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

by Sonia Parin

  “And?”

  “The knife entry wound would be... let me think.” Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the knife protruding from Randal’s chest.

  Would it have been at an angle? She wouldn’t have to do this if the killer had left the knife in Randal’s chest instead of removing it and dropping it on the floor…

  Eve swung away and paced around. She turned to face Jill again and pretended to throw the spatula at her. “The knife could have been thrown at Randal. It came from directly in front of him. A full frontal attack.”

  “Couldn’t Jack have told you that? Why did he have to be so cryptic?”

  “Maybe he wants to play games. Test me to see if I have real potential.” Eve set the spatula down. “Now we have to find someone who knows how to throw a knife.” Someone other than Catherine who seemed to like throwing things—

  Eve snatched the spatula off the counter and frowned at it.

  “What?”

  “Randal was killed after I came down to make breakfast. Most likely while we were outside.”

  “How did you work that out? You said you didn’t go into the pantry.”

  “That’s right and I know that for sure because no one has been eating cereal so I didn’t need to get anything from there. And then there was the knife. I found it on the floor. If it had been there earlier when I came down to prepare breakfast, I would have found it then.”

  “Okay. So now we know more. What do we do with the information?”

  “We could both start thinking about the people we saw around yesterday morning. It’d be interesting to know what we do remember if we put our minds to it. We were both chatting but the eyes see things and the mind retains the information. It’ll just be a matter of prodding. For instance, I remember noticing one of the crew-members wearing a red t-shirt and I told myself it wasn’t red but rather a shade called cerise, only at the time I had to think a bit because cerise is not a color that instantly comes to mind. Anyhow, I think that guy is cleared because I spent quite some time gazing at his t-shirt.”

  “In that case,” Jill said, “I can vouch for two other people and I won’t tell you why.”

  Eve smiled. “But I can guess. They were men and you were most likely admiring their butts.”

  “Actually, I have a thing for forearms. You know, the type with sinewy muscles. Oh, and I also enjoy the sight of broad shoulders… and okay, I’ll own up to admiring the occasional butt.”

  “So at least two people caught your attention long enough to be excluded from the list of suspects.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps brought their conversation to a stop. To Eve, they sounded deliberate. As if someone had sneaked up only at the last minute deciding to make their presence known.

  It was Catherine… looking somewhat suspicious.

  How much had she overheard?

  “Can we expect lunch anytime soon?” she asked.

  “Coming right up.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Do you have any special requests?” Eve asked even as she sifted through the extensive mental list she’d compiled of Catherine’s likes and dislikes.

  “I’m sure whatever you dish out will be… satisfactory.”

  Eve found herself wishing Catherine would turn out to be the killer. If only to provide her with a fleeting moment of… satisfaction.

  “Any idea when filming will resume?” Jill asked.

  “Any day now.” Catherine glanced around the kitchen.

  Looking for something she’d left behind after she killed Randal?

  “I hear you have… a talent for finding killers.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Catherine waved her hand as if dismissing the importance of the source. “Do you have any leads?”

  “I’m not actually investigating the murder but I hear the police are closing in on a suspect.” She watched for any significant reactions but Catherine didn’t give anything away.

  “I hope it’s not one of the essential crew-members. We can’t have any more delays or disruptions.”

  “Are you working on a strict budget?”

  “It’s the nature of the beast. Remove one element, and everything can fall apart.”

  Sabotage.

  Could someone be trying to throw a spanner in the works?

  “Is that where you found him?”

  Eve turned toward the pantry and nodded. Again, she watched for any unusual reactions. Catherine grimaced. That was something.

  “Was there much blood?”

  She sounded concerned.

  “Randal didn’t care for the sight of blood. It made him feel faint.”

  “I doubt he had time to see.”

  “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him. Certainly not someone in our team. What do you know about your neighbors?”

  Not enough, Eve thought.

  She didn’t want to think someone had harbored a latent homicidal tendency just waiting for the right moment to ripen…

  “It wouldn’t make any sense. The killer would have to have known Randal,” Eve said.

  “Oh, please don’t say that.” Catherine shivered.

  “Sorry. I doubt the police will dismiss the possibility of this being an act of random… violence, but they’re more likely searching for motives. I’m sure they questioned you about it.”

  “Extensively. No one had reason to even dislike Randal. He was great to work with.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have been jealous of your relationship?”

  Catherine chortled. “Of course. Any actor trying to make it in this business. But they wouldn’t kill for it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it would defeat the purpose. They’d end up getting caught and going to prison.”

  Unless… unless they were beyond reason.

  “Are there any aspiring actors in your team?”

  “If anyone wanted to get a foot in the door they would have made their move by now asking me for favors.”

  What if they’d gone behind her back and straight to the source? The director who could hire them.

  “I’m inclined to think of jealousy as a strong motive. I’d keep that in mind.”

  Catherine looked shocked. “I can’t go around suspecting everyone I work with.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice.”

  Chapter Four

  The demanding knock at the door had Eve fleeing for her life, but every step she took sunk into a bowl of jelly. She punched her pillow and half opened her eyes.

  The knock at the door became more demanding.

  “Not another murder victim,” she grumbled as she rolled out of bed. When she opened her bedroom door she remembered Jack’s warning to take care. If anything happened to her, he’d reserve the right to say he’d told her so over her graveside.

  Catherine Allan tossed her honey blonde locks back and glared at her. “I can’t sleep. When I called for room service no one answered.”

  Eve rubbed her eyes. Did she think she was staying at the Ritz? “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “Would a cup of chamomile tea help?”

  “I was hoping for warm milk.”

  “I’ll bring it up.” Thinking she didn’t dare turn her back on Catherine, Eve waited for her to return to her room. As Eve made her way downstairs, she made sure to switch lights on. She’d watched far too many movies where the victim entered a room in complete darkness and ended up being attacked by a vicious killer.

  She didn’t have a microwave, so she used a small copper saucepan to heat the milk. As she poured it, Catherine strode in wearing a crimson red silk robe. A cliché, Eve thought.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like some hot chocolate.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Eve wondered if Catherine wanted her to mind. She had to be missing her middle of the night arguments. She imagined her going
into withdrawal, tossing and turning and moaning into her pillow.

  “Of course not.” She added some sugar to the milk, broke off some of her special Belgian chocolate and stirred it until it melted.

  Catherine had moved over to the sunroom next to the kitchen and had curled up on a winged armchair, tucking her feet under her.

  “You live on the island year round?”

  “I haven’t quite made it a year yet.”

  “A newcomer. What on earth do you do out here?”

  Stumble on dead bodies, Eve thought. “I’m going through a phase. Slowing down.”

  “I couldn’t stand the isolation.”

  “We’re only a short drive away from the city.”

  “You call an eight hour drive short?”

  “I’ve spent more time stuck in Manhattan traffic and getting nowhere.” She poured the hot chocolate into a mug. “Enjoy.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Back to bed.

  “You can’t leave me here alone. There’s a killer on the loose.”

  “So you don’t think I did it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. What possible motive would you have?”

  Would she go on record and make a statement to the police? “All the doors and windows are locked. You’re safe.”

  “So how did the killer get in?”

  Good question. If Randal had been killed in the middle of the night, the house would have been securely locked, making the occupants the immediate suspects. Jill, Catherine and herself. If only Jack had given her the time of death. She wouldn’t have to wonder about this.

  A thought surged to the surface. Randal had been wearing socks.

  Eve frowned and focused on the stray thought. She’d noticed he hadn’t had shoes on but she hadn’t made a conscious note of it. He’d been wearing a white shirt but it hadn’t been buttoned all the way up. Had he been coming or going?

  What about his pants, Eve?

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember.

  He’d worn jeans.

  Had he been on his way out of the house when he’d stopped in the kitchen? And what about his shoes? If he’d been about to leave, he must have had shoes, if not on... then he might have carried them with him on his way down thinking he’d put them on once he stepped out of the house...

  “You must think I’m cold-hearted and calculating,” Catherine said.

  Because she hadn’t wasted any time…

  Eve remembered Catherine referring to Randal in the past tense when she only thought he was missing. She really hadn’t wasted any time.

  Randal wasn’t my husband.

  Catherine had said that before the body had been found.

  She thought about broaching the subject, instead, she asked, “Cold-hearted? Because you’ve stayed on to finish the movie?”

  “There are hordes of actors waiting to take my place. You can’t stand still too long. Especially in a business that is blighted by power couples congesting the limelight.”

  While Catherine continued rambling on about the business of being a movie star Eve switched off and resumed thinking about Randal and his shoes. Had he been about to put them on or...

  Eve backed away from the sunroom.

  She pictured Randal coming down the stairs, carrying his shoes because he didn’t want to alert anyone of his intention to leave the house.

  How had he ended up in the kitchen?

  Eve gave a small nod as if to encourage herself to pursue that line of thinking. She imagined him being half way out the door, changing his mind and coming back in to grab a snack for the road.

  Not entirely impossible, Eve thought. It would have been the middle of the night. He would have worn himself out with Catherine and would have needed to perk himself up.

  Assuming he’d left before dawn.

  On the other hand, what if he’d been out for a walk and had come in after Eve had been in the kitchen preparing breakfast?

  Eve unlocked the back door and eased it open a fraction, far enough to peer outside.

  She stifled a gasp.

  Next to the door she saw a pair of man’s shoes.

  Randal had been out and had come in the back door, leaving his shoes outside...

  And the door unlocked.

  That’s how the killer came in.

  Catherine continued to babble on about her grudges and bemoaning her misfortune of losing her lover and how tough it had become once she’d turned a certain age. She didn’t mention which milestone birthday had derailed her life but Eve didn’t think she looked a day over thirty-five.

  Randal’s shoes. This was a bonanza discovery for Eve. No one had noticed the shoes left outside. That meant the police had no idea how the killer got inside the house.

  She tried to distract herself by cleaning the pot she’d used, but nothing she did could stop the sequence of events running through her mind, so Eve let it all play out in a loop.

  She imagined Randal had needed a breath of fresh air, so he’d gone out for a walk along the beach and when he’d returned he’d stopped to get himself some food, presumably to refuel for another round with Catherine. Or, since he’d left his shoes outside, he might have intended going back out again…

  Wiping her hands dry, she strode back to the sunroom. “Who would want Randal dead?” she asked point blank.

  Catherine looked up at her and took a sip of her drink. “This is possibly the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”

  Eve disregarded Catherine’s attempt to change the subject. “His wife?” She remembered he’d worn a wedding band, which was why she’d initially assumed he’d been married to Catherine. “She must have been furious about his affair with you.”

  “I doubt it. She has her own... activities to keep her busy. Marina had been happy to turn a blind eye, so long as the money kept rolling in. I’m surprised she hasn’t stormed in and shaken us all back into production.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “To look after her investment. She’s got a huge stake in this film.”

  “She’s put her own money in it?”

  Catherine nodded. “She’s been bankrolling Randal since the beginning. Without her, he would never have made his first film. This hot chocolate is really good. I can’t remember the last time I had chocolate. Models think they lead a tough life. They should try acting.” She raised her mug. “Life without Photoshop. I doubt they’d hack it.”

  His wife’s interest in getting a return from her investment ruled her out, especially if she’d been tolerating the situation for some time.

  “Do you have a suspect in mind?” Eve asked.

  Catherine chortled. “At the risk of chipping away my self esteem, some people find me... difficult to deal with. I wouldn’t rule anyone out, especially not the ones who are super friendly with me.”

  “You think someone would try to get to you by killing your lover?”

  “I don’t know how a killer’s mind works, but I suspect their thinking must be warped. Otherwise, why do something that could put them behind bars for the rest of their lives?” She smiled. “Maybe they wanted to get rid of Randal to make way for themselves.”

  Eve had already considered that possibility. “Is there someone on set who enjoyed flirting with you more than usual?”

  Catherine gave a throaty chuckle. “Every man I meet enjoys attention. I couldn’t possibly single anyone out.”

  “You have been extremely complacent about it all.” Eve hadn’t seen her shed a single tear. Not that crying was a real measure of someone’s true feelings. “Is that how you hope to get away with killing Randal?”

  This time, Catherine threw her head back and laughed without restraint. “Randal wasn’t perfect but have you ever read anything about us in the gossip magazines?”

  “No.” Not that she actually kept up to date with film stars, but if there had been something Jill would have found it.

  “A true gentleman. We were discreet.”

  “N
ot on set.”

  Catherine shrugged. “We’re all a big family here. What happens in Vegas...”

  Eve didn’t want to point out the obvious. One of the family members had killed her lover.

  “You look sort of rumpled this morning. Did you fall out of bed?” Jill asked as she helped herself to a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

  Eve told her about Catherine waking her up in the middle of the night. “I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. Kept thinking about how the killer gained access to the house.” She took a long sip of her coffee and sighed. “I needed that.”

  Jill took a sip of her own coffee and agreed with a nod. “Have the masses been fed?”

  “Already taken care of. They’re all now ambling about. The new director hasn’t arrived yet.” She checked her cell and frowned.

  “Let me guess, you contacted Jack. Left him a message to call you and he hasn’t returned your call.”

  “It’s becoming a bad habit with him.”

  “Only because he knows you want to badger him about the case.”

  “He needs to realize I might have something significant to share with him.”

  “And do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you share it with me too?”

  Eve looked around to make sure there wasn’t someone lurking nearby. “I found Randal’s shoes last night, by the back door. That means Randal came in through the kitchen. He most likely forgot to lock the door behind him and that’s how the killer got in. It doesn’t matter if he went out before I came down to the kitchen or after. The shoes indicate his point of re-entry into the house. It’s something the police didn’t pick up on.”

  “That deserves a round of applause,” Jill said. “Now we have to figure out who followed him in.”

  “Obviously someone who is not staying in the house. So that crosses Catherine off the list. Besides, she had a good thing going with Randal. Now she’ll have to look for another discreet lover.” Eve filled her in on the conversation she’d had with Catherine leaving nothing out, just in case Jill read something into the information Eve might have missed.

  Jill cupped her hands around her mug. “I managed to find some articles on her ex, Ricky Sheffield. After their divorce, he tried his hand at documentary making then he disappeared from the map.”