“Lily and Emma could not have got on well,” Eulalie commented. “Talk about polar opposites. How did they even tolerate each other?”
“Surprisingly well, actually. They were like beings from another planet so there was no competitiveness between them. Emma was always happy to share her hand-me-downs with Lily, and Lily was always happy to have them. As long as Mark stuck to the financial discipline that Joe imposed on the company, there was no tension between the two families.”
“What about this church of Lily’s? The Church of the Redeeming …”
“The Blessed Redeeming Savior. They call it BRS. They’re a bunch of harmless old ducks who go about dressed in robes. Depending on how senior you are in the church, you get a different colored belt. Lily has a black belt in church-going.” Jane cackled. “That woman has zero sense of humor. She genuinely doesn’t understand why I laugh every time she tells me she’s a black belt in her church.”
“Would you call it a cult? Do they isolate their members and try to cut them off from their families?”
Jane thought about this. “Not exactly. I wouldn’t call them mainstream, but they’re not a cult. Does Lily neglect her family for the church? Yes, to some extent she does. But I think if it weren’t for the church, she would find something else to take her away from her kids. She just isn’t terribly interested in children. She drops them off here at least twice a week for me to look after while she’s off doing something at the church. Half the time I’m the one who notices that little Heike has a strep throat, or little Ilse is limping. The only time those kids have been to the doctor is when I’ve taken them.”
“Did she never drop them off for Emma to look after?”
“Good heavens, no. Emma was an even less interested mother than Lily, if that’s possible. Her boys have been at boarding school since the age of seven. She had to get special permission for them to start so young. The school normally only takes them from when they are eight.”
There isn’t much difference between that and Lily’s idea of home-schooling her children. Benign neglect is more like it. There’s precious little schooling that goes on. So maybe I’m wrong - she and Emma had more in common than I thought.”
Eulalie drained her coffee cup and stood up to take it to the sink. “I presume you knew that Emma was pregnant?”
The silence behind her lasted so long that Eulalie turned around.
“So that’s come out, has it?”
“It was confirmed in the final autopsy report this morning. But Emma seems to have told half the island.”
Jane’s face had changed from open and confiding to closed and cold in an instant. “Well, she would, wouldn’t she? That was typical of her.”
“Why do you think she was so keen to fall pregnant when she didn’t like children?”
The silence stretched even longer this time.
Jane Egger stood up and slid her chair back into place with a scrape. “I have no idea. It’s a pity she’s not here for you to ask her. I’m afraid I really have to get on now. My son finishes soccer in a few minutes and I have to pick him up.”
Eulalie started walking out of the kitchen, but slowly. “Just two more questions. Can you remember where you were when the murder took place?”
“The same place I always am at these stupid family dinners. Sitting next to Opa and listening to him drone on about his late wife. I’m always the one who gets stuck looking after him. You’d think one of his actual sons would take on some of the burden, but no. It always falls to me. They are the ones who insist that he can’t be moved to a retirement village, but are they prepared to lift a finger when it comes to looking after him? No, of course not. It’s always me who gets stuck with the job. Part of the reason I’m so busy today is because I have to get his room ready. Poor dear Mark can’t stand another minute of his own father. It’s just not fair.” She gave an angry shake of her head. “That was one question. What’s the other?”
“What do you think happened to Emma?”
“Perhaps she forgot to pay her dealer and he offed her.”
For a moment, Eulalie thought she had misheard. “Her dealer? Are you saying Emma Egger used drugs?”
“All I’m saying is that there were certain times of day when she seemed more zoned out than at others. I think she took sleeping pills every night and a little something to help her get through the afternoon. It’s not unheard of in our circles. There are plenty of women who use pharmaceutical help to get through the day. But I always wondered where Emma got her stuff from. Officially, she went to the same doctor as Mark – Dr. Jaspan. He’s the most conservative doctor you could hope to meet. He would offer you paracetamol if you were dying of pain and then phone ahead to the pharmacy to make sure they didn’t give you more than the recommended amount. So, where was Emma getting her stash? I think it’s worth looking into. Maybe Mark’s stranger theory isn’t as crazy as it sounds.”
Chapter 10
Emma Egger needed a break from the family.
It felt as though she had been on duty for hours. She just needed a few minutes to herself before going back into the drawing room and braving the chitchat. She could hear the sounds of The Lion King coming from the playroom on the second floor as she climbed the stairs. If Lily thought she was going to help her round up those kids and put them to bed later, she had another thing coming. If you let undisciplined brats roam around the house until all hours you had to take the consequences.
Two more flights to go.
Emma had to admit she hadn’t really thought through the implications of a five-story house. These stairs were killing her. And it would only get worse as her pregnancy progressed. She would have to persuade Mark to install an elevator. She had already obtained a couple of quotes on the sly, and the amounts were astonishing. There was also the problem that they would have to demolish Gina’s bedroom to make way for an elevator shaft. Mark’s eldest daughter would not be pleased about that, even though she was supposedly going off to college in two years’ time. They would just have to move her to one of the other bedrooms.
It was a relief to reach her bedroom at last. She flung open the French doors and stepped out onto the widow’s walk for some air. The view never failed to lift her spirits. She loved the sight of the lights twinkling in the harbor, and the sights and sounds of downtown Queen’s Town at night. The white fairy lights that were strung along Lafayette Boulevard sparkled like twin spider webs on either side of Lafayette Drive.
Emma turned to go back into her bedroom. She opened the custom-made wooden pedestal next to her side of the bed and reached into the very back to take out some pill bottles. If she took an Oxy now, it would just tide her over the most difficult part of the evening. She would take it now so that she was pleasantly buzzed in twenty minutes when she went back downstairs.
Her fingers caressed the bottle, but still she hesitated. Wasn’t it perhaps a little close to bedtime when she would be taking her Ambien? It wasn’t as though she had never combined the two before, but not while she was pregnant.
Perhaps she would just think about it for a moment.
She put the pill bottles back in their hidey hole where they seemed to call to her with a magnetic attraction.
She paced around the room. There was something to be said for remaining clear-headed this evening, not least the fact that Jane was waiting for her downstairs. Lily wouldn’t notice a spaceship landing in her front yard if it contained the Blessed Redeeming Savior himself, but Jane was a different kettle of fish. She noticed things. Emma was convinced Jane had picked up on the fact that she was sometimes a little buzzed in the afternoons. One or two barbed remarks had been made. She wouldn’t put it past her to say something to Mark, or to mention it to Richard who would then say something to Mark. Then the fat would be in the fire.
All things considered, it was probably best to keep a clear head tonight.
Then she thought of how the evening was likely to progress, and a wave of depression cut her off at t
he knees so that she sagged onto the bed.
Mark and his brothers would get louder and louder as they broke out the brandy. Horrible old Opa would get more incoherent and grabby as the evening progressed. Mark might even ask her to put him to bed. And with everyone there, she would have no option but to agree. It had happened once before, and it had been a nightmare. His hands had been all over her like an octopus’s.
She stared longingly at the bedside cabinet. One little Oxy and all of it would go by in a happy haze.
Emma heard footsteps on the stairs and stood up quickly, angry with herself for looking guilty. Her eyebrows rose when she saw who was coming up the stairs. It was the last person she would have expected.
Eulalie woke with a gasp.
Her body quivered with longing for that Oxycontin. Her skin was clammy and her heart pounding. Nausea threatened. It was as though she were physically in withdrawal.
She staggered to her desk to write down everything she could remember about the dream while it was still fresh. The details would fade quickly, even as the feelings they evoked lingered through the day.
She had no name for these dreams that plagued her. Sometimes they were about things that hadn’t happened yet, and sometimes they were about things that were happening now. Occasionally, like this one, they were about things that had happened in the past. She had no way to predict or control them, but she had learned to trust them.
When she had got it all down – jumbled and incoherent, but still fresh in her memory – she went to take a shower. She needed to wash away the cold sweat that chilled her.
A blisteringly hot shower, a pot of coffee, and a bowl of Cheerios topped with thick cream made her feel a whole lot better. She sent a text to Chief Macgregor asking to see him urgently. He replied that he would be at the police station in fifteen minutes. She agreed to meet him there. Then she went downstairs to let Mrs. Belfast know that she would once again be out for most of the day.
“I’m going to see your old boss at the police station.”
“The dear man. Do give him my regards.”
Eulalie looked at her curiously. “Don’t you bear him any ill will for firing you?”
“Oh no, dear. It wasn’t his fault. It was a rule imposed by the governor’s office. If Chief Macgregor could have kept me on, he would have.”
“That’s true. He said as much to me when he heard you were going to be working here.”
The secretary smiled as if Eulalie had made her day. “You run along now, dear. Everything is under control here.”
And that, Eulalie thought, were the sweetest words a business owner could hope to hear.
“Morning, Manny.” She greeted the desk sergeant as she entered the police station. “Another temporary administrator?” She nodded at the desk where a jacket and handbag were slung over the back of the chair, but there was no one to be seen.
Manny rolled his eyes. “I suppose she can’t be any worse than the last one. She’s gone off to powder her nose. We sure miss Mrs. Belfast around here.”
“Your loss, my gain. She’s busy computerizing my filing system as we speak.”
He sighed. “Give her my best and tell her I never appreciated what accurate phone messages she took until now.”
“I’ll do that. Is the Chief in?”
“He’s in his office. He said you were to go straight on through.”
While the urgency she had been feeling since waking up that morning made Eulalie want to barge straight in, she knew that Chief Macgregor liked the ritual of knocking and waiting for an answer. So, she gave three measured knocks and waited.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Eulalie.”
“Come in.”
She walked in knowing that he would feel a little calmer because she had observed the ritual.
“I had a dream.”
He sat up and picked up a pen. “Tell me about it.”
Eulalie tried to let it go, but she couldn’t.
“That’s it? I walk in here and tell you I had a dream and you’re all ready to take it down as gospel? When did logic go out the window?”
She could see she had confused him.
“Don’t you … want me to take you seriously?” he ventured.
She gave herself a shake. “Sorry. I’m acting like a crazy person. Of course, I want you to take me seriously. It’s just that I struggle to come to terms with these dreams and I can’t understand why you don’t.”
“The dream?” He prodded her gently.
“Yes, of course. When I interviewed Jane Egger late yesterday afternoon, I managed to annoy her somehow. It had something to do with Emma Egger being pregnant. She got snippy with me and told me she suspected Emma of abusing prescription drugs. She suggested that she might have had a dealer, and that her habit might have got her killed."
“That’s already useful information. My detectives didn’t get anything like that out of her.”
“It was the pregnancy angle. As soon as I mentioned it, her whole attitude changed.”
“And then?”
“And then I went home and fell asleep and dreamed that I was Emma Egger on the night she was killed. She went upstairs when coffee was served because she wanted some time to herself. She was thinking about nagging Mark to install an elevator up to the fifth floor. The stairs were already tiring her out, and it would only get worse as the pregnancy progressed. Then she started thinking about the little stash of pills she had hidden behind a false panel in her bedside cabinet. She wanted to take an Oxycontin to help her get through the evening, but she was worried about what it might do to the baby, and also that her sister-in-law Jane might notice. She knew Jane was onto her.”
“Keep going,” said Chief Macgregor when she paused. He was scribbling as fast as she could speak.
“She started thinking about her father-in-law and his tendency to grope every female he could get his hands on, and she really started craving the Oxycontin. Then she heard someone coming up the stairs and she jumped away from the bed. All I can remember is that it was someone she recognized and someone she hadn’t been expecting to come up to the bedroom. And then I woke up.”
Chief Macgregor’s pen raced over his notepad. “Inconvenient.”
“It was rather.”
“My crime scene techs went over that bedroom looking for evidence of an intruder. They didn’t find her stash of pills. I know they recorded the contents of the bathroom cabinets very carefully, but there was nothing unusual there.”
“These pills are in a clever hiding place.”
Chief Macgregor folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. “So, you’re saying that if we went to the Egger house right now and looked in Emma’s bedside cabinet, we’d find a stash of prescription drugs?”
“I think it’s very likely, yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
As Beach Road turned into the Coast Road and began to climb up and out of town, Eulalie shifted around in her seat.
“This is the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in my life,” she said over the sound of the rushing wind. “And I’ve slept in trees.”
Chief Macgregor smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “The 1963 E-type Jaguar is not known for its comfortable seats. But if you tell me you don’t feel just a little tingle, I won’t believe you.”
Eulalie cut her eyes to his big forearms and muscular thighs and had to admit that she did feel a tingle.
She knew he had bought the car in poor condition a few years earlier and had been working on bringing it back into shape one part at a time.
“What’s that thing you’re doing with the gears?” she asked as they approached a hairpin bend.
“It’s called double declutching. The synchromesh of the gears is too narrow so you have to increase the revs when you change from third gear down to second.”
Eulalie had never driven stick in her life and didn’t have much of a clue what he was talking about. But she liked the enthusiasm in his voice, a
nd the absorption with which he drove his pride and joy.
They turned up Cliff Road towards Edward Heights, which involved even more double declutching, and coming to a complete halt before first gear could be engaged. Then they were pulling up into the gravel driveway of the Egger’s house and waving to Mark Egger who was waiting for them. It was barely eight, which was when he normally left for the factory. Chief Macgregor had asked him to be present while they conducted their search.
“What exactly are you’re looking for?” he asked as he led them up the stairs.
“Do you happen to know if your wife took sleeping pills, Mr. Egger?”
“Only herbal ones. Something with melatonin in them to restore her circadian rhythms. Your crime scene people already photographed them. Why?”
“And are you aware of any other prescription medication she may have been taking?”
“I think she was on folic acid for the baby,” he said. “What’s this all about? And why are you two together anyway? You don’t work together.”
“Ms. Park came across some information in the course of her investigation that she felt obliged to bring to my attention. We’d like to take a look in your wife’s bedside cabinet, if that’s all right.”
He was clearly uneasy, but he agreed. If his wife had been a habitual pill taker, it seemed he genuinely wasn’t aware of it.
“This pedestal?” Chief Macgregor asked Eulalie, kneeling next to Emma’s side of the bed.
She nodded.
He opened the little door and looked inside.
“There’s a sliding panel at the back,” she said. “Feel for a little catch on the right.”
“I’m not getting anything.”
Eulalie winced. What if it had been a normal dream after all? What if her intuition had failed her? She could handle looking like an idiot in front of Chief Macgregor, but to embarrass herself in front of a client would be mortifying and probably lead to the immediate cancellation of her contract.
“It’s near the bottom,” she said.
“I still can’t feel… oh, wait. Here it is.”
The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 1 Page 30
