by Sonia Parin
As a customer, she’d never actually noticed the set up in the bakery, which said a lot about her so-called observation skills. Everyone could see her through the glass window. When she’d first started out as a chef, she’d worked in a restaurant where the customers had had full view of the kitchen and she didn’t remember ever feeling so self-conscious.
Now...
Every glance told a story.
A scary story.
I’m coming for you.
She tried to distract herself by taking mental snapshots of everyone she saw coming into the bakery.
“Eve, your cookies are a big hit. I’m taking orders for tomorrow.”
She gave Barbara Lynch a distracted nod and tried to catch sight of a customer who kept ducking under the front counter. So far, she managed to identify everyone as locals. Then a new face appeared.
She noticed the woman because she didn’t take her sunglasses off.
They were unfashionably large and sat on what Mira would probably describe as a Patrician nose—long and narrow.
Eve pretended to reach down for something. Squatting, she edged away from the window.
“Are you right there?” the baker asked.
She nodded.
Timothy Johnson grinned and squatted down beside her.
“I... I thought I lost an earring.”
He looked at her ears. “They’re both on. Do you need a hand getting up?”
She grumbled to herself. Timothy couldn’t be older than twenty-five. In her thirties, she probably looked ancient to him. “No thanks.” She rose but kept her back to the window. “Can you tell me if that woman with the glasses is still looking in?”
“What woman?”
She swung around. Instead of the mystery woman with oversized sunglasses, she stared at the black sports car driver.
Eve had tied her hair back and she wore her chef’s white jacket. Would Blondie recognize her from the day before? She didn’t appear to be looking straight at her, not in an obvious way, but she was definitely looking. Her gaze skated over the counter. She appeared to be trying to make a selection. When she flicked her attention toward the window, Eve pretended to wipe the counter.
“By the way, your cookies are the best,” Timothy said, “I’m trying to figure out what sets them apart.”
“Muscovado sugar. It has a strong molasses content. It works best with chocolate cookies,” she said distractedly. The blonde was now perusing the pie display case. Was she biding her time? Waiting for Eve to leave? No, she wouldn’t be so obvious about it. She’d be lurking in a corner, on the opposite side of the street.
Jack had warned her to keep her distance but he hadn’t given her any specific reasons other than to say the woman was angry.
Eve decided she must have made the connection between the sunglasses, the fingerprints and the police showing up at her yacht.
They can’t have matched the ones found on the handcuffs. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be out and about.
Just how long did it take to make her selection?
She should have made her purchase by now.
Clearly, she was killing time.
Eve drew out her cell and was about to call Jack when her cell rang. “Jill. What’s happened?”
“Nothing. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to check up on us again. You must have lost track of time.”
“Blondie’s here,” Eve whispered. “I was about to call Jack.”
“Can we give her a name other than Blondie, it’s beginning to sound derogatory.”
“Sorry, I can’t engage my brain. Jack’s got a lot to answer for. I haven’t taken a single step without first looking over my shoulder. Two people stopped me this morning to ask about the murder. Everyone seems to know I found the body.”
“How? I haven’t said anything to anyone. Did you?”
Time to bite the bullet, Eve thought. “I might have mentioned it... in passing.”
“Did you have an audience?”
“There’s always an audience at the Chin Wag Café.”
“Hey, do you think the murderer overheard you?”
Possibly. Yes.
But what difference would it make? She hadn’t been a witness to the actual act. “I’ve got to go. I have one more batch of cookies to do and then I can call it a day. I’ll see you soon.”
Looking up, she met Blondie’s gaze.
Eve tried to act normal but found it difficult to do so when Blondie continued to stare at her.
She wasn’t just staring. She was eyeballing her.
Again Eve considered calling Jack.
Blondie’s eyebrows narrowed.
Recognition hit. Eve was sure of it.
Blondie lifted a finger and pointed it straight at Eve.
Who, me? Eve gestured by pointing a finger at herself.
Blondie nodded.
Eve shrugged.
Blondie moved around the counter and appeared to make a beeline for the door separating the front end of the bakery from the back. Luckily, the owner, Barbara, stopped her.
Eve watched Blondie gesturing toward her.
Barbara shrugged and shook her head.
This was getting out of hand. Eve held her breath and waited to see what Blondie would do.
When she swung on her feet and left, Eve strode out to the store.
“What was that all about?” she asked Barbara.
“That woman said she wanted to talk to you. She sounded angry. Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Before that, she was asking about Jonathan.”
Jonathan McNeil? The baker on vacation?
“She wanted to know how long he’s been away. It’s really strange. The police were asking about him too yesterday.”
“What sort of questions?”
“They wanted to know if he had a violent temper. And...” Barbara drew her away from her customer’s hearing and lowering her voice said, “They wanted to know about his private life.”
“What about it?”
“You know. His tendencies.”
“Tendencies?”
Barbara’s eyebrows curved up. “His sexual orientation or is it inclination?”
“Oh.” Eve couldn’t quite understand the significance. “And what did you say?”
“I told them I have no idea what he does in his private time.”
“Was there anything unusual about him taking time off now?” it occurred to ask.
Barbara shook her head. “He always took time off at this time of the year.”
Eve couldn’t think of anything special about this time. Sure, the leaves were turning and the countryside looked prettier. Then again, she’d grown up in the concrete jungle so anything with color looked fantastic. “What does he do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does he go away somewhere? Does he stay home to catch up with his reading?”
Barbara shrugged. “Whenever I ask what he plans to do he says he has a friend who comes in for a visit. An old school friend he likes to catch up with.”
Could it be the murder victim?
“Does Jonathan live on the island?”
Barbara nodded. “Near the lighthouse. He has a small cabin his grandfather used as a fishing getaway.”
Eve gazed out the front window. She couldn’t see Blondie anywhere. Instinct told her to keep an eye out for her.
Despite her determination to stay right out of it, Eve thought she now probably knew as much as the police. What were they doing with the information? Keeping close tabs on Jonathan’s cabin? Hunting down his old school friend...
“Why was that woman asking about you?” Barbara asked. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“Not that I know of. Maybe she’s mistaken me for someone else. I should check the oven.”
Eve finished the last batch of cookies and after checking the supplies for the next day she put in an order for what she estimated they’d need for the following week.
“
All done for the day?” Timothy asked.
She nodded. Eve drew in a deep breath and smiled at the wonderful feeling of satisfaction she felt blooming inside her. “I’ve missed this. I’m looking forward to coming back tomorrow. I hope I didn’t make a pest of myself asking so many questions about where everything is.”
“It was fun showing you the ropes. You’re easy-going.”
“What’s Jonathan like to work with?”
Timothy’s lips tightened slightly. “He’s good.”
Eve smiled. “He has his bad days too? I’ve worked with those types.”
“Yeah, sometimes... No one’s perfect.”
Interesting.
“But when he’s good, he’s very good.”
Tell me more.
“He got me hooked on fishing.”
“I had a boyfriend who loved fishing. Strangely, every time he came home from one of his trips he had a hangover.”
Timothy laughed. “Yeah, that tends to happen.”
“It’s not much fun working alongside someone with a hangover.”
She considered the small nod Timothy gave as confirmation that Jonathan liked to indulge and wasn’t always the best company the next day.
Was he a passive or a violent drunk?
“I suppose everyone’s different,” Eve said. “I had an uncle who used to enjoy his drink but he never suffered from hangovers. However, after the third drink, he’d clear his throat. By the fifth drink, he’d be bellowing out a tune and wouldn’t stop until he collapsed.”
Timothy snorted. “It beats being a depressed drunk.”
His eyes glazed over in a pensive sort of way. Eve imagined him thinking about Jonathan’s off days.
“What are you getting up to for the rest of the day?” He looked like the type who’d enjoy a night out on the town. Tall, athletic looking, his thick brown hair had a tousled cut that never failed to look playful on a man.
He checked his watch. “Lunch with my friend. Then a round of golf. Early dinner and early to bed for my before the crack of dawn start here.”
Not much of a life for someone his age. “Are you a local?”
“I live here but I’m not originally from the island.”
“What brought you here?”
“This job opened up.”
Someone with his talents and abilities could have his pick of jobs. Young people these days liked to balance work and pleasure. At his age, she would never have considered moving to such an isolated area with limited entertainment.
Jill had moved back to the island to recuperate from a bad experience working in the city and she’d since adjusted to the change of environment. It suited her to live here. Timothy’s choice struck her as odd...
“You don’t find it boring?”
He gave her a small smile. “There are benefits.” Timothy shifted and again looked at his watch. “I should finish clearing up.”
Eve felt he’d just given her a cue to stop asking questions. Annoyingly, the questions she wanted answered only occurred to her now.
Who were his friends? He’d said he was meeting a friend for lunch. Male or female? What were his sexual inclinations? Why had Jack and Mason wanted to know that about Jonathan McNeil? She decided to do better the next day.
“Have a good evening. I’m taking one of your walnut loaves home with me to try.” With a wave, she took off, her attention on everyone she encountered. She only needed to cross the street to get to her car, but she took care to scan the length of the main street. If Blondie had decided to trail her, she’d be hovering around somewhere nearby.
Before she reached her car, she called Jill to let her know she was on her way. “Everything okay up your end?”
“I saw someone hovering nearby on the beach,” Jill said, “But when I called Jack he said it was a police officer in civilian clothing.”
Good boy, Jack, she thought.
“Also, Linda Brennan walked by a while ago.”
“Was she alone?” Eve asked.
“No, she was with her walking buddy, Steffi Grant.”
Steffi Grant, the woman Eve thought she’d recognized that day they were collecting signatures for the speed cameras outside the Chin Wag Café. Had Linda and Steffi been the couple she’d seen the day she’d gone to Abby’s house and found the handcuffs? Being such serious walkers, they’d be in an ideal position to know who was getting up to what...
If someone wanted to have a clandestine affair they’d have to be very careful where they left their car.
Eve remembered the day she’d spotted them they’d been coming from the general direction of Abby’s house. Surely they must have seen something... at some point?
Seen?
What if they’d actually done something? Had anyone bothered to ask them questions?
The thought distracted her all the way to Mira’s house.
Chapter Eight
At home, she prepared lunch and took it in to Mira who, according to Jill, hadn’t come out of her writing cave all morning. Closing the door to Mira’s study, Eve saw her absentmindedly reaching for a roast beef sandwich only to set it down and return to typing.
“I don’t know how she does it,” Eve said as she returned to kitchen. “Thank you for staying here, Jill. I felt much easier knowing someone was with Mira. How did you entertain yourself?”
Jill gave her an impish grin. “Mira works out some scenes out loud. It made for some interesting listening.”
“Well, fun’s over. We have to get to work.”
“We do?”
Eve lowered her voice. “The police have been asking about sexual orientations. I’ve been assuming Blondie is somehow tied in with the victim but what if... the lovers were gay?”
“Are they looking at anyone in particular? I’ve lived here most of my life and I’ve never met an openly gay person—”
Eve lifted a finger. “Aha. That’s the key word. Openly.”
“Who do they have in mind?”
“Jonathan.”
“The baker? I’d never have guessed.”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“But you’re going to happily jump to conclusions because it’ll tie in with a theory you’re cooking up. And then we’ll have our backs to the wall and be murdered in our sleep.” Jill grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. “What happened to you not getting involved?”
“I’m only playing around with ideas. Think of it as a game.”
“A deadly game.”
“Requiring pen and paper.”
Jill sighed.
“The body was found in Abby’s house.” She drew a circle in the middle of the page. “Who had access to the house?” Eve tapped her chin. “When I spoke with Abby, I asked her about the house keys. There are only two. They... the lovers would need a key to get in.” She went to work on a list and then pushed the page toward Jill.
“The realtor had a key. And everyone in the realtor’s office could have access to it. We need to find out names.” Eve got her cell out and called Abby. She put the call on speakerphone and after a brief chat she got right down to it. “Lauren Wright.” Eve circled the name and wrote realtor next to it. Then she frowned. “Hang on a sec, Abby.” Eve went in search of the key to Abby’s house. When she returned, she dangled it in front of Jill. “Abby?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you had your locks changed?”
“Never.”
“I figured as much. I’ve only now realized this is one of those old fashioned keys.”
“Probably as old as the house,” Abby agreed. “Actually, it is as old as the house. When I inherited it, I couldn’t bear to change anything.”
“So as far as you know there are only two keys. The one you had for everyday use and the one you kept in the bookstore and then gave to the realtor.”
“Yes.”
“You never made any other copies.”
“No.”
“Would your aunt have given a key to so
meone?”
“My aunt... My great aunt. I... I don’t see why she would have.”
“You said she never married.”
“Are you suggesting she might have had a lover?”
“Do you mind if I play around with the theory?”
“No, why would I? Aunt Helene was a bit of a bohemian. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had a string of lovers, but it’s not something any of my family ever talked about.”
“It wouldn’t be.” Eve drummed her fingers on the table. “We’ll have to find out who was around in her time. You know, like a suitable lover and not necessarily an unmarried one.”
Jill threw her hands up in the air. “That’s nearly half the population. We’ll have to look at town records.”
“I have a box full of her personal things,” Abby offered. “There are day journals, diaries and knick-knacks. Feel free to rummage.”
“Okay. We’ll report any findings. Bye for now.”
Jill surged to her feet. “I take it we’re going for a walk.”
“How about a drive? It’s a bit too far to do it on foot. I’ll go check on the squad car and alert the police on the beach. As far as they know, we’re going shopping. We shouldn’t be gone too long. Whatever we find, we’ll bring back here.”
When they reached Abby’s house, they both sat in the car staring at it.
Eve noticed the For Sale sign had been removed.
Pending investigations?
Abby hadn’t mentioned anything about it.
“I guess they can’t have people trudging about.”
Jill agreed. “There’d be lots of curious people with no interest in buying the house but lots of curiosity about where the crime was committed. I’m surprised the police let you keep your key.”
“Let’s hope it’s not an omission. I’d hate to lose my advantage. We should make the best of it while we can. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Remember, it’s not the dead we have to be concerned about but rather the living.”
“Yes, they always pose a real threat,” Jill nodded, “Especially to people who go out of their way to make themselves a target. Remind me again why I agreed to come along?”
“Admit it, you’re as curious as I am.”
“I’m putting it down to my caring nature. If anything happened to you, I’d feel responsible.”