by Sonia Parin
“Hey, I’m not a suspect,” Abby complained.
Faith shrugged. “The caption has to be interesting enough to grab people’s interest.”
“Remind me again why I’ve been fooled into helping you break the law?” Joshua asked.
“Because I’m a foot taller than Faith and she wouldn’t be able to give me a hand up. Now, put your back into it. Heave-ho.” Abby made a grab for the top of the fence.
Joshua grunted. “This is ridiculous. Come down. I’m going to try myself.”
“Hey guys...”
“I know I can do this,” Abby insisted. “And why is this fence so high? Don’t people in this town trust each other?”
Faith tried to get their attention again. “Guys.”
“Hang on, Faith. I’m nearly there.” Gritting her teeth, Abby pulled herself up another inch. “If the local gossip swears she didn’t see anyone going in through the front door, other than me, then the killer must have jumped the fence. It stands to reason, and if the killer can do it, so can I.”
“I’ll tell you what else stands to reason,” Faith murmured. “We’re standing in the alley, therefore, there must be a back gate leading to the alley, and guess what? Here it is.”
“Huh?” As Abby turned, she wobbled, lost her balance and toppled over Joshua.
“Thank you. This photo is sure to amuse everyone.”
Abby dusted herself off. “Hey! You can’t have fun at my expense. Think of my reputation. What will people say about me?”
“You’ll live.”
Joshua cleared his throat. “Can we go in now? I’d feel better if we didn’t stand around out here waiting to be caught red-handed.”
“You’d make a dreadful criminal,” Abby murmured.
They made their way into the backyard. A cast iron garden table and chairs setting sat on a paved area under the shade of a tall Eucalyptus tree with lush green ferns surrounding it all. The perfect setting for an afternoon tea. Noticing Joshua wasn’t even bothering to inspect the backyard, Abby frowned. “Hey.” She saw him struggling to keep a straight face. “Hey. Wait a minute. You knew about the back gate.”
Faith laughed. “Thank you for providing me with the best story for our movie night. Joyce usually has the best ones, but I believe this will trump anything she can come up with. You’ll be talked about for years to come.”
“I thought we were helping each other,” Abby growled as she strode past him.
He laughed. “I don’t know where you got that idea from.”
“So why are you here?” Abby asked.
“To stop you from getting into trouble.” He sighed. “All right. For the amusement factor. I couldn’t help it. It’s been a long day and I needed to decompress.”
“A long day or a slow day in Eden?” Mitch Faydon had given her a taste of what happened when life in Eden ground to a snail’s pace. She’d have to watch out or she’d become an easy target.
Turning back, she looked at the paved path leading from the rear gate. “I guess there’s no point in asking if the killer left any footprints.”
“None. We searched the alley and didn’t find anything.”
“Do we assume the killer came in the back way because he wanted to avoid detection, or can we be flexible and entertain other ideas? Maybe the killer had a habit of coming in through the back. They were old friends and he didn’t need permission and he used the gate because it was a shortcut for him.”
“Or her,” Faith murmured.
“Yes, it could be a woman. In fact, isn’t poison the weapon of choice for female killers?”
Joshua nodded. “Although, every killer likes to create their own statistics.”
“You’re talking about career criminals and serial killers. Does that mean you’re linking Dermot’s death to the other ones that have been reported?”
“We don’t have any reason to.”
That could only mean the other deaths hadn’t been the result of cyanide or a similar poison.
“Where are you going?” Joshua asked when Abby let herself in through the back door.
“I need to get some of Dermot’s journals. I have Sebastian’s permission.” She noticed Joshua frowning. Abby laughed. “What? Are you worried you missed something?”
“We have his laptop.”
“Aha, but Dermot had his quirks. According to Sebastian, he also enjoyed making handwritten notes.” Belatedly, Abby realized she might not really want to share such pertinent information. “I assume your off-duty status prevents you from confiscating any important information I might stumble upon?”
“You can assume, but you’d be dead wrong. A police officer is never off duty.”
They made their way toward the study, with Doyle sniffing his way in front of them. “I think Doyle is trying to prove himself useful. Hey, Doyle. Are you trying to impress the detective in the hope he’ll adopt you as the police mascot?”
Doyle lifted his nose in the air and trotted off.
“You hurt his feelings,” Faith said. “Why would you ask him that? He’s probably putting two and two together and thinking you want to get rid of him.”
Abby looked at Joshua who gave her a shrug.
“I’m with Faith. Dogs are sensitive and intuitive. I guess you’ve never had one.”
No pets allowed in the house. The words echoed in her mind. “My mom was allergic to them.”
They all stood in front of a floor to ceiling bookcase. The antique desk in front of it suggested Dermot enjoyed easy access to the neat stack of notebooks. Abby picked one up and admired the leather binding. “This looks handcrafted.”
“There are over fifty of them. Where do we start?” Faith asked.
“You take one end, I’ll take the other and Joshua can tackle the ones in the middle.”
“What? Right here? Now?” he asked.
“Unless you have a better suggestion. That reminds me. Why didn’t the police take these in as possible evidence?”
“I had someone go through them and he didn’t find anything.”
“Let’s hope, for his sake, we don’t find something.” Abby skimmed through the first few pages. “This reads like an index to his day. It states the weather and all the people he encountered throughout the day. Alongside the names, he also included brief notes. Agnes Richards. In hospital for hip replacement operation. Send flowers.”
“I remember that day,” Faith said, “Dermot came in to the office late saying he’d had to swing by the florist to organize flowers.”
Abby flipped ahead to the latest entries until she found a note about the first phone conversation she’d had with him. Delightful and charming, should be a great addition to our little town, it read.
“Why are you frowning?” Faith asked.
Abby remembered the conversation she’d had with Dermot. From the start, he’d left her in no doubt the job was hers for the taking. She’d been torn about moving so far away for a new job and leaving all her friends and family behind but talking with Dermot had set her at ease making it a little easier to deal with the residual misgivings for being forced to make the decision. She’d enjoyed her job and lifestyle in Seattle and had never imagined needing to move away.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us. The killer’s name is in one of these notebooks.” She slanted her gaze toward Joshua in time to see the slight lift of his lips. “Tell me again why you dropped in at the Gazette?”
He smiled. “My sixth sense told me to.”
Grabbing a couple of notebooks, Abby sank down on a nearby chair. Faith leaned against a bookcase, while Joshua made himself comfortable at Dermot’s desk.
An hour later, Sebastian found them all still going through the notebooks. He stood by the door, his hands hitched on his hips. “Did I forget about inviting you all here?”
Abby checked her watch. “Heavens. Look at the time.” She set the notebook down and stretched. “I suggest we call it a night and resume our search tomorrow.”
Joshua la
ughed under his breath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to bow out. I actually have a job to get to.”
Doyle stirred awake, looked around, and curled up again only to do a double take. Seeing Sebastian standing by the door, he gave a half-hearted woof.
“That’s an efficient guard dog you have there,” Sebastian said.
“Hush. He’s still recovering from a bad experience.” Abby bent down to pick him up and strode out saying, “I’m headed to the pub. I could do with some food. Does anyone want to join me?” When she turned, she saw them all following her, including Sebastian.
“I don’t want to miss out on anything,” Faith said, “So I’ll call my neighbor and ask her to check in on my dogs. They won’t be happy about me coming home late, but they have to understand mom has to eat too. And all that is probably more information than you all need.”
Abby stopped at the front door. “Hang on. I should take some of those journals to look over tonight. Knowing me, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with a sparkly idea.”
Sebastian hunted down a bag and filled it up for her.
When they reached the pub, Abby said, “You two cover me. I need to sneak Doyle inside. They don’t know I have a dog.”
Joshua chortled. “And you don’t want to tell them because you’re afraid they’ll evict you?”
They all laughed, including Sebastian who suggested, “Why don’t you try something daring. Walk right in and pretend Doyle isn’t a dog.”
“And if they kick you out, you could come stay with me,” Faith suggested. “I have a spare bedroom and my dogs will love a new playmate. My cat, Cleopatra, will be snooty at first, but she won’t scratch him.”
Hypothetically, by the end of the night, she could be both jobless and homeless. Clearly, she hadn’t given this much thought. Abby looked over at the residents’ entrance. She’d stand a better chance going in that way since it bypassed the pub and led straight to the apartments upstairs.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Joshua said and gave her a nudge toward the main entrance.
With Faith leading the way, and Sebastian and Joshua bringing up the rear, they swept her into the pub. The buzz of conversation mellowed only slightly. Behind the bar, Mitch gave her a small nod. Abby had tugged her jacket around Doyle. She didn’t think Mitch had seen him and if Markus, who sat by the fireplace, his legs stretched out, his fingers steepled under his chin, noticed the bundle in her arms, he didn’t let on.
“So far, so good.” Doyle appeared to make himself smaller in her arms, burying his little head in the crook of her arm.
“You’re doing great,” Sebastian said behind her. “Let’s head over to the corner table.”
They settled down and when a waitress approached them, they all ordered beers.
A moment later, Joshua murmured, “Heads up. Mitch is bringing the drinks over. Look alive, people.”
Setting the drinks down, Mitch nodded and, instead of moving on, he wrapped his hand around the back of Abby’s chair. “Are you all here to celebrate catching the killer?”
“Not quite,” Abby said, her tone slightly strained, “We’re getting closer.”
Mitch turned to Sebastian and gave him a small nod. “I’m glad you came in. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down. We’re holding a wake for Dermot here tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be here,” Sebastian said.
“Are you all ready to order?” Mitch asked. He swept his gaze around the table. When he got to Abby, he held her gaze, his eyes twinkling with that spark of mischief she’d seen the first day she’d arrived. “How are you settling in, Abby Maguire? Are you making yourself right at home?” Mitch asked.
Abby tried to keep her gaze steady. If she looked away, she suspected she might end up looking down at Doyle who sat curled up on her lap. “Yes, I’m getting used to the place. Finding my way around... Meeting all the locals.”
Mitch nodded. “If there’s anything we can do to make your stay with us more homey, just let us know.”
Joshua cleared his throat. “I’m ready to order.”
“Yes, me too,” Faith threw in.
They both looked at Sebastian who quickly picked up the menu. “Yes. I’m good to go.”
Abby snatched the menu and bent her head to study it. “What to have. So many choices. Everything looks so good.”
“You should try our T-bone steak,” Mitch suggested. “Most customers ask for a doggy bag so they can take the bone home with them for their pets. The spare ribs are another favorite for pet owners. We prepare them two ways. American-style ribs and Argentinean-style short ribs served with a salsa verde. Or you could do the barbecue platter.” Mitch hitched his thumb over to the next table, which was being served with one.
Abby marveled at the size of the platter and, taking a whiff, Doyle whimpered.
“That looks like a good choice,” Joshua said.
They all agreed.
“Faith, I suppose you’ll want a doggy bag.”
“Oh, yes please. My doggies will love the bones.”
Mitch looked at Abby who shrunk into her chair. “Okay, I’ll put the order in for a barbecue platter.”
Abby waited for Mitch to leave to say, “He knows.”
“Oh, yes. He knows,” they all agreed.
“I guess I should come clean.”
Joshua shook his head. “It’s too late now. Besides, that would really spoil the fun.”
“Sorry, Doyle. I’m going to set you down on the floor, but you must promise to be quiet and stay out of sight.” When Abby straightened, she found everyone looking at her.
Faith grinned. “You might want to start with ‘stay’ and ‘sit’.”
Abby lifted her chin. “Doyle is quite smart and understands more complex sentences. Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
Along the way, she wondered what she’d do if Mitch asked her to get rid of Doyle. She couldn’t imagine him doing it, but she’d only known him a few short days. If he’d noticed Doyle and if he had an issue with him...
Her mind raced ahead. How would Doyle fare on a long plane trip back home? As she stood washing her hands, someone came into the restroom. At first, Abby didn’t make the connection but when the woman came out to wash her hands, Abby recognized her.
Felicia Williams, the woman with the killer gaze.
Chapter Thirteen
“What happened to you?” Faith half rose out of her chair. “You look pale. Did you have a close encounter with the pub’s ghost?”
Abby looked over her shoulder. “There’s a ghost here?”
“Rumor has it. Yes.”
Abby shivered. “I... I bumped into Felicia Williams.” Abby shivered again. “She wanted to know how I’d found Dermot.” Catching her by surprise, the woman had fired one question right after the other, drilling her for information with the tenacity of the most seasoned reporter.
Looking over her shoulder, Abby saw Markus still sitting by the fireplace. She remembered showing him the photo she’d taken at Dermot’s house. Markus had looked at it and had said everyone in the picture came to the pub, everyone except Felicia. He hadn’t identified her by name because... no one really knew her. So why had she come tonight?
Faith laughed. “Did she think you had something to do with Dermot’s death?”
“It’s not funny. She seemed to think I killed him. She has beady eyes and at close range, they throw quite a punch.” Abby didn’t think she’d ever met anyone so embittered and she’d formed that impression even before Felicia had opened her mouth to speak. When she had, there’d been nothing but unkind, critical words for the people of Eden, including a harsh rebuke for Abby for presumably thinking she would fit in so quickly. Abby decided to withhold that information from the group. It had been bad enough hearing all the negatives; she certainly didn’t want to be responsible for spreading them.
“Did you manage to get any questions in?” Faith asked. “She might be trying to throw you off the scent by projecting guilt.�
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“At the risk of sounding incompetent...” Right in front of a possible future employer... “No.”
Sebastian gave her a lifted eyebrow look. “Nothing?”
“I’m... still suffering from jet lag.” And not used to being intimidated. Although, there had been that one instance when a woman she’d interviewed for a home-style magazine article had insisted her cushions were covered in pure silk. Abby had already sneaked a look at the tag, which had revealed they’d been pure 100% poly-something or other. The woman’s fixed stare and hard tone had dared Abby to contradict her. She’d driven the message home by clicking her fingers, the prompt bringing her Rottweiler dogs to sit beside her.
Abby slumped back in her chair. Faith could be on to something. What if Felicia had been trying to cover up her own guilt by casting suspicion on her?
Seeing her close up, Felicia had actually looked familiar. Abby thought she must have seen her around town. If she had, it would come back to her.
Faith cleared her throat. “Um, Abby. We’ve waited for you but now you’re here and the food is here... Can we start?”
“Oh, sure. You should have gone ahead and started without me.” She scooped some potato salad into her plate and helped herself to some barbecue ribs. After several mouthfuls, she remembered Doyle.
Abby looked down. When she didn’t see Doyle, she looked under the table. “Doyle?” she whispered hoping his doggy hearing would pick up her voice above the hum of conversation in the pub. Straightening, she said, “I don’t see Doyle.”
“He was curled up at my feet a moment ago,” Faith said.
They all looked around.
Striding by their table, Mitch stopped. “Is something wrong?”
“I... I misplaced something.” Sighing, Abby shook her head and stood up. “I’m sorry. Time to own up. I brought a dog in. He’s only small and he’s been through a bad time.” She couldn’t help wringing her hands. “Doyle. That’s his name, although at first I called him Buddy. Katherine, who works at the vet’s, told me he’d been registered at another clinic and his owner died. So poor Doyle has been all alone for over a month.”
