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

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” I said.

He shrugged, not much interested, and finished his coffee. He extended the mug to me. “Any more? I should probably get some breakfast into me. Want to join me?”

I took the mug. “Ricky, I don’t know what to say, but—”

I was saved from saying anything by the sound of firm footsteps in the hallway and the arrival of Detective Watson and Butch Greenblatt.

“Detective, Officer,” I said in the way my mother had taught me was proper when greeting guests. “Please do come in.”

Ricky started to stand. “Oh. I guess you’re busy. I’ll be going, then. Uh … can you call a cab for me, Lucy?”

“Not so fast,” Butch said.

“What?” Ricky said.

“Sit down, please,” Watson said.

Ricky dropped into his chair. I got to my feet and edged toward the door. I wasn’t planning on leaving, but I thought that if I made myself unobtrusive, Watson would forget I was here.

“Are you Richard Lewiston the Third?” Watson asked.

Ricky blinked. “I might be. I might not be. Who the heck are you?”

“Detective Sam Watson, Nags Head Police.”

“Is there a problem?” Ricky asked.

“Answer the detective’s question.” Butch didn’t look happy. It was likely the police had been searching for Ricky all night, and Butch had been on duty since yesterday evening.

Ricky threw me a look, and then he shrugged. He didn’t seem to know what was going on. He didn’t seem to know that his father had died and that his mother, as well as the police, was frantically trying to locate him.

Then again, Ricky was a lawyer. A corporate lawyer, yes, but he had courtroom experience. Court was a stage and a lawyer an actor. He let the silence drag on for a few more seconds, then shrugged and said, “Yeah, that’s my name.”

“Where were you last night?” Watson asked.

“That’s absolutely none of your business.”

“I’ll decide what’s my business.”

“Perhaps, Detective, you’re not aware that I’m an attorney with—”

“Ricky!” I said. “Please. Don’t be difficult. Just tell us—I mean, them—what you were doing last night after you left the restaurant.”

“Why?”

Watson turned to Butch. “I haven’t got time to play games. Let’s go. Bring him along. We’ll continue this conversation down at the station.”

“Hey!” Ricky half rose as Butch took a step toward him. “I’m not going anywhere without—”

“Ricky,” I yelled. “You do not want to do this. Please. Stop it. Your father’s dead, and you need to tell the police what you know.” Horrified, I snapped my mouth shut. Here I was, trying to be unobtrusive and silent, and I’d just blurted out what the police were not telling the suspect. I ducked my head. “Sorry.”

Ricky’s face was a picture of shock. He dropped into his chair. His mouth opened; it snapped shut. Surely he couldn’t be that good an actor? “What? Lucy, what do you mean?”

“Ms. Richardson’s right,” Watson said. “Your father died last night.”

“I still don’t understand what concern that is of yours,” Ricky said. “I have to go to my mother. We need to get back to Boston. Lucy, does Mom know?”

“Yes. My mother’s with her.”

“That’s good, then.”

“It is very much my concern,” Watson said, “as your father was found dead in an alley in Nags Head under suspicious circumstances. Now, can you please tell me where you went last night after you left Lucy and her party at Jake’s Seafood Bar?”

That was blunt, but clearly Watson had decided it was time to stop beating about the bush. Ricky wasn’t making it easy for the police to ask the necessary questions.

“You think he was murdered?” Ricky said.

“We are presently acting on that assumption,” Watson said.

“Can I have a glass of water? Please?”

Watson didn’t tell me not to move, so I slipped over to the sink and got Ricky what he needed. I handed it to him with what I hoped was an encouraging smile and returned to my place against the wall.

Ricky drank the entire glass in one long gulp and then took a deep breath. “Okay. My mom and I had dinner at that seafood place overlooking the Sound with my dad’s law partner and his family, including Lucy here. It wasn’t a pleasant evening. My mother was making … shall we say, demands of me that I wasn’t happy about.” He threw me a quick look. “I went to the bar to get myself another drink, and I decided to leave. Mom and I’d come together in our rental car and she had the keys, so she could get herself back to the hotel without me. I paid my bar bill and walked out without saying good-bye to anyone. I went to that strip of restaurants and bars across from the oceanfront and settled in for the duration. The result of which is, I don’t feel too good today.”

“What bar?” Watson asked.

Ricky gave him a sickly grin. “I don’t remember the name. Sorry.”

“Will you remember it if you see it again?” Butch asked.

“I might. They all look much the same.”

“Did you see your father at any time yesterday?” Watson asked.

Ricky shook his head. He winced and touched his forehead. “I did not. I didn’t even know he was in town. He said nothing about any plans to come here.”

“When you left Jake’s, was there any police activity outside?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Were Lucy and her party still at their table?”

“Yeah. I figured no one would miss me if I just left.”

“What about your mother?”

“Come to think of it, I didn’t see her. I figured she’d gone to the ladies’ room. Like I said, I wasn’t worried about her. She could drive herself to the hotel. My mother’s more than capable of looking after herself.”

I kept my face impassive. Unwittingly, Ricky had established his mother as a suspect.

“What time did you return to your hotel?”

“Uh …”

“He didn’t,” I said. “His mother was knocking on his door all night. She’s been worried sick.”

“I didn’t know that, did I?” Ricky snapped at me.

“Where did you spend the night, then?” Watson asked.

Another glance at me.