by Sonia Parin
“Poison. That’s wicked.”
“Wicked as in good? I can’t keep up with current expressions.”
“Wicked as in evil. You know, like a dark witch’s doing. Are they sure it wasn’t an accident? Someone could have put in the wrong ingredient.”
“That’s wishful thinking. Whatever killed Jon O’Brian had to be potent and act quickly. The police were definite about it. He was poisoned. I don’t think the duck was off. No one else got sick, so it can’t have been anything that went into the regular sushi.” Eve pressed her hand to her forehead. “I feel responsible.”
“Why? Once the duck sushi left the kitchen, you had no control over it.”
“You think someone got to it then?” No, not likely, she thought. The waiter would have been in on it. Unless he was distracted. Eve sat up. Could she remember his face?
“Did they say what sort of poison it was?”
“If they’ve identified it, they didn’t mention it to me.” Had someone sprinkled it on the sushi after it left the kitchen? Or did they get to the ingredients beforehand? Someone in the kitchen must have noticed something. They’d all been working attentively on their tasks, but Eve knew from experience you could be chopping onion with a sharp knife and still keep an eye on everything and everyone around you.
“We should research poisons,” Jill suggested.
“We’re not getting involved.”
“You said that last time and we ended up right in the thick of it.”
“This time it’s different. I doubt Charlotte will want me hovering around asking questions. That is, if I find anyone prepared to talk to me. They think I’m guilty. I saw it in their eyes.”
“That’s shock talking. You’re exaggerating.”
“No. They lapped it all up. They would have loved it if I’d been handcuffed and dragged away.” Charlotte’s jet setting friends would have taken her fifteen minutes of fame and spread it far and wide during their travels.
“So what now?” Jill asked.
“We wait for the police to do their job and hope they get it right, meaning... I don’t want to go to prison for a murder I didn’t commit.”
“How about going for a drive?” Jill asked. “It’ll do you good to get out of the house.”
“Let me guess, you want to drive up to the marina.”
As they strode by the marina office, Eve pulled her cap down and quickened her step. If the marina manager caught sight of her, she’d have to explain her reasons for being there...
“Eve Lloyd?”
So much for remaining inconspicuous. “Hi, Nelson. How’s everything with you?” She’d met the manager a couple of months before when she’d been digging around trying to find information about a murder victim who’d had his yacht moored at the marina. At the time, he hadn’t had any idea she’d been using him to pin down one of the suspects.
“As you can see, I’m busy keeping an eye out on that lot. I don’t want anyone falling into the water drunk.”
She knew the marina occupancy was dynamic and changed regularly but one glance was enough to pinpoint the newcomers. For starters, their yachts were fancier. “Are they partying?”
“Since lunch today.”
“How many yachts are there?”
He chuckled under his breath. “Five. Do you have a special interest in them?”
“No, why would I?”
His smile widened. “News travels fast.”
“What have you heard?” She wouldn’t mind knowing if the story had retained its integrity or if people were enhancing it. To her surprise, the details were sparse. There’d been a cocktail party. She’d prepared the sushi. The groom-to-be had died.
“I’ll let you know if I hear any more news,” Nelson offered.
She didn’t ask why he thought she’d want to know. Instead, she waved and moved on to join Jill who’d walked on ahead. To Eve’s surprise, she was talking to a couple of people from one of the largest yachts.
As she approached, a cheer broke out.
“Here’s the woman of the hour,” one of them said when Eve caught up with Jill. “Come on up and join us.”
Eve was about to say no when she caught sight of Jill’s eager smile.
“Just for a minute,” she said.
“Thank you. I’ve never been on a yacht.”
“Everyone, Eve Lloyd is aboard.”
To her horror, cheers erupted. These were Charlotte’s friends...
“This is worse than speaking ill of the dead. Where’s their sympathy?”
Someone standing next to her laughed.
“Did I say something to amuse you?”
He handed her a glass of champagne.
“No thanks, I’m driving. Care to tell me why you’re all celebrating a man’s unfortunate death?”
“You didn’t know Jon O’Brian.”
“No.”
“Then that explains it.”
Chapter Six
“What are you doing?” Jill asked as she watched Eve spread several sheets of paper on the table.
“Making a list.” Eve sat back to gather her thoughts.
Jill laughed under her breath. “How about I make the coffee for a change.”
“Sorry, did you say something?” Thug, Eve wrote at the top of the page. “Hoodlum, bully, hooligan. These are all the words used to describe Jon O’Brian.”
“And you’re wondering what that means? I’d say it was obvious.”
“Disadvantaged background springs to mind, but Allan Albright hinted at not so humble beginnings.” In the hour they’d spent on the yacht, she’d lost count of the number of times his glass had been topped up. Everyone had been indulging and the flow of champagne had been endless. “Jon O’Brian had been educated in the most prestigious schools but despite his parents’ best efforts, he’d chosen to delve into the seedy underworld of something or other. Allan wouldn’t say.”
“He must have been talking about the nightclubs,” Jill said.
“Where did you get that from?”
“One of the guys I talked with. I forget his name. It had a number at the end. Oh, and the guy with only one name said the same thing.”
“Winthorpe.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Imagine going through life with only one name. What does he do when he has to fill out official documents? Where does his name go? First... last. Or ditto, ditto.”
“That’s the hazard of being unique. You invariably have to explain yourself,” Eve said.
“I suppose Picasso got away with it and I’m sure he never had to explain himself. Leonardo, Michelangelo. Madonna.”
“What else did Winthorpe say?” Eve asked.
“He referred to Jon O’Brian as a wannabe gangster.”
Power hungry. Manipulative. It almost made her think Charlotte had found her perfect match.
“Jon O’Brian was universally disliked. Is that a fair assumption to make?”
“Yes,” Jill agreed.
“Let’s think about reasons. Snobbery comes to mind. He was different. Not like them. These are the type of people who inherited their money. They have standards. Rules. Expectations. And for some reason, they never care for new money.”
“Money’s money.”
Eve shook her head. “There’s a difference. Old money holds prestige. It has a depth of meaning. You’re born into it and shaped by everything it provides. Hence the expectation. Pedigree is a vital factor.”
“Entitlement?”
“Precisely. But... fortunes dwindle away.” Eve thought of the massive fortunes made at the turn of the century and with each generation, the money thinned out. “You’ve heard the saying it takes three generations to lose a fortune.”
“Money,” Jill mused.
“Do you think Jon might have held something over them? Like... debts. Or some sort of underhanded activity they didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“No one cares about that stuff,” Jill shrugged. “People thrive on being strange. They even celebrate it.
Nowadays, it’s all out in the open. That’s what social media is for.”
Regardless, Eve decided to add a dollar sign and blackmail to her list. “That sort of does away with the whole concept of skeletons in the closet.” She drew a little skull and bones on the page. “Hardly any of them are married, so it can’t be the risk of exposure if they have an affair.”
“Drugs could be a possibility. He owned nightclubs. It sort of goes hand in hand,” Jill offered.
“Drugs,” Eve wrote and drew an arrow next to the word. “Why am I thinking drug testing?”
“I’d think about that too but you and I are normal. If we drink and then get in a car to drive, we’d worry about being pulled over. Are we digressing?” Jill asked.
“Let’s play with it.”
“Hang on. I heard a couple talk about board meetings. What if they have to answer to boards?”
Eve perked up. “You might have something there. I know of a few people who don’t work but they have to appear to do so. They hold prestigious positions in companies. And some of these companies require their employees to keep themselves clean... drug free. I read about that somewhere.”
“So they abstain?”
“Not necessarily. Somehow, they fake it. I wonder if there’s a black market for urine samples?” Eve cupped her chin in her hand.
“Feels good to play around with ideas. Even if some of them are way out there.” Jill stretched. “And as much as I enjoy these brainstorming sessions, they can be draining. I need this coffee.”
“How do you feel about going back tomorrow?”
“To the marina?”
“Yes.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I’m guessing they’re going to party until they’re allowed to leave. I wouldn’t mind having a few photos. It’ll help to keep track of who said what.”
“I hope the coffee’s okay.” Jill set a couple of mugs on the table. “I don’t know how many scoops you put in.”
Eve tasted it and hummed her appreciation. “This will make me buzz.” As she sipped her coffee she thought about the people who’d been partying in the yacht. It still felt macabre to celebrate someone’s death. “Winthorpe looked happier than he did at the cocktail party. I wonder if he feels like a winner. He certainly looked it.”
“I’d look like a winner too if I had a yacht like one of those, or drove a flashy convertible. Or didn’t have to worry about how to make my weekly income stretch until the following week.”
“I’m sure they worry, but on a different scale. The high life doesn’t come cheap.”
“Maybe Jon O’Brian was a loan shark.”
“And he wanted to legitimize his business so he proposed to Charlotte McLain from the Upper East Side.” Eve shook her head. “It sounds a bit far-fetched even to my own ears. We’re working on a suspect list, not a Hollywood script.”
“What do you have so far?” Jill asked.
“One murder victim universally disliked and a bunch of questions I don’t know how I’ll get the answers to if Charlotte catches on to the fact I’m snooping around her friends.”
“I wouldn’t call it snooping. They invited you.”
“She’s not going to like that one bit. She’s already decided to make me a target. I’ll be lucky to get out of this with my freedom.”
“We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t find out.” Jill chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Jon O’Brian holding something over Charlotte and forcing her to marry him.”
“She’d never let someone hold that much power over her.” She wouldn’t, but what if someone she cared about had made the mistake of becoming involved with Jon? Not every silver spoon came with an endless supply of money. Did Charlotte care so much about someone other than herself she’d make herself vulnerable to someone else’s will?
Eve turned her attention to filling up another page.
“Poison,” Jill read.
“You’re right, we need to do some research. Find out what sort of poison can act effectively without being detected by taste. Or... something that can be easily masked. Also, it has to be easily accessible. Not something that can only be found in the Himalayas and costs an arm and a leg to buy.”
“Why not? Any one of those people could afford it.”
“You’re right. And it’s too early to start excluding possibilities.”
“Does this mean you’re going to try to catch the killer?”
“It means I don’t want to go to prison.”
Eve didn’t remember seeing Charlotte’s parents at the cocktail party, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t planned on attending the wedding.
Or did it?
If they had disapproved of the match, and chances were they had...
Would they take extreme measures?
She plumped up her pillow and sighed. As keen as she was to find answers, Eve had planned on spending the day plotting out a trip to estate sales the following week. Also, she wanted to figure out a way to buy the most perfect oven for her inn without breaking the bank.
She lay in bed waiting for the sun to rise and tried to clear her mind of all the intrusive thoughts she’d taken to bed with her, but the moment she tried to steer her focus to happy thoughts, the events of the last couple of days surged through her mind.
All those invitations Charlotte had sent her.
She had been keen... desperate for Eve to join in the festivities.
“Or be at hand to become her scapegoat.”
She’d been quick to point the finger of blame. To single her out as the one and only person with enough reason to want to harm her.
Why did you do it? Do you hate me that much?
Did Charlotte really believe Eve would seek her revenge by committing murder? On some level, she had to know how nasty she’d been, always putting Eve down because otherwise she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her good fortune. People like Charlotte could only be truly happy if someone else wallowed in misery.
“Am I capable of belated retribution?” Sure, Charlotte had made life difficult for her, but the effects hadn’t been long lasting. After graduating, they had gone their separate ways. Eve had flourished and had found her passion in cooking and that, in turn, had opened her up to a new world, meeting likeminded people. Competition had been stiff. Sometimes her friends had vied for the same jobs, but everyone had played fair. It would have been an entirely different story if Charlotte had gone into the same line of business.
Eve shivered. That would have been a nightmare.
Why did you do it? Do you hate me that much?
The tension in her voice. The slight quivering of her words. The strained look on her face. She had sounded convincing enough for Eve to now wonder if she could be capable of seeking her revenge on her old nemesis.
She tried to dig up some sympathy. After all, Charlotte had lost her fiancé. There was nothing unusual about her behavior. Of course, she was going to lash out and point fingers of blame. She’d been driven by emotions. Either that or Charlotte had put on an award winning performance.
“I’d hate to see her on the witness stand.” Eve raked her fingers through her hair. “Eve Lloyd always had it in for me,” she said in her best Charlotte impersonation. Everyone would believe her. She’d know exactly what to wear to court. She might even hire an image consultant. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Because she knew Charlotte would pull it off.
A performance...
A ruse aimed at maneuvering Eve into position so she could take the blame.
Her shower did nothing to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. And while brainstorming sessions opened her eyes to possibilities, they also bogged her down with too many thoughts.
When she sat down to breakfast, she played around with her bacon and eggs, moving them on the plate. Then she used her wedge of toast to map out her steps at the cocktail party. Her arrival. Being herded around to meet the guests. Stepping up to the plate and saving the
day. She revisited the tension she’d felt in the kitchen. The atmosphere had been intense with it. Had it just been about the pressure of getting everything right for a demanding customer? Or had there been something else, a sense of foreboding?
Jack had asked her if she’d seen anyone acting suspiciously. She couldn’t answer that with any degree of honesty or certainty because her memory of the night had become diluted by her feelings of guilt.
She had no reason to feel responsible for Jon O’Brian’s death.
So why did she?
“Because I should have stood my ground.” She’d had no intention of going to the wedding, but she’d allowed herself to be railroaded. Manipulated. Coerced. Yes, but...
With or without her there, he would have died.
As she finished her breakfast, she heard Mira shuffling around her office. “Would you like me to make you something to eat?” she called out.
“Yes, please. That would be lovely.”
“Are you going to eat it if I do?”
“Sorry, did you say something?”
Looking up, she smiled at Mira who’d come into the kitchen. “I thought you were diving straight into your writing.”
“I will in a minute but you’ve enticed me with the promise of food. I know I’ll do better if I have a proper breakfast.”
“Good. I need to keep busy. Sit down, I’ll have it ready in a minute.” She organized the ingredients and utensils without giving it much thought. She could do it all blindfolded. Eve knew she’d never add something that didn’t belong into her food.
“So where are you at with the investigation?” Mira asked.
“Why does everyone think I’m investigating? I’d never be so presumptuous.” Eve gave an impatient shake of her head. “I’m not going out of my way to delve. If something happens to fall on my lap, I’ll happily share it with Jack. After all, it’s his job.” She slid the eggs onto a plate and added the crispy bacon. “Although...” She sighed.
“What?”
“Well, I already have a foot in the door with Charlotte’s friends. I’m tempted to see what else I can find out.” She chuckled. “Heavens, they hailed me as a hero at the marina. They think I’ve done the world a favor.”