by Sonia Parin
“Are you coming back to feed us?” he asked. “We have to go into town for our meals. Any chance you might come back and open the kitchen again?”
She couldn’t see any reason why not. “Have the police indicated how long you have to remain on the island?”
“We’re free to go.”
“So why are you still here?”
“David Davidson is trying to find a director to finish the film. The investors refuse to take their losses. They want the project completed in time.”
Jill nudged her. “Looks like you have no choice, Eve. You’ll have to come back.”
It would be one way to regain her ground. Being back in the thick of it would give her the advantage she needed to ask questions... to observe and listen. Someone must have seen someone acting suspiciously.
“So, what’s the general feeling? Who do you think killed Randal Bergstrom?” she asked the man.
“You mean it wasn’t you?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Matthew Clayton. I’m the cameraman.”
“The cameraman. You must have an eye for detail.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Matthew, do I look like a killer to you?”
“Your pastries are to die for.”
“Be serious.” She couldn’t help noticing her voice had taken on a slight flirting tone. Randal had accused Catherine of flirting with the crew. Give someone the right prompts and chances were, they’d react and play along. As an actress, Catherine was trained to respond and take direction.
What if someone had wanted more than flirting? Eve’s easy smile and friendliness didn’t mean she wanted to seduce or be seduced. She knew that, but did Matthew know that?
Eve played around with the idea of someone being angered when Catherine laughed in their face...
“You? A killer?” Matthew shook his head. “What would compel you to kill someone you’ve only recently met?”
Eve shrugged. “I might be a crazy innkeeper.”
“No, it wouldn’t fit in with any storyline I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s a relief.” And a nice change from having the finger pointed at her. “What about the others? How do they feel?”
“I haven’t heard anyone mention your name.”
“Not even the woman who found me in the kitchen?” Eve looked over his shoulder to see if she was among the volleyball players but didn’t spot her.
“That’ll be Rachael, the stylist. I doubt she’s given you a moment’s thought. Although, I’ve seen her scowling your way.”
“Why would she do that?” She’d never understand why some people took an instant dislike to her, but she’d seen it happen enough times to wonder if maybe she came across as too confident. Some women resented that.
“She’s on a diet and your pastries are too tempting to resist.”
On a diet? Rachael looked like a waif.
“Where’s Catherine Allan staying?” Eve didn’t think she’d remain in the house without Eve there to wait on her hand and foot.
“She’s still at the house. The show must go on.”
“And she doesn’t mind? Her lover was killed there.”
“I heard her say you tried to discourage her from staying in the house with some story about someone being killed and she wouldn’t be surprised if you’d actually killed Randal just to make the story stick.”
Granted, she’d tried to spook them off with a possible ghost… “I was actually thinking about the killer coming after her.”
Matthew held her gaze without speaking.
“Well, we don’t know what his motives were for killing the director. It might have been a random act. Or his victim could be the first of many in a killing spree.”
“I’m starting to have doubts about you.” Matthew laughed. “I heard about your clause.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You get paid the full amount even if we wrap up early or cancel filming.”
“That’s called good business sense.” She’d have to have a word with Jack. Why had Catherine been allowed to stay on while she’d been sent home? Had that been Jack’s version of the naughty corner? “So how is Catherine taking it all?” The woman had lost her lover. She had to be in deep grieving mode. Or, since she was eager to get on with it, in denial.
“She’s been locking horns with the producer, putting pressure on him to get Ricky Sheffield to come and finish the movie.”
“Who’s he?”
“Catherine’s ex. He’s been dying to direct her again.”
Eve exchanged a look with Jill.
An ex-husband would have the perfect motive to get rid of his competition.
Chapter Three
“What was Catherine’s ex’s name again?”
“Ricky Sheffield.” Eve brought out a tray from the oven and set it on the kitchen counter. She checked the muffins for uneven cooking and shook her head. Just as well she was getting a new oven. She found this one too temperamental for her liking.
“Okay, I found him. He has an extensive list of movie credits, most of them directing Catherine Allan. But lately, he seems to have hit a low point.”
“When did they divorce?” Impatient for the answer, Eve leaned over Jill’s shoulder to read off the computer screen. “That can’t be a coincidence. His career took a nosedive at the same time they divorced. It doesn’t say if he left her or if Catherine dumped him. Keep digging.”
“I’ll trawl through everything I can find online but what if there’s no mention of the guilty party?” Jill asked.
“There are ways of joining the dots. See if you can find anything on what Catherine did at the time of the divorce. Did she move on to someone else or did she wallow? Did she put on weight or hit the bottle? Anything. And compare it to what he did. He might have become a recluse. There are always photos of celebrities out and about. If you can’t find any of Catherine then we’ll assume she didn’t take their parting of the ways well.”
When her cell rang she ignored it.
“You’re not taking calls today?”
“Not from Jack.”
“Are you mad at him?”
“I know he wants to keep tabs on me and make sure I don’t get into trouble but I refuse to be treated like a child.”
“What if, officially, you’re still under suspicion?”
“Nonsense.”
“Eve, you don’t want to get in his bad books. He could pull his weight and put an embargo on you and force you to stay away from the scene of the crime.”
“He wouldn’t dare. This is my livelihood. I have a contract to fulfill. I should never have left in the first place. Now, let’s focus. We need to find out about Rachael, the stylist. I can’t imagine what she was doing in the kitchen when she found me. What if she had something going with Randal? She’s clearly fixating about her weight and that could mean she was trying to catch his attention.”
“Not necessarily. Remember I had weight issues and it had to do with the stress I experienced.” Jill turned to her. “And, by the way, a tryst? Where did that come from? You don’t usually entertain wild ideas until you’ve run through a few and hit a dead end.”
“You can blame Detective Mason Lars. He got me thinking about it when he asked if maybe I had been involved in some sort of tryst.”
“You? With Catherine and Randal? What a laugh.”
“Anyway, I still want to know if there was something going on between Rachael and Randal. Or... Rachel and Catherine. We shouldn’t discount any possibilities.” Eve drew out a chair and sat next to Jill.
“Is this where we start working on a list of suspects?”
“Not on paper,” Eve warned. “We don’t want to leave information lying around for anyone to find. I don’t trust any of these people. I expressly told them to stay away from my kitchen, and I swear nothing is where I left it yesterday.”
Jill looked up from the computer. “That’s actually disconcerting. Are we going to
be safe sleeping here?”
“All the doors and windows are locked at night. No one can get in during the night. I’m thinking someone sneaked in during the day.”
“Maybe the killer returned to the scene of the crime to look for something they left behind and in the process, helped themselves to your goodies.”
“Then the killer is getting sloppy. When they came in to kill Randal they didn’t leave a trace behind. The police combed the kitchen from top to bottom. I don’t understand how they didn’t find a single strand of hair.”
“That’s a positive reflection on you. I never noticed how clean and tidy you keep the kitchen.”
Eve looked over her shoulder and fixed her gaze on the pantry. She’d tried to avoid thinking about the scene she’d walked into. Had the killer backed Randal into the pantry or had he found Randal there?
Eve knew the police worked with hypothetical scenarios placing the killer in a crime scene, building a picture that might reveal more. They questioned people and scraped together motives…
“Why the kitchen?”
She’d only now started stocking the pantry and it mostly contained spices and cooking essentials such as flour and rice. Maybe Randal had been snacking on her cooking chocolate.
Her expensive Belgian chocolate.
She went straight to the top shelf. She’d purchased a full box of the luxury chocolate and hadn’t used any of it. Yet the box was half empty.
“I guess this means Randal Bergstrom had a sweet tooth. He’s lucky I didn’t catch him first. I would have strangled him for pilfering my chocolate. And please don’t point out the obvious, Jill. Of course, I wouldn’t have strangled him.”
“Feel free to vent your frustration, Eve. Remember, it’s better out than in.”
Eve tried to recall what time she’d been woken up by the lovers’ arguing. The first couple of nights she’d desperately avoided looking at her bedside clock because that would have made her angrier, but last night she’d caught a glimpse of the fluorescent numbers blinking at her. It had been two thirty in the morning. She’d spent the next hour tossing and turning. From what she remembered of the previous nights, their arguments had been followed by an hour’s worth of lovemaking.
“He must have been killed after four thirty in the morning and I came into the kitchen at seven in the morning but I didn’t use the pantry because I had all my baking ingredients on the counter ready to use.” She pressed her hand against her mouth. “I just realized. All that time I spent in here preparing breakfast for the film crew...” Randal had been in the pantry... dead.
“Hypothetically. You’re still figuring it all out but only because, not surprisingly, Jack hasn’t mentioned the time of death.”
“No, he hasn’t. Then again, I haven’t asked.” She didn’t think Jack would share that sensitive information with her. Recently he’d begun to appreciate her input, but Eve suspected he wanted to reassert some boundaries.
Too many close calls, Eve.
Of course, she appreciated his concern. The last time he’d expressed it, she hadn’t thought he’d ever have reason to worry again. Yet here she was…
“After I prepared the breakfast, I put the pastries in the oven to cook.” She did a quick mental calculation. “I left the kitchen at nine.” Had Randal been killed before she’d come to the kitchen at seven that morning or after she’d left it at nine? “Jill, do you remember what time we came to get the pastries?”
“After ten thirty. Close to eleven.”
“We have to find out if anyone saw Randal that morning.”
“Why?”
“Because that’ll help us establish the time of death. If someone saw him after breakfast, then he was killed after the pastries came out of the oven and before we came to get them. We were sitting outside but anyone might have sneaked inside to raid my kitchen. They might have seen or heard something. I refuse to believe a killer walked into my kitchen without being noticed when the place is swarming with people.” Eve grumbled under her breath.
“It would be easier to sweet talk Jack into telling you the time of death.”
“How do you propose I do that?”
“If you need me to tell you, then—”
“I’ll send him a text.”
“A phone call would put more pressure on him. Put him on the spot. You could work your magic.”
“Fine.” When her call went to voicemail, Eve was caught unprepared so she hung up. Sighing, she tried again. This time, however, Jack answered. “Oh, you picked up. I thought you weren’t taking calls from me.”
“I’ve missed hearing your voice.”
Eve smiled. “How sweet. I guess this means you’re on a break.”
“No, I’m making time for you.”
“Jack, now I’m thinking you want something from me.” Belatedly, Eve wished she could withdraw the remark. It gave Jack an opening to warn her to take care, or worse, to go home and stay there. “How’s the case going?”
Jack gave her his deluxe deep-throated chuckle. “Nice try.”
“I didn’t ask for details. Surely you can give me a rough indication of where you’re at?”
“We’re digging.”
“Did you know Catherine Allan’s ex husband has been called in to finish the movie?” The silence at the other end of the line suggested he hadn’t known.
“Where did you get that bit of information from?” he asked.
“The cameraman. Matthew Clayton.”
“And how did you happen to start a conversation with him?”
“Jill and I were walking the dogs and came across a volleyball game in progress.”
“Which happened to be right at the inn’s doorstep where you happened to be walking the dogs?”
“I was there on purpose, Jack. It’s my property. I had to keep an eye on it. I hope this latest incident doesn’t affect my insurance premiums.”
“Why would it? You haven’t had to lodge a claim.”
Not yet. At this rate, she might have to have the house exorcised. Two people had already died here. “You might as well know I’m back at work.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He huffed out a breath. “Does your bedroom have a lock?”
“Yes, it does.” She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “I suppose you’re hoping my imagination will scare me into going back home.”
“I’m thinking you could do with an extra guest.”
“What do you mean? Who?”
“Officer Josh Matthews.”
Jill’s boyfriend. “No. I’m not open for business. Catherine paid for the privilege of having the entire house at her disposal. Or rather, Randal Bergstrom did.” That was something she hadn’t considered. Her contract would now be null and void. She’d have to look into it. For some reason she remembered seeing his name and no one else’s…
“Josh could pose as an employee.”
“Is he prepared to play the role of chambermaid?” Eve forgot how seductive she found his soft growls.
“He could be your new concierge,” Jack suggested.
“But I don’t even have a front desk yet.”
“Eve, please meet me half way.”
“Oh, all right. Josh could be my new caretaker. A Mr. Fixit. Is he handy around the house?”
“I’m sure he can strap on a tool belt and play the role without giving himself away.”
Jill snickered in the background. “I should move in too.”
“See what you’ve done now. I’m going to have to watch Jill’s back.”
“Why? Surely you don’t feel you’re in danger.”
Trust him to use reverse psychology on her. “What can possibly happen to me? The place is swarming with people.”
“Keep Jill close to you. Don’t go anywhere alone,” Jack warned.
“I’ll agree to have Officer Matthews here on one condition.” She didn’t give him a chance to think about it. “We’ve been trying to establish time of death. It would help if you just tol
d me.”
“If you could get one straight answer from me, is that what you’d want to know?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No, I’m simply giving you the opportunity to ask one question, and one question only. Go for it.”
Eve nibbled the tip of her thumb.
“Well?”
“I want to know about the entry wound. Was he stabbed by someone taller or shorter than him?” With that sort of information, she decided they could get started on a process of elimination.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask?”
Darn it. Should she rephrase the question? “N-yes.”
“Neither.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sorry. One question only and I answered it.”
“Jack, I’m trying to help here, not hinder the investigation. The same can’t be said for you. I think I’ve shown how useful I can be—”
“With questionable methods.”
“Jill and I wish to focus on a process of elimination that will narrow down our suspects list. It’s become our modus operandi, but we’re limited. Obviously, we don’t have your resources and I don’t want to go around suspecting just anyone.”
“I’m sending Officer Matthews. You can try to bounce some ideas off him.”
“Try?” Eve looked at Jill. “What’s he talking about, Jill?”
“Josh tends to play it by the book. He’s not likely to let himself be roped in by a civilian.”
Eve liked nothing better than a challenge. “Fine. I’ll put him to work.” She disconnected the call, grabbed a spatula and gestured for Jill to get up.
Jill looked at the spatula Eve held and stepped back. “Is this going to hurt?”
“I’m going to stab you. Or at least pretend to.” She made a stabbing gesture. “This would be the point of entry.”
“It would?”
“Randal was not a tall man. In fact, he was my height. If the killer had been taller, the knife would have entered at an angle.” Eve crouched down a couple of inches and plunged again. “If the killer was shorter, the angle would be different.”
“And this is how you’ll figure out the height of the killer?”
Eve shook her head. “I asked Jack if the killer had been shorter or taller than Randal. Neither. That’s what he said.”