by Sonia Parin
Mira glanced at Eve. “You have to admire a man who remains friends with his ex-wives and is even prepared to remarry one of them.”
Eve refrained from commenting; silently insisting the kitchen had to remain neutral ground.
With the starters on their way, she checked the time and took a few moments to tidy up before preparing the main course.
Mira sighed. “Well. That’s quite a collection of people. Three ex-wives. Some of those names ring bells. I’ve heard say Valentine has an unpredictable temper. At some point, I will have to take a peek. From what I hear, Liz Logan and Julia Maeve don’t get along, at all.”
Eve strode over to the adjoining sunroom and sunk down on the couch next to Mischief and Mr. Magoo. She’d had a devil of a time explaining to the health inspectors the dogs were well trained and would never stray away from their designated area.
“I hope your editor arrives before it starts to rain,” Eve said, “I wouldn’t want him to get caught driving in bad weather.” Leaning back, she closed her eyes and smiled, taking a moment to enjoy the silence.
All the details had been worked out. Nothing would go wrong. In a few hours, they would be on their merry way.
Jill’s walkie-talkie crackled. “Code blue. Code blue.”
Groaning softly, Eve peeled an eye open.
“What on earth is that?” Mira asked, “And what is code blue?”
“Jill wanted ready access to Josh. She says the walkie-talkie is more efficient than using a cell phone.” Hauling herself back to the kitchen, Eve picked up the walkie-talkie and casually answered, “What’s up, Josh?”
“A car pulled up outside the inn. A woman is getting out. Going by the way she wrenched her sunglasses off, I’d say she’s not happy. Wait... she’s making a beeline for the front door. Someone needs to intercept her. There’s a bulge in her pocket. It appears to be weighing the coat down. I suspect it’s a revolver.”
Keeping her tone casual, Eve said, “Thank you for the update. Samantha will take care of it.”
“She might need backup,” Josh suggested, “I’m on my way downstairs. Don’t tell Jill I’ve abandoned my post.”
“I suggest you stay put, Josh.”
He sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Over and out.”
“Is that really Josh?” Mira asked.
“Yes. That’s... Officer Josh Matthews moonlighting as...” Eve shrugged. “Never mind.”
Moments later, Jill strode into the kitchen and chirped, “We have a late arrival. Martha Payne. Elizabeth Rogue apologizes for the inconvenience. Martha hadn’t responded to the invitation. Apparently, she enjoys just turning up and making a fuss. I assured Elizabeth Rogue we could accommodate another lunch guest.”
Eve plastered on a smile. “Sure. As Mira said, the more the merrier.”
Jill cleared her throat. “I should warn you. She is carrying a weapon.”
Eve blinked. She searched her mind for an appropriate response. When she drew a blank, she wondered if that was the first sign of a fatal disease...
“When I took her coat,” Jill explained, “I took the liberty of patting the pockets. Finding the revolver, I asked her about it. She has a permit.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mira mused. “Is she, by any chance, another ex-wife?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“A lucky guess.”
Jill peered out the window. “Those thunder clouds are getting closer.”
* * *
Jill scurried into the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel, and scuttled out again without saying a word.
Eve and Mira exchanged a raised eyebrow look but didn’t say anything.
The hum of conversation coming from the dining room sounded cheerful enough. Eve guessed someone must have spilled something.
Mira eventually broke the silence. “Something smells wonderful, Eve. My mouth is watering.”
Eve smiled. “This stove is fantastic. It does everything, including barbecuing.” She cut the potatoes into neat slices and precise strips, making sure they were all the same length. After rinsing them in cold water, she placed them in a pan and brought them to the boil. She spent the next five minutes wiping down surfaces and making sure everything would be ready for the main course.
Draining the potatoes, she dried them thoroughly before blanching them in a deep fryer. Setting them aside to drain on paper towels, she began preparing the plates.
Jill rushed in again. “Do we have any pink salt?”
Eve handed her a small grinder.
Jill looked at it. “When Valentine asked for pink salt, I thought she was making it up but I didn’t dare contradict her. She’s... She’s scary.” Jill waved and scampered out again.
“I thought you seasoned your food to perfection,” Mira remarked.
“I do.”
“That TV chef who swears a lot wouldn’t stand for someone adding salt to his food.”
“Mira, are you baiting me?”
“No, dear. Why would I do that?”
Eve dropped the fries into the deep fryer and cooked them until they were golden and crisp.
She estimated it would take the guests half an hour to forty-five minutes to eat the main, depending on how much talking and drinking they did. The hum of conversation wafted from the dining room. So far, it all sounded perfectly civilized and, despite the odd group of people at the table, Eve had no reason to believe anything would disrupt the peace.
Jill appeared just as Eve finished inspecting each plate. “All good to go.”
Without saying a word, Jill picked up the mains and hurried out into the dining room.
“Weren’t you going to get some serving staff?” Mira asked.
“Jill insisted she could handle it. In her opinion, the less people who come into contact with the food, the better.” Eve shrugged. “Less suspects for the police to worry about.” She really needed to stop stoking the fire. In days to come, she would look back on all this and have a good laugh at her own expense. But right that minute... She was hanging by a thread and struggling to avoid thinking of everything that could still go wrong.
Mira checked her watch. “Jordan should be arriving soon. You needn’t worry about him. I’ll entertain him. And you’ll want to take a break before tonight’s dinner.”
“Yes, I plan on having a nice soak in the bathtub,” Eve said as she arranged the final plates for Jill to collect. As Jill made quick work of carrying them out, Eve edged toward the door leading to the dining room and peered out.
The nods of approval she saw were enough to satisfy her.
Finally, she could breathe easy.
Clearing the kitchen bench, Eve strode around the counter, poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Mira.
Mira raised her glass in a salute. “Well done, Eve.”
Eve took a sip of her wine, enjoying the full-bodied flavor with hints of blackcurrant.
“All those ex-wives sitting at the same table,” Mira commented, “I wonder what keeps them coming back for more? I’ve met the man. Sure, he’s good-looking, but he’s as dull as dishwater.”
Eve took another sip.
“Maybe they’ve all come together to plot his murder,” Mira added.
Eve tipped the glass back and drank deeply.
“That would be an interesting twist. Here you are, trying to avoid the man and he lands right on your doorstep bringing an entourage of possible murderers with him.”
The walkie-talkie crackled. “Amber alert. Repeat. Amber alert. Two people are headed toward the house. Now they’ve reached the gate and they’re splitting up. One is striding along the west side of the house, the other one appears to be making a beeline for the kitchen...”
Ignoring Mira’s wide-eyed expression, Eve poured herself another glass of wine. As she took a sip, she looked out the window and nearly choked.
“Is that Elsie McAllister from the Sisters in Crime reading group?” Mira waved at Elsie, but the woman ducked, presumably to avo
id detection.
“Yes,” Eve said flatly.
“What is she doing out there?” Mira looked at Eve. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong?”
Did she really need to ask? “I’m searching for a word.” She took another sip of her wine.
“The nips are getting bigger?”
“Pardon?”
“It’s an Australian expression.” She eyed Eve’s glass. “It means you’re having more and more to drink. Not that I’m judging. In fact, you have dealt with all this admirably well.”
“I’m not celebrating until they’ve had their coffees and gone on their way.” Eve took another sip. “Perverse. That’s the word I was hunting for.”
“In what context were you thinking about it?”
“Delight. As in, despite everyone’s reservations, I’d bet anything the locals are showing a perverse delight in all this and are waiting for something to happen.” She raised her glass. “But nothing will happen. We’ve made sure of that.”
“Code red. Code red.”
Eve nearly dropped her glass.
“That sounds rather urgent,” Mira said as she offered to top Eve’s glass.
“Just a finger, please.”
The walkie-talkie crackled. “Is anyone there?”
Eve’s eye twitched. “Actually, make that two fingers.”
“Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Mira asked, her voice full of innocence.
Eve held the glass against her mouth and pretended to give the idea some thought before shaking her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I repeat, code red,” Josh’s voice sounded breathless. “Everyone to their battle stations. I repeat. Code red.”
Eve rolled her eyes and held her glass out. “Go ahead. Top it up to the rim.”
Jill burst into the kitchen. “What’s happened? I thought I heard Josh.”
Right on cue, they heard the sound of a whistle being blown.
Jill plunged her fingers through her hair. “That’s the last resort alarm. Why didn’t you call me?”
Eve nudged a stool with her foot. “You look run off your feet, Jill. Take a load off.”
“Take a break? How can you suggest that when there’s a code red happening?” Jill flapped her arms and rushed off, presumably to meet up with Josh and deal with the code red.
“Should we follow?” Mira half rose out of her chair.
Eve wagged her finger. “I have no intention of leaving this kitchen unattended and your job is to supervise me.” As far as Eve was concerned, she had a duty of care but that only involved making sure no one died from her food. Anything else remained strictly out of her control.
Mira sank back down on her chair.
Seeing Mira’s disappointment, Eve said, “I’m sure Jill will return with news.”
The walkie-talkie crackled again. They heard Jill yelp and Josh grunt. The sounds of a scuffle were followed by silence.
Mira strode over to the window. “I think they’ve wrestled someone to the ground.”
Eve checked the clock on the kitchen wall. Her voice remained calm as she said, “I hope Jill hurries back inside. The guests must be about to finish their main courses.”
“How can you remain so calm?” Mira asked.
Eve shrugged. As Mira had pointed out, Eve had tried to avoid William Hunter but he’d landed on her doorstep. Something... Someone was testing her. “I am not leaving this kitchen unattended,” she said under her breath.
A few minutes later, Jill returned, her expression grim as she tucked her shirt in. She blew a lock of hair out of the way and announced in a resigned tone, “We have another guest. A late arrival.”
Both Eve and Mira gaped at her.
“His car broke down,” Jill explained, “And he walked the rest of the way, cutting through a lane. He missed his turn and ended up trying to climb over the hedge. That’s when Josh and I tackled him to the ground.”
“Isn’t that a bit extreme, Jill?” Mira asked.
“Under the circumstances, no. I don’t think so.” Jill pushed out a breath. “Right... well... They must be finished by now, so I’m about to clear the table.”
Mira’s eyes widened slightly. “Who is the new arrival?”
“J.M. Kernel.”
“The crime writer?” Mira’s voice hitched with surprise.
Jill nodded. “He says he’ll be happy with a cup of coffee and a whiskey.”
Mira gave a pensive nod. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard rumors about his drinking. He must be between books.”
Eve clapped her hands and drew their attention. “This is the home run, people. Let’s make this happen and shove them out the door.” Elsie McAllister was no doubt still hovering nearby, ready and waiting to witness something. Eve hoped she’d be satisfied with seeing the author being brought down by Jill and Josh. News would spread in no time and perhaps be embellished. By the end of the week, Eve knew the locals would be whispering about her chasing after J.M. Kernel with her sharpest knife. She could live with that.
“I’m beginning to find this very odd,” Mira murmured.
“Unexpected guests arriving?”
“Yes. It’s almost as if the universe is conspiring against you and taunting you.”
“Well, it can taunt all it likes. I’m not taking the bait.”
For the first time that day, Eve felt her mood lift, making her aware of how concerned she’d been during the last couple of days. Once the lunch guests left, she planned on enjoying a long, revitalizing soak in the bathtub in readiness for that night’s dinner party.
They only had the coffee and dessert to get through.
Fingers crossed no one chokes on the coffee, Eve thought.
Chapter Four
It took Eve half an hour to talk herself into climbing out of the bathtub. All things considered, including the late arrivals, the intruders, and everything else that could have gone wrong but thankfully hadn’t, lunch had been wonderfully uneventful.
Adjusting her pristine white chef’s jacket, she looked in the mirror, her lips stretching into a wide smile. “You did great, Eve.”
Instead of taking the back stairs down to the kitchen, she took the stairs leading to the front of the house. Now that all the wretched lunch guests had left, she would take a moment to enjoy her first official practice run. She would stride into her wonderfully cozy living room with the tiny rosebud wallpaper and antique furniture, and swirl around once, maybe twice, and do a victory dance to commemorate the moment.
Her dream come true, she thought. Her own inn in a small island town inhabited by well-meaning people who would eventually, she hoped, come to appreciate everything she had to offer.
Halfway down the stairs, Eve heard the sound of voices drifting toward her. Her steps slowed. Had the evening guests arrived early?
She knew Mira’s editor, Jordan, had planned on driving in early to have a business chat with Mira. Abby Larkin had been on the island since the morning catching up with friends. Eve expected her to arrive at about six, perhaps a little earlier to wander around the house that had once belonged to her.
Had she lost track of time? Checking her watch, Eve shook her head. Once she’d cleaned the kitchen, she’d given herself an entire hour to recover and prepare for that night’s dinner. Again, she would remain behind the scenes. As much as she’d love to join her friends at the table, she really needed to get back into the swing of things and get used to preparing meals for others to enjoy.
A burst of laughter had her hurrying toward the sunroom. When she reached it, she stopped. There were two women she didn’t recognize sitting on the floral couch and Elizabeth Rogue opposite them.
Why was she still here?
Backing away from the sunroom, Eve strode toward the kitchen. Along the way, she walked past the library only to double back. A man stood by one of the bookcases, his attention on a book he held. A woman sat in a corner, also reading a book.
Just how long had she been upstairs? After nearly do
zing off in the bathtub, she’d decided to stretch out on the bed and close her eyes, but she could have sworn it had only been for a few minutes.
Jill hurried past her carrying a tray of drinks.
“Jill?”
“Not now, Eve.”
Frowning, Eve strode into the kitchen where she found Mira deep in conversation with a man.
“Oh, there she is. Eve, this is Jordan Monroe. My editor.”
Eve smiled and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Turning to Mira, she asked, “Who are those people in the sunroom... and the library?”
“Oh, those are the stragglers,” Mira gave her a brisk smile. “Remember J.M. Kernel’s car broke down.”
Eve gave a small nod.
“Well,” Mira continued, “William and Stew Peters drove off with him to organize a towing service, so the others stayed behind. You know, the ex-wives, the editor, Julia Maeve, Marcus Leeds and Elizabeth Rogue.” Mira waved her hand. “William should be back shortly to collect them.”
“Why... Why did he leave them behind?” Eve exclaimed, her voice rising slightly, “They didn’t all come in one car.”
Mira gave a casual shrug. “They were reluctant to drive to William’s house while he was out and about. So, they thought it would be easier to wait for him here. Don’t worry about them. They’ve been well behaved. In fact, they’ve been so quiet I forgot all about them.” Mira looked over Eve’s shoulder. “Here’s Abby.”
Eve swung around. The previous owner of Tinkerbelle’s Bookstore and the house Eve had turned into an inn laughed.
“You can’t be surprised to see me because you were expecting me, so I have to assume Mr. Murphy has come knocking at your door.”