the case.”

  “If Jack heard you say that...”

  “He won’t. As far as he knows, I’m keeping my nose clean and out of trouble. I can’t let anything ruin my date night. I need that date.”

  “At least you have someone. I’m thinking Abby is on the right track.”

  “You’re not thinking of leaving too?” Eve asked.

  “I might do the occasional weekend in the city.”

  “Then I’ll have to come too.” Eve took a sip of water. “I need to know what’s in that document the lawyer is reading. I swear he’s trying to read between the lines.”

  “If you were really serious about this, you’d engage the assistance of the waitress. Get her to cause a distraction while you grab the document, sneak it into the kitchen, have a quick read of it, or better still, use your camera to take photos of it, and then have the waitress create another diversion and return the document to the table.”

  “That’s not so far-fetched. But it’s too late now to go undercover.” They placed their order and then spent the next few minutes trying to catch snippets of the conversation wafting from the next table.

  The funeral arrangements had been made.

  That meant the body had been released.

  All the evidence had been gathered, and all the suspects continued to be confined to the island.

  “We need to track their movements better. Tonight,” she nodded. “They’re all bound to go out for dinner. We’ll park at the end of the street and when we see them all arrive, we’ll head out to the lighthouse.”

  “You might have stood a chance of getting me to come with you if you’d been more cunning,” Jill said, “Now I’m an accessory to a premeditated act, or at least, I would be if I went along with your half-cocked plan.”

  “How much do you want those sable brushes?” Eve asked.

  “Not enough to get myself killed.”

  “I’d never put you in danger,” Eve said. She recalled being chased by a killer and instead of taking the most sensible route to the beach, she’d headed in the opposite direction, away from Jill, because she hadn’t wanted to put her in danger. “Everyone will be in town. The lighthouse will be empty. We’ll have a quick look around. We might be lucky and find a door or a window open...”

  “And what do you hope to find inside?”

  “We won’t know until we find it.”

  Never having belonged to the people who lunch set, Eve started to fidget. They’d been at Shelby’s for over two hours and Reggie’s house guests were only now starting to talk about ordering dessert.

  Alex Green, the drinking buddy, had consumed two entire bottles of wine. The others had stuck to a moderate consumption, only drinking a couple of glasses each.

  Their chatter had been entertaining, as each one had related some incident or other involving Reginald. He’d had a long history of thinking he could say and do as he pleased without repercussions. His friends had tolerated his behavior because... he’d been Reggie and had always known how to have a good time.

  Success had come easily to him. His first wife had paved the way. She’d hailed from a wealthy and influential family. In no time, Reggie’s art shows had become instant successes, with his paintings selling like hotcakes. But serious collectors hadn’t taken notice until his third wife had come along; another socialite who’d dabbled in art by collecting it and occasionally painting a canvas or two.

  “It’s all about product placement,” wife number three said.

  Wealthy and smart, Eve thought. Having money didn’t rule her out as a suspect. Some people professed you could never have too much money. However, Eve decided wife number three was too smart to become embroiled in something as unsavory as murder.

  The conversation now veered toward plans for the future. Specifically, what to do with Reggie’s estate. It surprised Eve to hear everyone expressing opinions. It seemed everyone had a stake in the estate, which included the massive warehouse space Reggie had used as a studio in the city.

  How was that possible?

  Were they all investors in Reggie Incorporated?

  Eve watched the lawyer tap the document he’d been perusing.

  “It’s binding and will stand any challenge...”

 
That alone had been worth the long wait, Eve thought and stored the snippet away. It sounded like a piece of the puzzle that would come in handy at some point.

  The conversation then veered toward holiday destinations and upcoming social events.

  “We’re not getting anything else out of them today. How about we go back to Mira’s house and draw up a list of who’s who with possible motives.”

  “What if Jack sees it?” Jill asked.

  “We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t. As far as he knows, I’m keeping my nose clean. I can’t do anything to jeopardize my date night.”

  As they made their way to the car, Eve made a point of looking inside the bakery, the café, and The Galley Kitchen.

  “Okay, everyone is accounted for.” Meaning the way was clear for them to go to the lighthouse now.

  “Do you want me to drive?” Jill offered.

  “No, that’s fine. I didn’t drink anything at lunch.” And Eve didn’t think Jill would willingly drive to the lighthouse now.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Jill said when she realized where they were headed.

  “We can’t let the opportunity slip through our fingers. It has to be now. They’re all in town having lunch.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re making pizza?”

  “My hands feel better and I owe you.”

  Jill inspected the various toppings Eve had laid out on the kitchen counter. “Does that mean we get to kick back and relax tonight?”

  “Yes, no need to go out.” Besides, she didn’t think they’d find anything at the lighthouse. They’d gone there straight after lunch and had found all the windows and doors locked. No surprise there.

  “Why did you take a photo of the studio? We already have one.”

  “I didn’t want to walk away empty-handed.” The remark made her think about Mel. What was she after? She’d come to the island to be a part of Reggie’s entourage for a reason. Whatever she needed to find had to mean a great deal to her. Or be of great value. Especially now that Reggie was gone.