by Sonia Parin
Eve made sure everyone had a full helping and then settled down to enjoy her steak. Or, at least, she tried to. Juicy and tender, she’d cooked the steak to her satisfaction and the flavors danced around her mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to appreciate the meal. Her thoughts remained fixated on the man with the grass clippings on his shoes.
Had he been to Jamie’s house before her? Had he been responsible for breaking the window? And, if not, had he witnessed the perpetrator breaking in? Eve felt her cheeks growing hot. He had definitely seen her striding up the path and he had, no doubt, told the police.
“I’m back. What did I miss?” Jill asked.
Josh caught her up and they spent a few minutes arguing about who would take control of the cell phone. Eve could have told Josh he was fighting a losing battle.
Eve took a small sip of wine. She couldn’t leave it alone. “David, did you manage to get a hold of Detective Ken McLain?” Eve asked.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. He’s onto me, Eve.” David shook his head. “He knows I’ve been acting as your proxy snoop.”
“Did you tell him I’ve been an asset in previous cases?”
He nodded. “Sorry, that didn’t win him over. I’m afraid he’s a stickler for protocol and that means, excluding civilians from participating in his investigations.”
Florence snorted. “Well, that’s rather narrow-minded of him.”
“I agree,” Mira said. “Some detectives are quite happy to work with consultants.”
“Is that something you’d like to get into, Eve?” Florence asked.
Eve’s eyebrows curved up. “What makes you think I’m interested in crime?” She’d been an innocent bystander, unwittingly finding herself tangled up in a web of criminal activity.
Everyone refrained from answering but they did exchange knowing looks.
Smiling, Eve said, “I’ve been thinking about your suggestion, Mira.”
“Oh, which one, dear?” Mira asked, her eyes wide, her lips not quite knowing if they should curve into a smile or not.
“The one about writing. What else did you think I was referring to?”
“Well,” Mira picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “At one point, you did consider studying to become a private investigator and I remember encouraging you.”
Eve shrugged. “That was nothing but a phase. I’d be more inclined to take up a self-defense class.”
“That would be practical,” Mira offered.
“Thank you for your support, Mira.” Eve noticed her aunt had given her a pensive nod, which usually indicated approval.
“After all,” Mira continued, “You never know what sort of nutcase you’ll attract to the inn.”
“I’m adding that to our to-do list,” Jill hollered. “Right after I berate myself for not thinking of it first. We can’t always rely on Josh being here to watch our backs. I know Jack is only a phone call away, but by the time he rushes in to the rescue, we might both be gasping our last breaths.”
Mira and Florence leaned in to gaze at the cell phone screen.
“She actually said that with a straight face,” Florence remarked. “I really do need to pay the island a visit.” She turned to Mira. “What really surprises me is how well you seem to take this, Mira. I know you’ve always enjoyed standing back and observing people, but all this business of killers running amok would have me diving for cover.”
That took Eve by surprise. Florence had been adamant about staying on in her house and facing the threat head on.
Had she come to her senses?
Eve played around with her food. If Florence had changed her mind and decided to return to the island with them, Eve knew she’d miss out on the opportunity to prove herself.
Her eyebrows lifted.
Since when had she needed to prove herself?
“Is something wrong, Eve?” Mira asked.
“No. Everything is fine.” Eve shifted in her chair and told herself to stick to what she knew best. Cooking.
Halfway through the meal, David’s cell phone rang. Eve ignored it and kept her eyes on her plate until her willpower dwindled. She gave him a furtive glance just as he set his cell phone down to rest against a glass of water.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Josh and Jill had been squabbling for pole position with the cell phone and so Josh had called David and asked him to give him a view from the opposite side of the table. It seemed he and Jill had reached a happy compromise as they both now smiled and waved to each other.
The fact they were both keen to observe the luncheon mystified Eve. Surely, they didn’t think Florence could be capable of killing someone?
Mira chatted amiably about her most recent cruise, skating around the subject of the killer Eve had encountered but Florence had a sharp mind and the moment Mira mentioned Eve had traveled with her, Florence asked if there had been any mishaps on the ship.
Before Mira could say anything, Eve asked, “Do you have any idea why someone would want to break into your house, Florence? I know I’ve asked before, but maybe you need to dig deeper.”
“There are any number of reasons,” Florence said. “Look around you. The furniture is antique and worth quite a bit. I don’t know much about art but the paintings hanging on the walls are insured to the hilt.”
Eve insisted the intruder had been after something else, something he could take with ease. He must have thought Florence would be in the house alone. That meant he hadn’t done his homework and kept an eye on the house. Now he knew Florence had company. He had to.
Someone had broken into the house before Jamie’s death and then the following day they’d been lurking about… There had to be a connection.
“All those parties you held here,” Eve said conversationally, “Did you take many photos?” She hadn’t seen the intruder clearly, but the mind saw more than the eyes did. What if Florence knew the person who’d tried to break in? What if he’d already been inside her house before as a guest? Pity Florence hadn’t seen the intruder…
“Plenty. Bertie liked to reminisce.” Florence gave a distracted nod. “I never knew a salad could look so enticing, Eve. The colors are delightful.”
Eve glanced down at her plate. She’d never really thought about it. She’d used a variety of lettuces so the leaves ranged in color from light to dark green and they were highlighted by plump cherry tomatoes and wedges of hard boiled eggs with bright yellow yolks.
When she looked up, she saw David trying to make eye contact with her. He raised his eyebrows as if to prompt her to share her thoughts.
“How long ago did your husband pass away?” Eve asked.
Florence took her time swallowing. “Bertie left me three months ago.”
Only a short while ago. Why had Eve thought it had been longer? “Did you hold any events before he died?”
“We sure did. Bertie had just purchased several dozen bottles of French champagne from a friend who’d needed some quick cash. Rock bottom prices for premium champagne. That alone gave us reason to celebrate.”
“Did you take any photos?” Eve asked.
“Did we ever. I’ll show them to you while we have our coffee.”
Eve huffed out a breath. At this rate, she’d never get away. She needed to slip out of the house and have a chat with the car cleaning neighbor…
Chapter Twenty-Four
While Florence hunted down her photo albums from her last dinner party, Eve cleared the table and tidied the kitchen.
“I swear I saw Florence hesitate when you asked her about the last dinner party she held,” Jill said.
Yes, Eve had sensed it too. “Maybe it’s a delicate subject. After all, she lost her husband soon after. Florence loves to party. It must be difficult for her to now live alone.” She arranged some cups on a tray and foraged through the cupboards looking for something to nibble on with the coffee.
“Josh thinks she’s hiding something. There were a couple of times when sh
e looked far too pensive. Chatty people are not introspective.”
“You have been paying attention,” Eve said. “I’m actually prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was probably deciding if she could get another drink in before answering.”
“Are you telling me to stop trying to pin the murder on her?” Jill asked.
Eve gave it some thought and then shook her head. “By all means, keep prodding. That reminds me, did you get around to doing some research for me?”
“Oh, yes. What with one thing and another, I nearly forgot about it. Give me a minute. I’ll go get the laptop.”
Eve heard Jill make her way back inside the inn and grumble as she tripped over her dogs’ toys.
“I swear, if this is a prelude of what’s to come, I might send my children to boarding school.”
“Brace yourself,” Eve laughed. “They’ll want pets of their own, so you should prepare to add to the family and the clutter.”
Moments later, Jill settled back outside on the porch. “Before I forget, I had to make the laptop password protected because I’m sure the guests have been trying to find dirt on you. I chose one we’d both remember easily. Mad inn keeper. All one word. Anyway, the local paper has been running ads for a collector looking for estate jewelry. I had a look through several back issues and all the ads are the same, except for the last couple. They specifically ask for old cameras.”
“What’s the person’s name?”
“The ads only have his contact number, no name.” Jill gave her the contact information.
“You think those ads are connected to the murder?” Eve asked.
“To quote you, it’s too much of a coincidence. They’ll have to prove they’re not connected. Why are they suddenly interested in old cameras?”
“Jamie’s grandfather passed away recently,” Eve mused. “We need to be thorough and find out his name.”
When David strode into the kitchen, he found Eve frowning.
“Should I ask?”
Eve shook her head. “You sort of have so here it is. I have a contact number. How would you feel about ringing it and following the lead? This person has shown an interest in old cameras. You could pretend you have some to offload.”
David tapped the box under the kitchen table with the tip of his shoe. “I don’t have to pretend.”
“Oh, those are… Evidence. We shouldn’t handle them. At least not without gloves.”
David brushed his hand across his chin. “It just hit me. I’m still in retirement mode. These should have been handed over to the police.”
Yes, and if Jack found out she hadn’t handed them over, she’d never hear the end of it. “We’ve been busy trying to keep Florence safe. No one can blame us for being absentminded,” Eve reasoned.
“We?”
“Fine. I’ll take full responsibility.”
“They really do need to be handed over,” David said. “If there happens to be something of value in there, it could become inadmissible evidence because it’s been tampered with.”
“I’ll call the detective, right after we have our coffee,” Eve said and, taking the coffee pot, strode out of the kitchen.
“Don’t forget me,” Jill called out.
“I’ll get it,” David offered and picked up Eve’s cell phone.
They found Mira and Florence in the front parlor going through a thick photo album.
“Mira’s just been saying how odd it is to see one of these albums. These days, most people keep photos on their phones or their computers. Bertie liked his photo albums. Keeping them is a family tradition. He thought it was fun because he could pull one out and tell you which dinner service his aunt Ophelia had used for a dinner party way back in 1910.”
It didn’t take long for Florence to produce a bottle of brandy. “I never used to drink brandy before. It’s become a habit and I picked it up from Bertie. The only habit I haven’t kept up with is the cigar smoking. Bertie loved to puff on one of those after his meals.” Florence flicked through several pages and then tapped one. “Here it is. The last dinner party we threw together.”
Eve leaned over and had a look. “Were these regular guests?”
“Oh, no. Bertie liked to mix it up. Every other week he’d suggest throwing a party and then he’d give me a list of people to invite. I never knew who’d be on it. It made for interesting dinner conversation, getting to know new people. He’d come home from the store and say he’d heard from someone who had guests staying over and wouldn’t it be fun to invite them over.”
The events had been fully catered with chefs doing all the cooking on site and waiting staff taking care of serving. The gentlemen in the photos all wore tuxedos while the ladies sparkled with jewels and fine clothes. “I didn’t realize the antique business could be so lucrative.”
“It really isn’t. Bertie’s passion for antiques ran in the family. Since they all lived off their inheritance and didn’t need to work, they established the business as a way to keep them busy doing something.” Florence rolled her eyes. “Old money.”
“What on earth is going on here?” Mira asked and pointed to one of the photos. “Why are you all covering your heads with table napkins?”
Florence laughed. “Oh, that. I’ve tried some fancy meals in my time but never anything like ortolans.”
Eve studied the photo and cringed. “Ortolans.”
“I’ve never heard of those. What are they?” Mira asked.
“They’re an endangered bird,” Eve swallowed, “And a banned delicacy.”
“That wedge between your eyebrows suggests you don’t approve. Are you for or against?” Mira asked.
Eve sat back and brushed her hands across her face. “I wouldn’t eat them and I wouldn’t cook them, so I guess that means I’m against.”
Florence sighed. “Bertie went to a lot of trouble finding someone to cook them for him.”
And to bring them into the country, Eve thought.
“So why are they banned?” Mira asked.
“A few years back, their numbers dropped dramatically,” Eve explained. “Also, there’s a lot of controversy about the way they’re captured and cooked. They’re little birds and small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. Since they’re so small, you can’t shoot them, so they’re captured with nets. Then they’re kept in small cages and fattened up.”
“I’m still in the dark. We eat game and some of it is quite small,” Mira said.
“The size is not really an issue.” Eve cleared her throat. “Traditionally, the fattened little birds are drowned in a vat of Armagnac.”
Mira gasped. “They’re drowned and marinated at the same time? That is cruel.”
Eve nodded. “And yet, lobsters are thrown live into pots of boiling water and geese are force-fed to fatten up their livers into foie gras.”
Mira gave a small shake of her head. “Would you cook those delightful little birds?”
Eve sighed. “No, I’m too squeamish.”
“So where do the napkins come in?” David asked.
“It’s part of the ritual,” Eve explained. “Diners cover their heads and then eat the entire bird. The napkin is used partly to keep in all the aromas of the dish. Mostly, diners wish to hide the shame of eating such a beautiful creature from the eyes of God.”
Mira chortled. “Well, you live and learn. They actually think a napkin will hide their shame?”
They all stared at the photo as if they could suddenly develop x-ray vision and see beyond the white table napkins.
Mira turned to Florence. “Did you actually eat it?”
Florence cringed. “I had a small bite which defeats the purpose. Apparently, you’re supposed to put the whole bird in your mouth. The idea didn’t really appeal, but the small bite I took was an explosion of flavors in my mouth.”
If she’d eaten the rest, she would have experienced a state of gastronomic bliss as all the flavors combined in the diner’s mouth, or so Eve had heard.
“What made Bertie choose that dish?” Eve asked.
“I have no idea. We usually served down to earth, wholesome dishes like spare ribs. Bertie always enjoyed the contrast of having dinner guests dressed to the nines and eating with their hands as he encouraged them to do.”
What had made him change the menu for that particular occasion? As soon as the thought registered in her mind, Eve wondered if Florence would be able to provide her with a list of names of people attending the dinner.
“I’m still curious about the dish and yet I’m not the slightest bit interested in tasting it myself,” Mira confessed.
Eve shrugged. “They are such a gastronomic delight, they’ve been ordered as a last meal.”
Mira shifted in her seat. “Well, I can’t help but be curious.”
“Don’t look at me. I’m not cooking them for you,” Eve said.
“Don’t worry, dear. The idea of being shamed by the act of eating them would give me indigestion.”
Eve turned to Florence. “Do you think we could have a list of names of everyone attending, Florence?”
“Sure thing. I kept everything in a day journal. Bertie ran a tight ship.”
That sounded good. They could run through the list of all the guests they’d had over the last months before Bertie died. David could use his connections and skills to look into their backgrounds and find out if anyone had an interest in old cameras.
Moments later when she told David about it, he asked, “Why?”
“I have no idea,” Eve admitted. “I’m only connecting the existence of photos to cameras. Call it a hunch or a shot in the dark. Meanwhile, do you think you could distract Mira while I dash out? I’d like to have a word with the car cleaning neighbor. If the police got anything out of him and they’re not willing to share the information with you, then I’d like to try and get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“Be careful, Eve.”
Eve grinned. “I’ve got Jill watching my back. She has her eye on the ball, so to speak. If anything goes wrong, she’ll call for help.”
“Sorry,” Jill said. “What was that? I missed it.”
