by Sonia Parin
Abby shook her head and then nodded.
“Exactly. You don’t know if you’re coming or going. That’s why we came to you.”
Abby’s voice hitched. “You conspired to push me into action?”
Joyce offered her a pastry. “Let’s get some sugar into you and if that doesn’t help, I’m sure Mitch will be only too happy to provide some room service. Hannah could whip you up an egg white omelet.”
Doyle stirred awake and stretched.
“Feeling better?” Abby asked him. He meandered over to her and pressed his nose against her leg. “I think he wants to go out. I’m not sure. He’s still training me to read the signs. I won’t be long.”
“All right,” Joyce said. “But I’m warning you. We’re not going anywhere.”
Abby used the opportunity to snap out of whatever had taken a hold of her. As a lifestyle reporter, she didn’t have front-line experience, so her exposure to crime, violence and… dead bodies remained limited.
She avoided the pub’s main entrance and instead used the narrow stairs leading down to the residents’ entrance.
Doyle sniffed his way to his favorite tree. When he lifted his leg to do his business, Abby turned and gave him some privacy.
A car drove by. Abby saw the driver and passenger wearing cream-colored clothes. When Abby and her group had finally left the picnic area, there had only been a handful of people lingering and looking lost. Shock could do that to people. An unexpected event could turn their brains into mush, with the smallest decision becoming an insurmountable task.
She could imagine everyone’s dinner table conversation. It would be muted. Stilted. Awkward and full of avoidance.
Pass the salt, please.
How’s the lamb? Not too pink, I hope…
This wine is perfect. Remind me to get some more.
Everyone would avert their gazes. Then someone would lift their eyes and they’d make eye contact with someone else at the table and they’d engage in a wordless conversation.
Finally, someone would blurt out a remark about what they’d seen that day and that would set the floodgates open.
Can you believe what happened?
I wonder how and… who could it be? And what if it wasn’t an accident?
Suddenly, the chatter would become lively but, if there were children in the house, the tones would remain hushed.
Doyle returned to her side and sat down.
“Don’t get too comfortable. We have to go back inside. They’re expecting us.” Abby heard someone step out of the pub.
Mitch strode up to her saying, “I saw Joyce and Faith going up to your apartment. What are you girls up to?”
Abby put her hands up. “Caught red-handed. We’re sneaking boys in.”
Mitch didn’t smile. “I know you know something and you’ve been asked not to say anything.”
“That sounds like a tongue twister.” Abby looked down at Doyle who shifted and looked away. “Once I get the go-ahead, I promise you’ll be the first to know. Sorry, it’s this next of kin business.”
“If you girls decide to pull an all-nighter, let me know and I’ll bring up some food.”
Abby gave him a small salute and went back inside. When she strode into her apartment, she found Joyce and Faith facing the wall. Half of it had already been covered with notes.
Joyce stepped back. “Good, you’re here just in time to provide some essential information. I’ll ask a few pertinent questions and—”
Abby beat her to it. “Did Miranda have family living in the area?”
“No. Faith and I were just discussing that. As far as I know, Miranda Hoppers was an only child. As for her parents…” Joyce shrugged. “She never mentioned them.”
“Only child? How do you know that?” Abby asked.
“The café is my information pipeline. For the record, I don’t go out of my way to eavesdrop on people’s conversations. I overheard the Eden Thespians talking about siblings and Miranda mentioned she didn’t have any.”
“How long had she lived in Eden?”
Joyce looked at Faith as if to confer with her. “A little over a year.”
Faith nodded. “She purchased that pretty farmhouse with a creek running through her property. It’s near the lake. Shortly after moving in, she set tongues wagging when she installed a hot tub in her back garden and surrounded it with statues of naked women.”
Joyce smiled. “You should take note, Abby. As a new resident, you need to walk a straight and narrow path. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“Okay. I won’t install a Jacuzzi … in my apartment.” Abby frowned. “Hang on. I thought I was supposed to embrace the absurd.”
Faith looked at Joyce. “What is she talking about?”
“I’ve no idea.” Joyce picked up her coffee and strode around the apartment. “She might be having a go at our ‘unique’ way of doing things.”
Abby wanted to ask Joyce to explain her understanding of the word ‘unique’. She’d never met anyone so devoted to the idea. Her dress style, her mannerisms… it all pointed to an obsession with standing out in a crowd.
Abby shook her head. “Back to Miranda Hoppers.”
Joyce sat down. “Yes, poor Miranda. I can’t believe she’s dead. Who’d want to kill her?” Joyce raised her hand. “Yes, I know. The cause of death hasn’t been determined yet, but I am willing to bet a year’s supply of free coffee someone killed her. Any takers?”
Faith chortled. “Even without hearing the official verdict from the police, I think we’re all prepared to assume someone killed her.”
Abby cleared her throat. “What did she do for a living?”
“Miranda Hoppers didn’t work.” Joyce tapped her chin. “Personally, I never delved. She’s… she was in her thirties. Is that too young to have enough money to buy a farm?”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Yes. Unless you hit it big in some start up or you inherit from a distant relative.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Joyce said, “I’ve worked all my life.” Looking at Abby, she explained, “I got a little help from family to set myself up in the café. Since I live above the café, I’ve never had to think about buying myself a house.”
“But you must be thinking it now that you’re unofficially engaged,” Faith said.
Joyce tilted her head from side to side. “Bradford lives above his store. I live above my store. Maybe we can have a rooftop extension and meet each other half way.”
“You already do,” Faith murmured.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Anyhow, Miranda Hoppers didn’t appear to have money problems so I assume she had enough to maintain an independent lifestyle.”
Abby sifted through her mental notes. “When she crashed the photo shoot she brought a man with her. For some reason, I assumed they were together, as in, romantically involved.”
Joyce looked at Faith. “I don’t remember seeing a wedding ring on her, but she did have an impressive diamond ring. Perhaps she was engaged and, now that I think about it, there was a man who used to visit her. I often saw them drive by together and I could always tell when he spent the weekend with her because she didn’t come into the café.”
Faith added a piece of paper next to Miranda’s name. “Big question mark for martial status and a stick man for our mystery man who could turn out to be the killer.” Faith swung around to face them. “I belong to the Eden Thespians and I never heard her mention a husband or a fiancé. Also, I guess I’m not as observant as Joyce. I never noticed the diamond ring.”
Abby sat up. “I’d forgotten about you being an Eden Thespian. Gordon Fisher mentioned an existing rivalry between Miranda and Kitty Belmont. What do you know about it?”
“Are we really adding Kitty to the suspect list?” Faith asked.
“What sort of answer it that?” Joyce sat up. “I’d almost believe you’re trying to tell us there are grounds for suspicion because maybe you overheard Kitty threatening Miranda.
”
“I’m not entirely comfortable talking about one of my fellow thespians. It’s… it’s almost like a sorority. We’ve more or less pledged allegiance to one another.”
“It’s a theater club not a marriage,” Abby said. “But you’re right about not suspecting anyone yet. I think it might be too early to start the mud slinging.” Abby took a sip of her coffee and sighed with appreciation. “You might not want to give us details, but can you maybe give us a hint? Do you think she had motive to kill Miranda? Let me rephrase that. Do you think their rivalry justified killing her?”
Faith gave it some thought. “Miranda could be difficult. I’m not surprised she was an only child. She certainly displayed the traits.” Faith shrugged. “Just saying. If we are going to point the finger of suspicion at Kitty, we’ll have to assume Miranda went too far. What exactly went on at the photo shoot?”
“I got the feeling Miranda wanted to bait Kitty into overreacting. At one point, Kitty used her parasol to threaten her.” Abby slumped back and closed her eyes.
“A part of me thinks we should all go home and pick up where we left off tomorrow,” Faith said. “However, I get the feeling we need to go through everything now. Write down as much as we can come up with and—”
Abby sprung upright. “The photos.”
“Yes,” Joyce exclaimed. “I forgot about those.”
Abby grabbed her phone and sent all the photos she’d taken to her laptop only to remember she didn’t have a printer. “Do you want me to send copies to the office?” she asked Faith.
“That would be a good idea. I can print them and we can recreate the scene.”
Abby looked at her wall. “Do you plan on camping out here tonight?”
“That’s a great idea. I should go home and get a change of clothes.” Faith checked the time. “It’s close to dinner time for my dogs. That’s usually the only time they pay attention to me. The rest of the time they’re next door playing with my neighbor’s dog. I’ll be back in half an hour. Don’t discuss anything too important.”
Joyce stretched her arms over head. “I’ll stay a while but I’ll need to go home tonight. I have deliveries early tomorrow morning.” She fidgeted with her phone. “There are too many photos to send and my phone’s running low on battery. I’ll run them off on my printer tomorrow and bring them in.”
Abby leaned forward and stared blankly at the wall. She didn’t want to think about a mantle of suspicion falling over everyone who lived in Eden.
“Assuming this is a suspicious death, what do you think Joshua will do first?” Joyce asked.
“He’ll probably want to talk to everyone who knew Miranda Hoppers and try to retrace her steps before she met her end.”
“Shouldn’t that be her ‘untimely’ end?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I guess I should prepare to be interrogated.” Joyce crossed her legs and fell silent.
After a few minutes, Abby looked at her and laughed. “Are you running through what you’ll say to Joshua or deciding what you’re going to wear?”
“I feel I should take offense.” After a few moments, Joyce laughed too. “Fine, I’ll admit I did both. Anyhow, back to Joshua’s modus operandi.”
Abby sat back. “I assume motive will be a priority with him. People always have a reason for killing. Jealousy. Greed. Revenge. Anger.”
“Is there such a thing as unjustified homicide?” Joyce asked. “I hope not because then we’ll have to start locking our doors and hiring bodyguards.”
When Joyce fell silent again, Abby couldn’t help looking at her.
“What?” Joyce asked.
“You always have something to say.”
“I can be pensive too.” Sighing, Joyce shrugged. “It can’t be a local. I know that’s what I said last time, and I’m trying not to think about that. We think we know someone and then… we don’t.” Joyce surged to her feet. “This is going to keep me up all night. How long do you think it’ll take to find out if we’re dealing with a murder case?”
A knock at the door had them both stilling.
“I suddenly feel the urge to hide,” Joyce said.
Doyle strutted to the door and sniffed the floor.
“Who is it Doyle?” Joyce asked.
Abby snorted. “I hope you don’t expect him to answer.”
The door handle turned.
Joyce gasped and grabbed hold of Abby. “Someone is trying to break into your apartment,” she whispered.
They both edged toward the door.
“Shouldn’t we head for the fire escape?” Joyce asked.
“Doyle is wagging his tail, but I guess I should make sure.” Abby cleared her throat. “Who goes there? Friend or foe?”
“It’s Markus and I’m carrying a tray of food. A little help would be appreciated.”
“How do we know it’s really you?” Joyce asked.
Markus grumbled.
“Yes, I suppose that sounds like Markus.” Abby opened the door a crack. “And it looks like him. Complete with a scowl. Come in. This is mighty nice of you.”
Markus set the tray down on the coffee table. “Don’t thank me, this was Mitch’s idea.” When he straightened, he looked at the wall. “Is this what you girls do for fun?”
“In case you haven’t heard, we were the ones who found… the victim,” Joyce said. “I believe we can use our combined powers of observation to uncover the culprit.”
Markus gave them both one of his rare smiles. “The victim. You mean, Miranda Hoppers.”
They both gasped. Of course… he’d seen the name written on the wall. “You can’t tell anyone. Swear to us you won’t.” Abby hitched her hands on her waist and tried to look intimidating.
“Yeah, sure. I won’t tell a living soul.”
“Would you mind telling us where you were this morning?” Joyce asked.
“I do mind.”
Joyce hummed. “Uncooperative witness. What are you hiding?”
“My personal life,” Markus said.
“I see. Does that mean you were with a certain someone?” Joyce asked. “I could ask Hannah to collaborate your whereabouts.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You sound sure of her silence. Are you two conspiring?”
Chuckling, Markus turned his attention back to the wall. “You’re missing photos.”
Abby pointed toward her laptop. “We have plenty of them but I don’t have a printer.”
Markus grinned. “I can help with that.”
Chapter Five
“When I came back and found Markus sitting on the floor cross-legged and surrounded by the photos he’d helped print out, I could have sworn I’d stepped into another dimension,” Faith said as she stretched and yawned.
Abby bent down to pick up Doyle’s water bowl. “I had a similar experience a second ago when I strode into my sitting room and found you stretched out on my couch. What time did we eventually turn in last night?”
“Let me see…” Faith raked her fingers through her hair. “The first time we tried to shove Markus out the door, it was just after one in the morning. I think he eventually left at two. I had no idea he could talk so much.”
“I guess working at the bar he gets to hear as much gossip as Joyce does at the café. Actually, his gossip is probably far superior since most people tend to loosen their tongues after a couple of drinks.” Abby strode into the little galley kitchen and washed out Doyle’s bowls. “Are you showering here or do you need to get home to your dogs?”
“They had a sleep over at my neighbor’s house. She’ll look after them. If you don’t mind, I’ll grab a quick shower here and then head over to the office to open up.” Faith yelped. “Seven o’clock? What am I doing awake at seven in the morning?”
“Sorry, I thought you knew.”
“No. Do you always get up at this uncivilized hour?”
“What can I say? I like to watch the sunrise. If I don’t, I spend the day feeling I�
��ve missed out on something.”
“I would never have picked you for an early bird. Doyle is still asleep.”
“He’s pretending. Usually, he’s the one waking me up. He knows today is bath day.” Abby set the bowl of water and food down and checked her phone. Nothing from Joshua. She switched on the laptop and scanned the online newspapers.
Faith yawned again. “If you don’t mind, I’ll linger for a bit longer.”
“In that case, I’ll grab a quick shower.” Abby usually came up with her brightest ideas when she showered. She supposed she’d have to settle for a quick flash of inspiration…
Fifteen minutes later, inspiration struck. They could use the photos to create a collage of the picnic.
Pulling on a sweater, Abby strode into the sitting room. When she heard Faith chatting, she said, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who talks to Doyle. He’s a good listener.”
Faith laughed. “Doyle woke up for a second and then went right back to sleep. I’m actually chatting with your mom.” Faith pointed to the laptop. “She called while you were in the shower.”
Abby tried to stay out of the line of vision and gestured to the wall. If her mom had seen their crime board, she’d scream for Abby to come straight back home.
“Where are you? I can’t see you,” her mom said.
“Hi mom.” She sat next to Faith and waved.
“Faith told me you girls had a late night last night. Any news about that poor woman?”
Belatedly, Abby remembered her mom had seen Miranda on the boat.
“Abby? Do you know how she died?”
“We’re still waiting to hear, mom.”
“I suppose there’s no point in worrying about you.”
Abby couldn’t tell if her mom was trying her hand at being sarcastic or if she’d come to terms with the fact her daughter was over thirty years old and could look after herself.
“You know you’ll be the first to know when I hear something.”
“That’s what you told Mitch,” her mom said.
How did she know?
“I spoke with him a short while ago,” her mom said, clearly using her uncanny ability to read Abby’s mind.
