by Sonia Parin
“Abby Larkin,” Jill offered. “She has the most to gain by a windfall. With you out of the picture, she could endear herself to Mira, get in her good books, pardon the pun, and stand to inherit the lot.”
“Now you’re thinking like me.” Eve couldn’t imagine anyone being so devious. Although... “That might not be as wild as it sounds. Abby said the island needed to draw attention. What better way than to have a murder take place here?”
“Right. Because someone looking to buy a business will be drawn by the notorious reputation of an otherwise dull little island,” Jill said.
“It’s not so far fetched. She killed Alex just because the murder would get a mention in the papers and not necessarily because she wanted to frame me. I think she actually likes me.”
“You sound needy.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “Where are those donuts you bought?”
Jill waved the bakery bag. “Do you have any friends outside the island who might want you out of the picture?”
Eve gave an impatient shrug. “Nope.”
“Is that a no to friends or a no to friends with ulterior motives?”
All the friends she’d made at school had gone on to successful professional careers and Eve had fallen by the wayside as she’d pursued her interest in cooking, working up the ladder in one restaurant and then another. It had all seemed less than appealing to her high achieving friends who hadn’t had the patience to wait for her to make a success of it. Of course, she’d met other chefs in training, but everyone had worked such odd hours, some even holding down a couple of jobs to make ends meet because entry level pay never seemed to be enough...
“I led a very busy life working day and night. It left little time to socialize. Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not. You seem to be friendly enough. At least on the surface.”
And pushy...
She wasn’t pushy. She liked to get results and, despite what her parents might think of her, once she focused on a target, she threw herself into succeeding.
Eve flung her hands out. “I’m all out of ideas here. Maybe we should talk about you again.”
Jill laughed. “Right, as if I’d relinquish any pertinent information about myself that would put me away for life.”
“It was worth a try. I need to recharge myself. How well is your kitchen stocked? My stomach’s grumbling.”
“You can use whatever you like. Just stay away from fried eggs.”
“That wasn’t the least bit amusing.”
Eve had a scavenge through the cupboards and refrigerator and decided to make a Spanish Omelet, taking her time to chop onions finely and cut the potatoes into tiny cubes.
When she found a deep enough pan, she poured some olive oil in, waited for it to reach the appropriate temperature which she tested by tossing one cube of potato in. The oil instantly sizzled, so she lowered the heat and tossed in the rest of the potato cubes. Once they were lightly browned, she added the onions. As they cooked to a nice transparency, she cracked a couple of eggs, seasoned them with salt, pepper and some grated Parmesan cheese and whisked them to a fluffy consistency. Into the pan they went. She gave the mixture a thorough stir. Lifting the edge, she decided one side was cooked. Placing a plate over the pan, she tipped it over, sliding the omelet onto the plate and quickly back onto the pan to cook the other side. It only took another minute to finish cooking.
“You didn’t have any lettuce mix. We’ll probably get hungry in an hour.”
Jill searched a drawer and pulled out a selection of menus. “Ever heard of take-out?”
“You can take the chef out of the kitchen, but at the end of the day, I’ll always be a chef at heart. I’d rather throw something together myself.” She cut the omelet into wedges and served them on small plates. “Now, where were we?”
“Either killing time because you don’t want to be home alone or trying to fabricate evidence to pin on someone else.”
“That’s harsh. I’d never do that.” Eve brushed her hair back. “Apart from enjoying your company, talking about this keeps me busy. Every time I stop thinking, I remember seeing Alex’s body on the kitchen floor. He was only a couple of years older than me and now he’s gone. Snuffed out in the prime of his life. It could just as easily have been me. Apart from Mira and possibly my parents, there’d be no one to mourn me. And if it had been me, I doubt Alex would have spared me a second thought. He was that self-obsessed. Although, he was charming, and every time I say that about him, I can’t help thinking of the good times we had.” She pushed out a quivery breath and slumped back in her chair.
“Are you all right?” Jill asked.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. This is all so very morbid and my first encounter with death.”
“Me too, but you don’t hear me going on about it. And I found the body.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Nice of you to say so. Still, I feel partly responsible. There’s no escaping the connection.” Eve rose to her feet. “I’m going to make some muffins.”
“Blueberry, please.”
Half an hour later she was back in the living room going through all their notes, the aroma of muffins wafting from the kitchen. “What have we got so far?”
“So far, you’ve only mentioned people you’ve encountered recently. Do you think there might be someone you met during your previous stays on the island who might have developed an intense dislike to you?”
“I only ever got to know our immediate neighbors. Every time I came here, I stayed at the house. Mira loves to eat out, but when I visit, I always cook. Even when I was young. She actually loves not having her writing time interrupted by trips out.”
“So we’ll have to stick to everyone you’ve encountered recently.”
She had to admit she’d been having fun these last few days chatting with different people, including Jack Bradford. The thought of anyone she’d recently met being in any way involved made her shudder with concern. How was she ever going to trust anyone again?
“Good heavens, I can’t believe someone I’ve come to like could be a murderer.”
Chapter Eleven
After another late night brainstorming session, Jill had offered Eve the guest room. Eve had to admit she’d slept better at Jill’s house than she had in days. It helped to know there was someone else around.
She returned to Mira’s house to shower and change and was about to step out again when Jack knocked at her front door.
“Going out?” he asked.
“Yes, are you going to hold me up?” She tried to ignore how good he looked in his sports jacket, his light brown hair windswept and the hint of a couldn’t be bothered shaving stubble on his chin.
“I have a few questions for you.”
“Come through. And seeing as you came empty-handed again, I’ll make us some coffee.” She strode off toward the kitchen and could have sworn her temperature hiked up a notch. Jack put a couple of steps distance between them, but she couldn’t help noticing him even when she had her back turned to him.
When she swirled around, she noticed him looking at her in a way that suggested he had run his gaze from the top of her head all the way down to her shoes.
“New look?” he asked.
“My jeans are in the wash.” Eve brushed her hands along her skirt. That morning she’d decided she could only brave the day if she wore her no-nonsense vintage Chanel suit, complete with a string of fake pearls and sleek sling backs. She only brought the ensemble out on special... serious occasions such as visits to her bank manager or accountant.
Also, she’d just washed her hair and it hung in glossy waves around her shoulders. She’d even gone to the trouble of dabbing on some make-up, something she rarely did because her mornings had always started so early with trips to the market to source stock for her restaurant...
Today, she meant business and she fully intended rolling up her sleeves and making some sort of h
eadway. There was thinking outside the box and then, there was looking at a problem with fresh eyes, something she believed she could do.
Yes, this was business.
Jack Bradford had trained eyes, but she had the advantage of having lived with a man who’d given a new meaning to lying. Eve was sure she’d learned something about sifting her way through layers of deceit, even if it had come to her by osmosis.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked.
“I’ve been tracking your husband’s final days.”
“Ex.”
“Your ex-husband’s final days.”
“Let me guess. He spent his mornings at his health club where he swam his usual twenty laps, after which he had a massage, followed by a late breakfast at his favorite hotel, the Carlyle. How am I doing so far?”
“Spot on. No need to lure your ex here when you could have picked any one of his favorite haunts.”
“He was predictable.” Up to a point. She’d actually never seen the side of him that made him capable of stealing from her. All those years spent squirreling away money from right under her nose and she’d been none the wiser. But it wouldn’t happen again. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice because the second time it wouldn’t be a mistake. It would definitely be a choice.
Jill had said she’d pointed the finger of blame at just about everyone she’d met. Maybe that had to do with the fact her trust had been severed. Was she going to go through life suspecting everyone?
She leaned against the kitchen counter and looked up at Jack.
His gaze held steady.
He wouldn’t have anything to hide. Yet... he kept his thoughts well under wraps.
“What else did he get up to?” she asked.
“He had an appointment with his lawyer.”
“I didn’t know he had one. I certainly didn’t until I was forced to engage one.”
“Alex was there to draw up a new will.”
“That suggests he had something to—” She pushed off the counter. “He siphoned off money from my restaurant to the point of sucking it dry and he was going to leave it all to someone else? Who? I’ll kill her—”
Jack Bradford sighed. “He also took out a life insurance policy.”
Eve sunk back against the counter. “He what?” That implied he actually had someone he cared about and as far as she knew, Alex... or at least the Alex she had come to know, only cared about himself. Of course, the divorce might have changed him. Just because it hadn’t worked out between them didn’t mean he hadn’t gone on to entice someone new into his life.
“He named you as his sole beneficiary. In both the will and the life insurance policy.”
“Me?” The word quaked through her. Eve felt her face drain of all color. She counted her breaths until she got to five in the hope that she’d somehow emulate Jack’s calm demeanor. “Out of curiosity, have you stopped interrogating everyone else on the island?”
* * *
“He had a nerve. How dare he think he could worm his way back into my good books by including me in his will and his life insurance policy.” Eve fumed all the way to Jill’s place. Once she got there, it was all she could talk about with Jill.
“So does this mean you are now officially suspect number one again?” Jill asked.
“Jack wouldn’t say. I think he’s setting me up and waiting for me to make a wrong move.”
“He’s devious,” Jill said under her breath, “And I’m guessing he won’t have long to wait.”
“What was that?” Eve asked.
“Nothing.”
“You deserve a medal for putting up with me,” Eve said when she stopped long enough to draw breath.
“It’s not as if you’re giving me much choice.” Jill gave her a small smile as she wiped a paintbrush clean.
“You never told me your paintings were abstract.”
“They’re not. They’re atmospheric.”
“I’ll have to buy one from you. This one,” Eve said pointing at a rectangular frame. “It’ll look great in my bedroom.” It was a picture of a sandy yellow cliff with an endless horizon in deep azure blue. “It looks haunting. You have a delicate touch and I don’t see why you couldn’t display your work in a major art gallery. I’ll have to see if I know someone who knows someone. That’s how it works.”
“It’s not what you know but who you know?”
“Exactly.”
“What’s with the overnight bag?” Jill asked.
“Do you really need to ask? I also brought some food. I’m cooking lemon chicken and roast potatoes. Nothing fancy. I don’t think you’ve been feeding yourself properly.”
“Are you suddenly afraid of staying at your place alone?”
Eve shivered. “More so than ever before. I can’t believe that double-crossing ex husband of mine has now made me a real suspect. Even after death, he’s still out to ruin my life.” Eve strode around the room Jill used as a studio, stopping to study one painting and then another. “A suspect. Me.”
“Did Jack say that?”
“No, but it was implied. I’m sure it was. Why else would he tell me about Alex drawing up a will and taking out a life insurance policy? He wanted to see my reaction.”
Jill drew in a deep breath. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that was.”
Eve shrugged. “I... I sort of jumped to conclusions.”
“Yes...”
“I imagined Alex had a new woman in his life.”
“And?”
“I said... I said I’d kill her.”
“Oh, Eve.”
“Well, wouldn’t you say the same? The man lived off me all those years, stashing money away who knows where. When I find out what he’s been doing, all hell breaks loose. We divorce because obviously I can never trust him again. It’s only natural that he’d find someone else. Either to enjoy the fruits of his underhanded ways or... to find another target, another source of income. Anyway, the thought of him splurging on someone else did my head in. Scoundrel.”
“Did he ever work?”
“He did, but his ideas were never the brightest. He imported wine and not always the best. He had one failed venture right after the other. That was his forte.”
“I suppose it was only natural for Jack to look into your husband’s activities but do you think someone might have nudged him in that direction?”
Eve stopped pacing and turned toward Jill. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m putting myself in the place of the real murderer. I’d want to draw attention away from myself and like you, point the finger at someone else.”
Eve thought about it and decided it made sense. “The killer probably wants a scapegoat and the sooner the better. The longer the investigation drags on, the higher the chances he’ll get caught.” She stubbed the tip of her shoe against the floor. “You think people on the island see me as guilty?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way but the thought occurred to me. It’s only fair.”
“This isn’t a tit for tat game, Jill. I never really thought you were capable of committing a crime.”
Jill swung away.
“Then again...” Eve edged toward her. “You’re taking this business of not being seen with me very seriously. Are you hiding something?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You are hiding something.”
Jill’s shoulders rose and fell. “There was an incident. When I worked for the magazine. My boss was the devil in disguise. She made my life a living hell. I eventually cracked.”
“And?”
Jill shrugged. “I discovered I had a temper.”
“What did you do?”
“I’d worked so hard to climb up the ladder, doing all the rubbish jobs no one else wanted to do. Being the go-to person. Always reliable. Always ahead of my deadlines. The job I was gunning for came up and she gave it to someone else because she didn’t want to lose the person who always picked up after her
.”
“Yes? And?”
“She had a thing for white. Everything in her office was white. I snuck in one night and painted everything red.”
“You saw red.”
“And she pressed charges.”
“Did this come up when Jack questioned you?”
“That’s just it. He hasn’t questioned me.” She shrugged. “He had a few questions on the night of the murder but he hasn’t followed up.”
“And you’re afraid he’ll look into your past and pin the murder on you because you already have a record.” Eve shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You don’t have the build. Whoever killed Alex had to be able to wield a cast iron frying pan. And look at you, compared to me, you’re pint-sized.” Eve folded her arms. “Stop looking at me. I did not kill my ex-husband. And spare me the cliché sitting on the tip of your tongue.”
“The one about the lady protesting too much? You have to let me say it at least once. It’s a cliché because people use it all the time.”
“All right. But only once.”
“To change subjects at the rate of knots, have you heard back from Mira?”
“No. I know I should worry, but I can’t. Mira has her ways. When she says she wants to think, she means it. The fact she went away to do it only means she has serious thinking to do as well as some shopping. She’ll probably come back with a horde of purchases she won’t even remember getting. I’m guessing it all has to do with this new series of books she’s thinking of writing. Helena mentioned it.”
“Helena, the travel agent?”
“Yes.”
“How come we don’t have her on the list of suspects?”
“Because she’s... she’s—” Eve couldn’t think of a reason.
“What do we know about her?”
