by Sonia Parin
“She’s definitely colorful,” Kinsley said.
Abby agreed. “She also has a colorful imagination.”
Kinsley nodded. “Christmas in July is her favorite time of year. She gets the whole town involved. Some people even dress up for the occasion. A couple of years ago, she spent an entire week dressed as her favorite Christmas tree ornament.”
“An angel?” Abby asked.
“An elf.”
Abby threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, I can picture it.” Sitting up, she reached for the bottle of red. “Would you like another glass?”
Considering the offer, Kinsley emptied her glass. “Yes, please. I don’t normally drink more than a couple of glasses, but… Well, it seems to be doing me a world of good.”
Abby topped up their glasses. As she settled back into the corner of the couch, her cell phone beeped again. She imagined it could be either Joyce or Faith asking for updates, or even Joshua. Kinsley glanced at her but didn’t say anything.
Taking a sip of wine, Abby then set the glass down. “How about I go downstairs and get us another bottle of red?”
The moment Abby set foot in the bar, Faith appeared from out of nowhere. “I’ve been texting you. Why haven’t you answered?”
“Um, I was busy trying to get Kinsley to trust me. Heavens, that sounds so devious.”
“Trust you?” Faith snapped. “You’re a reporter. No one trusts reporters.”
“Hey, whose side are you on?”
“Whichever side provides me with coffee.” Faith pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I’m prepared to accept bribes in exchange for my loyalty.”
“I think we can survive a day or two drinking Mitch’s brew. It’s the same coffee Joyce serves.”
“The same?” Faith shrieked. “It can never be the same.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Listen to yourself. You’re addicted to a cup full of Joyce’s attitude. That’s all it is.” Abby strode up to the counter. “Barkeep.” She smiled at Mitch. “I’d like a Send Me to the Moon Rocket Fuel, please.”
Mitch leaned against the counter and smiled at her. “That sounds like one of Joyce’s coffees. We serve the same blend but with no frills. If you want something fancy, you’ll have to go to Joyce’s.”
“See, I told you,” Faith grumbled.
Abby gave him a beseeching look as she whispered, “Just for today, could you please give it a weird name?”
“What was it again?” Mitch asked.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Call it whatever you want, just give it a name. Faith is about to come undone and I won’t be held responsible for what she does next.”
“So, the rumors are true,” Mitch said. “Joyce has you both on a tight leash and is pulling your strings.”
“She’s not the only one.” Abby set down the empty bottle of wine. “Could I also please have another bottle of your finest red. Actually, make it two. I get the feeling this is going to be a long night and I have a single coffee to look forward to in the morning.”
“Joking aside, you know I serve the same coffee.”
Abby raised her hand palm up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there is a difference.”
Mitch grinned. “Would it make a difference if I add a dash of attitude?”
“It’s more than that. Joyce has a special touch.”
“In your place, I’d actually be worried.” He held up a coffee bean. “It’s exactly the same.”
“Can we not quibble, please? Faith and I need to somehow circumnavigate these stormy waters and come through unscathed.”
Mitch shook his head. “I think it’s official. You are definitely one of us. You might even have set a new benchmark for loony.”
“Yes, whatever.”
When he set a barrel shaped mug down on the counter, Faith gasped. “It’s a beer mug.”
“And make the best of it because Joyce’s tentacles are far-reaching,” Mitch said. “She’s the pub’s coffee supplier.” He turned to Abby. “I guess you’ll have to hurry back upstairs and start making some progress.”
Abby lifted her chin a notch. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. But I hope I can trust you to keep quiet about your new guest.”
Mitch nodded.
Abby turned to Faith. “Did you make any headway with your research?”
“The police will have to help us out with any prior convictions,” Faith said. “A general search has only brought up information about books she publishes.”
“Yes, she told me about them. She’s a photographer.”
Faith closed her eyes and tapped her chin. “As to the other matter you asked me to look into, Kinsley Circus went out of business just over a couple of years ago. I found an interview with the owner. Warren Kinsley couldn’t find a buyer so he disbanded the circus and then went to live in a retirement village. Then, I found an obituary. He kicked the bucket two years ago. I had to dig deep for that information.”
Two years ago…
That would have been around the time Kinsley Roberts inherited the house. Was there a connection between Kinsley Roberts and Warren Kinsley? “Is there any mention of him ever living here in Eden?”
Faith shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll have to take a close look at the sign I saw in the stables. For now, let’s assume we’re onto something. Try to find out if Warren Kinsley is in any way connected to Kinsley Roberts or the house.”
“I’m already on it.” Faith grinned. “I had a moment of clarity so I contacted the local lawyer but I couldn’t get anything out of the receptionist and the lawyer refused to speak with me.”
“He’s a local?”
Faith nodded.
“Remind me to ask you about him again tomorrow. After I’ve had my first coffee.” Abby bit the edge of her lip. “Let’s work with what we have. Try to find a connection between Kinsley and the Kinsley Circus. For all we know, we might be barking up the wrong tree.”
“Actually, I think you had a lucky break,” Faith said. “That circus sign you saw in the stables has to mean something.”
But the names didn’t exactly match…
“See what else you can find out about the circus owner. I’d like to see a list of everyone associated with him. Also, do another search on Kinsley Roberts.” She didn’t know how much more talking Kinsley would do. “If the lawyer won’t confirm the name of the previous house owner, then we might be able to source the information from some other family member. Maybe you could check the obituaries for anyone named Roberts who died over two years ago.”
“I’ll keep searching.” Faith took a sip of her coffee. Humming, she took another one. “Interesting. It’s the same coffee and yet… No, it’s never going to be the same. Anyway, how sure are you Kinsley Roberts isn’t guilty of killing that man?”
Abby told her about the police not finding any gunshot residue on her hands.
“So, she didn’t pull the trigger. It doesn’t actually put her in the clear. She might be in cahoots with the person who did the deed,” Faith reasoned.
The door to the pub opened. Out of habit, Abby turned to see who’d come in. “Don’t turn around. Joyce just strode in.” Abby grabbed the bottles of wine and hurried back upstairs, saying, “Faith, please make sure Joyce doesn’t come up. If she asks questions, please be as evasive as you can be. If she perseveres, be vague and blame it on the lack of coffee.”
Abby strode back into her apartment, ready with a few leading questions. Before the night ended, she needed to have some sort of lead about the blogger and the killer.
“I hope you haven’t fallen asleep on me,” Abby chirped. “I’m looking forward to polishing off at least another bottle.”
Kinsley turned and said, “He was wearing my jacket. I think the killer mistook him for me.”
Chapter Four
Abby poured wine into Kinsley’s glass and watched her gulp it down in one go. “More?” she offered.
Kinsley gave a stiff nod and he
ld up her glass.
Abby topped it up again and, sitting back, held her own glass of wine against her mouth. Before taking a sip, she asked, “He wore your jacket?”
Kinsley pushed out a hard breath. “I gave it to him. Sam did some odd jobs around the place for me in exchange for a roof over his head… in the stables. There’s a bunk room next to the tack room. I assume that’s where the stable hands used to sleep when the place was habitable.” Kinsley finished her second glass of wine and helped herself to some more. “The house is so cold, I got into the habit of wearing a couple of sweaters and a man’s coat around the place. I didn’t care what I looked like so long as it kept me warm. Sam didn’t have much, so I gave him the coat.”
Sam? The victim? Abby didn’t want to interrupt Kinsley’s train of thought, so she asked something she thought might keep her talking. “When did you do that?”
“A few days ago.”
“Are you suggesting this might be a case of mistaken identity?” Abby asked.
For the first time since sitting on the couch, Kinsley moved. She shifted, surged to her feet and strode around the apartment.
“When Sam moved in, I started going out to the stables to look around. Before he came, I steered clear of the place. I’ve never been a big fan of the circus and all that junk gave me the creeps. But with the bills piling up, I thought I might be able to find something of value I could sell.”
“When I arrived, I heard music,” Abby said. “Does that mean the carousel works?”
Kinsley gave a distracted nod. “Sam got it to work.”
“That could be valuable.”
“That’s what we thought. He’d been working on restoring it. When he finished, we were going to put it up for sale.” Kinsley brushed her hands across her face.
“So why do you think the killer might have been after you?”
Kinsley stared at her, eyes unblinking. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Abby leaned forward. “When you came into town, did you feel someone might have been keeping tabs on you?” When Kinsley shook her head, Abby added, “How about at the house?”
“The house is out in the middle of nowhere but I’d become accustomed to living out there. Suddenly, I started to feel jittery. I’d jump at the slightest noise and… Yeah, I had the feeling someone was watching the place. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to let Sam stay on.”
“Did this feeling start before Sam came along or after?”
“Right about the same time. I think… I’m not sure.” She lifted her hand and then let it flop down again. “I know what you’re thinking. No, it wasn’t Sam. A couple of times I took a cup of coffee over to him and on the way back to the house, I thought I saw something… someone.” She raked her fingers through her hair.
“The house is surrounded by all those trees,” Abby said. “Maybe your imagination played tricks on you.”
“No. I’ve been living there for two years now. I’m used to the solitude and the play of shadows in the trees. This was different. Someone has been watching the house.”
“Did you tell the police about your suspicions?”
Kinsley didn’t answer.
Abby took the opportunity to say, “I get the feeling you don’t like the police.”
“I’m not a big fan. Don’t ask me why. I guess I’ve never felt I could fully trust them.”
Abby glanced at the wall in front of her. A while back, she and Faith had set up a crime board by sticking their notes on the wall. She wondered how Kinsley would feel about that. “Would you mind if I jot down a few notes?”
“Is that what you do when you solve crimes?” Kinsley asked.
Without sounding defensive, Abby said, “It’s not my primary job. Call it my natural reporter’s curiosity. I happened to stumble on a couple of crime scenes and I naturally had questions about them.” She strode over to her desk and hunted around for some paper and a pen. “I normally do this with Faith. We work together at The Gazette.”
Doyle stirred and yawned. After a few minutes, he stretched. Looking up at Kinsley, he hopped off the couch and trotted up to her.
“Your dog is super cute.” Kinsley bent down and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “What breed is he?”
“Pure bred mutt.” Abby smiled. “He loves the attention.”
“I think he just wanted to say goodnight.”
Doyle appeared by Abby’s feet and pressed his nose against her foot. “Is it bed time already?” she asked him. “Yes, I think it is. We promise to keep the noise down.” Looking up, Abby added, “we have a little ritual at this time of night. I usually walk him over to his doggy bed and plump it all up for him.”
“Don’t mind me,” Kinsley said.
“I won’t be long.” Abby strode off into her bedroom with Doyle following alongside her. Bending down, she whispered, “I know I usually have a chat about stuff that happened during the day, but tonight I’m going to have to cut it short.”
Doyle didn’t seem to mind. He hopped onto his doggy bed, inspected it and finally settled down.
When she returned to the sitting room she found Kinsley had settled back down on the couch. Abby didn’t waste any time and dove straight into it. “I know I already asked this, but can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?”
“Hurt me? You mean, kill me.” Kinsley tipped her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve been a rolling stone for so long, I’ve never stayed in the one place long enough to make enemies. I’m not really the type to make waves or attract attention.”
Abby didn’t want to state the obvious. She didn’t think someone would go to the trouble of killing her just because Kinsley had rubbed them off the wrong way.
“Okay. You said you inherited the house. Who left it to you?” Abby asked even though she already suspected it might have been Warren Kinsley.
Kinsley sighed. “That’s a sort of mystery in itself. My parents were elderly when they had me. I lost them both a couple of years back. As far as I knew, they were my only family. Then, right out of the blue, I received a letter. A lawyer had been trying to contact me for a few months but I’d been traveling around. When I got in touch with him, he gave me the news about me inheriting the house. At first, I thought he’d made a mistake.” Kinsley laughed. “I’ve only ever had enough money to meet my needs and there I was questioning the inheritance. Of course, at the time I thought I could convert the house into money by selling it.”
Abby leaned forward. “So, who left you the house?”
“Warren Kinsley.”
Abby took a moment to digest the news. Seeing that sign in the stables had definitely been a stroke of good luck. “Was he a relative?”
“Apparently, yes. At least, I assume he was.”
Abby frowned. “You didn’t ask?”
“The lawyer didn’t have all the information and getting it…” Kinsley shrugged. “Well, it would have cost money. I’d just returned from one of my extensive trips overseas. My savings were almost depleted. Bottom line, I had a roof over my head and, at the time, I didn’t think I could afford to look a gift horse in the mouth. I figured if there had been a mistake, someone would eventually find out and fix it. Meanwhile, I didn’t need to worry about paying rent.” Kinsley’s laughter filled with the irony of her situation. “I’d never owned a house so I had no idea about so-called incidental costs.”
“What’s the lawyer’s name?”
“Lawrence McAvoy.”
Finally, she had something to work with. Abby made a few notes. Her first task would be to establish Kinsley’s connection to Warren Kinsley. At a guess, she’d say he’d been a distant relative. She also needed to find out if he had any other relatives, people who might resent Kinsley for being named the beneficiary in the will. At some point, she would have to share this information with Joshua and he could use his police resources to delve deeper.
Abby looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember what else she’d wanted to ask. The man h
ad been killed in her property. She’d had some sort of working relationship with him. Abby knew she had to tread with care. “About Sam… We’ll need his family name. Do you know it?”
“Peters.” Kinsley looked down at her hands. “I think he might have had a bad time of it in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“Trouble with the law.” Kinsley shrugged. “Petty stuff like brawling.”
Setting her pen down, Abby looked at her. “Brawling?” What if this had nothing to do with Kinsley because the killer had been after Sam Peters all along? This could have been a revenge killing.
“He was honest enough to tell me about his stint in prison.”
Another thought occurred to Abby. What if he’d been trying to set her up by working his way into her life and using honesty as a foot in the door?
Or…
What if he’d used the name Sam Peters as an alias? He could turn out to be a disgruntled relative.
Abby played around with the idea but she only got as far as thinking about another relative sniffing around and doing away with the competition.
Her cell phone beeped at the same time as someone knocked on her door. Abby read the message and sighed. “Faith just sent me a warning. Trouble has come knocking at my door. That’s Joyce at the door.” And she wanted an update. “I’m going to create a diversion. It’s best if she doesn’t know you’re here. Whatever you do, don’t leave my apartment.”
“You’ve driven me to drink, Joyce.” Before Joyce could get a look inside her apartment, Abby took hold of her arm and drew her away. “The bar is this way.”
“I wanted to have a private word with you,” Joyce said, her tone brisk.
“Walk and talk. I’m sure the walls don’t have ears, but one never knows.”
“But I also wanted to have a look at your crime board.”
“Crime board? Why would I have one of those? There’s no law against posting in a blog.” Abby gave her another tug.
