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

by Sonia Parin

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” She heard Mira’s intake of breath. Eve stilled and she suddenly understood the concept of a deer caught in headlights. She held her breath.

  “Something happened.”

  Eve pushed out the breath she’d been holding and took out another tray from the oven.

  “Eve?”

  She gave an impatient shrug. “All right. I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later. The groom is dead.”

  She turned slightly and saw her aunt’s mouth gape open in surprise.

  “I know I joked about it... But... When? How?”

  “Last night,” Eve said trying to sound casual. “By my hands apparently.”

  “Eve.”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. For all I know, he might have had a condition, a heart murmur, or some other fatal trigger just waiting to go off. Just my luck to be there when it all happened.”

  “Why do you think you had something to do with it?”

  Eve poured them each a mug of coffee and guided Mira to the table where she filled her in on the events of the night before.

  “You were very accommodating helping out when you did.”

  “Charlotte left me no choice, I had to step in and help out in the kitchen. That sort of put me right in the thick of it.” She sighed. “You don’t know what she’s like when she doesn’t get her way. Everything has to be perfect. The slightest hiccup can send her into a tailspin and heaven help anyone around her. Anyhow, I thought I would diffuse the situation but it seems I made it worse.”

  “By killing her fiancé.” Mira gave a small nod of understanding.

  Eve frowned.

  “Sorry, that just slipped out. Force of habit.”

  “That’s okay. I suppose it doesn’t help when I say I made it worse.” She brushed her hands across her face. “I promised Jill yesterday I wouldn’t say anything that could be held against me.”

  “That’s very sensible... considering your history.”

  Eve sprung to her feet. “They’re coming for me this morning. The police will want to know everything and I’m afraid I have nothing to say.”

  “Well then, you tell them that. You can’t be held accountable for every death on the island... I mean for someone else’s actions.”

  Someone else.

  The killer. He... she had to be in that house.

  Eve knew, with absolute certainty, she’d had nothing to do with Jon O’Brian’s death. Not directly. Not deliberately. She also suspected there had been nothing natural about the cause of death. “Argh!”

  “Perhaps you should drink something more soothing than coffee.”

  “I need my wits about me, Mira. Jack said he and Detective Mason Lars were coming around this morning to take a statement from me.”

  “You simply tell them what you know.”

  “But what if that’s not enough? A man is dead and it looks like the food I prepared had something to do with it.”

  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. They’ll run tests and that could take some time. Besides, you weren’t the only one in the kitchen. There were others. And the house is full of guests. How many did you say she’d invited?”

  Eve gestured with her hand. “Possibly over fifty, with more coming for the wedding. Or at least I assume there will be... would have been.” She strode around the kitchen. “There’s been something odd from the start. The fact she’s even having... or had planned on having the wedding here sounded off to me. If I ever stopped to think about it, I’d imagine Charlotte’s wedding would be a highlight in the social calendar with hundreds of people attending. Having it here, in this out of the way place...” she spread her hands out, “The Stevenson house is large, but I doubt it can accommodate more than a dozen couples. She’d planned a week’s worth of partying before the actual wedding.”

  “I think that’s someone at the door,” Mira said.

  Eve drew in a deep breath. “It has to be Jack.” She strode along the hallway, her brows drawn down in frustration. As a chef, she’d been trained to work in the midst of chaos without losing her focus on the task at hand. It was all part and parcel of working in a busy kitchen, dealing with people while trying to prepare meals. That was the easy part; the order and the process of making things, of cooking and baking. Follow a recipe to the letter and you were rewarded with perfect results. In her world, everyone and everything had a purpose.

  But this... this unknown chaos with hidden motives remained beyond her understanding. It frustrated her.

  Lost in her thoughts, she opened the door. It wasn’t Jack.

  “Charlotte.”

  She wore head to toe black, her rich chocolate brown locks cascading from underneath a beret. Large sunglasses hid her eyes, but Eve didn’t need to see them to know they were hard and filled with fury. She could see it in her lips, pressed tightly together.

  “Come in.”

  Charlotte gave a brisk shake of her head. “I only came here to ask why, why did you do it? Do you hate me that much?”

  If Eve hadn’t been holding the doorknob, she would have stumbled back. Charlotte honestly thought Eve had killed her fiancé.

  “You’re in shock.” It was the only comment she could think of. To her ears, her remark sounded insensitive, callous. Inconsiderate. She tried to put herself in Charlotte’s place. Would she lash out and point the finger of blame at the most obvious target? Or would she move heaven and earth to find the person responsible?

  “The police are doing everything in their power to find the...” The killer? She assumed there’d be an autopsy performed and until then...

  “Go ahead, say it.”

  “We won’t know for sure until it’s made official.”

  “I’ve heard about you and the detective. Very convenient, Eve.”

  Eve pressed her lips together. Arguing wouldn’t serve any purpose. Charlotte needed to vent her frustration and navigate her way through the grieving process.

  Eve tried to remember the five steps of grieving.

  Charlotte would have spent little time with denial. Jon O’Brian was dead and once the body had been removed, there’d be no coming back from that. As for isolation...

  She might have locked herself up in her room for the night, but it had been brief.

  This had to be the anger stage, Eve thought. Then again, Charlotte had started with that step the night before.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  Charlotte swayed slightly and then took a step back. Her hands clutched the straps of her handbag.

  “You will pay for this. If not through the legal system, then... You will pay.” She swung away and stormed down the path.

  Eve stood at the door, the bitter aftertaste of the encounter lingering in her mouth.

  Then she remembered the next step in the grieving process.

  Bargaining.

  She wouldn’t put it past Charlotte to bargain with the devil himself to get her justice.

  She was about to close the front door when she saw Jack drive in. He hadn’t come alone. This would be an official visit.

  Eve stepped back and let them through gesturing to the front sitting room.

  “How about some coffee, Eve,” Jack said and instead moved toward the kitchen.

  Mira greeted the detectives and then excused herself.

  Eve brought out the mugs but decided she wouldn’t tempt them with cookies. Coming into the kitchen had been a positive concession since Jack knew Eve associated the sitting room with the first time she’d found herself in the midst of a murder investigation. As an obvious suspect, she’d had to answer some difficult questions.

  “I suppose it’s too early to ask how Jon O’Brian died.”

  “Poison.”

  Her body went limp and the mug slipped from her hold. She tried to catch it, but her reflexes failed and it hit the ground with a loud thud, the broken handle skating off into a corner.

  Chapter Five

  Poison.<
br />
  She couldn’t get the word out of her mind.

  “I walked into a whirlpool of activity. Everyone stood at their assigned workstations. No one spoke. Marjorie, that’s Charlotte’s assistant, gave me instructions. She had them written down.”

  Detective Mason Lars checked his notebook. “You say you had the first trays of sushi circulating within half an hour.”

  She nodded. “And then I got to work on Jon O’Brian’s sushi.”

  “Duck sushi.”

  Another nod. “He didn’t eat fish and I’m guessing he didn’t care for vegetables either.”

  “Some of the sushi had fish.”

  “Yes. The ingredients had already been laid out for me. I’m guessing that’s as far as the chef got before he became ill.” She looked from one detective to the other. “Do you know what happened to him?”

  Jack drummed his fingers on the table. “He suffered from a mild case of food poisoning.”

  “Could he maybe... do you think he might have eaten some of the duck?”

  “The duck?”

  “I’m assuming that’s where the poison was.” As far as she knew, none of the others guests had fallen ill, so whatever had killed Jon must have been in the duck sushi. She waited for them to confirm or deny it but neither one responded. “If not the duck... then...” Eve sprung to her feet and walked to the window thinking about all the ingredients that had gone into the sushi. Duck, rice and... “The pâté.” The chef would have tasted it to check the seasoning. A good pâté would have Cognac or Port and that would effectively disguise any foreign substances. Then again, the pâté would have been made the day before, at least, leaving no reason to taste it...”

  Had the chef made the pâté? Anyone working in the kitchen would have had access to it. Anyone living in the house...

  Her mind raced.

  A myriad of possibilities stormed through her.

  Poison. Jon O’Brian had been poisoned.

  “Can you tell us how pâté is made?”

  “I was just going through the list of ingredients in my mind. Let’s see,” she drew in a deep breath. “There’s butter, cream, bacon, shallots, liver, thyme, garlic, salt, pepper, and Cognac or Port wine.” She explained the process as if reading from a recipe book.

  “I’ve never had any,” Detective Mason Lars said. “Does it have a strong taste?”

  “The liver alone has a strong concentrated taste. Very meaty. Pâté is heavily flavored, so yes, it does. Any one of those ingredients could be used as a camouflage.”

  “For?”

  “Fish gone bad?” Eve suggested. All the ingredients had been kept in separate plates. If the pâté had been contaminated with bad fish, it would have been deliberate. Fish or some other foreign substance.

  Not food poisoning, Eve.

  Poison.

  “Did you taste any of it?”

  “I should have. Normally, I would have, but I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Pressure, Eve thought. “Everything had been prepared. Even the rice had been cooked. All I had to do was roll the sushi. Charlotte had very precise instructions. The chef would have followed them. I didn’t even think about interfering with what had already been set in motion. As far as I knew, I was only part of the production line, dealing with the finishing touches. And...”

  “Yes?” Jack asked.

  “I found myself in a stressful situation and that’s saying a lot because I’m used to pressure cooker stress. This was right out of my comfort zone. The air felt thick with tension. If anything went wrong, someone’s head would roll. I’ve worked in many kitchens and I can tell you, I’ve never experienced so much stress in my life... and something else. I sensed fear. Charlotte wields a great deal of power. I can almost imagine any one of those people working in the kitchen thinking she could destroy their careers.”

  “Did you ever feel threatened by her?”

  She looked at Detective Mason Lars and tried her best to silence the teenager who’d been hurt so many times by Charlotte’s darts of criticism. “No, why? I... I haven’t had anything to do with her in years.”

  Detective Mason Lars exchanged a look with Jack. “But you were in contact with her. She came into the restaurant you owned in New York once.”

  She looked at Jack. She knew he had to maintain his professional integrity. She couldn’t assume anything she said to him would remain confidential.

  “She made some scathing remarks about the food.”

  “Ouch. How did you respond?” the detective asked.

  The fact the detective had tried to inject some humor into his tone didn’t register until several seconds later. Eve smiled. Then she realized her smile could be perceived as a response to her thoughts. Someone who’d received a bad rap might have lashed out in retribution. If not then...

  Vengeance was a dish best served cold.

  “I shrugged it off.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  “I had been prepared for the worst. Charlotte appeared from out of nowhere. I hadn’t invited her to the restaurant opening. That would have been enough reason for her to feel slighted.”

  “She came with a restaurant critic.”

  “She always knows how to play her cards. Unfortunately for her, the critic had ethics and wouldn’t bend to her will. However, that didn’t stop her from commenting about the decor. I actually agreed with her. Too streamlined. My then husband had insisted we use a modern look. I didn’t argue but I always felt it wasn’t welcoming enough.” She sat down again. “That all happened several years ago. Then her wedding invitations started arriving. If she hadn’t cornered me in town, I would have pretended they’d been lost in transit.”

  “Invitations?”

  “I received about five of them. Three within one week.”

  “That sounds excessive.”

  Eve didn’t comment. She’d already said enough about Charlotte to paint a clear picture.

  “What about the people you met last night? Did anyone say anything to raise your suspicions?”

  “About?”

  “Bad feelings about the groom.”

  “Hard to say. Although I noticed they weren’t playing nice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like oil and water. Her guests weren’t mixing with his, and that was a statement in itself.”

  “Are you suggesting her friends disapproved of her choice?”

  She nodded. “And don’t ask me why she chose him.”

  Detective Mason Lars frowned.

  Eve sensed the question coming her way. “He wasn’t her usual type. I’m guessing he hailed from a different background. Not so affluent. Maybe working class. Then there’s the physical aspect. The man was a head shorter than Charlotte. She had always flaunted these amazing men and here she was with someone who would have looked comfortable in a construction site working heavy machinery.”

  Mason Lars took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe she fell in love.”

  Eve hadn’t thought of that.

  How inconceivable could it be?

  “No. She had... has her standards. They’re ingrained. Nothing would budge them.”

  “Did you speak with anyone at length?”

  “My conversation with Winthorpe would have been the longest.”

  “Is that his first name or last?”

  “Both. He only goes by one name.” And she’d give anything to be a fly on the wall when the detectives tried to question him. Winthorpe’s monosyllabic responses would have Mason Lars lunging for him.

  With nothing more to squeeze out of her, Mason Lars put away his notebook.

  “Do I smell fresh cookies?” he asked.

  “I made some this morning. Would you like some?”

  The detective exchanged a look with Jack.

  “I’ll put some in a bag for you to take,” Eve offered.

  “I have some news.”

  Eve frowned at Jill’s hushed tone. “Where are you?”

/>   “On my way over to your place.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “There are eyes and ears everywhere. One can’t be too careful.”

  Eve didn’t feel in the mood to be made fun of. “Cue laughter?”

  “I’m serious. I heard about what happened. Everyone is talking about it.”

  “How did it get out?”

  “The usual way. I told you, there are eyes and ears everywhere.”

  Eve gazed out at the bay and tried to get her breathing to match the gentle rhythm of the waves. Her stomach felt as if she’d poured cement inside it. Nothing she did could budge the sensation. “So, what’s this news you’re dying to tell me about?”

  “Some of the guests came by yacht. A prestigious car hire company delivered some cars for them to get out and about.”

  “How did you find that out?” Jill didn’t own a car and refused to use her mother’s SUV because it came with too many conditions including cleaning it after using it and the marina was too far to walk to from her place.

  “The walkers, Linda Brennan and Steffi Grant. They went by the marina.”

  Eve wondered if Jill had inadvertently discovered the island’s trigger for the gossip grapevine. She’d never heard anyone accept responsibility for starting a rumor.

  “I’m at your back door.” Jill waved.

  “Come on in.” Eve put away her cell phone and bent down to pat Mischief and Mr. Magoo. “I’m surprised you’re concerned about anyone overhearing you. You’ve got these guys to alert you if anyone comes near you.”

  “They can’t tell the difference between a butterfly and a person.” Jill looked toward the kitchen. “What? No baking?”

  “I can’t keep a single thought in my mind. I’d probably end up rubbing butter into salt instead of sugar.”

  “I guess that means you’re not up to running through what happened.”

  Eve sat on the edge of the couch. With a huff, she stretched out on it and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ll give you a brief rundown.” She gave Jill a bullet point list of events. “Bottom line, there’s a killer at large. Again.”