End of the Lane Page 11

  Abby looked over her shoulder and saw the health inspector raise his glass of beer at her in a salute.

  Faith patted her hand again. “You’ll catch on.”

  “Dig in before it gets cold,” Joshua said as he helped himself to a slab of meat that would have had Fred Flintstone drooling.

  Sebastian took a swig of his beer. “The French sure do know how to treat their dogs. No matter the breed, dogs can accompany their humans to restaurants and shops. If they can fit into a basket, they can go on public transport. Ironically, they are banned from public parks. It seems the idea of picking up after their pets hasn’t quite caught on.”

  “Interesting,” Abby said, “If I ever decide to get a dog, I’ll have to think about moving to Paris.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Faith said between bites.

  Markus approached their table and set a bowl of water down by Abby’s chair. “In case that dog of yours ever turns up.”

  “Thank you.”

  As they all piled more food on their plates, Abby couldn’t help thinking about Felicia. She had no idea what she hoped to find in Dermot’s journals. The police had already gone through them and they were trained to sniff out anything suspicious.

  It wouldn’t hurt to have a fresh set of eyes looking through them, Abby thought. She’d keep her eyes peeled open for any mention of Felicia Williams. She had to be guilty of something. Also, Dermot might have made a note of something someone said. Poisoning someone didn’t happen on the spur of the moment. If someone had been working on their nefarious plot, they might have let something slip.

  Every few minutes, she looked down to make sure Doyle was still curled up by her feet. It seemed they’d been given a reprieve but she didn’t want to push her luck. She didn’t know much about dogs, but she figured Doyle could do with some stability and being with her right now seemed to be doing the trick.

  With the meal over, they ordered coffee and a platter of profiteroles to share.

  “If I eat one of those, I’ll lay awake all night waiting for my heart attack,” Abby said as she admired the small mountain of little cream puffs with delectable chocolate sauce swirled around them.

  Faith helped herself to a couple. “You’ll really like these. Hannah, that’s the pub’s chef, puts a splash of cognac in the cream. They’re only bite size. It can’t kill you.”

  Abby tried one. After the third one, Abby had to force herself to say no more. “Please tell me this is the one and only sweet she can bake.”

  “Hannah is spectacular in the kitchen and she’s giving Joyce a run for her money, but don’t tell Joyce I said that.”

  “I might have to take up jogging.”

  “You could try abstaining,” Faith suggested.

  “Oh, yeah? First you encourage me to indulge and now that I’ve acquired a taste, you tell me to abstain?”

  “Or you could practice moderation. There’s always a choice.”

  Abby grinned and helped herself to another profiterole. “I guess this is where Joyce and I stand together. I’m either all in, or... not.” Indulging in the heavenly treat, she watched Joshua reading a message on his cell phone. “Are you going to share?”

  Joshua gave her a brisk smile. “My dry-cleaning is ready to be collected.”

  “Really? I could have sworn you had your official police business deadpan look.”

  “Deadpan?” He smiled again.

  “Now you’re just trying to cover it up,” Abby said.

  Sebastian nodded. “Yes, I’d have to agree, you do the inscrutable look quite well.”

  Since he wasn’t giving Sebastian an update, Abby decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Although, she suspected he’d never give her a heads-up about a lead.

  Faith turned to Sebastian. “Any idea what you’ll do with Dermot’s house? Sorry. That probably came across as insensitive.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t really given it any thought. Every square inch of the place is taken up with something that reminds me of him.”

  “Maybe you could pack it all up and store it at Castle Lodge,” Faith suggested.

  “I’m not sure Dermot would have approved,” Sebastian said. “Castle Lodge is already packed to the rafters with family relics no one has any use for. Everything he had in his house he needed and used.”

  “Do you have someone looking after the other house?” Abby asked, even as she recalled Joyce mentioning a caretaker.

  “We have a caretaker and a housekeeper.” Sebastian chortled. “Sorry, nearly forgot. There is a Cavendish in residence. Cornelia.”

  They all waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, Abby caved in to curiosity, but before she could say anything, Faith kicked her under the table and shook her head. Since Faith had already told her no one lived at the Lodge, Abby had to assume she had meant to say, certainly not anyone who could be mentioned because...

  Cornelia was locked up in the attic?

  Cornelia was the family skeleton everyone forgot to mention? Cornelia suffered from Miss Havisham syndrome?

  There had to be a story there. Thinking about it, Abby lost the thread of the conversation. Then, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Felicia Williams leaving the pub. She wasn’t alone. Another woman left with her. Abby reached for her cell phone but by the time she pointed it at the door to take a photo, they’d disappeared.

  Joshua turned to look over his shoulder. “What was that about?”

  Abby held up a finger calling for a moment while she tried to commit the woman’s face to memory. She guessed she was the same age as Felicia, give or take a couple of years. Had Felicia wanted to be close to the hub of activity, hoping to catch any new developments in Dermot’s case? She wished her reflexes hadn’t failed her. If she’d taken a photo, she could have asked Faith if she recognized the other woman. “Felicia Williams just left with another woman and I don’t mean to imply anything by that. From what I understand, it’s unusual for her to come to the pub.”

  Joshua cleared his throat and looked away.

  “You’re keeping something from us.”

  “What would you say if I told you Felicia used to work as a chemist?”

  A red flag sprung up in her mind. “I’d say, find out how long she’d known Dermot.” Abby showed him the photo she’d taken at Dermot’s house. “There’s something going on there.”

  Sebastian leaned in for a closer look. “Yes, there’s definitely some animosity.”

  Mitch approached them and set a couple of bags down on the table. “Doggy bags. One for you, Faith. And one for you, Abby.” Mitch shrugged. “In case your dog ever turns up.”

  Abby didn’t think she could keep up the pretence.

  “Just thank the man,” Faith whispered.

  “Thank you. I’m sure Doyle will appreciate it... When… if he turns up.”

  “I hope he does soon,” Mitch said. “We wouldn’t want the local dog catcher to get him.”

  Faith smiled. “Before you know it, it’ll become second nature to you.”

  Sebastian was the first to get up. “I need to walk off some of this dinner. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  Joshua followed, “And I need to get an early start. If you find something useful, I’m sure your civic duty will take precedence.” Joshua bent down and gave Doyle a scratch behind the ear. “Oh, and I hope your dog turns up.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ABBY HAD STAYED UP HALF the night pouring through Dermot’s journals.

  The next morning, she woke up to what sounded like rustling leaves and whimpering. Peeling an eye open, she saw pages scattered around her on the bed. She picked one up and squinted but couldn’t make out the writing.

  “I guess I took notes.” She rolled over and felt something wet against her cheek. “Good morning. You should have woken me up, Doyle. You must be famished. Hey, how did you clamber up onto the bed? You’re not big enough.” The slight lift of his chin told her a different story. “We’re buyi
ng you a bed today. I don’t have anything against you sharing my bed, but I tend to toss and turn. I could squash you.” He looked up at the ceiling and then gave her a distracted look. “Yeah? Whatever? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have an attitude. How old are you? Please tell me you’re not a teenager. How will I ever keep up with you?”

  She fed Doyle and then hurried through a shower. Since she’d missed breakfast at the pub, she grabbed a couple of journals and Doyle’s leash and they headed out to Joyce’s.

  When they reached the café, Doyle pulled on the leash. “What? It’s okay. Joyce said so.”

  Doyle didn’t look convinced. He lowered his head and trotted a step behind Abby. When she sat down, he curled up at her feet under her chair.

  “You’re overreacting,” she said as she scrolled through her messages. Two new ones had come in during the night. Her mom wanted her new address so she could send her a care package and some warm clothes. If Abby told her not to bother because she had everything she needed and wanted, her mom would suspect her of covering up her dire circumstances, so she replied with a brief message explaining she would forward an address as soon as she found somewhere to settle down. The other email made her frown. She considered deleting it straightaway but curiosity got the better of her.

  What did her ex-boss want? After reading the first few lines, she set the cell phone down and sat there staring into space.

  Joyce’s cheerful greeting shook her out of her reverie and took her mind off the email she’d just half read… “Hi.”

  “How are you doing?”

  The concern in Joyce’s tone caught Abby by surprise. “I’m... I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? I heard about Doyle going missing. You must be beside yourself with worry. Poor little scamp, you only just found him. In your place, I’d be so worried I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.”

  Abby heard Doyle whimper. She knew she had a choice. She could either play along or put a stop to all this nonsense. Something told her the latter would cast her as an outsider. Did she want to be ostracized so soon after arriving?

  “I’ll need my energy to go looking for him.”

  Joyce nodded. “What would you like?”

  “Blueberry Pancakes, please. They sound amazing.” She cast her eye over the beverage menu. “I’ll also have a Rise and Shine Espresso. Thank you.”

  “That’s a quadruple espresso. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “I need it this morning.”

  Joyce handed the order to another waitress and then drew out a chair. “Any news about Dermot’s killer?”

  “Nothing. If Joshua is closing in on someone, he’s not telling.”

  “Perhaps I can help.” Joyce smiled. “I could threaten to ban him. No more coffee for him until he plays nice.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Joyce shrugged. “In a heartbeat.”

  Abby didn’t think Joshua would put his coffee addiction ahead of his professional integrity. “How much does he rely on getting his coffee from you?”

  “He drives in from the next town to get it and I supply him with coffee beans for the times when he can’t make it in.” Joyce pointed at the stack of journals on the table. “What are those?”

  A dead end, Abby thought. So far, she hadn’t come across any names that hadn’t already been crossed off the list of suspects. Oddly, she hadn’t seen any mention of Felicia’s name. “I’m hoping Dermot might have written down something someone said that didn’t make sense to him at the time.”

  The edge of Joyce’s lip kicked up. “That would make the entire town eligible for an entry into his notebook. Hey, have you come across an entry for me?”

  Abby was about to say no when she remembered seeing smiley faces next to the initials JB. “I think he liked you.” She searched the journal and nodded. “Here we go. A bright happy face next to your initials. They’re in every other page.”

  “How sweet, but why did he only put a smiley face on every other day?”

  Abby didn’t want to mention the bolt of lightning she’d seen on every other page. “Do you, by any chance, have a volatile temper?”

  Joyce threw her hands up. “Ugh! Of course, I do. Who doesn’t?”

  When her lips stretched into a wide smile, Abby could have sworn the sun shone brightly out of her eyes. “Okay, I guess today is a smiley day.” She might make a point of steering clear of the café on the lightning bolt days. Although that would mean missing out on coffee. No point in leading a life without risks.

  Joyce crossed her arms and shook her head. “I can’t help feeling I might have missed something and I’m kicking myself for it. What if I saw the killer and didn’t notice? That would make me an accomplice by default.”

  “I’m sure you can’t be locked up for that. If it’s any consolation, the day I arrived I bumped into someone. I know it was a woman but I wouldn’t be able to describe her to you.”

  “Tall? Short? Skinny? Chubby? Rubenesque?”

  “About my height.” She’d worn a jacket. Abby remembered her adjusting it but she couldn’t remember the color. “Older than me. I couldn’t say by how much. I only have this vague feeling she might have been in her fifties.” Abby clicked her fingers. “Now I have this fleeting sensation of haughtiness. I remember apologizing and sensing disapproval.”

  “Was she moving when you bumped into her?” Joyce asked.

  “Yes.” Abby sat forward. “And I think she might have been coming from Edgar Street, and we know that leads to Allan Street which leads to Poe Lane, but if I’m right, we’d have to get the snoopy neighbor to collaborate the sighting.”

  “I’ve been doing some reading about people who use poison as their weapon,” Joyce said. “They plan ahead.”

  True. Abby remembered having a similar thought the previous night.

  “Killing someone with poison, by its very nature, requires careful planning and subterfuge,” Joyce continued. “That means killers who use poison tend to be cunning, sneaky, and creative.” Joyce leaned forward and lowered her voice. “They tend to avoid physical confrontation. Instead, they rely on verbal and emotional manipulation to get what they want.”

  “Are you about to suggest we should be looking for a woman?” Abby asked.

  “It goes without saying. We should also focus on someone highly creative. They can design the murder plan in as much detail as if they were writing the script for a play.”

  Abby sat back and looked up at the ceiling. Faith had mentioned she belonged to a theatre group. “Do you happen to have someone in mind?”

  “We have a group called the Eden Thespians. I’m going to make a list of all the members.”

  Abby smiled. “We can’t start suspecting the entire town. That could get us into trouble and cause friction in the community.”

  Joyce shrugged. “Don’t lower your guard. For all you know, I might have suggested the Eden Thespians as a way to get you off my back.”

  Another email came through on her cell phone. Abby glanced at it but didn’t open it. “These pancakes are exceptionally good. How do you get them so fluffy?”

  “Easy. I just pin the order in the kitchen and magic happens.” Joyce nudged her head toward the window. “I just saw Joshua drive by. He looked serious.”

  “You have a keen eye.” Abby turned but she only caught sight of the car.

  “He drove by slowly and appeared to be looking for someone.” Joyce gave her a pointed look.

  “I haven’t done anything. Honestly.”

  “Maybe he found Doyle.”

  Abby set her fork down. “You all play it to the hilt.” Abby thought Joyce would plead ignorance. Instead she gave a casual shrug.

  “I told you we like to keep ourselves entertained. By the way, a bunch of us get together at the inn on Fridays for drinks and a movie night. Come along. This week we’re watching The Great Gatsby. It’ll be your first time so we’ll forgive your inappropriate attire, but for future reference, we like to dre
ss up.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “It’s easy. We all make use of the Eden Thespian’s wardrobe department.”

  Maybe she could use that as an excuse to prod them for information. “Where do I find these Eden Thespians?”

  “Across the road in the Wilde building. Another coffee?” Joyce asked.

  Abby gave a distracted nod.

  “Your phone’s ringing,” Joyce said and got up to place her order.

  Frowning, Abby looked at the caller ID. Her mom. And she wanted to video chat… Abby raked her fingers through her hair. Was she up to doing a face to face? “Mom. What a surprise.”

  “For a moment there I thought you weren’t going to answer. Let me look at you. I’ve been so worried…”

  “Why? I’m fine.”

  “You don’t have a fixed address. Does that sound fine to you? Where are you? I want to see.”

  Abby held the cell phone up. “I’m here.”

  “And where exactly is here?”

  “Joyce’s café.” Abby gave her mom a visual tour. “This is Joyce, the owner.”

  Joyce didn’t need any encouragement. She smiled and waved and, setting the coffee down, she introduced herself.

  “Call me Eleanor,” her mom said.

  Joyce gave her a bright smile. “You don’t need to worry about Abby, Eleanor. We’ll take good care of her. Eden is a safe little…”

  Joyce’s voice was drowned out by the sound of police sirens, but she continued speaking. “… She’s met everyone and she already loves my coffee. Oh, and she has a dog. You’ll love him.”

  “What was that?” Eleanor asked.

  Joyce smiled. “That was our local law enforcement doing their job.”

  Her mom pressed her hand to her chest. “Does Eden have a high crime rate?”

  The concern in her mom’s voice made Abby cringe. Born and raised in Iowa, one of the safest states in which to live, she had worried about Abby moving to Seattle to work and had been almost catatonic when Abby had broken the news about moving half way around the world.

  A children’s book illustrator, she worked from home and had a morbid fear of flying. Also, after attending several weddings out-of-state, she had developed an intense dislike of long distance travel by car or train.