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

by Sonia Parin

  “And what does he do?” it seemed safe to ask.

  Winthorpe gestured with his glass. “Builds.”

  Architect? Engineer? Builder?

  Bricklayer...

  “Has he built anything I might have seen?”

  “Been to Asia?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Growing economies.”

  She gave a knowing nod, although she knew nothing about growing economies in Asia.

  “Ah, Eve Lloyd. How lovely to see you after all these years.”

  Eve turned to Charlotte who’d clearly decided to start with a clean slate. Then again, she’d always excelled at the game of pretense.

  She wore a stunning beaded gown the color of smoked salmon. Eve sent her gaze skating around the ballroom and realized more than half the guest wore that shade of smoked salmon, including the men, the color splashed on their ties or handkerchiefs neatly tucked into their pockets.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  Eve received a small smile of approval, Charlotte’s version of a pat on the head. Eve supposed that meant she now had to behave. At least for the sake of Charlotte’s assistant who would no doubt get the boot for some other contrived misdemeanor. Eve’s stomach twisted into a knot. Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t lied about the wedding invitations missing a return envelope...

  “Come and meet some people.”

  Eve excused herself and wondered if Winthorpe didn’t count as people.

  Charlotte guided her toward the opposite end of the room. “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. I’m trying to remember where I saw it. Milan? Paris? No... Wait... It can’t have been as recent as that. I’m thinking... Maybe two years ago, or was it three? Yes, it was on sale at Bergdorf Goodman’s. It had been on a quick sale rack and I wondered who’d be desperate enough to buy it. Such a lovely find, I thought. Of course, I could never wear it. I wouldn’t be able to face the criticism. You know how some people are...”

  Eve smiled. Charlotte hadn’t lost her touch, giving with one hand and snatching away with the other.

  The introductions came hard and fast. Eve tried to keep up, repeating names in her head and trying to remember the trick of associating them with something she noticed about the person, but even that failed to help her as Charlotte whizzed her from one group to another. Also, it didn’t help to hear so many hyphenated names.

  “Eve Lloyd. Simple enough to remember,” Elizabeth-May Ainsworth-Wright said as if reading her mind.

  Had the second part of the name been June she might have linked it to the British queen’s birthday, which according to the history lessons that had been drummed into her, was officially in June, while the real birthday was in April. Then it hit her. She could try thinking of the month between April and June.

  It didn’t help to be introduced to another Elizabeth. This time, Elizabeth-Anne Margaret Grainger. Charlotte was being gracious to add a conversation starter. Elizabeth-Anne Margaret Grainger traveled. Elizabeth-May Ainsworth-Wright also traveled. As did everyone else it seemed. Including the men. Did no one work for a living these days?

  Remembering the men’s names became as much of a trial for Eve. They all came with numbers at the end. Elton Mortimer III. Joshua Gill Maguire IV. Eve began to miss Winthorpe...

  As they inched their way toward the groom, the guests Charlotte introduced her to appeared to lose prestige, dropping the hyphens and numbers, but not their wealth, Eve thought.

  Any minute now she’d be introduced to the man himself. Saving the best till last?

  Eve smiled and nodded until her head ached and a trickle of perspiration ran down her back.

  Could she leave now?

  What if she came down with... a bout of spinelessness? Charlotte couldn’t expect her to be the life of the party if she didn’t have a spine to hold her upright.

  Why not just leave, Eve?

  No one would notice her absence.

  Yeah, right.

  No one except Charlotte.

  Picking up what could only be described as a disturbance in the universe, Eve glanced at Charlotte. Someone had approached her. A woman in a gray suit. Stylish yet demure. Her assistant?

  Eve tried to listen to the whispered exchange but the group around her burst into laughter so the words were drowned out. Clearly something had happened. The edge of Charlotte’s lip twitched.

  Charlotte turned to her. “This is a disaster.”

  “I haven’t tried the hors d’oeuvres yet, but the champagne is... exquisite,” Eve said and took a sip of her drink, this time making sure she didn’t slurp. Charlotte looked about ready to explode. Her lips had tightened. The veins on her temples bulged. In her mind, Eve took a step away and followed it with a hasty retreat. She’d witnessed one of Charlotte’s explosions once when something hadn’t gone her way...

  “The sushi chef has taken ill.”

  “Get one of the others to cover for him.” It sounded like a simple enough solution to Eve. It’s what she would have done in any situation. Share the burden and responsibility. That’s what teamwork was all about.

  Charlotte’s eyes nearly bulged out. Of all the ridiculous suggestions, that would have to be the worst one, she could almost hear Charlotte say.

  “I’ll be the laughing stock. Eve, you’re a chef. What do you suggest I do?”

  She’d only had two sips of her champagne. Not enough to impair her memory. Hadn’t she just made a suggestion? A practical one? One any sensible person would agree with?

  “Take the sushi off the menu?”

  Charlotte’s mouth gaped open. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

  As a guest? Yes. As a reluctant guest, Charlotte was lucky to get anything out of her. Eve’s glance shifted to the woman in the gray suit. She looked grim. Her hand shot to her stomach. Her lips quivered. She gave the slightest shake of her head, as if pleading with Eve to please not make the problem worse than it already was.

  “The guests have already seen the itinerary, including the menu. Tonight, they were expecting sushi.” Charlotte swung toward her assistant. “And they will get sushi.”

  The assistant took a hard swallow.

  “Perhaps...” Don’t do it, Eve. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps I could see if I—”

  “Would you?” Charlotte asked.

  “Ms. McLain insists all chefs wear this.”

  Eve looked at the pristine white chef’s outfit and clogs and warmed at its familiarity. “Where can I change?”

  The assistant pointed her in the direction of the powder room next to the massive kitchen.

  “What’s your name?” Eve asked.

  “Marjorie.”

  “I’m Eve.”

  Marjorie nodded. “Are... are you sure you can do this? Ms. McLain has expectations...”

  High expectations. Impossible benchmarks. Ludicrous standards. Eve knew only too well.

  “Don’t worry. I’m trained.” In everything but Sushi making. But how hard could it be?

  Shortly after changing out of her cocktail dress and into the more comfortable pants and jacket, she returned, her eyes admiring the large cooker taking pride of place in the middle of the spacious kitchen.

  “Are you acquainted with the oven?”

  “La Cornue Château Series,” Eve murmured. She continued to admire the custom made French oven and cooking range. She had considered getting one for the inn... a much smaller version, of course, and had been dazzled by the service provided when she’d made inquiries. These little beauties were handcrafted and if she went ahead with her order, she would be assigned a project manager who would oversee the entire production process from start to finish. There hadn’t been any mention of cost, but Eve imagined anyone needing to ask wouldn’t be able to afford it. So, she’d added it to her wish list, the one she’d put away in a bottom drawer...

  “Right... well.” She looked around her. There were five chefs at work, and several kitchen hands, all assign
ed their workstations and treating them like prime real estate.

  “Some of the ingredients have already been prepared.”

  Eve went to stand in her allotted space.

  Marjorie handed her a piece of paper. “These are the instructions for Mr. Jon O’Brian’s sushi. He doesn’t eat fish.”

  Eve scanned the page.

  Duck sushi.

  “How soon do you think you can have them out?”

  As soon as she could access the Internet to figure out how to make sushi to perfection...

  Eve looked over her shoulder. One of the kitchen hands glanced at her and quickly looked away. She was on her own...

  “They were scheduled to be in circulation in half an hour.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Marjorie gave her a pleading look.

  “Yes. Half an hour.”

  Eve allocated five minutes to doing a crash course on sushi preparation.

  Apparently, Jon O’Brian had hunted these ducks himself and he liked nothing better than to eat what he killed.

  Each to his own, Eve thought and worked out a way to produce enough to go out within minutes. Humming to herself, she focused on efficiently keeping the production line moving.

  She sensed the other chefs giving her furtive glances. When she made eye contact with them she couldn’t help feeling they looked wary. Actually, Eve thought they looked scared.

  “So... what happened to the other chef?” she asked in an effort to break the ice.

  She heard a few low grumbles and a muttered reply. Nothing she could actually make out.

  The waiters appeared and took away three platters of perfectly formed sushi.

  When another waiter appeared, Eve said, “This is the special platter for Jon O’Brian.”

  Along with the duck, she’d also had to spread the nori sheet with a thin layer of duck liver pâté. As per strict instructions.

  Really... the sushi Gods had to be rolling their eyes at her.

  She finished just as her fingers began to cramp.

  The repetitive action guaranteed she’d be rolling sushi in her sleep.

  After cleaning up, Eve changed out of her chef’s outfit and into her own clothes and considered making a swift getaway. No one would notice her absence. No one would care.

  Take your leave of the hostess...

  She mentally swatted the prissy little voice in her head.

  She would do no such thing.

  Yet she made her way back to the ballroom. With any luck, she might be able to catch Charlotte deep in conversation and wave to her from a distance.

  The shriek, blood curdling and, surely loud enough to shatter a crystal glass, broke her stride.

  Eve steadied herself, one hand pressing against her chest, the other leaning against the wall.

  Had Charlotte found a hair in the sushi?

  Chapter Four

  Eve knew the drill. Even if a part of her hollered to run for her life, she had to take forward steps and face the music.

  Worse case scenario? Charlotte would humiliate her in public. Eve didn’t care. None of these people meant anything to her. After tonight, she’d never see them again.

  Gathering her confidence, she hurried toward the ballroom in time to see everyone moving toward a central point in the room, leaning down and then shuffling back. It almost looked like a scene out of a ballet or one of those nature documentaries where pink feathered flamingos performed a ritual dance, all moving in unison...

  A gasp rose and fell.

  As the way cleared, Eve’s gaze fell on the man lying prostrate on the floor, Charlotte kneeling beside him, her arms outstretched.

  Another image formed in her mind.

  A scene straight out of a tragic opera.

  Staged, she thought and then realized that was Jon O’Brian lying on the floor.

  “What’s going on?” she asked even as instinct kicked in and she dug inside her minuscule evening bag for her cell phone. “Has someone called an ambulance?”

  No one replied, but the sound of her voice was taken as a prompt to empty glasses in single gulps.

  She knew the feeling.

  “Does he have a pulse? Is there a doctor here?” she asked still moving toward Jon O’Brian.

  Again, no one spoke.

  Seeing her approaching, Charlotte waved her hand as if dismissing her. Little did she know Eve was the one and only person here she wanted nearby. The only person, it seemed, with any practical skills. She wouldn’t necessarily call herself an expert, but her credentials had grown exponentially with her recently acquired firsthand experience.

  “Yes,” she answered the operator’s businesslike greeting.

  State your emergency.

  How could she classify this? Man about to draw his last breath? She watched to see if his chest rose. For long seconds it didn’t move. Finally, it collapsed and Jon O’Brian’s head rolled to the side.

  “Ambulance,” she managed. “Pulse?” She felt for one and couldn’t detect it. “Hurry.” CPR, she thought but before she could place her hands on his chest, someone grabbed her by the waist and hauled her away. Her gaze landed on Charlotte’s eyes, wide and filled with what could only be described as accusation, her finger pointed straight at Eve.

  “You,” she said.

  Then it all became clear.

  Next to Jon O’Brian lay the platter of sushi.

  Duck sushi.

  Eve sat in a corner of the vast kitchen. Everyone else sat or stood on the opposite side, staring at her.

  Glancing toward the window, she caught the reflection of an ambulance leaving.

  Had they arrived in time to save him?

  She didn’t hear the sirens blaring so she guessed the answer would be no.

  She sensed everyone straightening.

  Eve slid to the edge of her chair.

  Jack.

  He stood by the doorway, his gaze skating around the kitchen. When Detective Mason Lars appeared, Eve knew the ambulance had taken away a body.

  “Who prepared the sushi?” Jack asked, his voice instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

  Several fingers shot out and pointed at Eve.

  One person spoke up, “She did.”

  Eve’s head lowered slightly and she sunk into her chair.

  Jack exchanged a few words with Mason Lars. She’d seen that happen often enough to know what came next. Jack wouldn’t excuse himself from the case, but he’d step back and hand the reins over to Detective Mason Lars.

  To her surprise, Jack approached her, his gaze steady on her and impossible to read.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  He didn’t answer.

  A glance at the kitchen staff made her grateful they would all be excused from jury duty. In their eyes, the guilt lay entirely... solely at her feet.

  Jack escorted her out of the house. Guests hovered in the wide entranceway. Eyes were cast her way. Whispers exchanged. Verdicts predicted. A lynch mob in the making, Eve thought.

  When they reached the squad car, Jack placed his hand on her head to prevent her hitting it as she eased into the back seat.

  He rounded the car and got in beside her. A police officer took the driver’s seat.

  “What’s going on, Jack? I drove myself here. My car’s back there.”

  “I couldn’t very well let you drive yourself home.”

  “Why not?”

  He pushed out a weary breath. “How do you know Charlotte McLain?”

  “I... I went to school with her, but don’t hold that against me.”

  “So, you two are not the best of friends.”

  “I’d have to be hallucinating to make that claim.”

  “So, what were you doing at her cocktail party?”

  “She insisted I come.”

  “You’re not friends, but you felt compelled to attend.”

  She gestured with her hands. “If you knew Charlotte you’d understand she has ways of mak
ing people do her bidding, march to the beat of her tune, kowtow to her.”

  The officer driving flicked his gaze her way. Had she said too much?

  “When was the last time you saw each other?”

  She wanted to say over twenty years before when they’d been at boarding school together, but there had been that one time when Charlotte had come into her restaurant.

  “I didn’t keep in touch. But she has ways of keeping track of me.”

  “Sounds like you two have a shared history.”

  Something caught in her throat. A laugh. A breath. She couldn’t be sure. “Am I being officially questioned?”

  “Not yet.”

  When she saw the officer take a turn into Mira’s street, Eve’s breath relaxed.

  “We’ll take a statement from you in the morning.”

  “What about the others? The guests? You’re not letting them go.”

  “Did you notice anyone acting suspiciously?”

  “I’ll have to think about that. In all honestly, I didn’t spend that much time with them. Charlotte had me whisked off to the kitchen.”

  “I thought you were a guest.”

  “I was, until the sushi chef fell ill. You might want to find out what happened to him. In fact, I would make that a priority.” She dug her fingers through her hair. “What about my car?”

  “Give me the keys. I’ll drive it back later on.”

  “There were so many people, Jack. The waiting staff. The chefs. The kitchen hands. The guests. The owners of the house...”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Get some rest, Eve.”

  By the sounds of it, she’d need it.

  Eve stood on the front veranda and tried to make sense of the last hour or so.

  Jon O’Brian killed.

  Why did she assume he’d been killed?

  Why not wonder if he’d had a bad response... an allergic reaction... a heart attack that had been a long time coming?

  Eve cursed her habit of getting up early. Why couldn’t she be like normal people and sleep in until midday? At least once a week...

  “You came in late last night, I didn’t hear you,” Mira said as she strode into the kitchen. At the sight of several plates full of muffins and cookies, Mira looked up at her. “How was the cocktail party?”