The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  Now she knew she was in the right place. The last time she had been in a car with Chief Macgregor, he had been playing Baroque music. His orderly mind would appreciate the metronomic quality of it.

  The music was coming from a garage at the side of the house. Was this why he chose to live in suburban Sea View rather than downtown Queen’s Town? To have a lock-up garage for his beloved E-Type Jaguar? Off-road parking was virtually unheard of in town.

  Eulalie walked around the side of the house, following the source of the music. The garage door was open. Eulalie could see a pair of muscular thighs in jeans sticking out from under the car. He must have heard her footsteps because he slid out and stood up, looking confused.

  Eulalie wasn’t used to seeing him at home and off duty. The jeans were paired with a frayed white T-shirt that clung to his torso in a way that made her hormones sit up and say hello.

  “You’re here,” he said.

  “I am.”

  “We didn’t have an appointment.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I have to leave for my picnic with Dr. Autry in a little while.”

  “You do.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, which was already ruffled from being under the car.

  “You’re laughing at me,” he said. “I’m nervous because I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Eulalie reached out a hand to tug down the sleeve of his T-shirt which had ridden up over his biceps.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, Chief. I’m nervous too. Why don’t you take me inside and offer me a drink, so we can both relax?”

  “Right. Yes. Good.” He pulled down the garage door and opened another door that led into the kitchen. “After you.”

  His house looked like him, Eulalie decided. It was an orderly and utilitarian space, with no frills. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Everything had a purpose – a reason for its existence.

  Chief Macgregor went to the fridge.

  “Iced tea?” he asked. “Soda? Citron pressé? Iced water?”

  “I was thinking more of a glass of wine,” Eulalie said, taking a chilled bottle of Cedar Chest Rosé out of her messenger bag.

  The baffled expression on his face only increased. He took out a wineglass for her, then hesitated, and took one out for himself too. It was clear that he hadn’t planned to be drinking, but good manners compelled him not to let her drink alone. Just as she had been counting on.

  Chief Macgregor showed her through to a small, functional living room where they sat down.

  “What have you heard about the Megamoxy bid?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine.

  “Nothing definite.” He seemed to relax now that they were talking shop. “It would be stupid and short-sighted of them to go ahead with their bid to build in the forest. That doesn’t mean they won’t do it, but in the end, I think they will follow the dictates of their bottom line. It will be much cheaper to build on Robson’s Field.”

  “Agreed. I heard your officers got back from the forest this morning?”

  “That’s right. They found the gun with Sawyer Blakely’s fingerprints all over it. He bought it legally in New York two years ago. It was loaded, with a round in the chamber. The safety was off. Traces of gun metal residue on his fingers suggest that he had handled the gun shortly before his death. So far, we have found nothing inconsistent with the version of events you gave me. The case remains open and active.”

  Eulalie nodded. It was the best she could hope for. If Lucien Park had any sense, he would be long gone from Prince William Island by now.

  They lapsed into silence. One of the things Eulalie found most restful about Chief Macgregor was the fact that he was comfortable with silence. He didn’t rush to fill it with meaningless conversation. He sipped his wine and became visibly more relaxed as the minutes ticked by. It was Eulalie who was still on edge, thinking about the night that lay ahead.

  Chief Macgregor looked at his watch.

  “I should take a shower and get dressed. My picnic with Dr. Autry is in half an hour.”

  Eulalie watched him over the rim of her wineglass. “Cancel it.”

  “I wish I could. But it’s a business arrangement, and she’s a senior colleague. I can’t drop her at a moment’s notice.”

  “It’s Saturday night, and a picnic on the beach is not anybody’s idea of a business arrangement.”

  “That’s true, but I already said I’d…”

  Moving slowly and deliberately, Eulalie set her wineglass down on a side table and stood up. She crossed her arms in front of her body, took hold of the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion.

  She was wearing nothing underneath.

  “Cancel it,” she said again.

  Chief Macgregor opened his mouth to speak but a short circuit seemed to have developed between his brain and his mouth.

  He stared at Eulalie for a second, then picked up his cellphone and jabbed at it with unsteady fingers, cancelling his arrangement with Dr. Autry.

  “That’s better.” Eulalie smiled. “We’ll have a quiet evening in.”

  HITCHED

  Prologue

  Sixteen years ago

  Eulalie Park waited until her grandmother’s back was turned before slipping out the backdoor and into the streets of Queen’s Town.

  Her grandmother was talking to a man who would supply her with gas to run the stove and oven on which she planned to cook simple meals to serve to the guests who came to Angel’s Place for a drink after work. Eulalie knew that the meals would not stay simple for long. Her grandmother was ambitious. Angel wanted her place to be known as much for its food as for its drink.

  Gas was a fuel that you burned to create heat and light – just like you burned wood or turf in the forest where Eulalie had grown up for the first twelve years of her life.

  Now she and her grandmother lived in Queen’s Town. Eulalie went to school instead of being taught by Angel. Everything was different. There were days when she was happy and excited to be here. Angel said she was a sponge, absorbing all the new sights, sounds, and smells.

  But there were other days when she was so homesick she thought her heart would burst.

  One thing that was different here was how little freedom she had. When they lived in the forest, Eulalie’s free time had been spent wandering around with friends or on her own. Sometimes they walked so far that they stayed out overnight, sleeping in a tree out of the reach of the crocodiles that lived in the river. As long as you cleared away the snakes, you were perfectly safe.

  And as long as you turned up on time for lessons and to do your chores, you were allowed as much freedom as you liked.

  Here in Queen’s Town, it was all different. Angel didn’t like Eulalie going out without her. She worried that she would run into trouble or get lost. She didn’t seem to realize that Eulalie would no more get lost in town than she would in the village. The same internal compass that kept her oriented in the green twilight of the forest worked equally well in town. And as for running into trouble – well, Eulalie would like to see anyone try to cause her harm. They would live to regret it.

  Queen’s Town was a safe, friendly place. Children went out on their own all the time. They walked or rode their bikes everywhere – to school, to the shops, to the movies. They congregated on the beach day and night.

  Eulalie didn’t have much in common with the kids at school, but she had made two friends – Zeenat and Amelie. She wished she could go out on a Saturday afternoon and meet them at Mancini’s for the best ice-cream in Queen’s Town.

  Soon, Grandmère had said. Soon, she would allow Eulalie to go out on her own. She wanted her to get the lay of the land first. Angel was a social person. She already had dozens of friends and acquaintances all over town. When would it be enough? When would she feel secure enough to allow Eulalie more freedom?

  It was a quest
ion Eulalie had grown tired of. The answer wasn’t coming soon enough for her liking, so today she had taken matters into her own hands.

  As Angel turned away to speak to the gas man, Eulalie slipped out the backdoor and into the service road behind Angel’s Place. Moving fast, she disappeared into the back alleys of Queen’s Town.

  When she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, she circled back to Lafayette Boulevard, the tree-lined walkway that ran on either side of Lafayette Drive. It was one of Eulalie’s favorite places. She loved the way the trees cast their dappled shade onto the flagstones, reminding her of her forest home. She loved the fairy lights that were strung from tree to tree the entire length of the boulevard, and the way they twinkled into life at dusk.

  She loved the shops and the sidewalk cafes that spilled their light and color and music onto the boulevard. She even liked the families of tourists with their lobster-pink shoulders from broiling themselves all day on Cinq Beach. They bought ice-cream cones from expensive sidewalk vendors, not realizing that they weren’t half as good as what Mr. Mancini kept in plain plastic tubs in his freezer.

  Eulalie walked along, enjoying the sights and sounds of a Saturday afternoon in Queen’s Town. She loved looking in the shop windows at the vast array of goods on sale. The choice was dizzying. Her route might have seemed random, but she knew where she was going – had known from the beginning. Even as she told herself that she would go to the movies to find Zeenat and Amelie, she had known what her real goal was.

  Finger Alley.

  It was her Aladdin’s Cave, her Pandora’s Box, her forbidden fruit. Ever since Angel had taken her there once, she had been dying to return.

  She crossed Lafayette Drive at the traffic light, just as Angel had taught her. She was expecting to get into a moderate amount of trouble for this unauthorized expedition, but if someone reported to Angel that they had seen her crossing the road against the lights, that would catapult her into big trouble.

  She walked along a few more blocks, scanning the buildings closely. The entrance she was looking for was easy to miss. She had paid close attention the last time she had been here but knew she could walk right past it if she didn’t concentrate. It looked exactly like all the other blind alleys – the gaps between buildings that led nowhere.

  There. This could be it.

  Eulalie looked around to make sure she was unobserved. This was another part of the expedition that could get her into trouble. Grandmère had been very clear that Eulalie was never to come here alone.

  Confident that no one was watching, she slipped into the alley. The sunlight disappeared behind her. It was like plunging into the forest, except that this was a damp and smelly alleyway, instead of a scented bower.

  For a moment, she doubted herself. It was too dark. It was too narrow. It led nowhere.

  But she kept walking, and suddenly the narrow space opened up into a road with people and bars and shops.

  Finger Alley.

  It was better than any playground. Eulalie knew this was a place of minor criminals and petty thieves, but it was also the home of fascinating tattoo parlors and colorfully dressed people who were neither men nor women, but something intriguingly in between. There were even fortunetellers, who attracted and repulsed her at the same time.

  Further down the road, there were people like her and Angel – people who had left the village in the forest to come and live in Queen’s Town. But they were unlike her and Angel because they could never go back. They had been expelled – that was the word Angel had used – from the forest. Eulalie tried to imagine not being allowed to go back. Never seeing her uncle and aunt and cousins and friends again. It was impossible. Unthinkable.

  A man caught her eye across the street and lurched towards her. She could see that he had been drinking. She stopped dead and held up her arm, her palm facing outwards as though she were directing traffic.

  “Hey, little girl.” He leered at her.

  “Stop.” She spoke calmly. “I am the granddaughter of Angel de la Cour. You will step away now and leave me alone.”

  The man hesitated. Then he lurched away in another direction, muttering to himself.

  Eulalie walked on.

  She had a vague idea of going to the place where the expelled villagers lived and speaking to them. Perhaps she could persuade them to make amends, to put right whatever they had done wrong, so they could be accepted back into the village again.

  Another man was coming towards her. He had a baseball cap pulled low over his face. He wore jeans and a navy polo shirt. When it was clear that he was going to accost her, she stopped and held up her arm.

  “Stop,” she said. “I am the granddaughter of…”

  The man’s face cracked open in a banana-shaped smile, showing long teeth. He laughed.

  “Ha ha ha.”

  Eulalie’s arm dropped uselessly to her side.

  He came right up close to her and leaned down so that the long teeth were near her ear. She could smell his sweat and see the tightly woven fabric of his polo shirt. His breath gushed and retreated against her ear.

  “You look just like your mother, little girl. You must be nearly the same age.”

  Swish swash. In and out went his breathing.

  Her eye was drawn to a colorful symbol sewn onto the breast pocket of his shirt. It was a happy symbol – a man made of boomerangs. The man was running.

  “You’ll join her when the time is right.”

  He laughed again.

  “Ha ha ha.”

  Then he pulled away, leaving a vacuum where his face had been. He walked away with a bouncy step. His shoes went squeak squeak squeak.

  Life returned to Eulalie’s limbs. She began to walk. And then she began to run. She ran all the way home to her grandmother, without stopping once.

  Chapter 1

  “Cancel it.”

  Fleur du Toit put her head back and roared with laughter. She leaned across the polished bar counter and gave Angel a high five.

  Eulalie was bemused. “I’m glad my life is so entertaining.”

  Angel smirked. “So are we, chérie, so are we.”

  “What did he say to her?” asked Fleur. “How did he cancel it?”

  “I have no idea,” said Eulalie. “He texted her. He probably told her that something had come up.”

  “I bet it had.” Fleur gave another bawdy laugh. She and Angel clinked wineglasses. “So, are you and Chief Macgregor officially a couple now?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose so. He has asked me to marry him twice more since then, so I guess we are.”

  “And that’s the end of la chère docteur Stephanie Autry.” Angel dusted her hands together.

  “They still work together, so I wouldn’t count her out just yet.”

  “I consider her as good as gone, mon ange.”

  As Angel poured another round of drinks, Eulalie remembered something she had been wanting to ask her friend.

  “Fleur, have you heard from the asset forfeiture unit?”

  “I have actually. I heard from them this morning. I should get my money back by the end of the week. Luckily, the bank had a record of the serial numbers of the banknotes I had withdrawn, so there was no question that the money he was carrying was mine. Otherwise it would have gone into his liquidated estate to be paid back to all the people he conned, and I would only have seen a fraction of it.”

  Fleur had been the victim of a conman who had persuaded her to give him twenty-five-thousand dollars of her money under false pretenses. She was fortunate to be getting it back.

  “And how are you feeling?” asked Eulalie.

  “Surprisingly okay. I was convinced at the time that it was true love, but the fact that I’ve got over it so quickly shows how unreal it all was.” Fleur sipped her wine. “And what about you? Your father dropped back into your life, only to drop straight back out again. That must be pretty weird.”

  “It is. I’m still processing it.”

  Eulali
e didn’t think she would ever come to terms with the fact that her parents had abandoned her. In this age of ‘closure’, that wasn’t something people wanted to hear.

  “This isn’t over,” said Angel.

  Something in her grandmother’s tone made her look up. Angel’s eyes were almost black, her pupils so massively dilated that only a tiny rim of iris remained. A chill rippled up Eulalie’s spine.

  “What is it, Grandmère? What’s wrong?”

  “The past is being unearthed.” Angel’s voice was deeper than normal. “Old crimes are coming to light. Old crimes and new ones. The past will not stay buried.”

  “What’s happening?” said Fleur. “She’s freaking me out.”

  Eulalie reached out and touched her grandmother’s arm, concentrating on grounding her and pulling her back into the here and now.

  Angel blinked hard and her posture lost some of its rigidity. She shook her head.

  “It doesn’t normally hit me like that. Is that how it is for you, ma petite?”

  Eulalie looked around to check that no one was listening. Then she nodded.

  “It is overwhelming. I think I do not like it much.”

  “What was it? What did you see?” Fleur was agog.

  “I’m not sure. Something to do with your father, Eulalie. Something to do with Lucien popping up after all these years. That is what triggered it. The past is rising up to meet us. Old patterns are being repeated. That is all I know. Everything that has been lying dormant and forgotten for the last twenty-eight years is being dug up. It is all coming to light.”

  Eulalie wanted to scoff. The logical side of her hated this kind of mumbo-jumbo. But instead she said, “When, Grandmère? When is this going to happen?”

  “It has already begun.”

  Angel’s cellphone rang loudly behind the bar, making them all jump.

  Fleur laughed nervously. “You’d better answer it.”

  Angel picked it up and looked at the screen. “It’s Chief Macgregor.”

  “That’s odd,” said Eulalie. “Why would he call you and not me?”