End of the Lane Page 12

  Mostly, she had an unreasonable attitude to the need to spread one’s wings and see the world. In her mom’s opinion you only needed to close your eyes and you could go anywhere and experience anything without leaving your home.

  Whatever explanation Joyce had offered about the crime rate in Eden seemed to have done the trick. Her mom now sounded chatty.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve settled in,” her mom said. “Any idea what you’ll do for a job? I hear your employer is dead.”

  “H-how did you… where—”

  “It’s called the international media, Abby. Has the killer been caught?”

  “Not yet,” Joyce said. “But we’re working on it. Abby’s been interrogating all the locals.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” her mom said.

  “She should be fine. Abby’s already come face-to-face with our most dangerous local and she came through without a scrape. She’s also trying to prove to the newspaper owner that we need a local paper.”

  Heaven help her, she’d never hear the end of it.

  * * *

  ABBY DROVE FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES before she spotted the farmhouse in the distance. The stretch of road leading out of town had been desolate for the most part; the only other driver she’d seen had chugged along in an old VW Beetle.

  Doyle yawned and peered out the passenger window.

  “Are we there yet? Is that what you’re asking me?”

  Felicia’s farmhouse was set well back from the main road. She kept a couple of horses in the front paddock and some cows in the paddocks beyond the farmhouse.

  Abby was about to turn into the long driveway when her cell phone rang. “Hello, detective. Just the person I wanted to speak with. We heard police sirens earlier on. Would you care to make a statement?”

  “Nothing but a false alarm,” he assured her.

  Surprised that he’d given her even that much information, Abby smiled. “Joyce and I were in the middle of telling my mom I had moved to a quiet little town. Can you imagine what my mom thought when she heard the sirens?”

  “I’m sorry about that. Would you like me to speak with her and offer assurances?” he asked.

  “That might help.” Abby tapped the steering wheel. “What exactly will you say to her?”

  “That the little town of Eden had been incident free until you arrived.”

  Abby exchanged a raised eyebrow look with Doyle. “She’ll insist I catch the first available flight back home. Would you care to revise your story?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  A feeling of lightness swelled inside her. “So, what can I do for you, detective?”

  “You could tell me where you are.”

  “Out and about, enjoying a drive.”

  “And staying out of trouble?”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  “The tea caddies have been tested and were all free of cyanide.”

  Abby sat up. “You’re willingly sharing information with me?”

  “I thought it might be an effective way of keeping you out of trouble.”

  “Does this actually put anyone in the clear?” Abby asked.

  “No. It just means the poison was put in the teapot,” Joshua said. “Any thoughts?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you.” She disconnected the call and turned into the driveway, keeping her eyes out for stray pets and livestock.

  “If Felicia minds me driving in, I’m going to say I’m lost and wanted to ask for directions.”

  Doyle rolled his eyes.

  “What? You don’t think she’ll buy that?” It took a couple of minutes for Doyle to climb out of the car. “Honestly, you’re a worrywart and stubborn.”

  When her knock at the front door went unanswered, Abby suggested going around the back. “It’s a large property. Felicia might be out and about… doing farm things like feeding the chickens.”

  A shed stood a few feet away from the house. When Abby strode toward it, Doyle whined. “What? She might be inside. You can’t expect me to turn my nose up at an open invitation to snoop. I knocked at the front door and no one answered. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. What if she twisted her ankle and needs assistance?” Doyle lowered his head. “Yeah, see. You didn’t think of that. Did you know farming is one of the most dangerous occupations? Animals can inflict injuries. Bites. Kicks. Ramming. People can fall from ladders. Then there are the hazards of using machinery such as tractors. Vehicles can overturn.” She eased the door open and stepped inside the shed. Neat shelves lined one side of the wall with labeled canisters and farm paraphernalia. “And let’s not forget chemicals. Pesticides and herbicides. They can all cause injuries such as burns, respiratory illness or… poisoning.”

  A sound behind her had her looking around.

  Abby grimaced and whispered, “I guess you reserve the right to say I told you so.” Abby stared at the rifle aimed straight at her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “YOU’RE TRESPASSING.” THE WOMAN, who looked a great deal like Felicia Williams, held the rifle aimed straight at Abby.

  “Put the gun down, Felicity.”

  Felicity and Felicia? Sisters, Abby assumed.

  “She’s that nosy reporter, Felicia, and we’ve caught her red-handed snooping around.”

  “I knocked on the front door but there was no answer,” Abby said, her voice remarkably steady for someone who’d never had a weapon pointed at her. “I only want to ask some questions… for the face of the town series I’m writing.”

  “A likely story,” Felicity bellowed. “You’ve been spreading gossip about Felicia. I don’t understand why you’ve been cleared. You’re the only one who was seen going into Dermot Cavendish’s house that morning.”

  “How do you happen to know that?” Abby asked.

  “It’s common knowledge,” Felicia said. “Everyone in town is talking about it.”

  “And how do you know that? Rumor has it, you never go into town,” Abby said.

  “I suggest you get back in your car and take off or else.” Felicity adjusted her aim and made a clicking sound, which left Abby in no doubt. The woman was trigger-happy.

  Felicia strode up to the gun-wielding woman and somehow managed to talk her into lowering her weapon. “You really should go.”

  “Last night you were full of questions about me. More than anyone else has asked. Now it’s my turn,” Abby said. “Where did you know Dermot from?”

  Felicia’s eyes hardened. “What’s that got to do with that ridiculous article you’re pretending to write?”

  Abby shrugged. “Everyone has been happy to talk about him. It helps with the mourning process.” Something flickered in Felicia’s eyes. For a brief moment they appeared to soften.

  As the two women had a whispered conversation Abby looked down at Doyle and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure they’ll come to their senses,” she whispered.

  “All right,” Felicia said. “You can come in.”

  Doyle huffed out a breath. “What?” Abby whispered. “You think it’s a bad idea?” She supposed Joshua would think so too. In fact, she didn’t look forward to him finding out about her visit to the farm.

  She followed the two women inside the house, while Doyle trailed a couple of steps behind her.

  Felicia showed her through to a sitting room and gestured for her to sit down.

  Large bay windows offered a view of the mountains and the surrounding countryside. The room was elegantly furnished in a city meets country chic style. No expense spared, Abby thought admiring the table lamps. The chair she sat on certainly didn’t sink and the cushion was nice and plump.

  Cool colors prevailed. Mostly ice blues and neutral shades of gray. The decorator, Abby thought, had added subtle echoes of the surrounding countryside with a few rustic pieces scattered around the stone fireplace, including a collection of box picture frames displaying rusty nails. The lace curtains were gathered with an ice blue sash. Abby decided Felicia liked the color blue…<
br />
  She frowned and remembered the first day when she’d arrived she’d made her way to Dermot’s house and had bumped into a woman. A woman wearing a light blue jacket. Could that have been Felicia coming from Dermot’s house?

  Felicia gave the sleeve of her jacket a tug. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  While Abby was curious to see her crockery set, she declined. “I’m more of a coffee drinker and I’ve already had some, thank you for offering.” Turning to Felicity, she gave her a small smile. “That’s a serious looking weapon.”

  “This is my sister Felicity. She’s visiting. As for the rifle, I live alone and it’s isolated out here,” Felicia offered.

  Abby didn’t think she’d ever met such unhappy looking people. Both had thin downturned mouths and what appeared to be perpetual scowls. She wondered if they’d met Bartholomew Carr…

  “This is a nice spread you have here,” Abby said.

  “I worked hard for it,” Felicia snapped, her tone defensive.

  Meaning what? She’d earned every penny herself and had purchased the property outright with no financial assistance?

  Abby looked down at Felicia’s hands and didn’t see a wedding band or any telltale signs of her ever having worn one. She had an aunt who was divorced and even after a dozen years she still had the habit of rubbing her wedding ring finger.

  “I really am writing an article about the folk who live in Eden,” Abby offered.

  “Why?”

  Good question, Abby thought. “It’s a way of celebrating people who might otherwise fade into the background.”

  “What exactly is the point? Do you want to be the feel-good fairy?”

  “I believe everyone has a story to tell and we can all benefit from hearing them. Especially today’s youth.”

  Felicia rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows everyone’s business here so I doubt you’ll be able to scrape up anything new. Admit it, this is nothing but a way for you to get people to like you.”

  Felicia had insinuated as much the night before at the pub. Did she have an issue with that? “Where do you stand on the Lamington saga?” The question earned Abby another roll of the eyes. Abby leaned forward. “I get the feeling you have a low opinion of people.”

  “I came out here to enjoy some peace and quiet.”

  Something she surely got since she didn’t seem to be the slightest bit interested in mixing with anyone. “How did you choose this place?”

  Felicia’s cheeks colored slightly. “I hired someone to find me the most suitable house in the area.”

  Yes, but… Why here? “Did you maybe want to be closer to someone?” it occurred to ask.

  Felicia lifted her chin. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Even if you think you’ve led a private life and covered your tracks, there are ways of finding out.” Abby shifted to the edge of her seat. “Last night was not the first time we met. The day Dermot died, I saw you coming from the general direction of his house. I’m willing to bet anything you went to see him that day.”

  Felicity jumped to her feet and cocked her rifle. “Right, that’s it. Interview over. Now get out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

  * * *

  WHEN ABBY RETURNED TO TOWN, she headed straight for the Gazette. Faith had put up a sign saying she’d gone on a break but had left the door open. Deciding to wait for her, Abby settled at a desk and drew out her cell phone. “Good time to catch up on that email.” She’d only skimmed it, but it had been enough to get an idea of what her ex-boss was offering her.

  The email had an attachment. A contract.

  Checking to see if Faith’s computer was password protected, she forwarded the attachment and opened it to print out. If anything, it would serve as a reminder that she still had options. Reading the email again, she realized her ex-boss simply assumed she would jump at the chance to return to her old job.

  “He’s in for a rude awakening.” She’d most likely turn down the offer, although, it wouldn’t do to burn her bridges. Leaning back, she looked out the window. Would she change her mind and take him up on the offer?

  Doyle woofed lightly seconds before Faith strode in and laughed. “Hello to you too.” Turning to Abby she smiled. “Good to see you came back in one piece. I was just over at the café and Joyce mentioned you were going to pay Felicia Williams a visit.”

  “Yes, well… That was my bit of excitement for the day.” Abby told her about snooping around the shed and being caught in the act.

  “Hey, what’s this? Did you bring me cake?” Faith asked.

  “No, I didn’t.” A box sat on the counter and if Abby had noticed it, she hadn’t paid much attention to it.

  “Oh, I know what this is. Lamingtons. It’s a blind taste. Everyone entering the contest submits a platter and we always get a box. Dermot used to get me to eat them and give him my opinion.”

  “Was he a judge?”

  “Everyone takes turns. There’s an official panel of judges and they always invite someone from the town to even things out a bit. Dermot took part in it last year but he didn’t feel comfortable about it because he didn’t eat cake.”

  “So how did he do the judging?”

  “He nibbled while everyone else scoffed theirs. Here, have one.”

  The little squares looked delectable. Joyce had described them as sponge cake covered in a chocolate sauce and desiccated coconut. Taking a bite of one, she chewed.

  “Well?”

  “Light. Moist. Not as sweet as I thought it would be. I’ve had something similar to this. Coconut bars.”

  “Similar but surely not the same.”

  Abby helped herself to another one. “Oh, this one has a strawberry jam filling.”

  Faith licked some coconut off her fingers. “I wonder if Hanna entered the competition this year. She’ll win hands down.”

  Doyle whimpered. “Sorry, Doyle. It has chocolate and even I know doggies are not supposed to eat chocolate.” Abby licked her fingers and considered tasting another one.

  “One more won’t kill you,” Faith said and polished off her second one.

  Abby peered inside the box. “Is there a rule about size?”

  “Yes. It helps to keep the competition fair and the contest participants anonymous. Although, some are a dead giveaway. I’ve had Agnes Newman’s Lamingtons so I know she’s the only one who prefers to use apricot jam in hers. Last year there was a huge debate about excluding anything that didn’t adhere to the traditional plain Lamingtons.”

  “Why not introduce different categories?” Abby asked.

  “That would make sense, but any change has to be submitted to the committee and approved by them.” Faith rolled her eyes. “They’re not known for their flexibility. I’ve seen them carrying tape measures to make sure everyone sticks to the rules. They can be scary.”

  Smiling, Abby bit into another Lamington. Her reflexes kicked in and she spat it out. “Ugh.”

  Doyle lunged for the morsel Abby had spat out. “No, Doyle. Leave it.” Abby made a grab for him.

  “I guess that one didn’t taste so good,” Faith remarked.

  Abby grimaced and, still holding Doyle, rushed to the sink to rinse her mouth. “I’ve never tasted anything so foul. I’ve had the misfortune of cracking an egg and finding it rotten inside. I cannot begin to tell you how bad that smells. This matches it in taste. Do you have a mint?”

  “I have toothpaste and a stash of toothbrushes.”

  Abby followed her to the back room. “My mouth feels numb.” She brushed and rinsed and brushed and rinsed again. She then gargled and began the process again. “Ugh. That was dreadful.”

  Faith handed her a bottle of water. “Did you swallow any of it?”

  “No.” She grabbed a paper tissue and wiped the cake she’d spat out off the floor.

  “Don’t throw it out. The police might want to test it,” Faith said as she picked up the phone to call the police. When she finished, sh
e dialed again. “I’m calling the Lamington Committee.” Moments later, Faith finished the call and frowned. “This is strange. They haven’t actually made any deliveries. In fact, they’re running late with their sample boxes and had planned on doing it tomorrow.”

  “So where did that box come from?” Abby asked.

  “You said it was here when you arrived. Someone must have dropped it off when I stepped out for a break.”

  Abby tipped the bottle of water back and drank deeply. Moments later, Joshua arrived and found them both staring at the box of Lamingtons.

  “Someone tried to poison Abby,” Faith said.

  Abby hugged Doyle against her chest. “We can’t be sure of that. The box was delivered here, so you might have been the target.”

  Faith screeched. “Me?”

  After a lengthy discussion, they decided Abby had been the most likely target probably because word had spread about her writing an article about the ongoing Lamington saga.

  She turned to the detective. “I remember telling you about it. Have you been talking about me?”

  “Do I look like I spread gossip around?” the detective asked. “Maybe someone at the café overheard you.” He took the box away for testing and promised to get back to her with the results as soon as they came in.

  “If I hadn’t just come from Felicia Williams’ house, I’d think she’d had something to do with poisoning the Lamingtons.”

  “Would you like me to see what I can find out about her?” Faith offered. We already know she worked as a chemist. She’d know all about poisons. If we can find a connection to Dermot, it might bring us closer to a motive for maybe wanting to poison you.”

  “Okay. You work on that. Meanwhile, I need some fresh air. Also, I’m going to return Dermot’s journals and finally drop in on June Laurie.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  WHEN ABBY REACHED NUMBER 12 Edgar Street and knocked on the door she hoped no one would answer. She felt fine but the idea of someone trying to poison her had left her feeling shaken.