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

by Sonia Parin

  “This is the Stevenson house. Rumor has it, they’re cash poor at the moment. Jason Stevenson has been having a run of bad luck with his investments and his wife has run through all the money she inherited, or so she says. It makes sense to hire out the house. You can’t miss it. It’s the largest on the island.”

  “What do you mean, or so she says?”

  “She comes from old money. The type that doesn’t run out. She’s probably stashed it away in some off-shore account, well out of her husband’s greedy reach.”

  Eve frowned. “I don’t know who you are. Where’s this cynicism coming from?”

  “I think I’ve been hanging around you for too long.” Jill looked up and pointed ahead. “Follow those catering trucks. They’re bound to be heading there.”

  “How do you know they’re catering trucks?”

  “You’re kidding. It’s right there in front of you. Mayflower Catering written in stylish script.”

  “I was watching the road.”

  Within minutes, the house... or rather, the estate came into view and then disappeared behind a copse of tall firs.

  Eve bit her bottom lip. The house could be as grand as Buckingham Palace, it still didn’t make sense. A wedding at The Ritz London... Paris... anywhere but here, that was more Charlotte’s style. “Maybe the groom hails from around here.”

  “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Then there could be a connection with the Stevenson family. If you say she comes from old money, that’s something she has in common with Charlotte.” Or maybe, Mira was right and Charlotte had changed. Charlotte... or her circumstances.

  Chapter Two

  “The entourage is arriving.”

  Eve looked up from the magazine she’d been flicking through and gazed around the Chin Wag Café.

  Despite her efforts to ignore the rising murmurs around her, she’d spent the last half hour listening to an on-going commentary of the cars driving along the main street, presumably on their way to the Stevenson house. Charlotte McLain hadn’t even arrived and, surprise, surprise... not, she’d already become the talk of the town.

  Eve drew out a chair for Jill. “Sit down, I’m famished.”

  “You should have gone ahead and ordered.”

  “Mira’s been on my case about not sending the RSVP. I’m trying to show I’m not a complete philistine. I do have some manners. And why are you so late?”

  “I stopped to chat with Steffi Grant and Linda Brennan. They’ve been counting the cars driving into the Stevenson house. Thirty-five at the last count. One glitzier than the other.”

  “What do you think of this table setting for my inn?” Eve asked, “I’m trying to keep the country charm Abby had going.” She still couldn’t quite believe she’d gone ahead and purchased Abby Larkin’s beach house. The memory of the dead body she’d found there had only now began to recede, but not entirely. Right on cue, Eve shivered.

  “Sorry, did you say something?” Jill asked.

  “I tried to steer the conversation away from my nemesis—”

  “Sh.”

  “What?”

  “Haven’t you learned anything? After all that’s happened, you should know better than to voice your grievances out loud and in a public place. Now everyone within hearing knows there’s bad blood between you and the bride.”

  “The bride? How are they going to know my nemesis is Charlotte McLain?”

  Jill spread her arms out. “You just told them.”

  Eve drew in a sharp breath. “From now on, I’ll start my day with a caveat. Anything I say can and will be held against me in a court of law. How’s that?”

  “It’s a practical, sensible step. I can’t always be there to act as your alibi.”

  Frowning, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You do realize those were unusual circumstances.” Three deaths since her arrival on the island. And before that...

  Nothing.

  Not a single incident had ever been recorded. Not even a fishing boat accident, and the island had a long history of attracting weekend fishing enthusiasts.

  Eve had decided to put it down as an unnatural short-term imbalance that would no doubt rectify itself with endless days of perfect tedium.

  “You can pretend life has returned to normal, but I prefer to be on guard,” Jill murmured, “By the way, have you noticed that woman staring at you?”

  “I refuse to play your game.” Eve returned her attention to her magazine and the article she’d been reading about small town inns.

  “She doesn’t look like a local. In fact, I’m willing to bet she’s with the wedding party.”

  “I should start attending estate sales and see what I can pick up there,” Eve said, “Abby’s house came fully furnished, but I’ll need more small tables and chairs for the new dining area. They’ll have to be antiques, of course.”

  “She’s still looking at you in that sort of where-do-I-know-her-from way.”

  Eve tapped the page she was reading. “I could work my way up the coast. Spend an entire weekend hopping from one estate sale to the other.”

  Jill chuckled. “Just think of it, all those people dying to leave you their stuff. And, by the way, she’s still looking. Now she’s pulling out her cell phone. I’m guessing she’s going to call you to see if you are who she thinks you are.”

  Eve forced her gaze to remain on the magazine. She gritted her teeth. She growled under her breath. Her hand inched toward her cell phone.

  It rang.

  Don’t answer it!

  “She’ll leave a message. In your place, I’d get it over and done with right now.”

  Eve sighed and answered the call, the feeling of having picked up the gauntlet making her body quiver with a wave of anxiety. “Yes, hello.”

  “Eve Lloyd? From Northlands Academy?”

  You called me, you should know...

  “Um, yes.”

  “It’s Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte?”

  “Charlotte McLain.”

  The enemy had been engaged. No turning back now.

  She lifted her chin slightly. “Charlotte. I’ve been trying to contact you.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I believe congratulations are in order. I received your wedding invitations but they all came with no return address.” An outright lie. The best she could come up with on the spur of the moment. Eve hoped her cheeks hadn’t given her away with a deep flush of crimson red. She kept her gaze fixed on the magazine article, pretending Charlotte’s call hadn’t raised her heart rate or dried her mouth.

  “I’ll have to have a word with my assistant.”

  Eve looked out the window.

  Charlotte stood on the sidewalk staring right at her, a smug smile in place. In an instant, she replaced it with her version of friendliness, her perfect lips forming a small o of surprise. She raised her hand and gave her a small, royal wave.

  Eve’s stomach tightened. In less than a second, Eve had managed to get Charlotte’s assistant fired. Charlotte would make sure to follow through on the unspoken threat.

  “Serendipity,” Charlotte said. “Don’t move, I’m coming in.” She slipped her cell phone inside her luxurious handbag, targeted a stray lock, set it in place, and made a beeline toward the café. Charlotte McLain had launched her take-no-prisoners offensive attack.

  “I’m afraid I might have set something in motion,” she told Jill.

  “And now it’s too late to back out?”

  Eve nodded. “I’ve been pushed through the rabbit hole.”

  Jill clicked her fingers in front of Eve’s unblinking eyes. “Eve. Are you still with us?”

  She shook her head. “Too late now.”

  “There you are,” Charlotte said in her familiar breezy tone that had now acquired a firm edge. “All these years and you haven’t changed a single thing about yourself. The same old Eve Lloyd. It’s almost comforting, like an old pair of shoes you keep in the closet because you ca
n’t bear to part with them.”

  The air kissing was new. But the rest...

  Vintage Charlotte.

  Eve introduced Jill, who sat back, her mouth gaping open either in awe or shock. Eve couldn’t decide. She only knew Charlotte had already secured her acquiescence. Her assistant’s livelihood depended on Eve doing as told... or else.

  She wondered if she had something suitable to wear. Then again, it didn’t matter what she wore. Charlotte would find a way to make her feel inadequate.

  Remember, Eve, you alone decide how you feel.

  Eve gave a small, firm nod. No one had the power to reign over her.

  She tried to hold onto the thought, to recite it like a mantra, but then she saw Jill’s expression shift from awe to appreciation.

  What had she missed?

  “An artist,” Charlotte was saying, “Well, that is fantastic. Where do you show your paintings?”

  No, Jill... No, don’t look into her eyes.

  “I always have a few displayed at The Mad Hatter’s Teashop across the road.”

  “A teashop? Your work should be hanging in an art gallery. Eve, why haven’t you done something to help your friend?”

  That’s right, it was her fault.

  She’d failed to guide Jill onto the right path.

  “All my friends collect art,” Charlotte went on to say, “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to acquire one of your pictures. We’ll come visit your studio...”

  In the blink of an eye, she’d lost her friend to the dark side. Now it would be up to her to launch a rescue. Eve hoped it didn’t turn into a mercy mission where she’d only find scattered bits and pieces of Jill Saunders as she’d known her.

  Charlotte turned to her. “Since my assistant failed to provide you with the return address envelope, we’ll consider this your RSVP. Save you the trouble.”

  Charlotte gave her a winning smile which Eve returned, never mind that her back teeth were gritting.

  “I’ve planned an entire week of events starting with tonight’s cocktail party. I’ll see you there at eight.”

  With her mission accomplished, Charlotte rose and left, the scent of victory trailing behind her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Jill.

  Jill blinked.

  Eve sighed. “She has that effect on us lesser beings.” While she included herself, Eve wanted to believe she’d grown a thicker skin. In all the years she’d known Charlotte, Eve had tried to uncover the secret to her success as a master manipulator. The universe always yielded to her every demand. Without question, which only went to show how impartial the universe could be.

  “I’m in awe of her voice.”

  “Elocution lessons.”

  “What?”

  “After boarding school,” something Eve still couldn’t forgive her parents for, “Charlotte attended one of the most prestigious finishing schools in Europe. She’d always been a big fan of 1940s black and white movies, the ones set in high society with heroines wearing flashy diamonds and being chauffeured around the place. She wanted to sound like them.” Eve tilted her head in thought. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s since hired someone to write conversation scripts for her. Monday, lunch with Princess so and so from some minor European royal house, talk about her porcelain figurine collection, her personal stylist’s lack of taste,” Eve shrugged. “It all goes with the territory. I’m afraid our little existence has been overshadowed by her magnificence.”

  “I’m tempted to say you exaggerate.”

  That’s because Charlotte already had Jill eating out of her hands. “Don’t worry, it’ll wear off eventually.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Becoming conscious of her posture, she sat up straighter.

  “She looks... I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Bigger than life?” Eve suggested.

  “Yes. Makes me wonder what her life is like.”

  “You catch snippets of it on TV. She is one of those incredibly rich people who do nothing but travel, shop and lunch among many other expensive activities. They live by the motto that goes something like ‘if it’s not expensive, it’s not worth doing or having’. We’re talking serious money.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t like her.”

  Eve gazed at her friend and envied her innocence. “Don’t ever change, Jill.” If given the choice, Eve would prefer to always look on the bright side and see the best in people. But sometimes... they made it so difficult.

  “What was the groom’s name? I want to see if there’s something online about him.”

  There’d have to be. Charlotte wouldn’t dream of marrying a nobody. Eve fished around for the name. “Jon O’Brian.” A fairly ordinary sounding name.

  “Here’s an announcement.” Jill sat forward, her cell phone in hand.

  “You look disappointed.”

  “I guess I expected to be dazzled. He looks stocky.”

  Eve frowned. “Impossible. Let me see. The camera lens doesn’t always capture the most flattering aspects.” She gazed at the photo. “Maybe it’s the angle.” He did look stocky. In fact, he looked shorter than Charlotte. “Perhaps they were standing on an incline.”

  “The article doesn’t say anything about him. It’s all about the bride.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Maybe a little. The Charlotte she knew would want to sing her fiancé’s praises. Let the whole world know what an excellent catch he was and how her life was so much brighter than anyone else’s.

  “Do you think there’s any chance of getting an invitation to the wedding?”

  Eve counted to ten. She could think of a thousand reasons to spare her friend the experience, but she couldn’t say no to the light of hope shining in Jill’s eyes. “You could come as my plus one.”

  Jill clapped her hands. “Could I? Will Jack mind?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to learn I haven’t forced him into wearing a suit and making small talk.” She drew in a deep breath but the lump in her stomach didn’t budge. “I guess I have to go home and select a little black dress to wear tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Eve knew she could have saved herself a whole lot of trouble by putting on her drabbest dress, but her self-esteem had demanded she put her best foot forward.

  Dressed in a low cut sleeveless black cocktail dress, which had only ever seen the light of day... or rather twilight, once, her sling backs and a tiny evening purse unsuitable for anything more than a tube of lipstick, she sashayed into what was probably referred to as a reception room, or maybe even a ballroom.

  Eve guessed the Stevenson house had been built during a time when people attended balls. Over two hundred years old, perhaps older, it had been in the Stevenson family since the first stone had been laid. According to Jill, everyone referred to the Stevensons as the first family on the island.

  A jazz band played in the background but only a few couples had taken to the dance floor. Everyone else flitted from one group to another, their expensive fragrances mingling as they chatted, ate, drunk and compared massive bank accounts.

  A tray hovered near Eve, the waiter keeping himself at arm’s length. Eve imagined Charlotte issuing strict instructions to the waiting staff telling them to be inconspicuous because they were there to serve and not to be seen.

  She made eye contact with the waiter and smiled. “Thank you.” She helped herself to a glass of champagne she recognized as being ridiculously expensive French bubbles.

  Eve took a tiny slurp and immediately looked around to see if Charlotte had heard her. No time like the present to incite her wrath and she’d prefer to be deliberate about it and not be caught unawares.

  At a glance she knew straight away she had nothing in common with the guests so she prepared herself for an evening of fading into the background.

  She wished she could be curled up in her aunt’s sitting room, watching the flames dancing in the fireplace, reading a book or work
ing her way through the stack of magazines she had acquired since deciding to set up an inn. Jill had planned on spending the evening painting and Mira had said nothing would take her away from her current book. Still, even if she’d been alone, it would have been better than this.

  “You’re a new face.”

  “Do I win a prize?” She looked up, her smile in place as she nodded at the man wearing a slick, made to measure tuxedo. She tried to determine which set he belonged to. Professional idler? Highflier? Eve decided to be nicer. Polo player. Lawyer.

  Come on, Eve. You can do better than that.

  Surgeon. No, too young.

  “I’m Winthorpe.”

  “Is that a first or a last name?” she asked.

  “Both.”

  “Winthorpe Winthorpe?”

  “No, just Winthorpe.”

  “How unusual.”

  “Mother.”

  “Your mother’s doing?”

  He nodded. “Wanted me to make my mark in the world. Her idea of a head start.”

  “Has it worked for you?”

  “To a point. No one struggles to remember both a first name and a family name.” He gave a rich chuckle and downed his glass of, she guessed, the finest Scotch whisky money could provide.

  “Bride or groom?” he asked.

  Which side? She had to assume that’s what he meant. She also guessed he enjoyed delivering parsimonious sentences, leaving the listener to fill in the gaps.

  “Bride.” By default, blackmail and a twisted arm.

  He gave a small knowing nod. “Me too.”

  “Would you mind pointing the groom out to me, please?”

  He responded with a slight lift of his chestnut colored eyebrow and a tilt toward the general direction of a massive fireplace.

  “Next to the shade of aqua.”

  By that, she supposed, he meant the man standing next to the woman wearing a flowing shift dress in aqua blue.

  Eve studied the man Winthorpe had pointed out. She couldn’t believe it. The photo hadn’t lied. Not very tall and going by the slight tilt of his legs, she guessed he wore lifts and had the habit of bouncing on his feet to give the illusion of an extra half inch or so. Would he even reach Charlotte’s shoulders?