by Sonia Parin
Eve swung toward Mira. “There’s another guest?”
“No, dear. I think Abby is referring to Murphy’s Law.”
Yes, how appropriate, Eve thought. She had planned everything so carefully and now, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.
Eve scooped in a breath. Nothing had gone wrong. She couldn’t lose her head over a slight delay. Soon, William would return and take his guests away.
Eve turned and smiled at Abby. “Great to see you. Would you like a tour of the house? I’m keen to know what you think about the renovations.”
Abby grinned. “I came earlier than I’d planned so I’ve been poking my nose around for a bit now. Everything looks wonderful. I thought I’d feel nostalgic, but you’ve given the place a perfect face-lift. I love it.”
Eve’s relief surprised her. She only now realized she’d been on tenterhooks. Abby’s house had been full of antiques and had aged with grace. While Eve had kept all the original decorative features, the heating and cooling services had been modernized, as well as the bathrooms. The pretty floral wallpapers had been toned down in the living areas, but she’d chosen bold colors for some of the bedrooms. “I think it might be too early for drinks. How about a coffee?” Eve offered.
“I wouldn’t say no to an Irish coffee.” Abby settled on a stool. “So this is your marvelous new bells and whistles French stove. I love the sea green color.”
Eve was about to answer when Jill appeared.
Setting her tray down on the kitchen counter, Jill took a moment to gaze out the window. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, Eve. So, I’ll just come straight out and say it.”
Eve pressed the button on her other new toy, an Italian coffee maker, and told herself to remain calm. Nothing could be as bad as her unwanted lunch guests lingering.
“Martha Payne, the revolver carrying ex-wife who arrived late and likes to make a fuss, had a bit too much to drink and is now sleeping it off in one of the guest bedrooms.”
Eve could feel everyone waiting for her response. She took her time adding a splash of Irish whiskey in Abby’s coffee along with a dollop of freshly whipped cream. “That was very sensible of her. We wouldn’t want anyone getting in their car after they’ve had one too many drinks.”
“I’ve been plying her with coffee.” Jill bit the edge of her lip and gave a tentative smile. “She should be good to go soon. William Hunter is back and he’s rounding up the guests now.”
Eve heard a collective sigh of relief.
Everyone began chatting at once.
Sinking down on a stool, Eve couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
“You look relieved, Eve,” Abby said.
“You don’t know the half of it. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it during dinner.”
“Hear all about what?” Helena Flanders asked as she strode in, making up the fourth dinner guest.
“About how we all thought a lunch guest would be killed today,” Mira offered.
Yes, an amusing tale, Eve thought, and it was now up to her dinner guests to make it through the night unscathed.
Helena laughed. “Well, I guess I made it just in time. It’s looking quite threatening out there. So much for getting my hair done today. It’s a mess. The wind whipped it all out of shape.” Producing a bottle of champagne from her handbag, she handed it to Eve. “I know this is not the official opening, but we should still make a toast.”
“Great idea,” Mira said. “I’ll get the champagne glasses.”
The kitchen filled with lively chatter. Eve lapped it all up and even managed to put the horrible lunch experience behind her.
Helena strode around the kitchen counter and stood in front of Eve’s new stove. “I feel I should kneel before it and pay homage. It’s magnificent. I want one, but I’d have to knock down a few walls to make it fit into my kitchen.”
Eve sniffed. “Is that cigar smoke I smell?” She turned to Jill.
“The men are all out on the front veranda,” Helena offered. “As I was striding up the path, I saw William Hunter coming out of the house with a box of cigars under his arm.”
Jill’s mulish expression spoke of dire consequences. “He’s supposed to be rounding up the guests.”
Eve shook her head and surprised herself by saying, “Let’s not antagonize them, Jill. They’ll be out of our hair soon enough.”
“I guess one of the windows is open,” Jill said, “I’ll go close it.”
Abby gave Eve an encouraging pat on the back. “It won’t be long now, Eve.”
Before Eve could respond, a clap of thunder boomed right overhead. The lights flickered but luckily came back on. Everyone spoke at once then the heavens opened up with rain pelting against the windows.
One by one, they all edged toward the windows to gaze at the deluge.
It took a good five minutes for the rain to ease up. As soon as it did, everyone launched into a lively conversation about the unwanted lunch guests.
Jill appeared and gave Eve a reassuring hug.
“Let me guess,” Eve said, “Now they’re going to wait for the rain to stop.”
Jill gave a small nod. “It’s nearly over. There’s no need to panic.”
“I have no reason to panic. This rain can’t possibly last forever. Those clouds haven’t stopped moving all day. It’ll soon blow over.” Eve drew in a hard breath. “If Martha Payne is too drunk to drive, she can hitch a ride with someone else and collect her car tomorrow.” Eve gave a firm nod, thinking this was nothing but a kink in the road. “I’ll get dinner started.”
“Let’s do the champagne toast first,” Mira suggested.
“Good idea,” Eve said,
“On the bright side,” Mira said, “think of this rain as washing away everything that went on earlier today.”
Yes, Eve liked the sound of that. A brand new start.
“I love the smell of rain,” Abby remarked. “Right along with the smell of freshly laundered linen and new books.”
Everyone concurred.
Mira nodded. “Nothing compares to the smell of a new book. The first time Eve saw me holding a book up and smelling it, she thought I had finally lost it, but then I caught her doing something similar while cooking risotto.”
Eve gave them a dreamy smile. “The sizzling of the onions and rice when I add a splash of white wine always does it for me. It’s magical.”
Abby held her glass up. “I’m not sure it’s actually appropriate to wish you luck, Eve. I get the feeling it would tempt fate.”
“In my case, it would be taunting fate. Perhaps you could all quietly ponder your well wishes,” Eve suggested. Smiling, she took a sip and sat back to enjoy the flow of conversation. After a good half hour, she set her glass down. “Okay. While you all enjoy yourselves, I’m going to get dinner started.” She moved around the kitchen with a lightness to her steps she hadn’t enjoyed in quite a while. She lost herself in the simple task of stirring and tasting. With everything falling into place for her, she even considered sitting down to enjoy dinner with her guests.
As she turned to smile at the tail end of a story, a piercing scream drowned out the chatter.
Everyone appeared to hold their breaths as if waiting for a prompt. Then, someone must have moved. From one moment to the next, they all rushed out of the kitchen and headed toward the front of the house.
Eve turned and gazed out at the window.
Hesitating, she hovered in an indecisive moment, feeling stuck between the devil and the deep blue stormy sea.
What now, she thought.
* * *
Martha Payne, the revolver carrying ex-wife #4, stood on the front veranda silently screaming. She had a bad case of pillow head, with one side flattened, while the other stood on end. She’d either succumbed to shock and had forgotten to close her mouth, or she was digging deep, trying to find her voice.
Eve guessed she had stirred awake and had then wandered downstairs.
&n
bsp; The guests had formed a semicircle around Martha and stood gazing at the swing chair.
“I’d like everyone to please step back and give us some room.”
Josh sounded in control of the situation but Eve knew she had to step forward and see for herself what the fates had dumped on her this time, literally, on her doorstep.
When she broke through the barricade of people, she stared, eyes unblinking at the man slumped on her swing chair, a cigar by his feet.
Josh gave a small shake of his head stating the worst even as he placed the 911 emergency phone call.
Without thinking, Eve bent down and picked up the cigar, setting it down on a saucer the guests had used as an ashtray. Briefly, she looked about her in dismay. Then she managed to speak, her voice strained around the edges, “Jill, could you get everyone inside, please?”
It took a moment for Jill to respond and herd the guests back inside. Not that it made a difference as they all found their way to the windows.
Eve scooped in a breath. “Josh, please check for a pulse again.”
“It’s no use, Eve.” Josh straightened. “He’s gone.”
A gust of wind swirled around them. Eve shivered.
“You should go back inside too,” Josh suggested.
As she turned, she heard sirens approaching, the sound drawing closer yet appearing to fade as it mingled with the wind and rain.
Inside, the guests’ hushed tones filled the living room.
Eve felt helpless. Of all the places he could have died...
She raked her fingers through her hair.
Jill approached her. “You did the best you could, Eve. We took every precaution. No one could have foreseen this.”
Had he been killed?
On her watch. In her brand new inn.
She’d be run off the island.
Eve brushed a hand across her brow. Should she start packing? Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She had no reason to jump to conclusions. People died all the time, some from unexplained causes. Yes, that’s it, she thought. Some people simply drew their last breaths and expired for no reason whatsoever. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” She could think there. She needed to collect her thoughts. Yes, that’s what she’d do.
Jill gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “I think that’s probably for the best.”
“What do you mean?” Eve didn’t wait for Jill’s answer. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the lunch guests had pinned their gazes on her. They weren’t looking for guidance or explanations. Those stares were fixed on a single thought fired directly at her.
Guilty.
* * *
When Detective Jack Bradford strode into the kitchen, he found Eve in the middle of basting her roast quail. She returned the tray to the oven and turned her focus to peeling potatoes.
“Eve.”
“Sorry, Jack. I can’t stop. I’d prepared dinner for four. Now there are extra mouths to feed.” She shrugged. “I assume they’ll need time to recover from the shock. I can’t have them waiting around on empty stomachs. Eating will give them something to do.” She looked up. “Does that sound odd?”
“No. It’s a natural response. You want to keep busy.”
Eve turned a potato in her hand. “They think I had something to do with it, Jack.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Eve.”
She chuckled under her breath. “You would too if you’d seen the way they looked at me. I swear I saw one of them take a step back.”
“They’re all in shock.”
She set the potato down. “I should make sandwiches, not fries. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Or maybe I should wait. They must be about ready to leave. After all, there’s nothing for them to do now.”
“Actually...” Jack looked anywhere but at Eve.
While she didn’t wish to overreact, Jack’s hesitation spoke of dire circumstances looming, gathering momentum and racing toward her.
“Jack, I don’t really care for the sound of your tone.” Accepting the inevitable, she gestured with her hand. “Okay, let’s hear it. I know you’re holding something back.”
He hitched his hands on his hips and met her gaze. “There’s been some rain damage at the Hunter house. William Hunter just received a call from his housekeeper. Can you put them up for the night?”
She counted several heartbeats before responding, “Tell me you’re kidding.” She knew he wasn’t and she shouldn’t be surprised. Death always seemed to set unexpected events into motion, like a domino effect.
“Even if they could find somewhere else to stay, I would advice against any of them driving. One of the guests brought a case of whiskey he had in his car and they’ve been hitting the bottle,” Jack explained.
“Whiskey? Who... Which one?”
Jack checked his notebook. “The author. J.M. Kernel. From what I understand, William Hunter and Stew Peters went out to organize a towing service. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, J.M. Kernel had the whiskey in his car and he didn’t want to leave it. When they returned from organizing the towing service, Jill told them another one of your lunch guests was sleeping if off, so they settled down on the veranda to smoke cigars and drink.”
“You could give them a police escort,” Eve suggested, “They can’t be that far gone.”
“And where do you suggest they go?”
She fished around for some ideas, but nothing came to mind. Eve slammed her hands on the counter. “Well, shame on Roger McLain’s cousin for selling William Hunter a leaky house.”
Jack shifted slightly. “I’ll be taking statements in the library. I’ll do the Hunter guests first and then the others.”
“The others?” She grabbed hold of a potato again as if that alone could ground her. Eve frowned. “Hang on. Aren’t you supposed to wait until the coroner determines the cause of death before questioning people?”
Jack straightened. His face relaxed, taking on a pleasant blandness she recognized only too well.
“I’m only taking statements.”
“You don’t do that without a valid reason.” She held his gaze for long seconds. “You suspect foul play.”
* * *
Abby Larkin and Helena Flanders strode into the kitchen.
“All alone, Eve? If we’d known, we would have come sooner.”
“Mira had been keeping me company to make sure I had an alibi at all times but now there’s no more reason for that.”
Both Abby and Helena stared at her.
“It’s a long story. I believe you were going to hear all about it at dinner,” Eve offered. “Did you give your statements?”
“Yes.” Abby sat down on a stool. “I guess most of us had the same story to tell. We were all in here with you.”
Eve tilted her head in thought. “But you arrived earlier and had a look around the house. Did you see anything unusual?”
“Nothing.” Abby turned to Helena. “What about you?”
Helena nibbled on an olive. “I arrived just as William Hunter was coming out of the house with the cigar box under his arm, then I headed straight for the kitchen.” Along the way, she’d also seen the same people Eve had seen in the sunroom and the library.
What were the chances of Jack being wrong?
Foul play?
He hadn’t been specific, but if he’d noticed something suspicious, then he had to be on to something.
“I’ve never seen a corpse before.” Abby shivered. “How many have you seen, Eve? You must have notched up quite a few by now.”
Jill’s appearance spared Eve the ordeal of having to answer.
“Well, I’ve given my statement,” Jill said, “If there’s a killer among us, I take my hat off to them because I’ve been run off my feet keeping an eye on everyone. I wish you’d gone ahead and installed security cameras in the common areas, Eve. It would make our job that much easier. Maybe now you’ll give it some serious thought.”
Eve stilled.
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What on earth had she been thinking opening an inn? She might as well have issued open invitations. They’d joked about her inn becoming the ideal holiday destination for killers on vacation, but it hadn’t occurred to them it might also become a murder hotspot.
No, not murder, Eve insisted. She couldn’t afford to fuel Jack’s suspicions. Or had they been her suspicions?
Her first dinner party at the inn. Ruined.
As for the victim...
She hoped he hadn’t suffered.
Had he seen it coming? Had he felt something?
His family and friends would have to deal with the aftermath. No, she didn’t want to think about it.
Helena smiled at her. “Cheer up, Eve. This makes it three deaths. You know what they say about disasters coming in threes. This should put an end to it all.”
What if that became a recurring cycle of self-fulfilling prophecies? Eve sighed. “There’s no reason to think this is murder.”
“There must be a reason why Jack is taking statements,” Jill said as she stood guard at the door, “Did he say anything to you, Eve?”
Eve shook her head. He might have said something more if she’d asked, but she hadn’t. Jack had been right in telling her to avoid jumping to conclusions. Why worry about something until they had all the facts?
Eve gave a firm nod. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing wrong with hiding her head in the sand or finding refuge in peeling potatoes and making sandwiches.
Jill nibbled on the tip of her thumb. “Did he ask anyone about the cigar box? He wanted to know when I’d noticed it.”
Eve stilled. Cigar box?
“Now that you mention it, yes,” Abby chirped.
Helena picked up another olive. “Me too. I told him I saw William Hunter with it when I arrived.”
“Cigar box?” Eve asked again. “Why would Jack ask about a cigar box?”
Jill shrugged. “Jack was annoyingly uncooperative. He flat out refused to share any pertinent information. If there’s something significant about the cigar box, then he’s not saying.”
Eve tried to think back to when she’d come down the stairs. She’d looked around but had she seen a box of cigars? “Jill, when you rushed by me in the hallway, you were carrying a tray of drinks. Who were they for?”