The Last Ride Read online

  In the time she’d been standing outside the café, she hadn’t caught sight of Joyce. Not wanting to push her luck, she rushed inside.

  Belle, bless her soul, had her coffee ready and waiting. “You are a treasure. I thought you were ignoring me.”

  “How could I? You looked miserable standing out there.” Smiling, Belle added, “I’m supposed to ask if you have any news about the Eden Bloggess.”

  Abby looked over her shoulder. “Where’s the boss?”

  “She’s still out and I have no idea how long she’ll be. In your place, I’d play it safe. Take the coffee and scurry off. You can come back later and I promise I’ll pretend you’re coming in for the first time.”

  Belatedly, Abby realized she should have cut a better deal for herself. At least Faith appeared to be happy. “Thanks for the advice but I need to have a word with Faith.” Abby grabbed her coffee and strode over to the corner table. “Hey. Any progress?”

  “Yes, I’ve made an appointment for you to see Lawrence McAvoy, the lawyer who handled the Kinsley estate.” Faith checked her watch. “You need to be there in ten minutes.”

  “Right. When were you going to tell me?”

  “He’s on a tight schedule. I only just made the appointment.”

  “Is that so? Are you trying to cover your tracks? You look a little enthralled with that coffee.”

  Faith grinned. “Would you believe it? This is my third cup. I could work here for the rest of my life.”

  Abby’s eyebrows drew down. “But you won’t because we already have an office.”

  “Yeah, sure. You should leave now. Joyce could be back at any moment. I heard her mutter something about you withholding information.”

  “That can’t be good.” Abby looked over her shoulder again. “What do you suppose she meant?”

  “I have no idea. Please don’t ruin this for the both of us. Go.”

  “Fine. But don’t get too comfortable. Wait. Where am I going?”

  “Around the corner, two doors down from the antique store. I can’t remember the number but there should be a sign.” Faith tapped her chin. “Ellis and McAvoy Lawyers.”

  Abby hurried out of the café and, thinking she’d caught sight of Joyce, she took off at a run. When she reached the corner, she realized she needed to go in the opposite direction. “Yes, but…” she murmured. “Chances are, Joyce went to Brilliant Baubles to visit Bradford.” The antique store was at the end of the street and the lawyer’s office was only a couple of doors down from it.

  Not wanting to risk bumping into Joyce, she went the long way around, looking over her shoulder until she reached the lawyer’s office. Along the way, she encountered a few locals, but if her behavior appeared to be odd, no one said anything. Although, she knew the good people of Eden would have something or other to say about it during their day.

  “That young reporter must have been hot on the trail of a story today,” she said under her breath. The way news traveled in this town, they were bound to know about Joyce’s embargo, and if they had noticed the coffee she carried, news would reach Joyce in no time.

  Taking a moment to catch her breath, she revised her priorities. The sooner she discovered the identity of the Eden Bloggess, the sooner she’d get her coffee privileges back.

  Turning another corner, she pinned her attention on the store at the far corner. If Joyce had gone in to see her fiancé, Bradford Mills, she wouldn’t come out this way. But one never knew with Joyce.

  By the time she reached the offices of Ellis and McAvoy, she had come to her senses, reinstating Kinsley Roberts’ plight to the top of the list.

  “Abby Maguire to see Lawrence McAvoy, please. I have an appointment.” She held her cup of coffee to her nose and, inhaling the aroma, wondered how long she could make it last. Thinking she could ration it, she took a sip and savored the magical flavor.

  The receptionist smiled. “He’ll see you now.”

  Swallowing, Abby strode toward a set of double doors. The man sitting behind a large antique desk smiled up at her. He held the phone to his ear as he strode around his desk and drew out a chair for her.

  Great manners, she thought and tried to ignore the conversation he was having. Easy enough to do as with most one-sided conversations, one could only guess what the other party was saying.

  Lawrence McAvoy held up a finger calling for a minute and spoke into the phone. “We’re fine for tomorrow?”

  Abby imagined the other person twirling her finger around a lock of hair and smiling as she offered a husky response. Taking another small sip of her coffee, she switched to thinking about a local cattleman gruffly saying the time suited him just fine and then reminding Lawrence McAvoy to bring along the bottle of Glenfiddich 21-year-old whisky he’d lost at the previous week’s poker game. Then again, he might have been making an appointment with a golfing buddy.

  The lawyer stood by his desk, his hand in his pocket. He looked comfortable with himself. For someone who supposedly spent a great deal of time sitting at his desk, he had a great physique. Tall, sleek. His broad shoulders filled out his suit nicely. Although, the expensive looking suit he wore looked out of place in the small town.

  She studied the framed photographs on a side table. He played golf and seemed to enjoy fly fishing as well as parties with friends. In one photo, he wore an outfit straight out of the 1920s which made Abby think he’d attended the recent picnic at the lake.

  “Abby Maguire,” the lawyer said as he ended the call. “What can I do for you that is within reason?”

  Abby frowned. “Within reason?”

  “I could defend you all the way to the High Court, that’s Australia’s version of the Supreme Court, but you’ll be out of luck if you wish me to represent you in a case against Joyce Breeland. Just saying.”

  Abby’s lips parted.

  Lawrence McAvoy laughed. “Sorry, I thought you might get the joke.”

  “Oh, you were kidding.”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, no. I wasn’t.” Smiling, he sat down. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to ask you about Warren Kinsley. I believe you handled his estate.” And, now that he’d passed on, she hoped the lawyer would be inclined to share a few pertinent details.

  He nodded. “I never met him in person. We always spoke on the phone.”

  “And you drew up the will for him?”

  He nodded again.

  “Did he ever explain why he wanted the house to go to Kinsley Roberts?”

  He held her gaze for a moment. “Can I ask what your interest in the matter is?”

  “Confidentially—”

  “It would be confidential if you were my client.”

  “Is this where you ask me to give you a dollar in order to make me officially your client?” She had seen it done on TV.

  He chuckled under his breath.

  “Okay. You’re bound to hear about it sooner or later. Someone is trying to kill Kinsley Roberts.” In Abby’s opinion, the statement added a degree of urgency to her request.

  “If that’s the case, why am I not talking to the police?” he asked.

  Abby tried to keep a straight face. “Because I’m a step ahead of them.”

  “I see.”

  She shrugged. “I have a reputation to uphold.” This time, she grinned. “Actually, I’m working with the police.”

  “Really? In what capacity?”

  “I’m assisting with the case and a witness protection program and I’m not at liberty to divulge more than that.”

  He sighed. “What exactly do you need to know?”

  Abby leaned forward. “I’m looking into the relationship between Ms. Roberts and Warren Kinsley.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I received very basic instructions. My role was limited to ensuring Ms. Roberts was informed about her inheritance.”

  “And that took some time.”

  He nodded. “She didn’t have a fixed address.”

&nbs
p; “How did you manage to eventually contact her?”

  “My assistant found out she published books. I contacted the publisher who, in turn, put me in touch with Ms. Roberts.”

  “Out of curiosity, what would you have done if that hadn’t been the case?” Abby gestured with her hand. “If your assistant hadn’t known about the books. Sorry, I’m experiencing…” A meltdown, Abby thought. She took a sip of her coffee. Holding up a finger, she gulped the coffee down.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I’m sure this is all in my mind. We condition ourselves to believe certain things… Oh, never mind all that.”

  He gave her a small smile and picked up the phone. “Laura, could you get a couple of coffees, please? Yes, from Joyce’s. Oh, and be discreet about it. Thank you.”

  Abby gasped. “Are you teasing me?”

  “It shouldn’t take her long. We know you’ve been put on strict coffee rations. In this little town, word spreads like wildfire.” He cleared his throat. “As to the Kinsley matter, as the executor of the will, I would have made a reasonable effort to find Kinsley Roberts. In one of my previous cases, I had to hire a detective.”

  “Hypothetically, if Warren Kinsley has any other living family members he happened to leave out of the will, do they have any right to challenge the will?”

  “Absolutely. The fact no one has come forward probably means there are no living relatives and I’ve had no reason to search for them.”

  Abby brushed her fingers along her chin. “And if I wanted to be sure he didn’t have any family, I’d have to hire a detective.”

  “Yes. Also, you could try online sites. You know the type that do family trees, but they’d only provide information about legitimate offspring.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to Abby. “Are you suggesting there might be illegitimate offspring?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Who else might feel disgruntled over the outcome?” Abby wondered out loud.

  “Employees or friends,” Lawrence offered. “Warren Kinsley might have made promises he didn’t keep.”

  The door to his office opened and the receptionist stepped in carrying the largest servings of coffee Joyce could provide.

  “Did you have any trouble?” the lawyer asked.

  The receptionist gave him a brisk smile. “Joyce knows I only drink tea so she eyeballed me the whole time I stood there waiting for the coffees.” She set both cups of coffee in front of Abby. “I told her you had clients with you.”

  “They’re both for me?” Abby’s eyes teared up. “I’m sorry. I feel so foolish.” It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d rolled her eyes at Faith for making such a fuss over her lack of caffeine. “This is probably a wake-up call telling me to cut back but I can’t think about that now.”

  “Take your time,” Lawrence said even as he checked his watch.

  Sitting back, Abby sipped her coffee and plotted out her next move. Had the killer walked among them? Had he driven through town? Had he stopped somewhere before heading out to Kinsley’s house?

  Anyone coming into town invariably ended up at the pub. The Faydon brothers might have noticed someone new. Sighing, Abby looked down at the coffee. If they hadn’t noticed anyone, she knew of one other person who might have…

  Like it or not, she’d have to speak with Joyce Breeland.

  Chapter Six

  “ABBY, YOU’RE NOT BLINKING. WHY aren’t you blinking?” Joshua asked. “Take a deep breath. In. Out.”

  Abby shook her head and looked around her. “How did I get in your car and where are we going? Did you arrest me?”

  Joshua laughed. “I think someone has been drinking too much coffee. I pulled up outside the lawyer’s office just as you erupted out of the building.”

  “Erupted?”

  “I’m almost tempted to say you looked half crazed.”

  She’d been on her way somewhere…

  To see Joyce Breeland because…

  Nope. She could feel the thought swirling around in her mind but it spun too quickly and she couldn’t grab hold of it.

  “That happened about five minutes ago,” Joshua continued. “You started blabbering and suddenly you stopped. Now you’re in my car and we’re headed to Kinsley’s house.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Are we back to that? You asked the same question a few minutes ago and that’s when you stopped blinking.”

  “Wait. Is this an intervention?”

  Joshua sat back and sighed. “I told you, I could do with another set of observant eyes.”

  Abby stopped blinking again. Detective Joshua Ryan had willingly asked her to join him? The thought went on a frenzied sprint around her mind.

  “Abby! Blink,” he ordered.

  “What’s come over you? Why the sudden change of heart? Since when does the police invite a civilian to join in on an investigation?”

  “Blink. Breathe and, for heaven’s sake, slow down.” He leaned over her and reached inside the glove compartment. “Here. Drink this.”

  “Water?” Abby pressed her knees together. “Actually, I think I’ve drunk enough.”

  “You need to dilute yourself. You’re nine parts caffeine, one-part loony tunes. I thought you’d been put on strict rations?”

  “I had unexpected help with a new supply pipeline.” Abby grinned. “I just realized. I might be a newcomer in town, but I appear to have made some friends. The type who’ll stick by me, no matter what. I have an underground network of co-conspirators.”

  Joshua shook his head. “Don’t get carried away. The people of Eden like to make their own entertainment. Whoever gave you that coffee probably wants to see you spin out of control.”

  “Are you suggesting I’ve been set up?”

  “Think about it. What if Joyce had bumped into you instead of me? One whiff and she would have known you were pumped full of coffee. Her coffee.”

  Abby fell silent. Or rather, she stopped talking and started listening to her thoughts. She’d had no idea she could entertain so many thoughts at the one time. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to call those thoughts to order and quieten her mind but they wouldn’t hear of it. They wanted to be heard.

  She pressed her fingers to her temple. “There’s a veritable tsunami of thoughts rushing through my mind. Sorry to say, not a single one of them is relevant to your investigation. Apparently, my twelve-year-old self is still whining about not being allowed to stay up past ten.” She shook her head. “I had no idea I’d kept so many memories. Hang on, now I’m hearing my mom’s advice, as in… everything she ever told me to watch out for. I think I might have overdosed on coffee.” She turned to look at Joshua. “That sounds like an admission. Now I think my practical mind is enforcing an accelerated twelve step program.”

  Joshua frowned at her and then laughed. “Whatever works.”

  “Oh, can you pull up at that gas station, please? I really need to relieve myself.”

  “Gas station? Oh, you mean, petrol station. Remember, you’re down under now. And, you’ve only been in the car for five minutes and you’re already asking for a pitstop?”

  “Detective, you have a choice. If you don’t stop, I’m afraid I might have an accident in your car.”

  Abby hobbled over to the restrooms and then to the store because she had to ask the cashier for the key to the restrooms. She then took the opportunity to splash some water on her face and to also give herself a good talking to. Returning the key, she noticed the repair shop next door. “Is there a fulltime mechanic working here?”

  Busy with another customer, the cashier nodded.

  While Abby intended making a beeline back to the car, her feet took over and steered her toward the mechanic’s shop. “Hello,” she called out. A man dressed in oil splattered jeans emerged from a backroom, a rag in his hands.

  “G’day.”

  Abby introduced herself and asked, “Do you work here alone?”

  He nodd
ed. “Mostly. What do you need done?”

  “Oh… Me? No, nothing. Does anyone else ever work here?”

  He gave a disinterested shrug. “Sometimes. There’s a guy who drops in a couple of times a week to help out.”

  “How long have you worked here?”

  He dropped his rag and strode over to the car he’d been working on. “A while.”

  She wished she had a photo of Sam Peters to show him. “Out of curiosity, would you know how to fix a carousel?”

  “I might be able to help out.” He frowned. “Actually, someone came around a while back asking about carousels.”

  Abby brightened. “Sam Peters?”

  “The name sounds familiar. Can’t say for sure. I get a lot of people driving through.”

  “So, you see new faces every day.”

  He gave a stiff nod. “More or less.”

  “Has anyone ever come around asking about Sam Peters?”

  “You just did.”

  Abby tried not to roll her eyes. “Apart from me.” The mechanic appeared to think about it. “How about I give you my card? If anything comes to you, would you give me a call?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She wouldn’t count it, she thought as she saw him flip the car onto his workbench. By the time she returned to the car, she had resumed some control over her runaway thoughts. “Sorry I took so long.”

  “Feeling better?” Joshua asked.

  “I think I’ve developed an eye twitch.” Abby leaned back and closed her eyes. “Promise you’ll never tell a living soul.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “I had a chat with the mechanic. I’ve been thinking about Sam Peters doing odd jobs around the place.” She shrugged. “Just a stray thought. My mind is flooded with them.” Abby hummed for a moment and tried to empty her mind. When she started telling Joshua about her chat with the lawyer, she had to backtrack and give him a minute to join the dots.

  “Are we on the same page now?” she asked.

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  “If Warren Kinsley had any living relatives they would have come forward by now and contested the will.” As she spoke, she sent Faith a text asking her to contact Kinsley and get some information about her parents. “I’m thinking there might be a connection between Warren Kinsley and Kinsley Roberts. There has to be. Who leaves a house to a complete stranger?”