The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  Eulalie had needed a secretary and Mrs. Belfast had needed a job. It was a match made in mutual convenience.

  “I’ll make us a coffee, shall I, dear?” she asked as Eulalie went back to her desk.

  “Thanks, Mrs. B. That would be great.”

  There were times when Eulalie felt like pinching herself too. She and Mrs. Belfast had been on difficult terms for so long, it was hard to imagine sharing an office with her. If she weren’t convinced that the older woman was a first-rate administrator, she would never have hired her.

  The coffee had barely landed on her desk when a discreet chime made Eulalie look up. A client was in their midst. Most of her work as a private investigator came from law firms and corporate clients, but she did get the occasional walk-in.

  Eulalie sat back and took stock of the new arrival while Mrs. Belfast greeted him.

  He was a man in his early fifties. He had a youthful air that was largely due to his open, boyish face and mop of curly brown hair. His eyes were round and blue, and his build was slim. The skin around his eyes was papery and crinkled into many lines when he gave what he undoubtedly knew to be a charming smile.

  It certainly worked on Mrs. Belfast.

  “Why yes, Mr. Egger, I did have it done recently.” She patted the towering beehive hairstyle she always wore. “How kind of you to notice. What, this old thing?” She smoothed the jacket she had bought especially for the first day of work. “Old as the hills, I assure you, but I’m glad you think it suits me. Yes, of course she is available to see you now.”

  Eulalie looked up and met the eye of her prospective client. His gaze was measuring, all trace of charm gone. She recognized him now. His face had been all over the news.

  Mrs. Belfast came bustling over. “Eulalie, this is Mr. Mark Egger. He would like a word with you.”

  “Of course.” She ushered him into the drywall cubicle that made up her private office.

  Mark Egger declined the offer of tea or coffee and sat down opposite Eulalie.

  “What can I help you with, Mr. Egger?”

  She opened her notepad to a new page and sat with a pen poised. The note-taking was as much for show as anything else. Some clients found it reassuring.

  “My wife is dead. She was murdered three days ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve been following the case in the media. I believe the police haven’t made an arrest yet?”

  He grunted. “No, they haven’t, and they’re not likely to the way they’re going about it.”

  “Are you not happy with the police investigation?”

  “Shouldn’t they have arrested someone by now? Don’t they always say that the first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation are the most important?”

  “I wouldn’t pay too much attention to what you see on TV. Yes, murder investigations are time-sensitive. That means that evidence must be gathered, and interviews must be conducted as quickly as possible. It doesn’t necessarily mean that an arrest will follow within those first two days. Sometimes the police are trying to build a watertight case before they make an arrest.”

  “But he’s probably skipped the country already. They’ve let him slip through their fingers.”

  “Are you saying you know who killed your wife, Mr. Egger?”

  “Not exactly, no. But it was obviously some criminal or other. Why would he stick around and wait for the consequences? Of course, he’d run as fast as he could.”

  Eulalie hadn’t been following the case closely, mostly because she didn’t know the people concerned, but she had got the impression that the police were not looking at this as an act of random violence. They had spent days conducting interviews, which usually meant they were looking at people closely connected to the victim.

  “Do you feel that the police have been wasting their time?”

  “Absolutely! Yes. That’s exactly it. Wasting their time while the real criminal gets away.”

  “Have you voiced your concerns to anyone?”

  “I have, but they don’t want to hear it. That chief of police – what’s his name – Macgregor? He’s not only stupid, but stubborn too. I told him that Emma was my wife and that I had a right to say how the investigation should be conducted. You won’t believe what he said.”

  Eulalie thought she had a pretty good idea but waited for him to continue.

  “He told me that the people of Prince William Island would be prosecuting this case, not me, and that he would pursue the investigation as he saw fit. Can you believe the cheek of that man? I pay his salary, for heaven’s sake.”

  Eulalie suspected that Chief Macgregor was very familiar with the “I pay your salary” argument. As taxpayers, all the working adults on Prince William Island paid his salary.

  “I’m afraid he’s right, though,” she explained. “In murder cases, the police don’t actually work for the victim’s family. The state is the aggrieved party, not the individual.”

  She waited for him to storm out of her office, never to be seen again. There were always clients who reacted like that when she told them how the law worked. But Mark Egger stayed seated.

  “Yes, I realize that, and that’s why I am here. I want to hire you privately to investigate my wife’s death. I want someone who is working for me, not for the state. I’ll tell you what lines of investigation you should follow, and you’ll follow them because I’m paying the bills.”

  Eulalie’s kept her face expressionless. Mark Egger sounded like a nightmare client, but from what she knew of the family, he had deep pockets. Very deep pockets. It would be stupid to turn him down just when she had taken on the added responsibility of a new employee. Still, lines needed to be drawn.

  “I understand your frustration, Mr. Egger. I know you’re speaking from a place of grief and anger. Your wife’s killer has not yet been brought to justice, and that’s frustrating. But I can’t give up my independence as an investigator.”

  She paused to allow him to speak, but he nodded for her to continue.

  “Obviously, I would be answerable to you for how I spend my billable hours. I would take your concerns seriously. But I’m not a puppet. If my investigation leads me in a particular direction, I will follow it. Any reputable investigator would say the same.”

  Egger seemed on the point of responding when another thought struck Eulalie.

  “I should also add that you can have every faith in Chief Macgregor. He is a Scotland Yard trained detective. The only advantage you would have in hiring me is that I would be working according to a different set of rules. I always operate within the law, but I don’t have to follow the same rules of procedure as the police do. That gives me more scope to investigate freely.”

  Egger was silent. He seemed to be thinking it through. Then he looked up.

  “Okay. That’s good enough for me. Give me the paperwork and I’ll sign it. I’ll pay whatever retainer you want. Let me know who you want to speak to and I’ll authorize it. You might want to have a chat with our family lawyer, Manfred Anheim, for example.”

  “I’ll let you know about that, Mr. Egger.”

  Eulalie drew up an agreement while he waited and presented him with a bill to which she had privately added her “pain in the ass” premium. This was an additional fee that she added to the bills of clients who she knew were going to be difficult to work for. And since Mark Egger had such an air of moneyed entitlement about him, she made his premium extra hefty.

  His only comment when he saw the bill was, “Do you take American Express?”

  “That will do just fine.” Eulalie gave him her sweetest smile.

  With those formalities out of the way, she could ask him more about his wife’s death.

  “If you had to take a guess, who do you think killed your wife?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Someone who was after her jewels. My wife’s jewelry collection was famous. She used to lend it out for display. But she liked to wear it too, even the most valuable pieces. She would put on a fort
y-thousand-dollar pendant to go grocery shopping. That’s just the way she was - a down to earth person. For her it was just a pretty pendant and she didn’t see why she shouldn’t wear it to go shopping. I worried all the time about something happening to her, and now you can see that I was right.”

  “Was anything taken off her body or out of the house?”

  Eulalie already knew the answer to this, but she wanted to hear his explanation.

  “Not exactly, no. But no one knows exactly what she was wearing at the time. We might still find that something is missing. It’s my belief that the murderer was disturbed. I think he was interrupted before he could conduct the robbery he had come for.”

  Eulalie tried to remember the details of the case. “Your wife was pushed off a widow’s walk at your home – is that right, Mr. Egger?”

  “Yes, that’s right. She liked to take a stroll out there after dinner. We were all in different parts of the house. We heard a kind of commotion and then a scream. And then that dreadful, sickening thud. She fell five stories to the ground. They tell me she died instantly. That’s the only comfort I can take from this whole horrible mess - that she didn’t suffer.”

  “So, you would like me to explore the possibility of a home invasion? An opportunistic burglar who surprised your wife, struggled with her, pushed her over the balcony, and was disturbed before he could commit the burglary he had come for?”

  Mark Egger’s boyish face relaxed into a smile.

  “Yes. That’s exactly it. And we still don’t know for sure whether anything was taken. My wife sometimes bought jewelry spontaneously. I wouldn’t be able to swear to every piece she owned. I want you to find out whether someone has been pawning or selling jewelry in Queen’s Town in the last few days. I told the police this, but they didn’t take it seriously. Imagine if we solved the case while they were still on their wild goose chase. How cool would that be?”

  He sounded more like an excited boy than a grieving widower.

  Chapter 2

  “Do you know who that was?” Mrs. Belfast demanded breathlessly.

  “Mark Egger,” said Eulalie. “Recent widower. Loaded and not afraid to show it. The family made their money in mining or something?”

  “Not exactly. They make the conveyor belts that mines use all over the world for above-ground transportation. There’s not much mining on Prince William Island, so their products are made exclusively for export.” She sighed sympathetically. “That poor, poor man. What a tragic thing - to lose two wives like that, and both in freak circumstances.”

  “Two wives? I didn’t realize he’d been married before.”

  “Oh, yes. He was married for many years. She was the mother of his three daughters. Then she went into hospital to have an operation on her varicose veins and never woke up again. Apparently, she had a fit while she was under the anesthetic. They managed to stabilize her, but by that stage she was already braindead. The family had to make the decision to take her off life support. It was very traumatic.”

  “It must have been. How long ago did that happen?”

  “It was last year some time. April, I think.”

  Eulalie’s eyes widened. “April? That’s not even a year ago. He must have remarried very quickly.”

  “Oh, he did. It set a lot of tongues wagging, as you can imagine. But she made a lovely bride – Emma Egger. It was in all the magazines. Such a shame she’s dead.” Mrs. Belfast gave a sentimental sigh.

  “Hmm. Well, I’m going out for lunch now. Remember, you have an hour for lunch that you can take any time between twelve and two. Just put the ‘Back in One Hour’ sign up on the door when you leave.”

  “Oh, I prefer to eat my lunch at my desk, dear. That’s the way I’ve always done it.”

  “That’s fine. But it’s also fine if you change your mind and decide to go out. Sometimes one just needs a walk around the block. Right now, I need to go and order a double cheeseburger and fries at Angel’s Place while my grandmother is still out at some women business leaders conference. If you need me, text me.”

  With a double cheeseburger in her immediate future, Eulalie decided to walk to Angel’s Place rather than taking her Vespa. She took Bonaparte Avenue up to Lafayette Drive, turned right, and walked briskly in the direction of downtown. There was a paved, tree-lined boulevard that ran along either side of Lafayette Drive. It was called Lafayette Boulevard. Many sidewalk cafés spilled out onto the boulevard, creating a festive lunchtime atmosphere. As usual, there were at least as many tourists and holidaymakers as there were locals.

  The sun shone through a gauzy veil of cloud, creating a soft light that was very characteristic of Prince William Island. The day was hot, but not oppressively so. The warmth sat softly on your skin, while the humidity threatened to bring blow-dried hair to its knees.

  Eulalie had spent half an hour on her hair that morning, and could already feel it threatening to go rogue. As she walked along the boulevard, she fielded greetings from shop- and café-owners.

  “Bonjour, Eulalie.”

  “Ola, amiga!”

  “Hey, Eulalie.”

  She responded with a nod and a smile, and a quick word for her favorite people. Her tongue slipped effortlessly in and out of languages. Most islanders were multilingual, but not many were as fluent as she was. It helped to have been raised by a linguist like her grandmother.

  Angel’s Place looked as cheerful as ever, with its purple and white striped awning, and bright tablecloths. Even more cheering was the thought that Angel wasn’t there, so she could order whatever she liked. The cheeseburgers were especially delicious. As a child, Eulalie had been allowed one a week – on a Friday when she got home from school. Nowadays, they were even more rare.

  She would order a little pot of garlic aioli to dip her fries into, she decided. She was already smiling in anticipation as she took up her place at the end of the glossy wooden bar. She had done her homework at this bar, with her back resting against the exposed-brick wall, and one ear pricked for gossip. She still brought work here sometimes. The hum of conversation and the clink of glasses helped her to think.

  “Hi, Eulalie.” The head waitress breezed past on her way from the kitchen to the small restaurant on the other side of the bar.

  “Hey, Gigi.” Eulalie gave her a smile as she whizzed past. “I’ll have the cheeseburger and …”

  “Sorry, can’t stop.” Avoiding her eyes, Gigi slipped through to the kitchen. When she came out again, it was with a tray of food and an apologetic expression.

  “Your seafood chowder,” she recited in her waitress voice. “Your side salad. Your baguette, and your green juice.” She laid them all down in front of Eulalie and turned to go.

  Eulalie’s hand shot out and snagged her by the back of her apron.

  “Just a minute. I didn’t order any of this. My grandmother is away at some conference. I want a cheeseburger and fries.”

  The apologetic expression deepened. “Angel said if you came in for lunch today, this is what I should give you.”

  Eulalie’s visions of a juicy cheeseburger receded. “I’m going to boycott this place. I’ll go somewhere else for lunch. I’ll eat at Sweet as Flowers every day. You’ll see.”

  A raised eyebrow told her that Gigi didn’t quite believe this.

  Eulalie picked up her glass and scrutinized its murky green depths.

  “What even is this? It looks like frogs have been swimming in it.”

  “It’s mostly cucumber and apple. Try it, you’ll like it.”

  As Eulalie took a cautious sip, Gigi grabbed the opportunity to return to the kitchen.

  Eulalie heaved a deep sigh and began to eat. The fact that the seafood chowder was delicious and subtly flavored with saffron hardly made her feel better.

  “My grandmother is trying to ruin my life,” she muttered.

  A voice behind her made her jump.

  “You’ve been saying that since you were a teenager, and it’s still not true.”

>   “Grandmère!” She turned to give her grandmother a double cheek kiss. “I thought you’d still be at your conference.”

  “They were serving stale sandwiches for lunch, so I decided to come home for proper food.” Angel de la Cour was a vision in white – a fitted taffeta dress with a tiny bolero jacket. She looked like Audrey Hepburn. “How was the seafood chowder?”

  “Nearly as good as the cheeseburger.” Eulalie was less grumpy now that she had eaten.

  “I’m going upstairs to change. I have clients coming in this afternoon. Don’t go away. Gigi will bring you an espresso.” Angel disappeared upstairs to the apartment she still occupied above the bar.

  When she came back down, she was wearing her Madame Angelique outfit. It was a long flowing robe in shades of purple, with a black turban, and bejeweled rings on every finger.

  Eulalie grimaced. “I don’t see why you can’t do your ‘psychic readings’ in normal clothes.”

  “It’s all about client confidence, chérie. If you’re coming to have your fortune told, you expect a bit of theatre. You don’t want someone who looks as though they work for a car rental agency.”

  Eulalie made a skeptical noise and sipped her espresso.

  “What do you know about the Egger family?” she asked after a while.

  “Everything. What do you want to know?”

  “Mark Egger came to see me today. He wants to hire me to investigate the death of his wife.”

  “Isn’t the delectable Chief Macgregor already on the case?”

  “That’s what I told him. I said he could have confidence in the Queen’s Town Police Department.”

  “That might be true now, but it wasn’t true a couple of years ago. People have long memories on this island.”

  Eulalie knew her grandmother was right. Chief Macgregor had come into the police department as a new broom, bringing order to a department that was rife with corruption. He was starting to turn things around, but public trust in the department was still low.

  “Does Mark Egger want you to work alongside the police, or to do your own thing?”