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

wigs and white stockings. A bottle of white wine sat in a silver bucket on a side table next to the sofa, and a single glass graced the coffee table, next to an iPhone in a sparkly pink case. I glanced at Evangeline. Her eyes were wide and frightened. She knew this was no friendly social call. She clung to Fluffy for a moment, then nodded and carried the dog into the bedroom, put her on the floor, and shut the door before the little animal could escape. Evangeline crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa, lifted a hand to her mouth, and started to cry. “Ricky! What’s happened to Ricky?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Mom sat next to her. “He’s perfectly fine. As far as I know. Did you not get him on the phone?”

“No answer. I … I left a message. Why are you here, then? What’s happened?”

“Would you turn the television off, please, Mrs. Lewiston?” Watson asked.

Evangeline didn’t move. I crossed the room, my shoes sinking into the deep carpet, grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and pressed buttons. The voices died and the screen went dark.

“It’s Rich,” Mom said. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“Rich? Good heavens, Suzanne, have you lost your senses at long last? Rich is home in Boston.” Evangeline stood up and smoothed her skirt. “You’ve frightened the life out of me for nothing.”

My mom didn’t stand.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lewiston,” Watson said. “Your husband was found dead earlier tonight.”

“He was? Where? How did that happen?”

“That’s to be determined,” Watson said. “But it doesn’t appear to have been an accident.”

Evangeline didn’t sit back down. The fear had faded from her eyes, and it didn’t reappear. She didn’t resume crying. The dog stopped barking and settled into a long, continuous whine. “That is cryptic. Not an accident. I can guess what you mean. I’ve told him repeatedly he wasn’t to drink so heavily before driving, but I’m afraid he rarely listened to me these days. Thank you for coming to tell me, Detective, Officer. My son and I have already made bookings to fly home tomorrow, and I’ll contact my husband’s PA first thing in the morning to make the necessary arrangements. Suzanne, do you know where they’ve taken him?”

“Uh …” Mom said.

“Your husband isn’t in Boston,” Watson said. “He’s in Nags Head. He was found outside the kitchen door at Jake’s Seafood Bar a short time ago.”

Evangeline dropped onto the couch. “What? That can’t be right. Isn’t that where we had dinner, Suzanne? What would Rich be doing there?”

My mom shook her head.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Watson said. “Did you know your husband was in Nags Head?”

“No. There must be some mistake. He didn’t come with us.”

“No mistake,” Watson said. “I understand you left the restaurant early, before dinner was finished. Why?”

“My son and I had an argument. I no longer felt like making polite conversation.”

“What was this argument about?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business.”

“Everything that happened in Jake’s Seafood Bar and the vicinity tonight is my business,” Watson said.

Evangeline glanced at me. She had the grace to look embarrassed. Mom noticed and gave me a curious look.

Evangeline patted her hair. “Nothing at all important. I think … I thought … my son was … uh … ignoring romantic opportunities he should have been taking better advantage of.”

“What on earth does that mean?” Watson said. “How old is your son?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five? And you’re advising him on his love life?”

“I am his mother,” Evangeline snapped. “I know what’s best for us—I mean, for him.”

“What Mrs. Lewiston isn’t telling you, Detective,” I said, “is that Ricky and I were in a relationship at one time. That ended before I moved to the Outer Banks and met Connor. Mrs. Lewiston wants her son to marry me rather than Connor because she mistakenly thinks I have money to bring to the marriage.”

Evangeline caught one word in my statement. “Mistakenly?”

“Okay,” Watson said. “Is it possible your husband decided to surprise you by joining you here?”

“We do not have that sort of marriage.” Evangeline picked up her phone and punched buttons. “Richard! Call me immediately! No matter the time.” She hung up and clutched the phone in both hands. She looked at my mother with wide, frightened eyes. “He’s not answering.”

“He’s probably gone to a bar or maybe a movie or … something … and he can’t hear the phone ringing,” I said.

“What time did you leave Jake’s?” Watson asked.

Evangeline shook her head. “I can’t possibly say. I didn’t check my watch.”

“Before the main courses were served,” I said. “We arrived around seven, had a round of drinks and appetizers. So you probably left not long after eight.”

“Possibly,” Evangeline said.

“You drove yourself?” Watson asked her.

Butch said nothing. He stood by the door, his feet apart, his arms crossed over his chest, as though it might be necessary to block our escape, and watched and listened.

“I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Evangeline said. “My son had driven us to dinner in our rental car. I assumed he would get a ride back to the hotel with Lucy, who’d come in her own car.”

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Like that was going to happen.”

“Did you come straight back to the hotel after leaving Jake’s?” Watson asked.

Evangeline stared into space, thinking. That is, she pretended to be thinking. She knew exactly what she’d done. “I might have gone for a little drive,” she finally admitted. “I was naturally upset. My son and I have a close, loving relationship—isn’t that right, Suzanne?”

I thought Mom showed great restraint in not saying, Are you kidding?

“Any rare disagreement we occasionally have is highly upsetting to me. The beach is so lovely at night, isn’t it?”

“What time did you get back to the hotel?”

“I … uh …” Evangeline looked directly at Watson. “I don’t remember exactly. I came straight to my room. I spoke to no one. I took Fluffy for a short walk, settled myself down for the evening, and called room service.”

“Did the valet take your car?”

Evangeline’s eyes flicked around the room. “Yes,” she admitted.

“They’ll have