The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 1

by Fiona Snyckers

  “I’m not sure about the ferry. I’d never been there before. But I remember there was a forest at one end of the beach and a path leading upwards at the other. She headed towards the path.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “We simmered down, the three of us. I think the fact that she was no longer there to watch us locking horns took some of the thrill out of it. And I was starting to feel sick. We cooled down and went our separate ways for a while. I was sick – several times. I’m not sure what the others were doing during that time. There are big blanks in my memory there.”

  “At some point you all became aware that Jessica hadn’t come back. What can you remember about that?”

  “This is one of the things that I am most ashamed of. I was too out of it to look for her properly. I was kind of vaguely aware that they were calling for her, and I tried to join in, but my head was spinning so badly I could hardly stay upright. I can’t remember where they looked for her. I remember calling out a few times, but it was all I could do to stay vertical.”

  “How much do you remember of what happened next?”

  “I’m not sure. I still have nightmares about it. Sometimes I worry that my memories are becoming overlaid by the nightmares. It got dark. I’m not sure why. Clouds, maybe? Something attacked us out of the dark. Some cold and slimy and silent. It was like something out of a horror movie. I knew I hadn’t imagined it because I had marks on my neck the next day. It sobered me up like a bucket of cold water. We screamed and ran for the boat. We pushed it all the way into the water and jumped in. Someone started up the motor. Pete or Damien – it definitely wasn’t me. We sailed away from that cay as fast as we could. We must have been fifteen minutes out before somebody said, ‘Where’s Jessica?’ That’s when we properly realized that we had left her behind.”

  “Did you think about going back for her?”

  “Of course, we did. I can’t say any of us were very enthusiastic about the idea. The thought of going back to face whatever the hell it was that had attacked us gave me cold shivers. It still does. Damien persuaded us to go for help rather. He said there was nothing we could do against those things, and the best thing we could do would be to get help and go back properly prepared.” He drew in a long breath. “I’m afraid he didn’t have to try very hard to convince us. None of us really wanted to go back there. Those things were frighteningly strong. Of course, we got lost in the dark going back to Prince William Island. If the harbormaster hadn’t found us, we’d probably still be out there drifting around aimlessly. And, of course, they never did find her, not to this day.”

  “What do you think happened to her, Mr. Weston?”

  “I think those things got her. I think they got her first, and then came for us.”

  “And what do you think they were? In your most rational moments, what would be your best guess?

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “They must have been human, right? Because ghosts and monsters don’t exist, not even on a supposedly haunted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So, I suppose they were part of some murderous gang that was using Monk’s Cay as its base. I think they killed Jessica Manilow because she saw them, and then either tried to kill us, or wanted to frighten us off the island. But that’s what I believe – that she’s been dead ever since that night.”

  It was the closest theory Eulalie had heard to her own. Of the three boys who had been there that night, Chuck Weston seemed to have turned out the most sensible.

  “Thanks for your time, Mr. Weston.”

  He gave her an ironic salute. “Any time. I mean that. And if you do find out what happened to her, please let me know.”

  Eulalie clicked to disconnect the call.

  She stayed still for a long time, staring at the blue screen of her computer, her mind racing with conjectures and calculations. The problem was, she didn’t have enough information to complete her hypothesis. She needed to know more.

  Perhaps the UFO lights would help.

  She opened her e-mail and found the message from Mrs. Belfast. The document she had attached contained a full data analysis of all the observations the UFO society had made over the course of three years. There weren’t many clear patterns to be seen, but nor was it completely random.

  The frequency of the lights was fairly random. Sometimes weeks would pass without any lights being observed, and sometimes they occurred several nights in a row. The lights appeared in three colors – red, blue, and yellow. Some members of the society recorded the yellow lights as white, but that seemed to be a matter of interpretation. The flashing patterns tended to be simple and regular. They usually occurred in sets of three. Three short bursts of flashing were the most common, but three long bursts were common too. There was nothing to suggest an SOS, or other form of Morse code.

  The signals also didn’t conform to any known system of ship-to-ship or ship-to-shore signaling.

  Perhaps the most interesting thing in Mrs. Belfast’s analysis was the fact that the lights didn’t always originate from Monk’s Cay. Sometimes they seemed to come from considerably further east. There were also lights in the sky that Eulalie was convinced came from a small aircraft.

  She called up a map of the Prince William chain of islands and looked at the distance between Monk’s Cay and Logan Cay.

  It was at that point that she realized she needed to speak to Chief Macgregor again.

  Chapter 21

  At dinner time, Eulalie took herself off to Angel’s Place. She had a number of reasons for doing this. She hadn’t seen her grandmother in a while, she felt like a good meal, and she wanted some input from Angel on the Manilow case.

  The fact that she was likely to see Gigi there too was a bonus. Gigi was the only sister among a bunch of brothers, all of whom were involved in petty crime in one form or another. Jimmy the Knife was an excellent source, but he didn’t know everything. Whatever gaps there were in his knowledge, Gigi usually managed to fill.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said when Gigi was the first person she saw as she walked in. They exchanged double cheek kisses in the French manner. “I was afraid you might be off today.”

  “No, I’ve got the weekend off, so I’m working today. What can I get you?”

  “A glass of the house red, thanks. Is Angel here?”

  Gigi pointed with her chin. “Over at the bar.”

  Eulalie looked towards the bar. What she saw there made her almost turn tail and run. Angel had a deck of Tarot cards in her hand and was expertly spreading them on the bar counter for a woman Eulalie vaguely recognized as a friend of her grandmother’s. The temptation to turn and flee was huge.

  She held her ground because Angel looked up at that exact moment and made eye contact, making it impossible for her to leave.

  Heaving a sigh, Eulalie walked up to the bar and took her usual seat against the wall.

  “Good evening, chérie. You remember Madame Vichy?”

  “Of course,” Eulalie said politely in French. “Bonsoir, Madame. I hope you are well.”

  The lady flapped an agitated greeting at Eulalie, all the rings on her hand clattering together. “Yes, yes, little one. I am very well but behold! Your grandmother has just pulled out the Death card, and now I feel quite ill.”

  With a supreme effort of will, Eulalie managed not to roll her eyes.

  “Now, Renata.” Angel laid the card down carefully in its place. “I’ve explained before that the Death card does not signify actual death. It is a card that indicates great change or transformation. And look what accompanies it here – the High Priestess. We all know what that means, don’t we?” Angel waggled her eyebrows significantly at Madame Vichy and Eulalie.

  The older woman clasped her hands to her bosom. “Sex!” she breathed.

  “Again, not precisely. The High Priestess signifies spirituality and, yes, sexuality. She is associated with the moon, with womanhood, with fertility.”

  “Fertility?” Madam Vichy’s practical side rea
sserted itself. “I’m 54, Angel.”

  “Not literal fertility, Renata, chérie. Metaphoric fertility. It represents a potential blossoming of your sensual side. But look! It is combined with the Death card, signifying transformation, change.”

  “Menopause?” Madam Vichy was struggling to keep up.

  “Not precisely, chérie. It signifies an opportunity to transform some aspect of your sensual life. Something needs to come to an end – to die, if you will – in order for something new to blossom.”

  “Hmm.” Madam Vichy sat in silence for a moment. “You think I should break up with Bertram?”

  Angel just raised her eyebrows.

  “I must say, a new beginning or blossoming sounds rather appealing. I shall have to think about this. Merci, Angel. But now I must get home.” She put a hundred dollars on the bar counter and said goodbye to them both.

  When she was out of earshot, Eulalie turned to her grandmother.

  “You persuaded that poor woman to break up with her boyfriend.”

  Angel shrugged. “He is bad for her. He is just after her money, and he is preventing her moving on with someone better.”

  “Speaking of being after her money,” Eulalie said as Angel pocketed the hundred dollars.

  “Behold. I offer a legitimate service and I get paid for it. As do you, petite.”

  When Gigi arrived with Eulalie’s wine, Angel took a quick sip of it. Then she started packing away her cards. Eulalie knew it was useless to argue with her in front of Gigi. The waitress was so blindly loyal to Eulalie’s grandmother that it would have been two against one. Instead, she seized the chance to ask Gigi some questions.

  “What do you hear about the smuggling trade on Prince William Island? Are any of your connections involved?”

  “You mean drug smuggling? My connections stay far away from that. It’s an ugly business. You have to be broke or desperate or addicted to get involved in the drug trade.”

  “I was thinking more of brandy – cane brandy. The high-end, premium labels that are mostly produced for export.”

  “Let me think about that. Table five is signaling me, so I’d better go. I’ll be back soon.”

  “How has she managed to stay out of the family business this long?” Eulalie asked her grandmother.

  “They would never let her in it. She was the youngest and the only girl, and they shooed her out of the business the moment she started showing an interest in what they were all doing. That family doesn’t agree on much, but one thing they’re all united on is that Gigi must stay on the right side of the law.”

  “Look, she’s texting someone. I hope she can get an answer for me on this smuggling thing.”

  Angel tucked her Tarot pack behind the bar. She poured herself a glass of wine and clinked glasses with Eulalie.

  “When did you start investigating smuggling? I thought you were looking into the disappearance of that poor Manilow girl.”

  “I am.” Eulalie switched to Guillaumoise, the language of their village home. If you spoke French anywhere on Prince William Island, at least fifty percent of people would be able to understand you. With Guillaumoise, she knew she and Angel would be the only two people in the restaurant to follow the conversation. The connection between Jessica Manilow’s disappearance and brandy smuggling was not something she was ready to advertise just yet.

  “I think brandy smugglers have been using Monk’s Cay as a base for their operations. I think it has been going on for a long time now. It’s possible that Jessica ran into the smugglers that night five years ago. I think they killed her, either on purpose or by accident, and then frightened the boys away. The part I don’t yet understand is how much the boys know about this. The only one who strikes me as genuine is the American, Chuck Weston. The other two are acting weirdly. Something happened on the cay that night that they don’t want to talk about. I don’t know what it could be.”

  Gigi appeared at Eulalie’s side with her notepad and pen.

  “What can I get you ladies for dinner?”

  Eulalie just turned to Angel, knowing that the chances of her getting to choose her own meal were zero.

  “Well, now. We have some wild-caught salmon that just came in this morning, so I think we’ll each have a grilled fillet of that with sweet potato wedges and asparagus spears.”

  Gigi wrote it down, then slipped her notepad into her apron and turned to Eulalie.

  “I asked around. All anyone knows for sure is that it’s happening – the brandy smuggling, that is. No one seems to know who’s behind it, which suggests it might be an overseas organization. You know what this place is like, everyone knows everyone.”

  “True. That usually makes my job easier.”

  “There’s one person who might know more. He’s the food and beverage supply manager on Logan Cay. There’s nothing he doesn’t know about stocks of alcohol disappearing unofficially.”

  “Do they think he’s involved?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. They just said he knows more about it than anyone else.”

  “Do you have a name for me?”

  “George someone,” said Gigi. “I didn’t get a surname. My brother Bobo said you should mention his name.”

  “I’ll find him. You’ve been brilliant, Gigi. Thank you.”

  Gigi blew them a kiss and went on her way to the kitchen.

  Angel’s Place filled up as the night wore on. When the food arrived, Eulalie and Angel sat down to eat together as they had every night of Eulalie’s childhood, and many nights after that.

  They have almost finished their food when Angel turned to Eulalie and said, “I think a cat would be a fine idea.”

  Eulalie almost choked.

  “A cat?” she spluttered. “Who said anything about cats?”

  “You’ve had cats on the brain lately. One cat in particular, I think.”

  “Mrs. Belfast told you, didn’t she?”

  Angel just smiled at her. “You know she didn’t.”

  “Well, stop doing that. It’s very disconcerting. Why would I want a cat?”

  “Cats make excellent companions for people like us.”

  “People like us?” Eulalie’s voice vibrated with sarcasm. “Which people would that be? Witches? Which would make them what? Our familiars?”

  Angel laughed. “Of course not. I’m talking about empaths. Whatever you want to call us. Cats have been shown to provide a comforting presence for people with our gifts.”

  “First of all, I don’t have any gifts except the gift of being a good detective. And second of all…” Eulalie broke off. Tears rushed into her eyes and clogged her throat so suddenly she didn’t know where they had come from. “Oh, Grandmère. The dreams have become worse. Much worse. I dream about people being killed, and when I do I stop breathing. One time, I think my heart actually stopped. My blood pressure goes through the floor. I wake up gasping and terrified. I’m afraid that one day I won’t wake up.”

  She regretted having spoken up as soon as she saw the fear in Angel’s eyes.

  “We’ll have to get you one of those electronic monitors,” said Angel. “An apnea monitor, or a heartrate monitor. An alarm will go off as soon as it detects an abnormal slow-down of your heartbeat or breathing.”

  Eulalie touched her grandmother’s arm. “That’s the thing about the cat, Grandmère. It pulled me out of it. It seemed to sense what was happening and tapped my face until I woke up. And then… it healed me. That’s the only word I can think of.”

  Angel became even more agitated. “Where is this cat? We need to find it at once. We must trap it and force it to come and live with you. It is even better than an apnea monitor.”

  “I think the whole point of cats is that no one can force them to do anything. Besides, it might belong to someone. It certainly looks well-fed enough. Besides, I don’t know anything about cats. I wouldn’t know what to do with one. We never had cats when I was growing up.”

  “I was allergic to them for years. It seems
to be better now. I can be around them without breaking out in hives. I shall come and visit you and your cat, enfin.”

  “I don’t have a cat,” said Eulalie. “I don’t even like cats. What I need now is less cat talk and more information about the Hodges.”

  Angel dabbed her lips with a napkin. “The Hodges? You asked me about them once before. What do you want to know?”

  “What have you heard about the son, Damien? He’s a bit of an enigma.”

  “There have been whispers,” said Angel. “I never paid much attention, but since you started working on this case I have been speaking to people.”

  “What sort of whispers?”

  “That he might have learning difficulties. That his smooth passage through high school was oiled more by papa’s money than by his own academic abilities. Martha was forty-four when she had him, you know. She always made a big song and dance about how he was perfectly fine despite the fact that she had him at an advanced age. The whispers are that he is not in fact perfectly fine.”

  “That all sounds a bit ableist and icky.”

  “I agree,” said Angel. “People still seem to think it is okay to belittle someone for their intelligence. But you wanted to know about the whispers, so I am telling you. You interviewed him, didn’t you? What was your impression?”

  “It crossed my mind that he might have learning difficulties,” admitted Eulalie. “But after speaking to him for a while, I decided that he was just stuck in a kind of adolescent time warp. He’s not the brightest, but I don’t think he has anything that could be classified as a challenge. He’s just a boy who has never grown up. To me, the strange thing to me is that he is the chief financial officer of Hodge Consortium. I’ve been in his office. It’s toy central in there. It looks like a teenage boy’s playroom. So, unless he’s some kind of silicone valley prodigy in jeans and a baseball cap, I can’t see how he can be making a success of the job.”

  “You must remember that Damien is an only child. He was born years after John and Martha had given up hope of being able to have their own biological child. It is only natural that he should be somewhat indulged.”