by Sonia Parin
Abby shrugged. “I met with Sebastian at lunch and he didn’t actually say anything about shutting down the newspaper. That has to mean something. I think we should play it by ear. Cheer up. There’s no harm in hoping.”
“Mitch’s grandmother would say to keep a happy thought and the rest will follow.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Faith still didn’t look convinced. She bit the edge of her lip. “Dermot had the wages set up for automatic payment. Basically, that means we’re covered for a year.”
“There you go. That’s good news. We can even use that to convince Sebastian to keep the paper running.” A year would be long enough for Abby to figure out if this town would be a good fit for her. But it was too early to start thinking about long-term plans. When she’d hopped on that plane, she’d only been focused on putting some distance between herself and everything that had gone wrong in her life.
Another thought wove in. Sebastian had been right in saying this small-town newspaper was hardly the place for someone trying to establish themselves. At some point, she’d need to set some goals. “If he expects you to sort out the packing, then I don’t see anyone cracking a whip. In your place, I’d drag my feet.”
Faith smiled. “That’s cunning.”
Abby bit the edge of her lip. “I might actually have some leverage. Sebastian wants me to look into Dermot’s death. He thinks a pair of fresh eyes might get some results. Personally, I think he’s grasping at straws. But this might be his way of coping with his loss. You know, trying to do everything he can.”
Faith instantly brightened. “You knew that when you came in and you waited until now to tell me?”
“Sorry.”
“So, he’s suspicious.”
Abby nodded. “More so now that the post mortem report found toxins—”
“What? What type of toxin?”
“Cyanide.”
“Dermot was poisoned?”
Reading Faith’s expression, Abby said, “How? Why? I guess that’s up to the police to find out.”
“But you’re going to do some digging of your own. Can I help?”
Abby worried her bottom lip. She’d expected to spend her first week getting to know everyone and reporting on the weekend’s bake sale and... looking into the Lamington wars...
“I’m counting on you to help. Someone put cyanide in Dermot’s tea. Either they snuck it in or they actually sat down with Dermot.” Had there been one cup or two? She remembered Detective Ryan saying the teapot had been lukewarm.
“That means...” Faith’s mouth gaped open, her eyes widened with disbelief. “Someone he knew killed him? Someone we know?”
Why would she jump to that conclusion? “Yes, I suppose so. Quite possibly. Who knows? Maybe.”
“But... But...” Faith leaned forward and whispered, “One of us?”
“The police have to be thinking about it. They’ve most likely started questioning locals and will then widen their net. I’ll need a list of people who were close to Dermot and anyone you can think of who had anything to do with him.”
“That’ll be the entire town,” Faith mused.
Over two thousand people.
“I know everyone thought highly of him, but can you think of someone who might have had a disagreement with him or maybe held a grudge?”
Grabbing a notepad, Faith sat back and tapped a pencil against her chin. “I can’t even imagine it.”
They had to start somewhere. “When I arrived yesterday I walked past here and saw you talking to a man in a suit.”
Faith nodded. “Yes. Donovan Carmichael. He’s in the antiquarian business. He travels around a lot looking for rare books. He actually buys and sells anything and everything. You know, antiques, but his main interest is in books.”
While she’d only caught a brief glimpse of him, Abby had thought he’d been a businessman. The suit had looked good on him and that usually meant it came with an expensive price tag. “He must do well in the rare books and antiques business.”
“I suspect there’s old family money. I’ve come across a few of those types.”
“What makes you think it’s family money? This is a small town. Not exactly a hangout for millionaires.”
Faith’s eyes widened slightly. “There are plenty of wealthy people around these parts. Landowners and cattle breeders would be at the top of the pile. There are a few people who don’t work. Off the top of my head, I can think of two locals who are independently wealthy. You wouldn’t know it by looking at them. One of them leases his land for grazing. The other one just lives off investments. They both inherited money.”
“And where did you get that information from?”
“It’s sort of common knowledge. People talk.”
Abby remembered Sebastian’s look of amusement when she’d jokingly suggested he might have done away with his grandfather in order to inherit.
Even if she wanted to suspect him, she couldn’t count money as a reason for murder. Being a newspaper mogul put him in the big leagues.
Okay... so Donovan Carmichael might be independently wealthy, but his passion for books and antiques made him a suspect. What if Dermot had what he wanted?
“Joyce mentioned yesterday Dermot collected books.” Abby had assumed that meant he simply enjoyed being surrounded by books. “Are we talking about rare and expensive books?”
Faith nodded. “That’s why Donovan was here. He’s been chasing after a particular book and he seemed to think Dermot would know something about it.” Faith dug around her desk drawer. “I’ve got his business card.”
“Did he happen to mention a book title?”
“No, he was very cagey about it. I think it has to do with competition.” Faith shrugged. “Not letting anyone else know what he’s trying to get his hands on.”
“It must be quite a book for him to keep the title a secret.” Abby looked at the business card. It had a cell phone number but no address. “Did he stick around long enough to find out about Dermot?”
“He was only passing through. Donovan spends most of his time traveling around. This was his second trip to Eden in a week. Dermot wouldn’t make the time to see him.”
“Why is that?”
“He said he was too busy but...”
“What?”
“Donovan could get a bit pushy and Dermot didn’t like that.”
Abby remembered seeing Faith on the phone. “You didn’t look happy.”
Faith nodded. “After Donovan left, he called to pester me about making an appointment to see Dermot.”
What if... “How did Donovan look to you when he first came in? Did he seem agitated? Was he maybe looking over his shoulder?”
Faith shrugged. “Nope. He has an obsessive nature and only talks about books. In fact, he doesn’t even bother with the usual chit chat.” She swiped the air with her hand. “He just cuts straight to the chase.”
What if Donovan had swung by the newspaper after visiting Dermot’s house as a way of covering his tracks? Abby turned away and faced the street. She tried to imagine Donovan arriving at the crack of dawn and paying Dermot a visit.
Why would he kill him?
He wanted something. A book Dermot either possessed or knew how to get. When Dermot refused to tell Donovan about it, the man lost his temper. Abby chortled. He lost his temper, asked for a cup of tea, poured the poison and...
Nice try, Abby. If Donovan had become enraged, he might have been driven to do something impulsive, inexplicable... violent.
“No,” she said to herself, Donovan could not have poisoned Dermot.
“No to what?” Faith asked.
“I was just entertaining a silly thought. Never mind.” Although, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what book Donovan was after and search Dermot’s house for it. Surely Sebastian wouldn’t mind her snooping around. “What about women? Dermot was a widower, but did he have someone special in his life?”
“Not that I can think of. Even if
there had been someone, Dermot was old-fashioned. He would have been discreet. If it helps any, he had regular visitors over for afternoon tea.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Faith got busy writing down a few names.
“What about the neighbor who saw me going into Dermot’s house? Is she on the list?” Abby asked.
Faith shook her head. “Thelma Harrison. She lives across the street from Dermot’s place. He didn’t have any patience for her.” Faith leaned in and whispered. “She has a reputation for spreading gossip.”
Chapter Seven
“OKAY. WE HAVE A LIST of names to work through. Now it’s a matter of figuring out an angle. I can’t go around knocking on people’s doors and asking if they killed Dermot.”
Doyle tilted his head.
“Yes, I’m talking to you, but only because there’s no one around to hear me talking to a dog.” She wondered if anyone would care. Being a new face in a small town, she could pretty much do as she pleased. Within reason, of course, since she wouldn’t want to establish herself as the local nutcase. “Although, it could work in my favor. You know, as an ice-breaker.”
A woman stepped out of a store and smiled, first at Doyle and then at her.
“She didn’t seem to find it odd that I’m talking to you. On the other hand, if you happened to answer back...” Abby looked down at Doyle. “Are you likely to answer back?”
Doyle shook his head.
“No?”
When they came up to Joyce’s Café, Abby peered inside. There were quite a few people in there. She saw Joyce standing behind the counter. Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, black tights and black ballet shoes, she resembled Audrey Hepburn in the movie Wait Until Dark. When Abby caught her attention, she signaled for her to come out.
“Hi. What’s up? Hey... who’s this?” Joyce asked as she bent down to give Doyle a scratch. “I haven’t seen him around.”
“This is Doyle.”
“It didn’t take you long to settle in.”
Abby drew out her list. “Do you recognize any of these names?” she asked and belatedly wondered why she hadn’t asked if Joyce would be interested in adopting a dog. She looked down at Doyle just as he leaned against her leg.
“Yes. They’re all customers,” Joyce said.
“Are any of them in the café now?”
“Josephine. She’s wearing the straw hat.”
Abby peered inside and saw an elderly woman wearing a hat and reading a book.
“She comes in for tea and scones. After years of baking for a large family, she prefers to let others do the work for her.”
“Anyone else?”
“Norma Reed. She usually only comes on Sundays. She meets her daughter and granddaughter for lunch, but she’s here today. In fact, business has been good. Everyone is out and about wanting to hear some news about Dermot. Why are you asking about them?”
“I want to know if any of them spoke with Dermot the day he died.”
Joyce smiled. “You should have started with that. June Laurie does his cleaning early in the morning. She goes in at eight and finishes at nine. That’s been her routine for years. And, for the record, she already spoke with Joshua Ryan. She would have been the only person Dermot spoke with that day. I’m sure Faith told you he’s been working from home.” Joyce tapped her chin. “We should have noticed the fact we didn’t see him. After June finished tidying up for him, he always went out for a brisk walk and catch-up with people.”
So much for her Donovan Carmichael theory. The antiquarian could not have killed Dermot because the cleaning lady had been at the house.
“So, did the cleaning lady see anything unusual?” Abby asked.
“Are you suggesting June has been spreading gossip?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “I’m hoping she made a passing remark.”
“Why would she?”
“Because she spoke with the police. That must have made her suspicious. Also, talking with the police is not an everyday occurrence. Human nature being what it is, I assume she would have shared the experience.”
Joyce nodded. “After she finished cleaning, she used to sit down for a cup of tea with Dermot, but she said he had been busy looking for something. She didn’t know what. So, she left.”
Had Dermot been looking for a book? “Does June live nearby?”
“On Edgar Street. Number twelve. But you won’t find her at home now. She spends her afternoons at the library reading to kids.”
“What about the others?”
“Liz Hamilton’s a retired school teacher. She used to catch up with Dermot once a week. They used to pour over international newspapers. She came in earlier today.”
“I guess none of them would have a reason to kill Dermot.”
“None that I know of. But you never know. They might have been biding their time.”
Abby frowned at her. “That’s macabre.”
Joyce gave a small shrug. “I’ve lived in this town my entire life. I can’t help wondering... You think you know people, but we don’t. Not really. I’ve been asking around and no one’s seen anyone suspicious. I’ve watched enough movies to now wonder if they’re all covering up for a local.”
Abby tried to get her head around Joyce’s way of thinking but gave up.
Joyce folded her arms. “At least I know I have an alibi.”
“Do you?”
“My first customer came in at seven in the morning.”
“That’s an early start for you,” Abby observed.
“I live above the café so I don’t have far to travel.”
“Can you give me a list of people who came in between nine and eleven?” That would take care of crossing a few people off her list. “If June Laurie finished cleaning at nine, then Dermot was killed after that. I arrived close to midday.” She wondered if Detective Ryan had already reached that conclusion.
“Swing by later on. I’ll ask the girls to help me put together a list in case I miss anyone.”
“Any chance I might get a coffee to go?”
“Don’t you want to come in?”
Abby gestured to Doyle. “Oh, and I want to head over to the library.”
“Okay, but next time, feel free to come in.”
“What about health inspectors?”
“Let me worry about that.”
* * *
ABBY STOOD ACROSS THE ROAD from the library. The cleaning lady, June Laurie, spent her afternoons there reading to kids. Great community spirit, Abby thought as she checked her watch. She’d called the library to ask about their services. The librarian had been helpful, mentioning all schedules were posted outside the library. She was about to cross the street, when Detective Joshua Ryan pulled up and strode straight in.
Abby decided to wait until he left. What could he have been following up on? He’d already spoken with June Laurie. Surely, she’d been cleared of suspicion.
“Here he comes.” Instinct told her to turn around and head in the opposite direction, but she decided to play the tourist card. After all, she’d only just arrived and was becoming acquainted with the town and all its services... and taking Doyle for a walk.
When Joshua spotted her, he waved.
“Just my luck. He’s the friendly type.” She picked Doyle up and made a mental note to get a leash for him.
“You’re making yourself right at home,” Joshua said and gave Doyle a scratch behind the ear.
At this rate, Doyle would end up with a bald patch. Everyone loved him, but no one wanted to take him. “This is the stray I told you I picked up.”
“So, you’re going to keep him?”
“I don’t even know if I’m staying. It wouldn’t be fair to him if we got attached and then I left.” She smiled at him. “You seem to like him and he hasn’t growled at you.”
Joshua chuckled. “I work odd hours. It wouldn’t be fair on a dog.”
“Doyle’s not that demanding. He only seems to need fresh water and food.�
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“And someone to carry him.”
“Oh... this is just me being overcautious. I don’t have a leash and I’m afraid he’ll wander off.”
“Give it a try. I bet he’ll be happy to sit by your side.”
Abby nodded but didn’t set Doyle down. “What brings you to the library?”
“The obvious. Something to read.”
“Really? What did you get?” She made a point of looking at his hands. His empty hands.
“I did my reading inside.”
“You must be a speed reader, you only went inside a short while ago...” She bit her lip.
“Keeping tabs on me, Abby Maguire?”
She turned slightly and pointed at the store on the opposite street. “I was checking out the antique store... Brilliant Baubles...”
“Did you take Doyle inside?”
“No... We looked in through the window and the owner... Never mind.”
“Let me guess. He scowled?”
“I thought I’d imagined it.”
“Nope, you didn’t. Bradford Mills doesn’t like people coming into his store.”
“Well, that’s odd. What sort of business is he running?”
“The sort that gives him time to think without being interrupted.”
“Why does the name sound familiar?”
“He used to be a reporter. He spent a number of years working in the US and UK. Then he inherited Brilliant Baubles and while he took time deciding what to do with the store, he fell in love with Joyce Breeland and decided to stay.”
“Oh.” It was the only response she could provide, as the thoughts whirling around her mind were too abstract. New to town. They meet. Probably clashed. Most likely, yes. Joyce and the scowling antique store owner? In love?
Joshua chuckled. “I think you were headed to the library and when you saw me, you decided to hang back.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To avoid being questioned.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Including getting Joyce Breeland to work on a list of people who visited Dermot?” He laughed again. “I went to the café and found her working on the list.”
