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

by Sonia Parin

  “Now he’s back in the game. That means he has the most to gain,” Eve reasoned.

  “But he wasn’t on the scene. I assume we’re only suspecting people who are already here on the island.”

  “He might have sneaked into the island. Honestly, that checkpoint at the bridge is gaining momentum.”

  A loud cheer broke out outside.

  “What do you think that might be about?”

  “Another volleyball game?” When the cheering died down they heard running footsteps coming down the stairs. “I’m now guessing Ricky Sheffield has arrived.” And Catherine had rushed out to meet him.

  “You don’t look at all interested in finding out,” Jill said.

  “I can wait.”

  “I don’t have your patience.” Jill rose to her feet and headed out. Moments later she returned. “Yes to both. They had a volleyball game going in the yard and that was interrupted when Ricky Sheffield arrived. I stepped out in time to see Catherine throw her arms around him.”

  “Should I assume I don’t need to organize another guest room?” Eve didn’t have to wait for an answer.

  Catherine strode into the kitchen, her arm around Ricky Sheffield’s. “At one time, he was known as my ex, now he’s my savior.” She made the introductions all the while smiling like a giddy schoolgirl.

  Ricky Sheffield looked like a poet with his ruffled hair brushed to the side and his large deep blue eyes with thick eyelashes. He had an easy smile and an athletic build. Not at all what Eve had expected. For some reason, she’d assumed he would look disheveled and haggard. After all, he’d been on skid road with no movies to direct.

  Why did she get the feeling Ricky Sheffield’s arrival had been timed to perfection? Everyone would be distracted by this new presence and forget about Randal being killed. The show must go on…

  Eve wiped her hands dry. “I’ll get the luggage.”

  “Josh’s taken care of it,” Jill said.

  “Is he here?”

  “Just arrived.”

  Eve looked over Jill’s shoulders and saw Officer Josh Matthews standing by the front door. His closely cropped hair was going to be a dead giveaway, Eve thought. “I’ll take some extra towels up.”

  When she approached Josh Matthews, Eve had to remind herself to smile. Jack meant well.

  “Ms. Lloyd.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Josh,” she whispered, “You have to call me Eve. Come on, you can bring the luggage up.”

  Eve had always thought Josh filled his officer’s uniform nicely. Dressed in casual denim jeans and shirt, he’d acquired a slight rugged look. Overall, he was a hunk of a man. In years to come, his good looks wouldn’t fade, they’d bloom into something quite irresistible. Lucky Jill.

  As they made their way up the stairs, Eve saw him sending a text message. “Reporting to your boss?”

  “Detective Jack Bradford has requested regular updates.”

  “You do realize I’m your boss now.”

  He nodded. “Ma’am... I mean, Eve.”

  “So, whatever you have to say to Jack, you can also say to me.”

  “Regarding that, I’ve checked with Detective Jack Bradford.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said to tell you, nice try, Eve.”

  She gritted her back teeth. “You tell your boss I have pertinent information. On second thought. Forget it. I have to run over to Mira’s house and make sure she’s looking after herself. She’s on deadline again and wants to finish her book before going on her next cruise.” She directed Josh toward the room Randal had occupied. “Let them sort things out for themselves.”

  Moments later, Eve stood in front of the open refrigerator. “If I don’t take food over to Mira she’ll probably end up gorging on chocolate and cookies.” She brought out some roast beef and set to work preparing some sandwiches and a fresh salad.

  “Chocolate has milk and cookies have eggs and butter. That’s sort of nutritional,” Jill said under her breath.

  Eve waved a carrot under her nose. “What’s this?”

  “Are you trying to test my observation skills? All right, I’ll play along. It’s something you grate and fold into a cake mix to make… carrot cake. It’s a carrot.”

  “It also goes well with salads.”

  “Not when you have the option of eating it in a cake.”

  “We’ll argue about it on the way over to Mira’s.” She turned to Josh who’d followed her down to the kitchen. “I’ll trust you to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.”

  He gave her a mock salute. “I’m on duty twenty-four/seven.”

  “I hope you’re being well compensated for your devotion to your job. Help yourself to anything you like in the kitchen.”

  As they pulled up into Mira’s drive, they saw her approaching from the beach. Mira wasn’t alone. Patrick McKenzie, a local retired history professor with a poorly hidden admiration for Mira strode beside her.

  “Do you think he’ll ever get up the nerve to ask her out?” Jill asked. “He is charming.”

  “You’ve read Mira’s books. Do you think she’d settle for mere charming? Although he is good looking.” In his late fifties, Patrick’s mane of thick hair was peppered with hints of gray, and his chiseled features gave him a striking resemblance to several golden era actors. Eve knew Mira liked him and enjoyed his ramblings layered with historical facts, but she was too set in her ways and enjoyed being single.

  “Hello, Eve. Let me give you a hand with that basket,” Patrick offered.

  Eve gave Mira a look of surprise. It usually took Patrick a few seconds to emerge from his deep thoughts and remember her name.

  “I was just telling Patrick about your film crew.”

  Understanding dawned. That had been Mira’s way of giving Patrick a prompt to shake him out of whatever conversation he’d lost himself in.

  “I saw some of them playing volleyball on the beach,” he said. “I can’t remember when… hang on. Yes, I can. Now that I think about it, I also saw you and Jill. It was a day after that gruesome murder.” He laughed under his breath. “That would yesterday. Do we have any new information?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re quite okay with living there with a killer at large?”

  “I seem to have become immune to it all.”

  Mira peered inside the basket. “I’m surprised you found the time to bring lunch, but it saves us a trip into town.”

  Eve watched Patrick brush his hand across his chin; a particular trait that signaled his thoughts had meandered off track.

  “It just came to me.” He clicked his fingers. “It struck me as odd at the time. I saw you and Jill on the beach talking to a tall man. He’d been playing volleyball and at one point I stopped to see if he could make the shot he was going for. Then he turned and saw you.” He held a hand up. “Hang on. He turned… yes, this is it… he turned because someone signaled him to turn. A woman. Then he missed his shot and went chasing after the ball. He tossed it back into the game but he went over to talk to you.”

  “What did the woman look like?” Eve asked.

  Patrick shrugged. “I only saw her from the back. She had glossy brown hair gathered in a ponytail. I remember watching it swing and thinking how cheerful it looked. I’d just been reading a book about hairstyles throughout the ages. Women have never had it so easy as now. Not long ago they would have spent hours arranging their coiffure.”

  As Patrick went on to describe the extravagant hairstyles of the Georgian period, Eve tried to figure out who’d alerted Matthew.

  Rachael?

  It was the first name that came to mind.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot to mention the curious part. When that man went over to talk to you, the woman strode over to the house. I noticed because she looked furtive. Her steps were measured and she kept glancing your way, almost as if to make sure you were still there. I waited a few seconds, and then I followed her and hovered in the yard. When she saw me
, she turned away from the house.”

  Eve had to fight the urge to return to the inn and confront both Rachael and Matthew. She had to trust the police were taking care of rounding up the suspects and grilling them or whatever it was they did.

  “How’s your book coming along, Mira?” Eve asked.

  She spent the next hour pretending life had returned to normal. Once she had the inn up and running, she’d be run off her feet, but she’d still take time out to enjoy lunches with her aunt and her growing circle of friends.

  “You’ll have to tell me how you did that,” Jill said as they made their way back to the inn.

  “What?”

  “Sit still while your mind was a million miles away.”

  “I paid attention. I followed the conversation and even contributed.”

  “All the while your knuckles were showing white. You couldn’t wait to get back. What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. It’s Jack’s job to find the killer. I’m merely a spectator in all this.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when we’re having a gun pointed at us.”

  “I suppose Josh should know about Rachael sending Matthew over to distract me so he can keep an eye out.” Eve shrugged. “Although, for all I know the police have already singled Rachael and Matthew as persons of interest.”

  As soon as Eve finished relating Patrick McKenzie’s story, Josh got on his cell and reported it all to Jack.

  Jill elbowed him. “Is that all you’re going to do?”

  “I’m only here to observe and report.”

  “Just remember where that information you’re reporting is coming from.”

  “Are you telling Josh to decide which side his bread is buttered on?” Eve asked.

  Josh looked about ready to argue.

  Jill lifted her chin. “It’s not actually open to debate.”

  “Tread with care, Jill. You don’t want Josh to think you’re threatening an officer of the law.”

  “I’m establishing guidelines. We’ll keep him in the loop only if he returns the favor. He can’t expect us to navigate through this blindfolded.”

  “What does that mean?” Josh asked.

  “That we need to know who to watch out for. And in case I didn’t make myself clear, we have to know who your prime suspects are.”

  “Something tells me I should keep right out of this.” Eve turned her attention to making dinner and to thinking about Rachael’s reasons for wanting to access the house by stealth. She stopped and looked up. What if she had competition and Rachael only wanted to find a clue that would lead her to the killer…?

  Chapter Five

  “You’ve been grumbling all morning. What’s up?”

  Jill shuffled her feet. “Every time I see Josh, he’s on his cell reporting our every move. It’s getting on my nerves.”

  “Don’t be mad at him. He’s only doing his job by keeping his boss informed.” Eve plumped up a pillow and rounded the guest bed to tuck in the corners.

  Jill gave a small grunt. “He’s spying on us. So we’re going to have to be extra careful around him.”

  “I didn’t want to suggest it, but now that you mention it, yes. We should take care.” Only because some of the conversations she had with Jill might come across as a bit of garbling and that was something best left… between them.

  “Now I understand why you get grumpy with Jack. I won’t question Josh’s loyalties so I’ll add some extra sugar to my smiles but I’ll keep my distance from him.”

  “Don’t let it go too far. I’d feel dreadful if your relationship with him suffered because of me.” Eve looked around the bedroom. To her surprise, Ricky Sheffield had requested a separate room. To her even greater surprise, he was a tidy man. His clothes had been folded and placed over a chair. The towel he’d used had also been put back in place.

  “Do you want me to start on Catherine’s room?”

  “No. We’ll do it together. I promised Jack we’d watch each other’s backs.”

  “Sometimes I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re rebelling against him, the next you’re toeing the line.”

  “It makes sense to stick together. We don’t want to end up a statistic.” She gave the room a sweeping glance. “Okay. We’re done here.”

  Jill leaned against the doorframe. “Shouldn’t we... you know, look around a bit?”

  “For?”

  “Incriminating evidence. Ricky Sheffield is connected to all this, either by default or by deed. I know he wasn’t on the island, but anyone with a strong enough motive can find the means to achieve their nefarious goals. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a killer for hire. I’m sure there are all sorts of shadowy figures lurking around tinsel town. Think about it. He’s already stepped in to save the day. Most of the work is done but he’ll walk away with the credit and the payment. And maybe even the girl.”

  Impressed by Jill’s deductive thinking, Eve decided to add his name to the possible candidates responsible for Randal’s death. “I agree. He’s definitely gained. Now he’s back in the game directing films and he stands to win Catherine’s heart again… if he wants it. I’m guessing he’s never stopped thinking about her.”

  “And I’m thinking Catherine kept him as a spare.”

  “Your rose tinted glasses have slipped off. I think I’ve become a bad influence. Once this is over we’ll have to work on you regaining your trust in people.”

  Jill strode over to the window. “What’s Josh doing?”

  Eve went to stand beside her. “I asked him to trim the hedges. He’s supposed to be a handy man.”

  “I think he’s eavesdropping on a conversation.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Jill pointed at a couple standing near Josh. “He’s leaning toward them and he’s pretending to clip the hedge. See, now he’s slowed right down. They must be saying something significant.”

  “You’re going to have to use your female wiles to get the information out of him.”

  “That’s where you and I differ. I don’t have the patience or technique. So I’ll use blackmail. No information, no smooching.”

  Eve scanned the yard. People had huddled together into small groups and they all appeared to be talking at once. “Something’s happened.”

  “I agree.”

  “Let’s do Catherine’s room and go down. Someone is bound to want to spill the beans.” Fetching the fresh linen and towels from the hallway cupboard they strode into Catherine’s room and came to a halt. “She takes too much for granted.” Clothes were strewn all over the floor, two wet towels hung over an upholstered chair, left there with no regard to the damage they’d cause. “I’ll kill her.”

  “Eve, saying that out loud is a habit you’re going to have to break.”

  “What do you think of plaid wallpaper for this room?” Eve said changing the subject.

  “You should look into the psychological effects. You wouldn’t want to decorate the room with something that might trigger someone’s dormant killing instincts.”

  “I’ll stick with primroses,” Eve murmured under her breath.

  “Wow. Catherine must follow a strict prevention is better than cure regime. The moisturizers on this table are worth thousands of dollars.”

  “If she’s serious about keeping the worry lines away, she should consider staying away from quarrelsome men,” Eve suggested.

  “Hey, there’s a motive for murder.”

  “Trying to avoid cosmetic surgery? Stabbing someone to death in order to avoid going under the knife is a sign of a seriously twisted mind.” Eve thought about it. “But not entirely improbable.”

  After making quick work of tidying the room, they hurried outside and tried to mingle with the crew.

  Eve sidled up to Matthew, the cameraman they’d befriended. “Looks like it’s all hands on deck. Does that mean filming is about to resume?”

  “Any minute now. We have a scene that needs to be wrapped up this morning. Knowing Ri
cky, he’ll want to make changes to the rest.”

  “This has turned into a hive of activity.”

  Matthew nodded. “Everyone’s eager to impress. We all want to keep our jobs.”

  “Surely Ricky Sheffield wouldn’t fire someone now, not if he’s intent on wrapping this up on time.”

  “No one’s really worried about losing their jobs now. It’s all about getting hired for the next one.”

  Would that be a motive for one of the crew? Kill to please the new director? Even before he’d come on the scene or as a way to ensure he became the new director. “Is there some sort of industry contingency plan, in case the director is no longer available?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m curious. This movie business is new to me.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  Eve shrugged. “There might be others. I’m entertaining a whimsical thought.”

  “There’s always a plan and someone ready to pick up the phone and find a solution before anything becomes a problem.”

  Eve wished she’d recorded that snippet. She ran it through her mind several times and hoped she’d remember every word when she told Jill.

  “There seemed to be a bit of excitement before. I saw everyone huddling together and talking a mile a minute.”

  “You haven’t read the newspaper.”

  “Should I have?”

  “We made front page news. The murder’s been covered by all the major newspapers. That’s great advertising for the film.”

  And another motive.

  “I guess that will make a huge difference.”

  He nodded. “Great for distribution. And it’ll attract more than the average fan. People will want to figure out which scenes were directed by Randal. The film might even acquire a cult following.”

  “Sounds like a worthwhile advantage. Who’s in charge of worrying about distribution?”

  “Everyone with money sunk into the project.”

  She glanced around to see if anyone was paying particular attention to her. After all, the murder had been committed in her kitchen with her knife and that suggested the killer had tried to frame her. “Rachael looks on edge.” The stylist stood nearby ringing her hands, shoving them inside her pockets, pulling them out again, while shifting restlessly, her gaze swinging around. “She actually looks desperate to do something.”