by Sonia Parin
Eve had a hard time believing a woman could have carried out such a plot. “I find it creepy. Hypothetically speaking, let’s assume we are on the right track and the killer acted because Phillip Manningham had put an end to their liaison…”
“Or maybe because they are plain evil.” Jill called for time out. “I need pen and paper.” She found a notebook and settled back at the kitchen table. “You were saying?”
“I’m trying to understand the personality type,” Eve murmured.
“Profile of a killer. That’s what you want.”
“What sort of person would be capable of such a cruel, twisted act?”
“Someone who felt trapped by their circumstances,” Jill suggested.
Eve liked the sound of that. “Go on.”
“Let me think… They’ve broken free from their daily routine and found excitement in the arms of… Well, we have to assume the person found Phillip exciting. Then, he informs her of his plans to move on.”
“You’ve become attached to that theory.”
“Yes, and I can’t wait for Jack to find the killer so we can compare notes and see who got it right.”
A married woman or a single woman?
The enraged husband?
Another scorned lover?
As Eve tidied up the kitchen for Gerard before he arrived to prepare breakfast for the guests, she tried to picture the killer putting the bookcase into place.
It had taken three people to move it.
Could a woman have managed it by herself?
Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Eve thought. If Jack hadn’t come along, she would have managed… with Jill’s help.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Jill asked. “I can see your lips moving but I can’t hear you.”
“I’m thinking about the process the killer went through. He… or she killed Phillip. Had they planned ahead? Jack said the killer had used lime to mask the smell. Either they had it handy or they had to rush out to get it. As for the rest… I had to go out to my car to get my tool box and I still didn’t have the right tools.”
“Maybe this happened during the day and the killer waltzed into the hardware store,” Jill said. “We shouldn’t overthink this.”
“I know.” Eve nodded. “You’re always accusing me of that but the Devil is in the details.”
If everyone assumed Phillip Manningham had already left the island, the killer might have had some time to plan. Eve shook her head.
“What?”
“I’ll have to speak with the realtor. I need to know how soon they went in to inspect the vacant store. Inspections need to be carried out to make sure there hasn’t been any damage to the property. That would narrow down our timeline.”
“Here’s a thought,” Jill said. “What if that bookcase had been put in place long before Phillip was killed. The killer knew about it blocking part of the room so all they had to do was move the bookcase, dump the body and put the bookcase back.”
“True.” Lauren Wright had told her she could make minor alterations but any significant changes would have to be run by her. She hadn’t mentioned the bookcase. Had it been put there even before Phillip’s time? “Okay. I’m ready to face the day. First, I’d like to speak with Denise Glosser. Pete Dresden told me she worked for Phillip so I’m hoping she’ll provide some hard facts. She might even know what Phillip Manningham planned to do after moving on.”
“Would you like to divide and conquer?” Jill asked. “I could talk with Lauren Wright. Her office is in town and I’m sure you want to avoid going there for a while.”
“Good thinking. Now I need to find out where Denise Glosser lives.” And come up with a plan to ask her some questions without appearing to be actively snooping around…
* * *
Eve slowed down to a crawl and checked the house number. Denise Glosser lived on the north side of the island. According to Jill, the small house had been in the family for over a hundred years and had been built by Denise’s great grandfather who’d been a keen fisherman. Painted a light shade of baby blue, it looked well-tended. And guarded against bad luck, Eve thought smiling at the collection of rusty horse shoes displayed around the front window.
She reached down, pulled the lever and popped the hood. “Right, here goes…” Eve stepped out of the car and did her best to pretend she knew what she was doing.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone in the neighboring house looking out their window. Eve silently told them to stay inside. She wanted to bait someone else into coming out.
It took five minutes for her patience to be rewarded.
“Hello. Do you need some help?”
Eve turned and waved but didn’t bother calling out in the hope Denise Glosser would approach her.
She did.
At least, Eve assumed it was Denise Glosser. She certainly had the right house…
Denise Glosser strode toward her, her crop of short hair slightly ruffled by the light breeze. She looked to be in her mid-fifties and quite fit, which probably meant she walked the length and breadth of the island every day.
“Hi. I’ve called for help but who knows how long it’ll take… I was on my way home when I heard something rattling. It sounded really bad. I stopped to look and now I can’t get the car started again.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m Eve. Eve Lloyd.”
“Don’t you live on the other side of the island?”
Eve bit the edge of her lip. “Yes, I do. You might not have heard, I’m in the process of setting up a catering service and I was on my way to see a prospective client who lives further up… and then I was heading back home… the long way.” She smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Denise.”
“Oh, I was just talking to someone who mentioned your name. I mean, she mentioned the name Denise. For all I know, she might have been talking about some other Denise who lives on the island… out this way.”
Denise gave her a small smile. “I hope they were saying nice things.”
“Actually, we were talking about the incident in town.”
“Which one?”
“You haven’t heard?” Eve gave her an abbreviated version of the events. “Someone said Denise Glosser used to work for Phillip Manningham.”
“Yes, that’s me.” Denise’s hand pressed against her chest. “Phillip. Dead.”
Eve nodded. “I guess you haven’t been in town lately.”
“Not for a couple of days. I’m working on a new quilt and once I get going I can’t put it down.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Poor Phillip.”
Eve gave the woman a few minutes to take in the news before saying, “It’s strange, no one remembers seeing him around.”
“That’s what happens with private people. They tend to go under the radar,” Denise said. “He rarely spoke at the office. I worked for him for over two years and I don’t recall ever having a conversation for longer than two minutes.”
Eve told her about leasing the store and about her plans to run a catering company. “Have the police spoken with you?”
“No.” Her hand now pressed against her throat. “Are they likely to?”
“They’ll want to know about Phillip’s business. Were you there when he packed up?” His belongings must have gone somewhere and he couldn’t have organized the move by himself, Eve thought.
“Yes. He hired a company to take care of everything.”
“Do you remember the name of the company?”
Denise clicked her fingers. “It’s one of those generic storage names. Something like Armor Storage.”
“Did he plan on moving on to other premises or did he retire?”
“His lease expired and he wanted to be closer to his clients. Most of them are on the mainland.”
That meant everything had been sent to another address. Why hadn’t anyone come forward? If he’d taken offices somewhere else, there would have been a contract and payments due…
&nbs
p; Had the killer taken care of everything in order to buy themselves some time?
Denise took a step back. “Why are you asking?”
Eve didn’t want to reveal too many details about the incident. She knew the police had their questioning tactics and didn’t want to sabotage their process. Shrugging, she said, “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about me being curious. Some people have even labeled me snoopy.”
Denise looked down the street and then back at her. “If you need any assistance, just let me know.” Nodding again, she turned and went back inside her house.
Eve spent a few minutes pretending she was trying to get the car started. Eventually, she did. As she pulled away, she checked her mirror and saw Jack’s car approaching.
Caught red-handed, she thought and put her foot down on the accelerator.
* * *
Eve drove into town and stopped at the bakery to get Mira some of her favorite strawberry tarts. She knew Gerard would have baked something tempting but, just in case he hadn’t, she decided to play it safe. Besides, Mira needed consoling. It couldn’t be easy having a sister who criticized and constantly disapproved of her.
As she came out of the store, she bumped into Jill.
“Hello. Fancy meeting you in town.” Jill looked around and lowered her voice. “Did you find out anything useful?”
“Maybe. Did you get to talk with Lauren?”
“No, she was out, showing a house. What’s in the box?”
“Strawberry tarts.”
“Out of season?”
Eve frowned. “I’m sure they’re in season somewhere in the world. I tasted one and it passed muster.”
Jill shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Did you happen to bump into my parents?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because you only spent a short time with them and yet you sound a lot like my mother.” Eve pinched her nose and put on her best snooty accent. “Strawberries? Out of season? What will they think of next?”
“Poor Eve. How you must have suffered growing up.”
“Tease all you like. I spent a great deal of energy trying to please my parents. Trying and failing. Nothing I ever did met their high standards and they were never subtle about expressing their displeasure. I’m prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe they’ve softened, but I refuse to expose my lifestyle choices to ridicule.”
Jill’s eyes danced around. “I’m sure what you just said makes sense to you, but not to me.”
“Don’t mind me. They always have this effect on me. Everything should settle back to normal when they leave.” Eve tried to think back to a couple of days before their arrival. Had they experienced the quiet before the storm? “I’ll see you back at the inn.”
As she walked back to her car, Eve peered inside the realtor’s office and saw Lauren Wright. She strode in and waited for her to finish her talk with her assistant.
She looked around the uncluttered office and wondered why all realtors chose such dull furniture. Personally, she would prefer a more individual style, something homey… stylish. Eve rolled her eyes. Heavens, just the sort of remark her mom would make.
“Eve. I hope you haven’t changed your mind about the store,” Lauren said.
Eve knew she would be within her rights. “Oh, no. After all, what are the chances of someone else being murdered there again?” Her mind emptied and, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what Jill had wanted to ask Lauren. “I seem to be experiencing a memory lapse. Never mind, it will come to me.” Another thought struck. “Did I ever ask who the owner is?”
“It’s an investment group.”
“How does that work?”
Lauren explained, “A group of people pool their money together to buy a property and then they receive a percentage for their investment.”
“So, who runs this group?”
“The person I contact is Palmer Robinson.”
Eve tried to commit the name to memory by repeating it several times. Just to be safe, she thought of a few images associated with the name. “And where does he live?”
“He has offices in Manhattan. I’ve only ever spoken to him on the phone.”
That sounded odd to Eve.
Lauren checked her watch. “Sorry, I have to run off. I’m showing another house this afternoon and I have to get the place ready.”
Eve didn’t like feeling paranoid. However, she had the feeling Lauren had just tried to get rid of her.
Chapter Ten
“Finally,” Jill said. “We’ve been waiting for the strawberry tarts you promised.”
“You must have broken the speed limit getting back.” Eve set the box of tarts down on the kitchen counter. “And, by the way, I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
“Did something happen to you?” Mira asked, her tone full of innocence.
“No, but it might have.” Eve went into her den and returned with a document. “Just as I suspected. There’s a company name listed as the owner of the building. How am I supposed to hunt someone down if they don’t provide their name? Where is the trust?” She closed her eyes and tried to remember the contact name Lauren had given her.
“Did you notice Eve scrunches up her face when she’s thinking?” Jill asked.
“Yes, she has a very expressive face and several types of growls and moans to go with it.”
Eve growled softly.
“Oh, you’re right,” Jill said. “I wonder what she’s thinking about?”
“I’m trying to remember a name,” Eve exclaimed and gritted her teeth. “It’s on the tip of my tongue. I only heard it twenty minutes ago.”
“What were you thinking about at the time?” Mira asked.
“I repeated the name several times.” And then she’d associated the name with images. “Why am I seeing a man on a beach swinging a golf club?”
“Oh, is this a game?” Jill asked.
Eve groaned. “The process is supposed to make it easier.”
“Is this name important?” Mira asked.
“Yes, it might be a lead in the investigation.”
“Okay,” Mira said. “Let’s put our heads together. Are you picturing a man or a woman?”
“A man, and the image is supposed to remind me of his name. It’s one of those word association tricks to help one remember. A lot of good it’s done me.”
Mira drummed her fingers on the table. “So, you’re seeing someone swinging a golf club. A golfer? Your parents play golf. Is the person’s name Lloyd?”
Eve shook her head. “No. And not Steve either. Or William Hunter.”
Jill brought out the laptop and searched for golfer’s names. “Here. Take your pick.”
Running through the list, Eve pointed at one. “Palmer. That rings a bell.”
“Okay. Palmer on the beach swinging a golf club. What does the mental image look like?” Mira asked. “Give us more information, Eve.”
“Scruffy. You know, long hair and a beard. Dirty clothes.” Eve clicked her fingers. “Like that movie about a man stranded on an island.”
“Castaway with Tom Hanks?” Jill asked. “Tom Palmer? Hank Palmer?”
“No.”
“Oh,” Mira sat up straight. “How about Robinson Crusoe?”
Eve whooped. “Yes. Palmer Robinson.”
Mira smiled. “I think you’ll need to revise your mnemonics system, Eve.”
Or start writing things down, Eve thought and imagined walking around with a notebook dangling around her neck. “Jill, since you have the computer out, search the name and see what you can find, please. According to Lauren Wright, Palmer Robinson is her contact person for the store.” Eve turned her attention to making some coffee.
“Have you spoken with Jack?” Mira asked.
Measuring out the coffee, she gave a small nod. “He gave me the go-ahead to resume work at the store.” Setting a mug in front of Mira, she said, “Did I tell you about our dinner date?” Had so much happened
since her date with Jack that she couldn’t remember?
“Jill mentioned something about you enjoying the night without once talking about the case. Surely, that’s a first for you.”
Eve smiled. “I think we both made the decision to avoid all talk of murder. A part of me must have been afraid of uncomfortable silences but I don’t think Jack and I can ever have those. Not even on smooth sailing days when nothing much happens.”
“I can’t find anything on Palmer Robinson,” Jill complained. “It’s as if the man doesn’t exist. Why are you interested in him?”
Eve brushed her hands across her face as she tried to remember. “Oh, yes… Lauren told me he’s her contact person for the building and… Oh… hang on. It’s coming back to me. The owner. Why didn’t I think of it before? The owner would have another set of keys and, therefore, access to the building at any time. He would also have the advantage of not being recognized by anyone.” Eve stepped back and tried to organize her thoughts.
“That’s Eve’s thinking face,” Jill mused. “See, there’s a tiny wedge between her eyebrows.”
Eve went into automatic mode and poured the coffee.
She’d have to contact Jack but she didn’t want to bother him right now. Although, she felt sure the information she had would yield a solid lead for him.
“I think she’s just come to a decision,” Jill said.
“How can you tell?” Mira asked.
“I’ve seen it once too often to mistake it,” Jill said. “She gave a little nod, barely perceptible, but my eye is trained now to pick up on her little signals. I’m sure, one day, it will save my life.”
Eve snapped out of her reverie. “I need pen and paper.”
“Right here.” Jill pushed a notebook toward her.
Eve got busy writing a list. “One. Tell Jack about Denise Glosser. She worked for Phillip and she has to know something. Two. Tell Jack about the owner who doesn’t appear to want to be found. In my books, that’s suspicious behavior. He’s hiding something.”
