by Sonia Parin
“How… How did you get his number?”
“You gave me the number for the pub in case of an emergency. Or have you forgotten?”
Yes, but… Why had her mom felt compelled to call Mitch?
“Joyce was no better. I actually thought she might share something with me.”
Abby’s voice hitched. “You called Joyce too?”
“I’m going to grab that shower now,” Faith said.
Leaving Abby to face the music alone. “Just how many people in Eden are you in touch with?”
“Your mom worries about you because she wants you to be happy. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Faith said as they stepped out of the pub.
“I wasn’t thinking about her. Right now, there’s only enough headspace to think about breakfast at Joyce’s.” Abby grumbled. “My mom’s obsessed with living in a crime-free zone. There’s no such utopia.” Doyle stopped at the curb. “Come on, Doyle. There’s no traffic.” Abby looked up. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Faith echoed. “I warned you there’d be a mob after you.”
They both stepped back from the curb, their eyes on the crowd of people gathered outside the Eden Rise Gazette across the street.
“Is that normal?” Abby asked. She’d only been living in Eden for a few short weeks and while she’d been exposed to the oddities of the small town, she hadn’t experienced anything to worry about, certainly nothing to send her packing.
“I’ve never seen this happen,” Faith mused. “Do they look agitated to you?”
Abby nodded. “They look a little restless.”
Doyle looked over his shoulder and, realizing they’d both stepped back, he scurried toward the pub.
“I think Doyle has the right idea. We should go back inside,” Faith suggested.
Abby stopped at the door and turned. “What do you think they want?”
“Your head, of course. I told you that article would be bad news.”
“Nonsense. I think they’re clamoring for news about Miranda Hoppers.” Abby checked her cell phone. Still no news from Joshua.
“That’s just it. They don’t know it was Miranda Hoppers in that body bag. And maybe that’s the reason they’re outside the Gazette. They’ve all decided they won’t spend another night in the dark and now demand some answers, starting with the name of the victim.”
“In that case, they should be targeting the police,” Abby reasoned. Then again, the police were located in the next town… Abby stepped away from the door.
“Hey, what are you doing? Where are you going?”
“To see what they want, of course. I can’t live in a state of fear.” Although, what if they did want her head because of the article she’d written about the possible extinction of chocolate?
“I thought you were going to be sensible.” Sighing, Faith followed her while Doyle trailed behind at a safe distance.
“Good morning, everyone.” The hum of conversation came to a stop. Everyone turned to look at Abby. A woman nudged the man standing beside her. He cleared his throat.
“You’re the new reporter,” he said.
“I am. Hi.” Abby’s throat constricted slightly. They didn’t look like a mob out for blood. No pitchforks in sight, Abby thought, but they did look tense.
“Is the newspaper going to run a story about what happened at the lake?” the man asked. “We’ve been glued to the radio all day and still no word about the identity of the victim or the cause of death.”
“And that’s as much as we know,” Abby said as Faith stepped up and came to stand beside her.
“Rubbish. We saw you talking to the detective,” the man said. Everyone around him agreed with nods.
“And you can imagine how that conversation went,” Abby said. “I’ve been warned to wait until the next of kin have been informed. And that’s as much as I am allowed to say.”
The man straightened. “That’s not good enough.”
“I agree, but unfortunately that’s the way things stand. The police have to do their job and we have to think of the relatives.”
The man didn’t look convinced. “We have kids.” He put his arm around the woman.
Faith stepped forward. “How would you like it if everyone else found out a family member had died before you did?”
“Our hearts go out to them,” the man said. “But why isn’t anyone saying anything? We have a right to know.”
“And you will be informed as soon as we get the go-ahead from the police,” Abby assured him. She thought she heard someone say they should all go to Joyce’s café because she was bound to know more. Abby wished them all good luck. When the crowd dispersed, she felt her shoulders ease down a notch. “I guess that was touch and go.”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed. “I’ve never seen them like this.”
And now they were all headed to Joyce’s. “I suppose we could go back to the pub for breakfast.”
“Where’s your spirit of adventure?” Faith grabbed hold of Abby’s arm and tugged her along.
“Hey, a moment ago you were all for hiding at the pub.”
“That was then, this is now.” Faith tugged her again. “I’m curious to see how this unfolds.”
“Come on, Doyle. No lagging behind. We’re in this together.”
Faith waved at a passerby. “Considering what just happened, after we’ve had breakfast, I think it might be a good idea to work from your place.”
“Are you referring to actual work or to sticking our noses where they don’t belong?” Abby asked.
Faith harrumphed. “Whatever happened to investigative reporting?”
Abby raised her hands to the heavens. “I’m not a crime reporter. I’m a lifestyle and leisure reporter.”
“I’ve never heard your whiny tone. I’m surprised Doyle didn’t join in with a howl. Is it unusual or something I should expect on a regular basis?”
“It was nothing but an instinctive outburst. Sorry,” Abby offered.
When they reached Joyce’s Café, they saw everyone who’d stood outside the Gazette had taken up most of the tables.
Abby looked up and down the street. “There should be an alternative to Joyce’s.”
“We could go to the bakery but then Joyce will be annoyed with us. Also, they don’t serve coffee.” Faith gave her a gentle push. “Relax. The mob already had a go at you.”
“It’s so comforting to have you as my ally.” They strode into the café and immediately drew everyone’s attention. “I get the feeling they disapprove of us being here, taking time out for breakfast.”
“You set the bar, Abby. What do you expect?”
Abby’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”
“You solved Dermot’s case. Everyone expect answers from you. They want you to step up to the plate.”
“Good morning,” Joyce greeted them. “Table for two?” She looked down at Doyle and, as promised, pretended he wasn’t there. As far as she was concerned, if Parisians allowed dogs into their restaurants and cafés, then so would she.
“Thank you.” Abby raised her voice so everyone could hear her. “We’re here for breakfast.”
“Yes, of course. This way please.” Joyce led them to a table by the window. “I see you’ve drawn some attention.” Joyce tapped her pen against her chin. “I wonder what that’s about?”
“I’m sure you know.” Abby picked up the extensive menu. “I’ll have the ‘Extraordinary Break Your Fast Platter’ and a Midnight Express without the swagger.” Too early for a shot of brandy in her coffee, Abby thought, even though the circumstances called for it.
“You think you can fit that size breakfast into you?” Faith read the description. “Sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, sunny side up eggs, bacon, hash browns, baked beans followed by blueberry pancakes.”
She’d probably struggle. “Leave the baked beans out, please. I’ll take my time with the rest and pace myself.” While they waited, she drew out her cell phone and did a quick search online. “Miranda ha
d the usual social presence online posting photos of herself onstage.”
“Let me see.” Faith leaned in. “Oh, yes. That’s from our production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. She started out as Kitty’s understudy.”
“Let me guess, she played the leading role because something happened to Kitty?”
Faith’s eyebrows drew down. “Kitty sprung a leak and her house flooded.”
“Really?” Abby lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did anyone suspect Miranda of tampering with the pipes?”
Faith didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Abby without blinking.
“Do you need me to click my fingers?” Abby asked.
“I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me. Their altercations were almost like taking little bites out of each other and one never knew who’d instigated the arguments. They’d erupt, flare up, explode and then they’d each step away and act as if nothing had happened.” Faith took a long sip of water. “Now that I think about it, they were always well-timed. I’d even go so far as to say they were staged. Only one or two people ever witnessed them and never from close up so it was hard to even determine what had been said.”
Very smart, Abby thought. If she wanted to create friction, she imagined she’d do it subtly. A little bit at a time.
“Did Kitty ever mention anything about what Miranda had said or done?” Abby asked.
Faith shook her head. “Let me think… If she did, it would have been a passing remark. You know the type you have to put two and two together.”
Yes, Abby knew exactly what she meant. When Kitty had seen Miranda arriving, she’d said…
“How dare Miranda show up. That’s what Kitty said the day of the picnic photo shoot.”
“Yes, that sounds about right. You wouldn’t have known what to make of it.” Faith leaned in and whispered. “What did you make of it?”
An open-ended remark such as that one would have been open to interpretation and all sorts of wild speculation. “I asked Gordon if there was some sort of rivalry between them.” Abby shrugged. “After that, I didn’t give it much thought. In fact, Doyle and I moved away and explored the area.”
“You’d make a dreadful gossip columnist. Dear Abby, in case you didn’t notice this, I’ll tell you…”
Abby rolled her eyes and resumed her search online. “I’m hoping to find some sort of mention of her partner. Maybe even an engagement announcement.” She scrolled through Miranda’s social media page. “She liked posting photos of herself in poses. I’m guessing these are clothes from the wardrobe department.” She showed Faith the pictures.
“Yes.” Faith chuckled. “Isn’t that odd. Kitty wore most of those gowns for her leading roles. I think Miranda might have been trying them on for size.” Faith clicked her fingers. “That makes sense. I remember Kitty making a passing remark once and I thought she’d been talking to herself.”
“What did she say?”
“She complained about the perfume on her dress. She’s sensitive to smell and had to have the dress cleaned.”
“I get the feeling Miranda enjoyed playing mind games.” And she targeted Kitty Belmont because Kitty got all the leading roles.
Joyce approached their table and set down a couple of plates. “French Toast for Faith and the Extraordinary Break Your Fast for you. Enjoy.”
“What’s with the raised eyebrow look?” Abby asked. “Are you questioning my choice of breakfast? It’s in your menu.”
“Actually, no woman has ever ordered that at my café. It’s always been a favorite with men. It’s just an observation. Are you, by any chance, stress eating?”
“No.” Abby looked around the café. People had stopped openly staring at her but they continued glancing her way.
“They’re going to give me indigestion,” Abby complained.
“Would you like me to tell them to stop looking at you?” Joyce asked.
“Would you be so kind?”
“Of course.”
Abby waited for Joyce to move on before saying, “I think Joyce wields more power in this town than is safe.”
Faith agreed with a nod. “It’s the suffer no fools way of looking she has. I’ve actually stood in front of the mirror trying to mimic it.”
“Show me.”
“Nope. I look like a caricature. Nothing but a wannabe Joyce. She’s one of a kind.”
Abby patted Faith’s hand. “You are unique and you excel at bossing me around.”
“Thank you. Now, eat up.”
It took three cups of coffee to wash down her super sized breakfast and when she finished, she had to discreetly loosen her belt.
“Did you eat all that because you felt everyone watching you or because you were really hungry?” Faith asked.
“The truth? A little of both. I kept thinking what people here would say. That new reporter is slow to take action but she sure can pack it in. It’d be cheaper to buy her a dress than to invite her over for dinner.” Abby laughed.
She resumed her search online and within a few minutes exclaimed, “I found something. Miranda’s engagement announcement.” Abby cleared her throat. “Miranda Hoppers and William Matthews have set the date. The happy couple will honeymoon in the Maldives. That’s all it says. This is dated three months ago.”
“She never mentioned anything to us,” Faith mused. “You’d think she’d say something.”
“Joyce said she noticed her ring, but you didn’t.”
Faith tilted her head in thought. “I’m sure I did notice and I think it might have been a case of oh, she’s wearing a ring and then being distracted by something else.”
“The Maldives. That’s expensive,” Abby mused.
Faith finished her coffee and looked around for Joyce. “I wouldn’t mind another one, thank you.”
As Joyce cleared the table, she said, “I couldn’t help noticing you’re on the phone. Are you researching?”
“Yes, you can tell everyone I’m on the case… in case there is a case.”
Joyce gave her one of her enigmatic smiles. “I see. You’re afraid they’ll get on your case because you’re not on the case?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Is there any mention of what this William Matthews characters does for a living?” Faith asked.
Abby continued trawling for information. “Merchant banker. I don’t see any mention of which bank he works for and there are no details about how they met. I find that odd. Usually, there’s a cute back-story. You know, they met while on vacation or they were introduced.”
Faith shifted in her seat. “I like blind-date stories. When I was at school, a bunch of us went to a lot of trouble to get these two friends together. We’d noticed sparks but they were stuck in the denial stage so we planned a trip to the city and made sure they got on the bus, then we skipped out on them. Luckily they decided to make the best of it and spent a weekend together following the schedule we’d organized. They went to the theater, the movies and galleries. We even booked restaurants for them. It’s been five years and they’re still together.” Faith took a sip of her coffee. “Your mouth is gaping open and you’re staring at me.”
“I… I’ve never known anyone to do that for a friend.”
Faith grinned. “You need to get some quality friends.”
“More coffee?” Joyce offered as she strode by their table.
“Y-yes, please.” Abby’s eyes zeroed in on the person who’d just walked into the café. Detective Joshua Ryan placed his order at the counter. When he turned, he spotted Abby.
Their eyes locked.
Abby gave him a lifted eyebrow look.
He returned the eyebrow lift.
Abby tilted her head and narrowed her brows.
One by one, everyone in the café turned to look at him.
“I feel the pressure is off me now,” Abby murmured. “That’s something, but… He owes me.” After all, she had been instrumental in finding Dermot’s killer.
With his coffee in hand, he took a step toward the door only to stop.
“I swear if he doesn’t give us an update, I will hunt him down.”
“And do what to him?” Faith asked.
“I’ll… I’ll torture him with a detailed description of an English chintz filled sitting room.”
Joshua took a sip of his coffee, headed toward their table and, without asking, he drew out a chair.
“You’re here to give us an update,” Abby stated.
He gave her a small nod. “Bee sting.”
“What about it?”
“Miranda died from a bee sting.”
Chapter Six
A bee sting!
“She had an allergic reaction to it,” Joshua explained.
Abby remembered to blink. A dozen questions pushed and shoved around her mind and tried to make their way out of her mouth. She grabbed her cell phone and looked up bee stings.
“Death can come from heart failure,” she read. “An allergic reaction occurs when the body’s defense system overreacts, causing breathing difficulties, low blood pressure and a swelling of the face, tongue, mouth and lips so that the airways become obstructed.” Abby looked up and found Joyce staring at her, eyes unblinking. They both nodded as if suddenly making sense of Miranda’s bloated face. Abby frowned. “How long does it take to die from a bee sting?”
Joshua twirled his coffee cup around in his hands. “Depends. There was a recent case of a man in his late forties who died ten days after being stung, but he was over 6ft tall and weighed 240 pounds. Miranda’s slim body and medium height might have worked against her. A woman in England was in a coma for two years before she died. In another recent case, a man was stung on the neck and died in front of his wife before the ambulance could get to him.”
“Anaphylactic shock,” Faith mused. “People with allergies to bee stings are supposed to carry an emergency pack of adrenaline-filled syringes to counter the effects.”
“Maybe Miranda didn’t know she had an allergy,” Abby said.
Joshua shook his head. “She knew about it. In fact, she wore a bracelet with a red cross on it clearly stating her allergy.”
