End of the Lane

by Sonia Parin

  No time like the present to engage her brain and try to come up with a backup plan. If the newspaper job fell through, as it was most likely to do, she’d have to hunt around for something else to keep her busy for a while and then start making plans to head back home. She took a sip of coffee but that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Nothing to do with the coffee, Abby thought. She simply couldn’t go home again...

  “Sebastian Cavendish will definitely want to meet with you to talk over what you saw.”

  Abby tilted her head. “And you know that because…”

  “He asked for details and I gave them to him.”

  “I hope you also assured him I had nothing to do with his grandfather’s death.”

  The detective held her gaze long enough to make her shift slightly in her chair. What had Mitch Faydon said? Josh knew how to wear down his prey. But she wasn’t running and, she wasn’t guilty. Abby straightened.

  “Have you remembered any new details?” he asked. “Something you might have seen but not noticed at the time.”

  She shook her head and looked down at her cell phone to read a text that came through. Abby smiled.

  “Good news?”

  “It’s about the stray I picked up yesterday. He’s ready to be collected…”

  Chapter Five

  “I’LL GIVE YOU THE GOOD news first. There’s nothing seriously wrong with Doyle,” the vet’s assistant said, “He’s been roughing it for a while, but he’ll be fine once he starts feeding regularly.”

  Doyle.

  So, he had a name. That meant he had an owner. Abby gave him a scratch under the chin. “And the rest?”

  Katherine sighed. “His owner passed away a month ago and there’s no next of kin. I guess that’s why no one noticed Doyle missing. We traced the details to another clinic in the next town.”

  A month alone? Abby cupped his face and looked into his large brown eyes. “Is there an adoption service here?” She didn’t want to think about any other option.

  Katherine shook her head. “We could put up a notice.”

  “What sort of breed is he?”

  Katherine smiled. “Pure bred mutt.”

  “He looks smart. Do you think someone around here would like him?”

  The vet’s assistant gave a slow shake of her head. “Farmers tend to favor Blue Heelers, they’re used as cattle dogs. I don’t fancy his chances.” Katherine hesitated. “And… we don’t really have the space to keep him at the moment.”

  “What about temporary foster care?”

  Katherine gave Doyle a light pat. “I’d take him in myself but I already have five dogs and a cat at home.”

  Doyle huffed out a breath and slumped his head on his paws. Abby swung away and gazed out the window. “Surely someone would love to have him. He’s so placid. He’d be a great companion.”

  “He’s probably still grieving. Otherwise, he should be more active. Anyone taking him on would have to make sure he got his daily exercise. He doesn’t look like a couch potato. How about you? You two seem to get along well.”

  A dog? She didn’t know the first thing about looking after a dog. Her mom had been allergic to dog and cat hair so Abby had grown up in a pet free household and had always been the only kid in the block without a pet. When she’d moved to the city for work, she’d lived in a small apartment and hadn’t given the idea of adopting a pet any thought.

  Abby shook her head. “Oh... no. I couldn’t. I mean, I can’t. I’m staying at the pub.”

  “So? Mitch won’t mind. Before his sister Eddie moved out of the pub, she had a dog.” Katherine frowned. “The only one you might have to worry about is Markus. He’s the eldest Faydon brother. Matthew is the middle brother, but he’s on vacation at the moment. My advice would be to steer clear of Markus and you should be fine.”

  The grumpy one, Abby thought...

  * * *

  “YOU REALIZE THIS COULD GET us both into trouble?”

  Doyle whimpered.

  “You’ll have to do better than that. We need to fly under the radar.” Holding Doyle in one arm and the bag of goodies she’d purchased at the vet in the other, Abby checked the street for traffic, but only out of habit since there weren’t that many cars driving along the side street.

  “The trick here is to pretend all is well. I know I should come clean and tell Mitch Faydon about you, but I’m going to try a different tactic, at least until I find out how he’ll feel about having you stay with me. Needs must. You understand that. I know I’m taking a huge risk and probably an unnecessary one, but I’m sure once I present him with a fait accompli, he’ll be more likely to go with the flow.”

  She peered in through the window and saw Mitch pouring a beer and chatting with a customer. When she saw him turn away, she scooped in a breath and strode into the pub, making a beeline for the stairs.

  “Nothing to it,” Abby whispered, “I bought enough food for a couple of days. You understand, I couldn’t haul a larger bag, but there’s more food coming. You don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

  When she reached her room, she realized the absurdity of her plan. “Mitch looks like a reasonable guy.” But what about his other brother, Markus Faydon?

  She set Doyle down and got busy unpacking the water and food bowls. Even though Doyle had been cleaned up, she still couldn’t make out his breed. “There must be something else other than pure bred mutt in you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some pedigree blood in there somewhere.”

  Doyle appeared to roll his eyes.

  “It’s okay if there isn’t. I like you just as you are.” At the sound of a knock at the door she stilled and prayed Doyle wasn’t the type to announce visitors with a bark.

  Easing the door open, she peered out. Mitch! “Yes?”

  “Sebastian Cavendish is downstairs asking for you.”

  Already? He must have just arrived in town, Abby thought. “Thanks. I’ll... I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “Is everything okay in there?”

  She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

  Mitch looked over her shoulder and then back at her, his look a mixture of amusement and concern. “There’s something in the air. We’re all asking all sorts of questions now. Almost as if no one trusts anyone.”

  Abby had no idea what to say to that, other than... “That makes sense.” When he didn’t move, she decided to ease the door shut saying, “I’ll be down in a sec.”

  She closed the door and pressed her ear against it, trying to hear his receding steps but suddenly all she could hear was her own breathing and thumping heart.

  When she turned, she saw Doyle peering from behind the couch.

  “I think he’s gone,” she whispered. “I’ll set up your water and food and then I’m going to have to trust you’ll be quiet while I’m gone.”

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN CAVENDISH MADE A beeline for Abby.

  Faith O’Keefe had been spot on when she’d described his manner as brisk. Abby barely managed to offer her condolences when he ushered her to a corner table.

  A head taller than everyone else in the bar, he was an imposing man and quite handsome, with hair the color of dark chocolate, and the type of square jaw she’d only ever seen on male models advertising expensive suits. He appeared to have an easy manner. For some reason, Abby had expected him to be abrupt and formal.

  She tried to make small talk. “How was your drive here?”

  “I flew in,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “Are you up to talking?” he asked.

  The question caught her off guard. Sure, he had an easy manner but she’d imagined someone of his caliber would want to cut to the chase. Then she realized he was really only being courteous and would actually expect her to talk, regardless of how she felt.

  “I told the police everything I know.” And she knew the detective had filled Sebastian in.

  “I know it’s only been a day and you’re probably still in shock, but has anything else co
me to mind?”

  Abby opened her mouth to say no, only to wonder if Sebastian knew something she didn’t. Were the post mortem results in? Had Dermot’s death now become a murder investigation? She’d already jumped to the conclusion. In her mind, Dermot had been killed.

  “I just received a call from the police,” he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. “The pathology tests confirmed the presence of cyanide. The levels were toxic enough to act quickly.”

  Abby frowned and tried to remember what she knew about post mortem tests. “That was quick work. How did they know to look for it? Cyanide is not part of the usual drug tests.” She couldn’t remember if she’d learned that through some of the research she’d done for that one and only murder trial she’d reported years before or if she’d picked it up on TV.

  Sebastian leaned in. “You’re right. I know you’ve only just arrived in the country so you might not know this. There’s been a spate of deaths...”

  “I heard the reports during my drive over but I don’t remember poison being mentioned as the cause of death.”

  “It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he nodded. “Those deaths have a common factor linking them. They were unexpected. The victims had been in good health and so there’s nothing immediately suspicious to raise the alarm. When I heard about Dermot’s sudden death I knew there would be a post mortem performed. It’s standard practice here when someone dies in their home unexpectedly. So I made a few phone calls. The examiner looking into the other deaths hadn’t been looking for toxins. Not yet, anyway. He was working on a process of elimination.”

  Of course, being in the newspaper business, he had tapped into his instincts, and being the owner of the newspaper meant he had a lot of open doors at his disposal.

  “If the examiner’s investigations had continued at the normal pace,” he added almost as if he felt compelled to spell it out for her, “It would have taken some time before he considered poison, if at all. Dermot hadn’t been ill so it was natural for me to become suspicious. Anyone will tell you he didn’t have any enemies and I’d be inclined to agree. But we don’t always know everything. So, I specifically requested the examiner step up the investigation to include extreme causes such as poison.”

  Abby tucked her hair back. “Do you have any other suspicions?”

  “The type that might lead to finger pointing?”

  Abby frowned. Her jet lagged, sluggish brain had been about to form the same thought.

  He shook his head. “You’d think Dermot would have made a few enemies along the way, but my grandfather had been universally admired.”

  “Yet someone thought he deserved a death by poison.” Abby sat back and studied him for a moment. “Are you a naturally suspicious person?”

  He looked surprised by her question. “I’m in the news business.”

  Abby tried not to shrink back in her chair. “About these other deaths... Is someone going around poisoning people?”

  “If the police have linked the deaths, they’re not letting on. I’m willing to bet anything they’ll soon have proof the other deaths were also caused by poison.”

  “Any idea how it was ingested?”

  Sebastian held her gaze. “The tea.”

  The teapot had been in plain sight with no effort made to hide it.

  “How do you feel about canvassing the area?” he asked, “I trust the police to do their job, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else asking questions.”

  “I’m not a crime reporter.”

  “You’re a reporter. You know how to get answers. You also have the advantage of being new in town. People are naturally curious about you and will open up.”

  Had he just given her an assignment? “According to rumors, you wanted to close the newspaper.”

  “What else have you heard?”

  “That during your last visit, you and your grandfather argued.”

  He gave an easy shrug. “We always argued. Every time we met, in fact, but that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

  She frowned. “Why did you assume I’d suspect you?”

  “Isn’t that what you were leading to?”

  Yes, but... “So he wasn’t a major stakeholder in your newspaper?” Abby mused.

  Sebastian chuckled. “Even if he had been, do you think I would kill my own grandfather just to get my hands on the business?”

  “People have killed for less.” Greed. Jealousy. Revenge.

  He held her gaze for long moments before he answered. “The head of The Daily First has always been a major stock holder. The Cavendish family has a long-standing tradition of handing over the reins and stepping down.”

  “But Dermot didn’t retire completely.”

  “The Eden Rise was the first newspaper established by the Cavendish family,” he explained. “Dermot had a soft spot for it. He couldn’t help being sentimental. Also, the idea of retirement isn’t in our blood.”

  “Are you sentimental enough to keep the Eden Rise running?”

  “At a loss?” He gave her a brisk smile.

  “In honor of your grandfather and everything he stood for.” Abby had no idea what that might be. However, she had no trouble imagining Dermot had cared enough about the community to offer the newspaper for free.

  “I suppose this is your way of asking if you still have a job.”

  It was Abby’s turn to smile. She looked around the pub. “I’m not just thinking about myself. This is a small town. Closing the newspaper would have a significant and lasting impact on the locals.”

  “On the locals but not on the local economy.”

  Abby knew Faith would beg to differ. “Like I said, it’s a small town. If one person loses their job, it creates ripples.” Abby tilted her head and gave him a pensive look. “Aren’t you worried about the bad publicity?”

  He chuckled. “Heartless newspaper mogul denies small town of its gossip vine? It’s the sort of news a rival newspaper would relish running.”

  Abby hoped he wouldn’t like that and would do everything in his power to make sure it didn’t happen.

  “I’m actually surprised you haven’t used this opportunity to apply for a job with The Daily First.”

  Why hadn’t she? “I guess I have my heart set on spending the next twelve months living here,” she surprised herself by saying.

  “What’s the incentive? This is hardly the place to establish a career.”

  At first, it had simply been about getting a job, but then... she’d wanted to put distance between herself and her previous life. That, Abby decided, was something he didn’t need to know about. “I’m thinking of it as a working vacation. Or, at least, I had been.” Her contract had been with Dermot. Now that he was gone, so was the job, especially if Sebastian Cavendish decided to shut the newspaper down. “Any chance you might sell The Eden Rise as a going concern?”

  “It wouldn’t be worth my while.”

  At least she’d asked.

  “But I haven’t actually said anything about closing it.”

  Abby instantly perked up.

  He checked his watch and picked up the menu. “I assume you haven’t had lunch?”

  She hadn’t thought about it. In fact, her appetite remained on a different time zone. “I’m happy to nibble on something.”

  “Good. It’ll give us a chance to talk about investigating Dermot’s murder. More so now that you seem satisfied of my innocence.”

  “Did I actually say I was?”

  Chapter Six

  “WHO’S THIS LITTLE GUY?” FAITH asked as she gave Doyle a scratch behind his ear.

  Seeing Doyle lapping up the attention, Abby smiled. “I found him by the side of the road. Doyle’s an orphan.” Abby looked over her shoulder, much as she’d been doing since leaving the pub with Doyle curled up in her arms. “Out of curiosity, how do you think Mitch Faydon feels about dogs?”

  “Mitch would be okay. His brother, Markus... I’m not so sure about.” Faith chortled. “Did you sneak him into
the pub?”

  “I’m still jet lagged and not thinking clearly… therefore, I’m not entirely responsible for my actions. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.” Abby looked out the window at a pickup truck parked at the curb. “I’ve noticed a few people going into the pub and leaving their dogs in their trucks. I guess that means the pub’s not pet friendly.”

  “For starters, they’re not pets. They’re working cattle dogs,” Faith explained. “And, generally, you can’t take animals inside places that serve food.”

  “Help me out. I’m looking for a way around this dilemma. I hear Mitch’s sister had a dog while she was living at the pub.”

  “Are you a worrier?” Faith asked.

  Abby sighed. “I guess I’m coming across as one, so there’s no point in denying it.”

  “I should talk. I spent the morning hunting down boxes to pack things in.”

  “Why?”

  “Sebastian will want everything sorted out before he leaves. I managed to get started packing some of the archival material. A few months back I catalogued everything so it’ll now be a matter of sending feelers out to see if any libraries are interested in acquiring some of it.”

  “You’re obviously too efficient for your own good, but aren’t you jumping the gun? Sebastian hasn’t said anything yet.”

  “I’m trying to be realistic. Dermot didn’t really need me working here. He could have left the front door open day and night and no one would have taken anything. Even if Sebastian keeps the newspaper going, he’s going to realize I’m superfluous, cutthroat newspaper mogul that he is.”

  “You need to change that attitude. If Sebastian walks in right now, that’s the last thing you should be saying. You serve a purpose. What if someone calls with a story? There has to be someone here to answer the phone and be the face of the Eden Rise Gazette.”

  Faith leaned in and asked, “Do you know something I don’t?”