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

me down here was nothing but an intimidation tactic.”

“Don’t get too cocky, young man,” Amos said. “You’re not in the clear. I was happy to help tonight, but I suggest you find yourself a lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer.”

“You know what I mean,” Uncle Amos said. “If you like, I’ll ask my partner, Stephanie Stanton, to represent you. She’s done a lot of criminal defense work.”

“My son is not a killer!” Evangeline shrieked.

A middle-aged woman heading for the police station gave us a frightened glance and a wide berth.

“Keep your voice down,” Mom said. “No one is saying anything of the sort. Amos is being practical, that’s all. I suggest we continue this discussion in a more private location.”

“Good idea,” Ricky said. “I, for one, could use a drink.”

I glanced toward the town offices, which share the same property as the police station. Connor’s window faced in this direction, and I wondered if he’d left yet. On the way into town, I’d given him a call to tell him why my plans had changed, and he’d said he’d wait to hear from me. In case he was watching, I started to lift my hand to give a little wave toward his window. My hand dropped.

A man stood at the side of the town hall, in the long shadows cast by the building. He was looking our way, and he made no move to turn away when he saw that I’d noticed him. He didn’t react; he simply stood and stared at us.

“Check out the guy watching us,” I whispered to Uncle Amos. “To the right of the steps of town hall.”

“Gordon Frankland.”

“He was at Jake’s last night. He spoke to Ricky.”

“I remember.”

“He seems interested in us.”

“So he does, but don’t read anything into that, Lucy. The man makes a point of watching people, all the better for him to find some indiscretion he can use to sue them over.”

“Dad was going to look into what he was talking to Ricky about. Do you know if he did?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Evangeline said. “Is my son’s future not of interest to you?”

“Give it a rest, Mom,” Ricky said.

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me!”

“Evangeline’s upset,” my mother said. “We’re all upset—except for you, Amos, who I don’t imagine have ever been upset in your life.”

Uncle Amos raised one bushy eyebrow.

“I suggest we discontinue discussing our business in front of the Nags Head police station,” Mom said. “Evangeline, I’m happy to stay in town with you as long as you need my support.”

Evangeline glanced at her son, intently studying the ground beneath his feet. “Richard?”

“I called my office earlier, and they said there’s nothing pressing I need to show up for this week. Imagine that, they can get along fine without me. We should stay, Mom. I’ve nothing to hide from the police. Hopefully we can take Dad home soon. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”

“I’ll be at Amos and Ellen’s,” Mom said. “Call me if you need anything.”

Ricky took his mother’s arm and led her away.

“What do you mean, they can get along without you?” I could hear Evangeline asking him as their voices faded. “Don’t they need your help sorting through your father’s business affairs?”

“Family conference?” I said, once Ricky and Evangeline were out of earshot.

“Yes,” Amos said.

“What does that mean?” Mom asked.

“It means we need to talk things over,” I replied.

Aunt Ellen put a jug of tea on the table and pulled out a chair. “This is becoming a habit. One I don’t care for.”

She meant sitting around the table on the deck next to the kitchen at their beach house, talking over a murder case and trying to figure out “whodunit.”

Ellen poured tea for herself and me. My mom and Stephanie had glasses of wine, and frosty mugs of beer sat in front of Connor and Amos. As we left the police station, Uncle Amos had called Steph and I’d called Connor to tell them what was going on.

“First things first,” I said. “Why did the police want to question Ricky further?”

“Sam’s been talking to employees at your father’s firm,” Amos said, “as well as your dad himself. It seems things with Rich were coming to a head. A substantial number of the junior partners wanted him gone, and your father was finding it harder and harder to argue against that. Rich would never have gone willingly.”

“No,” Mom said, “he wouldn’t. The firm was his life. It was all he had. I feared for a while Millar was going down the same path, but he seems to have recovered his senses recently.” She gave me a secret smile.

“Which is hardly a reason for Ricky to kill him,” I said. “I suspect, from what I’m hearing, the only reason Ricky has a job is because he’s Rich’s son.”

“Motive is a vastly overrated reason for killing. That’s the stuff of mystery novels, not real cases.” Stephanie looked up from the yellow legal pad in front of her on which she was jotting notes. She hadn’t been hired by Ricky yet, but Amos had suggested she join us in case things went further.

“What does that mean?” Mom asked.

“People kill for lots of reasons and sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes for what they think are good reasons and everyone else considers meaningless. An old grudge, a supposed insult in response to a threat that exists only in their mind. Determining a motive helps, of course, but it’s often not a building block on which to build a prosecution.”

“Steph means, if Ricky was mad enough at his father, that might have led to an argument, and an argument led to the death,” Amos said.

“You’re not saying—” Mom began.

“I’m not saying anything,” Amos said. “Simply pointing it out. In this case, the timing doesn’t look good for Ricky. He left the restaurant at roughly quarter to nine, according to the bartender at Jake’s. He arrived at Skinny Jane’s about nine thirty. No one can be located who saw him in the