Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
By the time I finished speaking with some of the other storytellers, it was early evening. No one had much to say about Mr. Jacks, other than he was a meticulous man, who felt strongly about the train rides being authentic.
While some of them didn’t seem to be his biggest fans, none of them were angry enough to kill him.
Or if they did, none of them admitted it. That would have made things much easier.
As I was leaving the station, my phone buzzed. I’d forgotten about a meeting with Mara and the festival committee. The end-of-summer festival was a week-long celebration with different events.
I’d been coerced by my best friend to be a part of the committee, though most of the time I was there only in an advisory capacity. If they gave me a job to do, it was usually fairly simple and flexible.
As the town doctor, I had to be around for any mishaps that might have happened to the visitors or locals.
When I arrived back at the practice, I texted Mara that I would be a bit late and to start without me. Abigail and Tommy were gone, but she had left reports stacked on my desk.
All of the lip balms we’d collected, along with his shaving cream, had been contaminated with the bee serum.
Someone had gone to great lengths to make certain he used the tainted concoctions on his skin and that there was enough toxin to be deadly.
But that also meant the person who killed him might not have known that he would react that night.
So, perhaps, the killer hadn’t thought the death would be so public. Once the reaction reached deadly levels, his throat and tongue would have been too swollen for him to speak.
But surely someone would have noticed his misshapen face and the fact he couldn’t breathe. Someone had followed or shoved him into that office and later into the cabinet where I found him.
Ugh. I was no closer to finding the killer, but it had to be someone who was there that night. Mara had sent the complete list to Ewan, but I was going to ask her for a copy as well.
After freshening up, I headed down to the pub. It was Saturday night, so it was more crowded than usual. It was unusual for the committee to have a meeting on a Saturday night, but Sunday was the kick-off to the festival week.
It started with fairy boat rides on Sunday afternoon for visitors. I was scheduled to go on the five o’clock boat, which promised views of fairies on one of the nearby islands.
I had had no idea what a fairy boat was.
At first, I thought they were saying “ferry” in that delightful Scottish accent.
But they had meant the kind that fly around and are magical.
They spoke about fairies as if they were real.
Like many things in Sea Isle, it sounded charming.
I was also curious how the boat captains could guarantee fairy sightings.
When I arrived at the pub, Mr. Wilson, who was behind the bar, motioned me to head out back to the patio area. A private party sign was above the door leading out to the area.
Since it was cool at night, Mara had turned on some of the courtyard heaters that stood like soldiers around the place. The ten committee members were there at a long table. Many of them had served on the train board, as well.
They had drinks, and plates of hors d’oeuvres placed down the table. Mara’s love language was food, and that was one of the many things I adored about her. Mine was eating said food.
She had a black and tan waiting for me in a space next to her.
Next to me was the Assistant Chief Constable, who was also the mayor.
He didn’t always sit in on the meetings, but my guess was he wanted to make certain we had adequate security for the various events.
No one would ever say Ewan wasn’t conscientious.
I sat down next to him. He always smelled of fresh pine, and tonight he wore one of his cable-knit sweaters with jeans.
He was incredibly handsome, but he wasn’t one of those guys who acted like he knew it.
He was self-assured, but never boastful.
And even though we’d butted heads more than once over various cases, I knew him to be kind and caring—especially where his townspeople were concerned. He looked out for everyone.
“Evening,” he said, as I sat down.
“Hi,” I whispered. “Did I miss anything?”
He shook his head. “We’re just getting started.”
Sarah Billingsley, who was also head of the train committee, called the meeting to order. She had her fingers in everything and could be a bit heavy-handed with opinions, but she was one of those people who made sure things were done. The world needed women like her to keep us all going.
Part of that was her forceful nature. The other part was her type-A personality. In her mind, there was no room for failure, which was why her blood pressure sometimes ran a bit high.
“Thank you for giving up your Saturday evening to help us,” she said. “I called this meeting to make certain we have everything set for our week of fun.”
She handed out small, collated binders. “Thanks to Mara, we have a comprehensive list of each event, with the volunteers and times of everything.”
With the exception of Abigail, I’d never met anyone more organized than Mara.
They went through the larger scheduled events. Everyone agreed to take on their part of the bigger plan. This was a team of efficient organizers. I was just along to help out however I could.
“First night, we have our fairy boat rides starting at four and going until nine,” Sarah said.
“The volunteer boats have been decorated, and we have designees to be the lore tellers. Everyone will be following the same script, so visitors do not feel they are missing out if they are on a different boat from their friends.”
When I’d done my research, I discovered Scotland has as much fairy lore as Ireland. Though, I noticed many of the tales I’d read that were set in Scotland happened to be much darker in nature.
Sarah went on for several minutes about the various days of the festival. “Does anyone have any questions?”
I did, but I was too embarrassed to ask. I would wait until they were all gone and ask Mara.
“While I have you here, I have a few questions about the night Mr. Jacks died,” Ewan said.
Most of the people around the table grimaced, and a few of them shivered.
“ACC, this isn’t the place. Besides, we’ve spoken to your men,” Sarah said.
“Aye, you have,” Ewan said. “I was wondering if perhaps something had jogged your memory. Maybe you saw Mr. Jacks going into the office at the train station. We are still trying to find witnesses who may have seen if someone entered the room with him.”
“Are the rumors true?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ewan said.
“That he was possibly murdered,” she said. “There wouldn’t be such an intense inquiry if he had died of natural causes. And Anne Marie’s husband, Jed, says he saw Mr. Jacks’s face, which looked like someone had beat him up. I hate to think of that sort of crime happening in our town.”
“Tis best if we do not listen to rumor, as it can distort the actual facts,” Ewan said. He was much better than I was at keeping things close to the vest.
“Did any of you see him go into the office the night of the event?” I asked, trying help Ewan bring the inquiry back to his original question.
Everyone shook their heads.
Mara pursed her lips. “I’ve already told you that I remember checking him off the list. At the time, he seemed fine.
But I do remember his lips appearing plumper than usual.
Almost in a way that I thought he’d gotten lip filler or something.
I remember now, because I thought it was strange for him to do that.
I mean, plenty of women do it, but maybe I’m being sexist.”
“So, when he checked in, you noticed swelling?”
She nodded.
I glanced at Ewan. We both understood what that meant. The reaction had already begun before he’d even arrived.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier, but did he have a plus one?” I asked.
“He didn’t arrive with anyone else,” Mara said. “I can go check the paperwork to see if someone else was his plus one, though. It’s possible they arrived later since the storytellers had to be there early.”
“I can’t imagine he would have had a date,” Sarah said.
All heads swung her way.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” She laughed nervously.
“I only meant he didn’t seem the type to date.
He cared more about trains than people. That much was obvious from the meetings he attended.
His whole life seemed to be focused on trains.
Apart from his job. At least, that was how he appeared in our discussions,” she said.
“I know I told you he was a perfectionist about the uniforms for the staff, and he’d dressed quite creatively as a detective. I’m sure I mentioned that earlier.”
“Did you notice the swelling on his face? Any of you?” Ewan asked.
Jasper had been unusually quiet throughout the meeting. He was usually up at the crack of dawn to get things ready at his bakery. I assumed he was tired this evening.
He raised his hand tentatively.
“You do not have to raise your hand,” Ewan said.
“I’ve been thinking all day that I may have seen him when I was washing my hands in the loo.
Before I set everything up in the train, I was in there.
I remember because he was coughing and wheezing a bit.
I thought he shouldn’t be at a party spreading germs if he was ill.
Now, I feel terrible for thinking such mean things about him. ”
Jasper could do sarcasm with the best of them, but he had one of the kindest hearts. “I remember thinking I wanted to get away from him. Getting sick was not on my agenda. I can’t afford to be ill with my business.” He shook his head. “What if he needed help and I just left him there?”
“I doubt he knew what was happening,” I said. “He probably did not think to ask for help until it was too late.”