by Sonia Parin
“Where are you at with that?” he asked.
Eve could barely hide her surprise at his interest. Jill had warned her Josh played it by the book and frowned on civilians getting mixed up in police work. “There are plenty of people with motives.”
Josh nodded. “You need those. You also need proof.”
“I usually leave that to the professionals,” Eve said.
“Really? I thought you tended to take matters into your own hands and force the killer into stepping forward and giving you proof.”
The edge of her lip kicked up. “That works too.”
“So what’s the strongest lead you have?”
“The target’s changed. We’re thinking Randal got in the way and was either mistaken for me or killed in order to make my life difficult. And that leads us to believe one of the neighbors is unhappy about me setting up an inn.”
“When did you come up with that?” Jill asked.
“After we found you, but it’s been taking shape all day. While I was talking with Jack earlier on, I noticed a woman… one of my neighbors. I’ll have to find out her name. She lives in the house across the street and only comes to the island every other weekend. I’m thinking she can’t be happy about all this activity.”
Would she be unhappy enough to kill?
“Where did you learn to dice so neatly?” she asked Josh as she prepared the pizza dough.
“I’m one of five boys. My mother was a teacher and heavily involved in community work so we all had to acquire a useful skill in the kitchen. Mine was vegetables. Chopping, slicing…”
“You’re very handy with the knife.”
He grinned. “Did you just include me in your list of suspects?”
“What possible reason would you have to kill Randal?”
“You tell me. I hear you’re very good at digging up motives.”
“Let me think… By day, you’re a law-abiding police officer and by night, you become your complete opposite. Until recently, you’ve managed to keep your dark fantasies under wraps, but you suddenly lost your control and your darker urges took over.”
He laughed. “You’ve inherited your aunt’s talent for storytelling. Has Jill ever come under suspicion?”
“Of course, she has. In fact, the day we met we both pointed the finger of suspicion at each other.”
Jill grinned. “Eve and I have survived many trials and tribulations together.”
A hollow thump had them all swinging toward the front of the house.
“What now?”
“Sounded like a brick.” Josh put his arm out to stop both Jill and Eve. “You two stay here.”
“No way. We’ll be right behind you,” Jill said.
They filed out toward the front sitting room and peered out the window.
“It’s hard to see with no lights on.” It didn’t help to have a cloudy night. Everything looked pitch dark outside. “Does anyone sense any movement out there?”
“No.” Josh turned to face them. “This time, I mean it. Stay back. I’m going outside.”
“You’ve got no arguments from me,” Jill said.
Eve nodded. “Or me. You’re trained in all this and paid to take risks.”
They watched him step outside. The door remained slightly ajar. Within seconds, he returned carrying a brick.
“Looks like someone’s aim is off. I’m sure whoever threw this meant to smash a window.”
Eve shivered. “I’m definitely the target here.” She strode back inside and grabbed her cell.
“Are you calling Jack?”
“I’m calling Shelby.” The owner of Shelby’s Table had helped her in the past by giving her a heads-up when people of interest came into her restaurant. “I need to know who’s accounted for.” Moments later, she grumbled under her breath. “She could only give me numbers. Shelby doesn’t know any of the crew by name, but she did recognize Catherine and the man with her sounded like Ricky Sheffield.”
“Who would be your prime suspect among the crew?”
“Rachael, but I don’t want her to become my easy target just because she gives me dirty looks. It’s all fairly circumstantial. Maybe she dislikes me because I’m taunting her with my pastries or maybe she has other reasons… or maybe I’m imagining it all.”
“I saw Catherine nibble on one of your pastries when she thought no one was looking. What if Rachael’s anger is about you tempting her employer?” Jill asked.
Josh shook his head.
“What? You disagree?”
“I’m grateful for our legal system.”
“And glad we don’t have a say in who’s put behind bars?” Eve asked.
“You do work in mysterious ways.”
“Yes, but don’t forget we’ve had a hand at putting away a few killers.”
Jill agreed with a hearty nod.
A couple of hours later, they were still mulling over what had happened when they heard the film crew returning.
Catherine and Ricky went straight upstairs. They knew that because Josh made a point of hovering near the stairs to make sure no one else came into the house.
“I’ve checked all the doors and windows,” he reported.
“Did you also happen to contact Jack about the brick?”
“Of course. He had to know. He sent another squad car. Same deal as last time. Someone posted out on the street and someone else keeping an eye out on the beach.”
Half an hour later she received a text from Jack saying he’d been in town and could account for all the film crew.
Once Eve got over the shock of him sharing such pertinent information, she nibbled the edge of her thumb. If everyone working on the set had been in town, then it meant she had to consider one of her neighbors as the culprit.
As she lay in bed that night she couldn’t stop wondering why people had to resort to violence to get their point across. If a neighbor was disgruntled about her plans to turn the house into an inn, they should have expressed their concerns when she’d lodged her permit applications…
Her fingers curled. She gritted her teeth.
Trying to relax, she switched her attention to reading some of the articles Jill had found on Ricky Sheffield, but her attention strayed to the noises made by the house as it settled in for the night. The thought of someone lurking in the shadows and waiting to sneak in kept her awake for most of the night…
“That’s everyone fed.” Eve strode into the kitchen and began stacking the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “I’ve been thinking about paying my neighbors a visit. Introduce myself. I have enough muffins left over. I could take some as… peace offerings. Not that I think I need to apologize for the film crew. It’s good for the island. The film might end up attracting more tourists. The same goes for the inn. What do you think, Jill? Will they buy it?”
“Sorry, I’m still waking up and I must have a one track mind,” Jill said. “It’s only after I’ve had my breakfast that I start to remember why we’re here.”
“I suppose that means you had no trouble sleeping.”
“None. I feel safe with Josh here.”
“He and Jack inspected the entire outdoor area of the house at the crack of dawn but didn’t find anything.” Eve put her finger to her lips and called for silence. Not that it was necessary. Catherine Allan’s voice carried easily. “It’s not coming from upstairs.” She strode over to the back door and peered out at the beach. “It’s Catherine and the producer. Catherine just poked him on his chest.” Eve eased the door open.
“Whatever he wants, he gets. Is that understood?”
Eve raised her eyebrows and eased the door closed. “Well, that’s telling him.” Clearly, she was pushing for Ricky Sheffield to get his way, even if it meant going over budget. “If anything happens to the new film director, I think we can safely assume the producer had a hand in it.”
Coming into the kitchen in time to hear the tail end of the conversation, Josh shook his head as if to suggest Eve was a lost cau
se.
Eve finished wiping down the kitchen counter. “I need some time away from the house so I’m running into town to get some pastries from the bakery.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Jill asked.
“No one here will know the difference. Josh can keep an eye on things and you’re coming with me, Jill. I meant what I said about you sticking close to me.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll walk a few paces behind you.”
Eve grabbed a jacket and made a note to stock up on firewood. Although, it might be a good idea to test the chimneys first. They probably needed a good clean.
“Looks like everyone is sleeping in.” It had been days since she’d heard the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. She glanced over at the houses across the street. Yes, she really needed to make amends. Her neighbors had to be gritting their back teeth, the disruption to their usual peace and quiet not something they would appreciate.
“The morning air might be too crisp for them, but they’re missing out on all this lovely sunshine.” Eve drove in silence for a moment, giving herself a break from all the worries of the last few days. She had no idea how Jack managed to do this type of work day in, day out. The constant stress and prodding for information would do her head in. Then again, he seemed to have the calm temperament for it. “Still researching on-line?” she asked Jill whose attention hadn’t strayed from her cell.
“I found an article about Randal Bergstrom’s last movie. Filming was postponed a couple of times due to backers pulling out, but it finally went ahead.”
“Where did he get the money from?”
“An investment group, unnamed, came through. Apparently his wife had a hand in securing the financing. They’d gone over budget.”
“Yes, Catherine told me Marina Bergstrom handled the money side of things. I wonder where she stands with her involvement now that her husband is gone?” Eve frowned all the way into town, her thoughts fixed on Marina Bergstrom who’d no doubt stand to inherit… something. Royalties from her husband’s films? “Broken promises.”
“What about them?” Jill asked.
“I’m not sure, but I heard Catherine accuse Randal of those. I wouldn’t mind knowing what they were?”
Jill chortled. “Obviously they’re your run of the mill empty promises to leave his wife for her.”
As they strode into the bakery all the customers there turned toward Eve, their eyes filled with expectation.
“I think I’ve been branded,” Eve murmured. “Everyone’s looking at me.”
“Branded as a troublemaker? Yes, there’s no doubt about that.”
“Thanks, Jill.”
“You’ve gained entertainment value. People look to you expecting to see something happen. Let’s face it, it usually does.”
She ordered a few dozen pastries and while she waited for them to be parceled up she made a point of reading the local newspaper.
“Look, you’ve even made the front page news. That’s great advertising for your inn.”
“Only if I put a positive spin to it and I doubt my imagination can be stretched that far. By the time this is over, I might have to invest in a spin doctor or else see my business venture die an early death.”
Someone behind them snickered.
“What did I tell you? Entertainment value.”
Eve sighed. “I should pass a hat around.”
“Keep thinking about the inn failing and you might well have to stand in a street corner and sing for your supper.”
“Excuse me, are you Eve Lloyd?”
Eve turned and gazed at an elderly lady bearing a striking resemblance to the TV character, Ms Marple.
“Yes.”
“I’m Elsie McAllister. My friends and I have formed a book club. I understand you’re in the process of opening an inn on the island.”
“She is,” Jill volunteered. “And there’s a lovely front parlor with a cozy fireplace. It would be an ideal place to hold afternoon book clubs.”
“That’s precisely what I had in mind.”
Eve bit the edge of her lip.
“We’ve been hunting around for a suitable gathering place. Nothing fancy. We’ve been taking turns to hold our meetings in our homes but at the end of the day, we want to be able to chat without having to worry about serving food and drink.”
“The inn will be perfect for you.”
Eve glanced at Jill. She couldn’t tell if she was having fun at her expense or being sincerely enthusiastic.
“What sort of books does your group enjoy reading?”
“Murder mysteries. The more gruesome the better.”
Eve gazed heavenward. “And so, it begins,” she said under her breath.
“Eve doesn’t have a business card yet but she’ll be advertising the opening dates in the newspaper. Keep an eye out for it…”
Eve collected her parcels and strode out to the car, leaving Jill behind to chat with the Ms. Marple lookalike.
“Well, there’s some incentive for you,” Jill said as she caught up with her.
“And what did I tell you? I’m going to become the ideal destination for killers on vacation.” She couldn’t help laughing. Looking up, she glanced across the street. “Is that Matthew Clayton?”
“Who?”
“The cameraman. Talking to someone in that silver SUV.” She didn’t remember seeing it parked anywhere near the house. A late arrival?
The conversation ended. Matthew stepped back and Eve couldn’t help noticing how he cast furtive glances one way and the other before hurrying to his own car.
“I get the feeling he didn’t want anyone to see him talking to that person.”
“For once, I agree with you, Eve. He did look suspicious. Which one are we going to follow?”
Chapter Seven
“I guess we’re following the silver SUV.”
Not on purpose. Eve’s intention had been to head back to the inn. Driving at her normal speed, she’d caught up with the SUV in no time. “The driver’s not giving us much of a choice.” They were driving way under the speed limit. Eve kept her distance, but with no other traffic on the road she couldn’t hope to go undetected. “What would a local do?”
“Half an hour ago, they would have overtaken them, but that would defeat the purpose of our intriguing tailing. What on earth could they be doing?”
“Talking on the phone? They can’t possibly be lost.” They were on the main road that circled the island. Reaching the end meant you’d arrived at the beginning. “They could be killing time.”
“Or taunting you into overtaking them. They must be onto you, Eve. Clearly you haven’t mastered the art of tailing a possible suspect.”
Eve frowned. “Are they slowing down again?”
“They’re turning.”
Into her street.
“They’ve pulled up outside the inn.”
Eve could see that. What she couldn’t see was how her life had taken this strange turn. She’d led such an uneventful scheduled existence, always knowing what to expect, always being in charge of her daily activities. Early morning starts and visits to the markets to buy fresh produce for her restaurant. Staff meetings to talk about the menu. Food prepping. Cooking. Lunch service. Dinner service. Her life had adhered to a bullet point list of activities. Now she experienced one surprise after another, as for the shocks…
So much for coming to the island to relax.
“It’s a woman. She looks like a celebrity.”
Polished. Elegant. Even from a distance Eve could tell she oozed confidence.
“I’d bet anything that’s Marina Bergstrom. She’s the only key player missing,” Jill said.
“I beg to differ,” Eve chuckled. “We haven’t seen Dan Kale.”
“You’re saying that because you want an up close and personal encounter with the star.”
“It wouldn’t hurt. I should be compensated for all my troubles. Anyway, what makes you think it could be Marina?”
“There’s an air of command about her, the sort that’s wielded from the comfort of a luxurious setting. She looks like the type who spends hours every week at the hair salon. That hair style doesn’t happen by itself.”
Eve agreed. Her long chestnut tresses cascaded along her narrow shoulders and nearly reached her slim waist. Dressed in casual white jeans and a tailored jacket, she held her handbag with such care Eve decided she also spent a great deal of time getting her nails done.
“If it is her, then I have no reason to suspect Matthew Clayton of…” Eve clicked her fingers, “nefarious activities… of having a clandestine meeting. That means I’ll have to revise my suspicions. It might be safe to assume they know each other from way back. He would have spotted her and stopped for a chat or given her directions.”
“I guess I’m becoming more cynical than you. I think if they’ve known each other a long time, it makes him a perfect suspect. Marina might have something on him and used it to force his hand to kill her husband. Or… or Matthew Clayton might be in love with her. Here’s my theory. For years now, he’s lived in hope of Marina being free. He got tired of waiting for Randal to divorce her, so he took matters into his own hands.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Eve said. “If she has luggage in her car, we’re in for a bumpy ride. I can’t imagine her playing nice with Catherine. She might have tolerated her husband’s shenanigans, but at such close quarters, surely the gloves have to come off.”
“In your place, I’d be cranky over her assuming she can just rock up and expect you to put her up.”
“You’re right. Who does she think she is, coming here without a booking?” As they strode up to the house, Eve looked around to see if Matthew had made it back. Instead, she saw Rachael glaring at the woman they assumed was Marina Bergstrom. It made her wonder if that was Rachael’s natural response to any woman…
“Good morning,” Eve said.
The woman glanced at her watch. “It’s right on the dot of midday, actually. I’m Marina Bergstrom. I didn’t call ahead, but I assume you have an extra room for me.”
“You’re staying.” Not a question but rather a statement.