by Sonia Parin
“Now, now, Eve. You don’t want to become embittered or paranoid.”
“No, I don’t… But, if push comes to shove, I will. In fact, I will demand retribution.”
Jill hugged her. “You know you don’t mean it.”
Eve sighed. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The first farm in that direction belongs to Wallace. He might have seen something. If he hasn’t, we can at least get a cup of coffee while we wait.”
“How do we get past the roadblock?” Jill asked.
“After what we went through?” Eve glanced at the bridge and tilted her head. Who knew what might have happened if they’d remained on the bridge for another minute… “Use force if you must.”
They got in the car and inched their way toward the intersection.
Phil Forrester saw them approaching and stopped them. “We’ll organize transportation back to the island soon.”
“Great. You can find us at Wallace Greenaway’s farm. If he’s not there, we’ll double back.”
He waved to a police officer who responded by removing the barricade and they were on their way.
Eve grumbled, “There are plenty of boats at the marina. Makes one wonder if they’re drawing straws.”
“I’ve been fixating about something else,” Jill revealed. “Bernice dug her own grave and I can’t understand why.”
“You’re working on the assumption my theory about her being involved is correct.”
Jill gave a firm nod. “She is definitely involved.”
They reached Wallace’s farm and saw his truck parked outside the garage.
“This could go either way,” Eve warned. “We might find Wallace in a bad mood.”
“I’m sure he’ll take pity on us.”
They walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.
“My heart is still thumping,” Jill admitted.
“Mine too. I wonder if this is our chance to oust Ken McLain from office?”
“Who would take his place?”
“Any number of people, I’m sure.”
Jill shook her head. “No one would dare go up against him.”
Eve sighed. “The bridge collapsed. Again. I call that the last straw.”
“People make mistakes.”
Eve sounded offended when she said, “I’ve never heard anyone say that about me. Is that a privilege you earn after several generations of living on the island?”
“Eve, Eve…” Jill shook her head. “You take things too personally.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the patronizing tone everyone employs whenever I make a valid point.” She leaned in and peered through the living room window. “I’m sure he’s home. Let’s go look around the back.”
As they turned the corner, they heard the sound of sirens approaching.
“That’s an ambulance.”
She waited a moment to see if it came closer. When it did, Eve’s hand flew to her throat. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
They hurried their steps. When they reached the back door, they both knocked on it.
Instinctively, they then peered through the kitchen window.
Eve and Jill yelped and rushed back to the door.
Turning the doorknob, they both worked through their thumping hearts and exhaled with relief as the door opened.
Rushing inside, Eve took a deep swallow. “Phone. I don’t have mine.”
“I brought mine.” Without saying more, Jill placed her call. “Jack. Wallace’s farm. Quick. Call Phil Forrester. Ambulance… It’s already here.”
They heard the ambulance pull up outside but they were both already checking for a pulse.
Eve took care of Wallace and Jill attended to Bernice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“One must never set up a murder. They must happen unexpectedly, as in life.”
Alfred Hitchcock
Wallace Greenaway’s farm
When the ambulance arrived, Eve and Jill stepped aside and gave the paramedics room to do their job. Then they backed away until they were outside.
Ten minutes later, they were still standing there, waiting for a verdict.
“I’m sure I felt a pulse,” Eve murmured.
Jill nodded. “Me too.”
Another ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed inside the house. A few minutes later, Phil Forrester arrived followed by several policemen.
They all went inside the house.
Eve and Jill craned their necks trying to see what was going on.
The police officers emerged carrying evidence bags.
Then, Phil Forrester came out and stopped to look at a piece of paper he held. When he finished reading it, he slipped it inside his pocket and drew out his phone.
“What do you think that’s about?” Jill asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“What is your guess?”
“A suicide pact?” Frowning, Eve shook her head. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jill asked.
“Why would they kill themselves? Wallace had nothing to do with Chad’s death,” Eve reasoned.
“I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities and none of them make sense. There were no visible wounds.”
No wounds, Eve thought, but they’d both seen the mugs. Had they been poisoned? By whom?
By the looks of it, Bernice had acted quickly, calling for an ambulance. She’d still been clutching her phone.
That meant she could not have been responsible…
Finally, Wallace and Bernice were wheeled out and settled into the ambulances. They both had oxygen masks on.
“They’re alive,” Jill whispered.
The detective approached them. “Detective Jack Bradford should be along soon. He’s organized a boat to ferry you across to the island.”
“Detective, I know we’re civilians and have no right to pry, but is there anything you can share with us?”
He dug inside his pocket and drew out another phone. “Bernice Glover sent Wallace Greenaway a text saying she wanted to speak with him and would be arriving soon.”
She’d been on her way to see him? Why?
“Then, there’s this…” He drew out a piece of paper. “It’s a confession. Wallace Greenaway killed Chad. He’d heard Bernice was going to inherit the farm and that she planned on selling it to Rob Greer. He couldn’t let that happen. So, he killed her. Or, at least, he tried to.”
Eve gaped. “Huh?”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Jill reached for the piece of paper. “Let me see it.”
“I’m sorry, this is evidence.” He slipped the note back inside his pocket.
Eve brushed her hands across her face. “Did the paramedics say how it happened?”
“It looks like cyanide poisoning.”
“Do people survive that?” Jill asked.
“If caught in time, yes. If they ingested the poison, the doctors have a cyanide antidote kit they can use. The paramedics managed to stabilize them. They’ll run tests when they get to the hospital.”
They watched the ambulances drive away.
Eve sent a silent prayer for Wallace Greenaway. She prayed for his recovery and… his innocence.
The detective looked from one to the other. “Now, would you mind telling me what you were both doing? And please don’t tell me you were out for a joy ride.”
Jill volunteered the information. “We were driving to Bernice Glover’s house when we saw her drive away and then we decided to follow her. She’d been making trips out of the island and we wanted to know where she went. Now it’s your turn.”
He looked surprised. “I had been on my way to speak with her.”
“Why?” Jill asked.
The detective glanced at Eve.
“Don’t look at me. Jill is her own person and… I’d like to know too.”
“As a matter of fact, we looked into her pas
t and found a connection.”
“And?” Jill prompted.
“She knew Rob Greer?” Eve asked.
The detective nodded.
Urged by Jill’s elbow jab, Eve was about to push him for more information but then Jack arrived.
“Thank goodness,” the detective whispered.
Jack rushed toward them. His grim expression suggested he had been worried about them. Eve could also sense a hint of frustration mingling with anger.
“We’re both alright,” Eve offered. “You can hug me now and throttle me later.”
Mira and David met them at the marina.
Jill and Eve settled in the back seat with Mira and Mr. Magoo and they spent the drive back to Mira’s house explaining everything that had happened.
Jack sat in front with Mischief, while David did the driving. Every now and then, Jack would shake his head and brush his hands across his face.
“I don’t understand,” Mira said, “why did Bernice run?”
Eve shrugged. “We’ve been asking ourselves the same question.”
Phil Forrester would have to wait until Bernice Glover regained consciousness to get the information out of her.
“It doesn’t look good for her. She angled the car. That had to be deliberate.”
“To slow the detective down?” Mira asked.
“Possibly. That could only mean she had been in a hurry to get to Wallace Greenaway’s farm. I don’t care what the note said, I can’t believe Wallace would try to kill her. I know he felt strongly about the farm not falling into the wrong hands, but I don’t believe he’d be capable of murder… or suicide. What would be the point?”
Mira gave a slow shake of her head. “I hope he pulls through.”
Eve could not have been more relieved when they arrived at her aunt’s house. “I have to say, I’m not really hungry but… I think it would be a good idea to settle down and do something normal like eating.” She emerged from the car and stretched.
“Umm… Eve, that sounds like a good idea,” Jill said. “If only we’d remembered to bring the food with us.”
“Huh?”
“The basket. It’s still in your car and you left your car back in the mainland.”
Jack dug inside his pocket and waved his phone. “Pizza?”
Detective Phil Forrester had called Jack to say Wallace Greenaway remained in intensive care.
Touch and go…
He might not make it.
“More pizza, Eve?” Mira offered.
“No, thanks. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“But you’ve only had one bite,” Mira chided.
Eve closed her eyes only to snap them open again. “Phil said he discovered a connection.” Eve leaned forward. “Jack? Do you know anything about that?”
He gave a small nod and said, “She’d worked as a croupier.”
“Aha!”
“Oh,” Mira exclaimed. “That makes sense. But unless she’s a bad seed through and through, what would have compelled her to team up with Rob Greer?”
“I think you answered your own question,” Jill suggested. “We don’t really know much about Bernice Glover. That’s usually the case with newcomers to the island. Even if they come across as friendly, you think you know someone but then they turn around and shoot you.”
Eve groaned. “I suppose you can dig up ample proof of that from the island’s historical archives or the collective false memories.”
Ignoring her, Jill added, “I think we should become more vigilant of newcomers. We might even have to consider only allowing people with family links to come here.”
Eve got up to make everyone some coffee. “If I provided proof of my lineage going back to the Great Fire of 1856, you’d probably accuse my ancestor of setting the fire.”
“It’s 1846, Eve. Maybe we should require every newcomer to take a test on island history.”
Eve set the mugs down on a tray. As she waited for the coffee to percolate, she played around with the mugs.
Had she been right to suspect Rob Greer had collaborated with Bernice?
“Oh!”
Everyone turned to look at her.
When Eve didn’t say anything, Jill smiled. “I think she’s gone into one of her trances.”
Eve swung away and looked out to sea.
Whispering, Jill added, “That means she requires more thinking time to wade her way through her muddled thoughts.”
“She had to clear herself,” Eve murmured.
Jill held up a finger. “Give her a few minutes. She’ll make sense of it.”
Eve scooped in a breath and turned to face them. “Bernice must have known the police were about to close in on her. She had to disprove whatever they had on her. What better way to do that than to make herself out to look like a victim.”
She turned away again.
Jill leaned forward and murmured, “She’s running by what she just said. Any minute now, she’ll either shake her head or nod.”
Eve gave a stiff nod. “Yes! She wrote a confession. Of course, she’d spent time studying Wallace’s handwriting. Two years to be precise. She went to his house. He offered her a cup of coffee. She slipped in the poison and waited for him to drink most of it. She probably took a few sips, enough to make herself sick. When he collapsed and she began to feel the effects of the poison, she dialed 911…”
Jill surged to her feet. “She expected Wallace to die first and the ambulance to arrive in time to save her.”
Eve nodded in agreement.
“Hang on, she must have slipped the confession into his pocket… or placed it somewhere obvious where the police would find it…”
“Yes. The police would read the note and know Wallace was guilty of killing Chad and of trying to kill Bernice. She would be cleared.”
Mira smiled. “And then you both appeared and ruined it all for her.”
Jack cleared his throat. “The note would undergo close scrutiny. She won’t fool a handwriting expert.”
Eve hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Wallace Greenaway needed to pull through.
Jill looked confused. “I don’t know. I’m not really buying it. Think of the risk. What if the ambulance didn’t get there in time to save her?”
Eve shrugged. “I’m guessing she only had a few sips.” Looking at Jack, she added, “Then again, we don’t have confirmation from the police. Has Phil Forrester given you an update you haven’t shared with us?”
“Would I do that to you?”
“I think you might try it.”
David exchanged a look with Jack. “The theory sounds… way out there, but…”
Jack nodded. “But it’s possible.” He looked up and gave Eve a worried look.
“What? Are you worried it takes a criminal mind to understand one?”
Jack swallowed. “Maybe.”
Mira glanced up at Eve. “I suggest you switch your movie night movies from murder mysteries to something more lighthearted. We don’t want to lose you to the dark side, Eve.”
She poured the coffee and looked inside the cookie jar. “Oh. There’s one chocolate chip cookie left. Jack? Did you go on a cookie munching frenzy while we were stuck on the bridge?”
“I guess that means I exceeded my quota. Sorry.”
“How about some ice-cream. I can crumble the last cookie.”
“Or, you could make another batch,” Jack suggested.
Jill wagged her finger. “You can’t use your wrist as an excuse.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all trying to contain me by keeping me busy.”
The back door opened and Josh walked in. “Hello. Did I miss anything?”
“Lots,” Jill said. “And how did you get to the island?”
“I hitched a ride on a boat.” Josh reached for the cookie jar. Lifting the lid, he frowned. “I’d kill for another cookie…”
Jill patted the chair next to hers. “Sit down and we’ll tell you about Eve’s crazy theory.”
“Then will I a cookie?”
Epilogue
“Murder is always a mistake – one should never do anything one cannot talk about after dinner.”
Oscar Wilde
Sunrise, Mira’s house
Sighing, Eve set her phone down and looked out of the window. She owed Phil Forrester a Southern dinner.
With the aroma of freshly ground coffee still lingering in the air, Eve picked up her mug and stepped outside to watch the sunrise and let the news sink in.
His courtesy call had startled her. In fact, at first, she’d feared something had happened to Jack. Then, she’d remembered Jack had spent the night…
She heard the back door opening. Turning, she saw Jill with a blanket pulled up around her.
“How was the couch?” Eve asked.
“Great.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“I heard talking. Then I saw a sliver of sunlight.”
“And you cowered like a vampire?”
“No, I rolled off the couch and decided I needed to see another sunrise. Who knows? If I do it enough times, I might get used to it.”
“You’re in luck. It’s a pretty one.”
They sat on the back porch watching the sun coming up and listening to the gentle lapping of the waves.
Finally, Jill asked, “Well? Did I imagine you having a conversation?”
“No.” Eve raked her fingers through her hair. “Phil Forrester called. Wallace pulled through.”
“That’s a relief. What else?”
“He got a bedside confession out of Bernice Glover. She admitted to having a back-up plan which involved faking the murder/suicide. She tried to cut a deal with him. I think he might have threatened to pull the plug… or the drip. He’s quite charming on the outside, but… There’s something about him, I can’t quite put my finger on it…”
“Are you telling me you were right about her faking the murder suicide?”