by Sonia Parin
“Fish scale shingles,” David murmured with awed appreciation.
They were so distracted by the magnificent architecture they didn’t notice the police cars parked at the curb until they crossed the street.
“Oh, my goodness,” Mira exclaimed. “I hope nothing’s happened to Flo.”
Dread poured through Eve’s body. She’d never get used to seeing police cars so clearly at the scene of a crime.
They moved with purpose toward the front door and were instantly relieved when Florence emerged from the house.
She greeted them with her unique jovial laughter. “You’ve missed all the excitement.” She tipped her head back and laughed again. “I swear if I ever catch that rascal again, I’ll hammer the message home.”
“What on earth happened?” Mira rushed to her side. “And are you all right?”
“Oh, yes. He broke into the house.” Florence hitched her hands on her hips.
“The young man who accosted you today?” Mira asked.
“I assume it is. Who else would break in?” Florence shook her head. “It has to be him, searching for the cameras.”
“What cameras?” Mira asked and before Florence could answer, Mira turned to Eve. “Your cameras?”
“Exactly. They’re hers now.” Florence waved them in. “Come in but mind your step. They’re everywhere. Whoever designed this house had a love affair with steps. There isn’t a single room on the same level, but Bertie loved his house.” Florence turned to David. “That’s my husband. Bless his soul. I called him Bertie but his real name was Bertram. Anyhow, he inherited the house and loved every inch of it. Sometimes, I thought he loved the house more than he loved me, but then he’d prove me wrong. But that’s too much information. Come through. I’m sure it’s cocktail hour somewhere.”
Eve bided her time, patiently waiting for the right moment to mention the chair she’d seen at the store. Jill would say she’d become fixated with it and Eve wouldn’t argue. She hoped she didn’t develop an obsessive-compulsive disorder. She didn’t want to clutter the inn. It had been beautifully furnished from the start; an easy task to accomplish because Eve had adhered to the previous owner’s taste. She knew she had done a fine job because Abby Larkin had visited the inn a short while ago and had given it her nod of approval.
David nudged her and murmured, “I thought you said I wouldn’t regret agreeing to deliver the cameras.”
“I’m sure Florence is only joking. She couldn’t wait to get rid of them. I only paid a hundred dollars for the box. They must be worth more, not that I’m looking to sell them, but they appear to be in excellent condition.” They strode into a sumptuously furnished sitting room with chairs upholstered in bottle green velvet that matched the thick velvet drapes.
“Bertie insisted on keeping the original furniture. He spent a small fortune maintaining it all. Most of it had to undergo restoration.” Florence lifted a glass. “The same goes for the glassware. If these glasses could talk, I’m sure they’d have a tale and half to tell. Champagne?”
Before any of them could answer, Florence went ahead and produced a bottle of premium champagne. Florence smiled. “My Bertie kept an exceptionally well-stocked cellar. I can attest to that.”
Mira didn’t bother with discretion when she checked her watch.
“Oh, come on, Mira. It’s close enough to five. Drink up and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Florence filled up some glasses and, taking the bottle, regaled them with stories about the wild parties she’d hosted as the lady of the house. Her throaty laughter filled the rooms as she spoke of costume soirees and card nights that had left more than one card player close to being destitute.
“From the outside, this looks like a regular if outdated family home but we kept the spirit of the old place alive. Now that Bertie is gone I hardly have the will to entertain.”
“Are you thinking of selling and moving on?” Mira asked.
Florence tipped her head back in thought. “The Riviera has always held a certain appeal and I still have a few good years of traveling and partying left in me. It would be a pity to waste them.”
As she showed them through to the top floor, Florence continued to top up their glasses even though they’d only pretended to sip. She still went through the motions, making sure she emptied her glass and then saying, “I hate to see good champagne go to waste.”
Finally, Eve found her opportunity to mention the chair when David and Mira moved on ahead to admire the master bedroom.
“Florence, I dropped by your store earlier and noticed you had another Quaker chair, one exactly like the one I purchased.” When Florence looked at her with vacant eyes, Eve added, “I saw it hanging off the rafters.”
“Heavens, yes. So many chairs. Stacks of them. I had to get the young boy from next door to put them up there. Sure, swing by the store any time.”
“Well, the thing is, Mira and I are heading home later on and I might not have the opportunity to come again any time soon.”
Florence smiled brightly. “We’ll swing by now. Half the time I wish someone would set fire to the place. It’s insured to the hilt so I’d do well out of it.”
That’s settled then, Eve thought and squared her shoulders in readiness to do battle with Jill when Eve returned with not one but two chairs.
While they finished the tour of the house, Eve lost herself in thought trying to compose a solid argument to justify the purchases. Her young friend took everything to heart, even going so far as to engage Jack’s assistance. The detective Eve had met soon after arriving on the island had been far too happy to play along. He must be having a slow day, Eve thought.
“As you can see, there are more rooms than I know what to do with.” Florence poured the last of the champagne. When she emptied her glass, she winked at Eve. “Mira, would you be a doll and drive me back to the store. I think I forgot something and I’m sure I’m in no fit state to drive.”
“Yes, of course. Eve will be happy to drive. I only drank half a glass, but that’s enough for me.”
Eve’s heart skipped with excitement as she silently whooped with joy.
She bundled everyone into the car and did her best to drive at a sedate pace when in reality, she wanted to whizz across town, come to a screeching halt and run inside to be united with her chair.
“Watch out for that cyclist, Eve.”
“I see him, Mira.” The cyclist crossed lanes so quickly, he appeared to be heading straight toward Eve’s car. “Looks like he’s making up the road rules as he goes. Why do I have to watch out for him?” Coming dangerously close to her, he whizzed past her. Checking the mirror, Eve saw him swerving to avoid the car behind her. “There. He’s someone else’s problem now.” Eve relaxed again and, thinking about her chair, wondered if she would redecorate one of the guest bedrooms to fit the style or settle for an eclectic look.
“What are you smiling about, Eve?” Mira asked. “You’re bobbing your head from side to side and that usually means you’re up to no good.”
“Am I that transparent?”
Florence chortled. “Honey, I saw you coming a mile. I’m sure I could have sold you the entire contents of the store without even trying.” She shifted in her seat. “The trick to a great transaction is to never look interested and always carry the amount you want to spend in your pocket, not a penny more. You pull it out and say, this is all I have, take it or leave it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I make my next purchase.”
“I think it might be too late for you, honey.”
“Are you saying I’m gullible?”
Florence looked at her pensively. “Passionate and true to yourself. You’re also the settling down type. I can always tell. So, who’s the lucky guy?”
Eve smiled. Detective Jack Bradford had been in her life since… well, if she had to be honest, she’d experienced what the French called a coup de coeur when she’d first met him. Perhaps not love at first sight, but certainly
an instant clicking and she’d known how to push his buttons from the start.
Florence leaned back. “Oh, yes. Mira, your girl is in love. I bet you anything she’s even thinking about him right now.”
And she’d be wrong. As much as Eve loved Jack, right that minute, she could only think about her chair.
Florence nudged her. “You can park around the back, Eve.”
She was the first one out of the car and feeling as giddy as a little kid about to go into a candy store.
Florence searched for her key and finally opened the door striding in with Eve at her heels. Belatedly, she realized she’d have to pretend she was seeing the chair for the first time, otherwise Mira would know she had contrived to return to the store.
“Good heavens,” Florence shrieked.
Eve recognized the reaction only too well, having experienced it herself several times. Giving the chair a longing look, she hurried to Florence’s side only to gasp as she gazed at the body slumped over the counter.
“He’s dead,” Florence exclaimed.
Eve frowned and drew Florence back.
He hadn’t been there when she’d come in earlier…
Chapter Eighteen
Eve folded her arms and looked at Mira. “How did David find you at The Mill Café?”
Mira frowned. “What sort of question is that? You’ve just found a dead body and you want to know how David found us?”
“Yes.”
Mira rolled her eyes. “Well, he is a retired detective. I suppose he used his detecting skills.”
“Mira.”
“Yes, Eve.”
“You’re a bestselling romance author. I think you can do better than that. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence.” Eve had organized to drop in on David at his fishing cottage as a surprise for Mira. Had he been out and about, walking along the main street when he suddenly spotted Mira? No, she shook her head. “You said you’d been in touch. Did you also happen to organize a clandestine meeting with him?”
“It can hardly be clandestine with you around.” Mira shrugged. “And yes, I might have mentioned spending a day here and he might have suggested meeting at The Mill Café. Satisfied now?”
“Not really. Why did you keep it a secret from me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Mira explained.”
“But you like him.”
“Yes, I do. I won’t deny it, but I feel David is still getting over his wife’s passing. Besides, we’ve both been around the block and see no need to rush anything. Satisfied.”
“Yes, I suppose. Thank you.”
They both sighed.
David approached them carrying two cups of coffee. “This is the best in the area.”
“Thank you, David.” Mira looked down the corridor. “How long are they going to keep Florence? Waiting in a police precinct is worse than waiting in a hospital waiting room.”
“Really?” Eve asked. “How can you compare them? Not everyone makes it out of a hospital and hospital staff are always rushing about.” A police officer rushed by, his hand on his holster.
“You were saying?” Mira asked.
“They shouldn’t be too long,” David said. “They’ll just want to get some details from her.”
Mira sipped her coffee and murmured in appreciation. “Has the man been identified? I only caught a glimpse of him and I’m sure I saw a Fedora hat on the floor.”
Eve raked her fingers through her hair. She had locked the store back door behind her. She’d heard the click. How had the Fedora hat man gained entry into the store? Had he broken in and then been followed by the killer?
She looked up only to find both Mira and David studying her.
“What?”
“You looked lost in thought,” Mira said.
“Well, as you said, I just found a dead body. I’m counting my lucky stars. After all, I’m still alive. Imagine if the killer had still been in the store? He could have been armed and we might now be sitting in a hospital waiting room instead of here.”
“Killer? Where did you get that from, Eve?” Mira asked.
Eve shrugged. “I’m assuming he was killed and I think it’s a safe assumption.”
“Did you see any blood?” Mira asked.
“No.”
“A knife protruding from his back?”
“No.”
“Then how did you reach your conclusion?”
Eve shrugged. “Just a wild guess.” Although, Mira had a point. The victim had been slumped over the counter. He might have been leaning over and had a heart attack. When Eve tried to picture it in her mind, the man actually clutched his chest, bent over and fell to the floor. She tried again, but the mental image wouldn’t cooperate.
Mira hummed and turned to David. “You’re a local, David. Have you seen him around?”
David brushed his hand across his chin. “I rarely come into town and when I do, it’s just for some supplies.” He grinned. “The fishing is actually quite good and, I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet.”
“Florence called him a fop,” Eve murmured absently. “Why does the term sound familiar? I’ve never used the word.”
“You’ve probably read it in one of Mira’s books,” David said.
When Mira and Eve had first met David Bergstrom aboard a cruise ship, he’d actually admitted to being a fan saying he used to enjoy discussing her books with his now deceased wife.
“A fop is someone who cares excessively about his clothes and appearance,” he went on to say. “My grandfather used to wear three-piece suits and a Fedora hat, but it was the acceptable dress code at the time.”
Mira checked her watch. “I don’t think we’ll be going home tonight. I’m only glad you weren’t alone when you found the body, Eve. You’ve had one too many instances of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’d hate for you to fall under suspicion again.”
Eve gulped down her coffee. Looking up at David, she hitched her head to the side suggesting she needed to have a word with him. She rose to her feet. “Where’s a trash bin when you need one?” Thankfully, David followed her.
“What’s up, Eve?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder to make sure Mira wouldn’t hear her. “I have to talk to the police and maybe… I’m not sure, but maybe I’ll need to give a statement.”
* * *
“Let me get this straight,” the detective interviewing Eve said. “You saw a chair and decided you had to have it so you went around the back of the store—”
Eve shook her head.
“No?”
Eve tried to remember the detective’s name. Ben McLain? Len… McLain? “Well, yes… but I didn’t set out to want the chair. I don’t even like shopping.” Eve straightened. “I happened to peer through the store window and thought I caught sight of someone in the store, so I knocked on the door. When there was no answer, I thought Florence might not have heard me, so I hurried down the alleyway to try to catch her, but she’d already left.”
“And how do you know that?”
Ted McLain? She’d never had any trouble remembering Jack’s name. From the first time she’d heard it, it had stuck.
“Sorry, what was the question?”
“How did you know Florence Buchanan had already left?”
Eve explained about the young woman she’d seen disposing of some cardboard in the recycling bin.
“But the back door had been left open,” the detective said.
“Yes.” Eve bit her lip and refrained from saying Florence wished someone would rob her or set the place on fire. “After making sure Florence wasn’t inside, I locked the back door. I know I did because I heard the click.”
“Did you try the door handle?” the detective asked.
Eve gave a slow shake of her head. She couldn’t remember if she had. “I didn’t have to. I heard the click.”
The detective signaled to the interview room door. “That door c
licks but doesn’t lock without a key.”
“Oh, well… I owned a restaurant and the back door had a lock set to automatically click locked. I know because I had it installed. It took some getting used to. I don’t mind admitting… well I do, but I’m happy to make an exception to illustrate a point, I locked myself out a couple of times.”
“And what point are you trying to make?”
Eve tried to remember where she’d been headed with her response. “Oh, yes… That I know the difference between a door shutting and a door locking.” She looked up at the ceiling and then nodded. “Yes, that’s the point. I know I locked the back door, which had been left open. It makes sense. Otherwise, why would Florence leave the door open? She must have walked out and safely assumed the door had simply locked… but it didn’t.”
“Is there anything else you wish to add?” the detective asked.
“Yes, do you think I could get my chair tonight? My aunt and I will be driving back home and I run a busy inn so I doubt I’ll have any free time to drive back here.” They actually only had three guests staying at the moment. That had been the only reason Eve had decided to take the day off.
“The store is a crime scene, Ms. Lloyd.”
“But the chair is hanging from the rafter. There won’t be any fingerprints on it.”
The detective shook his head.
“Would you consider releasing it into David Bergstrom’s custody? He’s a retired detective.” She could see the detective holding back a laugh. “You might think it’s funny but you have no idea the lengths I’ll need to go to in order to sneak that chair into my inn. I’m already taking one home, I might as well get it over and done with and take them both home. That way, I only get to hear an earful once.”
“Does that have any bearing on the investigation?”
“No, but I should get some sort of special consideration for coming forward with valuable information.”
The detective sat back. “Ms. Lloyd, this isn’t a trade. It is your civic duty to provide the police with relevant information.”
“And I’ve done that. Willingly.” She leaned forward. “I suppose you’re a stickler for the rules, and I know how this works. Now you’re going to tell me I am free to go but if I remember anything else I should contact you. In other words, you’ll be asking me for a favor. Doesn’t it work both way?”
