The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 1

by Fiona Snyckers

  “It must have been.” The basketball he had been trying to spin on his finger bounced off his desk, causing papers to drift to the floor. He giggled. “I remember now. Chuck had already met Jess. Then Pete and I started talking to them. That was an awesome night. We were the four musketeers. We hung out every single day after that.”

  “I’ve heard that Jessica and Chuck were actually a couple. Is that true?”

  “Damien dropped the basketball. It bounced across the office and came to rest in a corner. His face wore an expression of petulance.

  “Who told you that? It’s not true. If Jess liked anyone, it was me. We had a connection. She could feel it and I could feel it. We just couldn’t do anything about it – not then anyway.”

  “Tell me about the pact you had that none of you boys would make a move on her.”

  “That was Chuck’s idea. He could be an asshole sometimes. He said it would disturb the equilibrium of the group if we started fighting over Jess or if one of us made it with her and not the others.” He made sarcastic air quotes with his fingers to indicate his opinion of this idea. “He said it would be better for all of us if we just stayed friends over spring break and enjoyed each other’s company. Jess and Pete agreed, so I had no choice. I had to agree too.”

  “Did anything happen to disturb the pact?” Eulalie asked.

  Damien’s eyes shifted away from hers. “Nah. What could have happened? Jess and I, we had this little buzz going – like this little zing between us. But we didn’t do anything about it. I was going to wait until Chuck left to go back to Maine before making my move. I don’t know what Pete was thinking.”

  His lips had settled into a pout. Eulalie decided to leave the Jessica issue alone for now.

  “Tell me about the night you went to Monk’s Cay. Whose idea was it?”

  “Pete and I had been talking about it for days. We’d been telling Chuck and Jess about this cool island with a ruined monastery and how it was supposed to be haunted. We’d heard about kids who had gone out there on a dare but none of them made it till morning. We psyched each other up about it.”

  “Do you remember who specifically suggested it on that day?”

  “It kind of grew out of our conversation. We kept saying we were going to do it, and then chickening out, and then saying it again. We had been drinking all day, see? It was only after ten that we finally made up our minds to do it.”

  “Whose idea was it to take a motorboat?”

  “I can’t remember, but how else were we going to get there? That was what kids did in those days. They took a motorboat out to Monk’s Cay.”

  “And what happened when you got there?”

  Damien picked up his baseball and mitt and began throwing the ball into the glove. “We unloaded the beer and pulled the boat up onto the beach, so it wouldn’t drift away with the tide. Pete and I made a fire out of some dry wood that we found growing near the beach. It burned down quickly so we went to fetch some more. When we came back, we found Chuck trying to make a move on Jess. He was, like, grabbing her and trying to kiss her or whatever. We got mad and reminded him that he was the one who had come up with the pact. So, like, what was he doing trying to break it now? He said it was just the booze that made him do it and promised not to try again, but Pete was really mad. Pete and Chuck started going at each other. Like, throwing punches and stuff. Then Jess got upset. She said she was going for a walk on the beach to cool off. We were like, whatever. But then she didn’t come back.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “I went over this with the police so many times, it’s all got jumbled up in my mind.”

  “Close your eyes and try to imagine you are back on Monk’s Cay. It’s dark and there’s a breeze blowing in from the sea. The fire is dying down again. You’re all wondering when Jess is going to come back. Then something happens – something that makes you rush back to the boat. What was it?”

  He closed his eyes, although she hadn’t expected him to.

  “Something came at us out of the dark.”

  “Was it one thing, or more than one thing?”

  “I… I’m not sure. I felt something grab me around the neck. It was cold and clammy. It felt like a nightmare. The moon had gone behind a cloud and the fire was dying fast. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.”

  “What could you hear? Was it quiet or noisy?”

  “It was noisy. Everyone was shouting and screaming. I could hear the sound of someone’s breath rushing in and out of my ears. I don’t know – I thought it was mine.”

  “What could you smell?”

  “I…”

  The office door opened, and a middle-aged man walked in.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Chapter 6

  Damien Hodge’s eyes snapped open. When he saw who it was, he smiled. “Hi, Dad!”

  “Good morning, son.” The man turned to Eulalie. “I said, what is going on in here?”

  “Are you Mr. John Hodge?”

  “Yes, I damn well am. I demand an explanation for this. I got to work this morning only to be told that my son is being interrogated by some investigator or other without his mother or I present.”

  “My name is Eulalie Park, Mr. Hodge.” She held out one of her business cards. When he didn’t take it, she laid it down on the desk. “My secretary telephoned your son’s secretary this morning to ask for this appointment. Your son agreed to see me to talk about the disappearance of Jessica Manilow five years ago. I fail to see the problem.”

  “The problem, as you very well know, young lady, is that it is against the law for a child to be questioned without his parents being present.”

  Eulalie glanced at Damien Hodge. For a dizzy moment, she wondered if she had got his age wrong.

  “Look, Dad. I can get three darts into the inner circle on my first try.” He bounced up and ran to the dartboard.

  “That’s very good, son.”

  “First of all,” said Eulalie, “that only applies to lawyers and police officers. I am a private investigator who has been hired to look into the disappearance of Jessica Manilow. Secondly, Mr. Hodge, your son is not a minor child. He is a twenty-five-year-old man and the chief financial officer of this company.”

  “Yes, but… the principle remains the same. He was under age when these events occurred, and his mother and I were always with him when he was questioned. I don’t want him answering questions alone.”

  “And what do you want, Damien?” asked Eulalie.

  He glanced over his shoulder as he aimed the next dart. “Whatever my dad says is fine.”

  The senior Hodge walked towards the door. “Then I think you’ll find this interview is over, Ms. Park.”

  “There is new information regarding the Jessica Manilow case. Don’t you want to hear what it is?”

  John Hodge hesitated before coming to a decision. “No, we do not. Good day, Ms. Park.”

  As Eulalie left, she couldn’t help glancing back at Damien. He gave her a wave and a big smile.

  “Look, Dad! All three in the circle on my very first try.”

  Eulalie left Hodge Consortium feeling as though she was stepping back into the real world after spending time in a carnival fun house. If that was the company’s chief financial officer, it was no wonder they were having to sell off their assets.

  She had felt her phone buzz several times during the meeting. Now she took it out and saw four text messages from Mrs. Belfast.

  Lorelei Belfast: Are you nearly finished? There’s a man here who wants to see you. I’ve told him you’re in a meeting, but he says he’ll wait until you get back.

  Lorelei Belfast: He’s a member of the UFO Society. He says he has urgent business with you. I tried to throw him out, but he won’t leave.

  Lorelei Belfast: He says I was kidnapped by aliens and don’t remember it. He says he has been kidnapped four times, and also that he has information about Jessica Manilow.

  Lorelei Belfas
t: Now a woman has joined him! They’re sitting on the couch watching me work. Please come back.

  Eulalie’s day had got even weirder. She sent a reply to Mrs. Belfast.

  Eulalie: I won’t be back until after my meeting at City hall. Tell them to come to the office at 2 pm and I’ll see them then. Say that if they don’t leave now, I won’t see them at all.

  Lorelei Belfast: I’ll try.

  Eulalie wondered how the UFO Society had got to hear of her investigation into Jessica Manilow’s disappearance. She had only taken the case yesterday. But this was Prince William Island - everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  Eulalie left the docks and went back to Lafayette Drive where City hall dominated in all its French Colonial splendor.

  The meeting she had agreed to attend was a security briefing for the Prince William’s Day parade. It was to be chaired by Chief Macgregor and attended by members of the police force, the governor’s office, and the standing militia that took care of domestic security on the island. This was to be the last security meeting before the parade, so she couldn’t miss it.

  She arrived at City hall fifteen minutes early. She used the time to order herself a coffee from one of the street carts parked outside. Then she ordered one for Chief Macgregor too and took it up to the second floor where he was showing people into the small conference room. He accepted the coffee gratefully. She went into the conference room and sat down, nodding to people she recognized from previous meetings.

  When everyone was seated, Chief Macgregor closed the door and called the meeting to order.

  “Before we get into specific arrangements for the day, I want to take this opportunity to emphasize how important it is for the future of Prince William Island that we learn to run events like this peacefully and efficiently. In the past, the Prince William’s Day parade has been marred by petty theft, pick-pocketing, vandalism, and disorderly behavior. Somehow, these incidents always make their way into international media reports. We have become a laughing stock for our inability to organize an incident-free event. Yes, Mr. Bannerman?” he said, as a young man from the governor’s office put up his hand.

  “I believe the popular term was ‘unable to find our asses with both hands and a flashlight.’” A ripple of laughter went around the table, but Chief Macgregor’s face didn’t twitch. He inclined his head seriously.

  “Yes, that was the popular phrase. Thank you, Mr. Bannerman. This is the year we are going to change all that. The more we get a reputation for having our petty crime under control, the more tourists we’ll attract to the island.”

  “There’s already too many damn tourists,” someone grumbled.

  “Tourism is our second largest industry,” Chief Macgregor reminded them. “And with tourism comes all the associated support industries. Investment will improve, our entrepreneurs will do better, and there’ll be more tax dollars to spend on our police force, our militia, and our medical services. We really need this to go well.”

  When it was clear that everyone was on board, Chief Macgregor took a sip of his coffee and continued.

  “As you all know, we are fortunate enough to have the assistance of Ms. Eulalie Park this year. I like to think of her as our early warning system. If anything is about to happen, she will let us know about it.”

  “How will that work, Chief?” asked one of the officers.

  “Ms. Park will be posted on the rooftop of City hall as the parade moves past. She will be able to spot any trouble developing and let us know about it in advance.”

  “I’m glad that’s not my gig. It’s a good lookout point, but it’s not safe. There’s no barrier and City hall is the tallest building on the route.”

  “Ms. Park is comfortable with heights.”

  “And the fact that it’s high is the point,” said Eulalie. “I’ll have a view of the whole route. I presume we’ll be able to radio each other?”

  Chief Macgregor introduced the technician who would hook them up with two-way radios for communication.

  “We have identified certain areas as high risk. The Egger family, for example, has sponsored a virtual reality stand where people can experience a VR game for free. There will be a lot of expensive electronics on show. Extra security will be in place there. The Hodge family is sponsoring a brandy tasting tent. For twenty-five dollars you get to taste a variety of brandies of different vintages. That could be a target for petty theft, both for the brandy and for the cash. There will also be a pop-up shop of Louis Vuitton handbags that will bear close watching.”

  “Have you received any specific threats or tip-offs?” asked Eulalie.

  “Nothing credible so far.”

  “We need to decide how to handle the media,” said a woman from the governor’s office. “In previous years, they have asked for statistics on incidents during the parade. Like how many muggings there were, and how many pickpocketings and so forth. We usually take the official number and cut it in half when quoting to the press.”

  Chief Macgregor’s expression didn’t change, but Eulalie could feel the frustration coming off him in waves.

  “That’s exactly why the police department still has the reputation that it does,” he said. “People believe they can’t trust us because it’s true – they can’t. As long as we fail to provide reliable statistics, the media will just make up their own. I was hired to bring transparency to this department, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. This year, we will release the real numbers to the media and do our best to ensure that they are lower than ever before.”

  “I’m not sure the deputy-governor will agree to that, Chief. It’s a departure from policy.”

  “Then the deputy-governor must fire me and start from scratch with a new chief of police. Ask the Governor Montand how he feels about this. He’s the one who hired me to bring integrity to the department. The public needs to know they can trust my word.”

  The lady from the governor’s office raised her eyebrows, made a note on her iPad, and didn’t comment further.

  After the meeting, Eulalie grabbed a falafel in pita from her favorite Middle Eastern street-cart and headed back to the office.

  As she approached the door, she noticed that Mrs. Belfast was talking to someone. There was nothing unusual about this, except for the fact that there was no one there. The office was completely empty.

  Eulalie peered through the glass. Mrs. Belfast was making exaggerated motions with her mouth, like someone speaking to a child.

  “Great,” she muttered. “Now my secretary is talking to herself.”

  She walked slowly into the office. “Hey, Mrs. B.”

  “Hello, dear.”

  “Who were you talking to just now.”

  “No one, dear.”

  Eulalie’s eyes darted all over the office, looking for Mrs. Belfast’s mysterious interlocutor. There was no one there.

  “No sign of the UFO Society yet?”

  “It’s still a little early, dear. I told them to come back at two o’clock and not a minute before.”

  Eulalie sat down at the desk in her cubicle and unwrapped her falafel.

  “What was your impression of them? Completely crazy, or possibly useful?”

  “I’d have to say both. They honestly believe they have been kidnapped by aliens on several occasions. Each time, their minds were wiped, but they remember just enough about it to know that it happened. Crazy, right?”

  “Indeed.”

  “But, on the other hand, they spend all their time looking out to sea and up into the sky. If anyone’s going to notice something odd going on, it would be them. They claim to have seen something in the direction of Monk’s Cay. Maybe they’re onto something.”

  “Maybe.”

  Eulalie ate her lunch, scrolling through her phone. Every now and then, she would look up, hoping to catch Mrs. Belfast talking to her imaginary friend again. But all was quiet.

  She finished her food, balled up the paper, and lobbed it at the wastepaper baske
t on the other side of the room. It sailed through the air and landed in the basket without touching sides.

  “She had just tidied up her desk and freshened her lipstick when the front door chime sounded, and two people walked into the office. They were a man and a woman, slightly past middle age. Eulalie guessed they were in their mid-sixties. They didn’t behave like a couple, but that didn’t mean much. There were as many ways of being a couple as there were couples themselves.

  Both were eccentrically dressed. The man wore tartan plus-fours, long socks, and two-tone brogues, polished to a shine. He wore a tweed sports jacket that was so thick it made Eulalie feel hot just to look at.

  The woman had long grey hair braided down her back and reaching past her hips. She wore a brown skirt, and a peasant blouse, and flat, leather shoes.

  Mrs. Belfast showed them into Eulalie’s office.

  “I’m Uriah,” said the man, shaking hands. “And this is Blossom. Good to meet you.”

  “I’m Eulalie Park. May I have your surnames for my records?”

  The man who called himself Uriah waved this away. “We go by Uriah and Blossom these days. Those are the names the aliens gave us, so those are the names we use. If you want to know the names from our former lives, you can go to our website and read the blog.”

  Eulalie intended to do just that.

  “You came to see me earlier?” said Eulalie.

  They looked at her expectantly.

  “May I know why?” she added when they remained unresponsive.

  “You know why,” said the woman called Blossom. “You’ve always known.”

  Chapter 7

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “Yes, you do,” insisted Blossom.

  “I have no idea why you wanted to see me. I’m waiting for you to tell me.”