Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (distant reading .txt) 📗

but then his face flushed and he avoided my eyes. “A cab. Right. We’ll call a cab. Good idea, Suzanne. We wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”

Laughing, I linked one arm in Connor’s and one in Mom’s, and we led the way through the building. Aunt Ellen followed, and Dad and Amos brought up the rear. “Retirement’s starting to sound mighty good,” Dad said. “But it’s hard to get out of the saddle.”

“Easier if you find a successor you can trust, like I did,” Amos said. “Then you can ease into it at your own pace.”

“That’s my problem right there. Only one of my sons became a lawyer, and he’s wasting his time, as I keep telling him, teaching at law school. As for that Ricky …”

“Speaking of Ricky,” Mom said. “Where do you suppose he got to?”

No one was at the bar, and the bartender was idly polishing already sparkling glasses. The restaurant was almost empty.

“Don’t know,” Dad said. “Don’t care. The boy can look after himself.”

We passed the vacant hostess station and stepped out into the warm, humid air. Vehicles passed on the highway; an airplane flew high above. It was late, and only a handful of cars were parked under the strong lights of the restaurant’s big lot. Connor pulled his keys out of his pocket and pressed the fob, and the lights of his BMW flashed in greeting.

Aunt Ellen gave Connor and me hugs good-night, and we all started to go our separate ways.

A scream pierced the quiet of the night, stopping us in our tracks. “What the heck?” Connor said. We looked around, trying to figure out what direction the sound had come from. We heard it again. “Help!” a woman yelled. “Someone help!”

Connor moved first, and I was right behind him. The screams were coming from the side of the restaurant in the direction of the kitchen door.

“Ellen,” Uncle Amos yelled. “You and Suzanne stay here. Call nine-one-one.”

The lights over the restaurant’s main entrance and the parking lot faded the moment we rounded the building. A single weak lamp above the kitchen door cast a warm pool in the encroaching darkness. Ahead of us the waters of the Sound lapped at the shore, and the lights in the distance were not enough to see by.

I fumbled in my bag for my phone and hit the flashlight app. Connor had done the same, and we threw a circle of white light onto the shapes huddled near the kitchen door.

Ruth, the hostess, her tight skirt riding high on her thin legs, was kneeling on the ground next to a body that was lying very still. She looked up, fixing her round, frightened eyes on mine. “He’s …” Her voice broke. “I found him like this. I think he’s dead.”

“Help’s on the way,” Aunt Ellen said. Into her phone she added, “We need an ambulance here. Quickly.”

“I told you to stay behind,” Uncle Amos said.

Ellen didn’t reply, but my mom did. “We’re not standing out there all by ourselves. Suppose that cry had been a diversion?”

Connor dropped to his haunches beside Ruth and reached for the body next to her. I held my flashlight high so he could see. Ruth started to stagger to her feet, and Uncle Amos helped her. When she was upright, my mom and Aunt Ellen surrounded her with soft murmurs. The kitchen door flew open and Jake’s tousled head popped out. “What’s going on out here? Amos, is that you? Connor?”

“A man’s been hurt. We’ve called for help,” I said.

“Mom? Dad?” Josie peered over Jake’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to be of some help, honey,” Amos said.

“Is he okay?” Jake asked.

“No,” Connor said. “No, he’s not. Tell them to hurry up, Ellen.”

“Come with me, dear,” my mom said to the weeping hostess. “Let’s go inside and sit down. A cup of hot tea would be nice, Josie. With lots of sugar.”

“I’ll get it,” my cousin said.

“Add a splash of brandy,” Jake said.

“We’ll go around by the front,” Mom said, in a voice that reminded me of the time I’d fallen out of the apple tree at my grandparents’ and broken my elbow. I never did tell Mom and Dad that I hadn’t fallen: my eldest brother pushed me, saying girls didn’t belong in trees.

He and I never did get on.

Mom and Aunt Ellen supported Ruth between them and walked slowly away, the two older women whispering softly.

I turned my attention back to Connor and the body on the ground. It was that of a man, dressed in dark pressed trousers, a blue button-down shirt, and brown loafers. He lay on his back, staring up into the darkness, unblinking and unmoving. Something dark and wet covered the ground under his back, and I tried not to think of what that might be.

Connor touched the side of the man’s neck, and I focused my light on the face. He was in late middle age, silver hair expensively cut, cheeks flabby, prominent nose crisscrossed with red lines of rosacea.

There is something …

My dad sucked in a breath and swore.

“Millar?” Uncle Amos asked.

“It’s Rich,” Dad said. “Richard Eric Lewiston Junior. My law partner.”

Chapter Five

Detective Sam Watson’s eyebrows rose when he saw me sitting at the big round table in the center of the main room in Jake’s restaurant, cradling a cup of excessively sugary tea in my hands. “When I got the call and it was not directing me to the Lighthouse Library, I dared hope you wouldn’t be involved, Lucy.”

I shrugged. What could I say? Not only was I involved, but my family was also.

“What does that mean?” Dad sputtered. “My daughter does not associate with common criminals.”

“It’s okay, dear.” Mom patted his arm. “Lucy’s acquainted with Detective Watson. As am I.”

Watson nodded. “Mrs. Richardson.”

“Detective, so nice to see you again.” My mom is an accomplished liar. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

The edges of his mouth might have turned up fractionally, but he hid it well and said, “Not at the moment, thank