Our Wicked Lies by Gledé Kabongo (story read aloud TXT) 📗

in danger of making an unwelcome splash all over the officer. She took several steps back and turned around in time to see several news vans screech to a halt. Reporters and camera crews jumped out.

When she looked behind her again, the officer had disappeared. A new scene emerged, one so surreal she wondered if she had conjured it from her overstressed psyche. A black body bag was strapped to the stretcher that two EMTs wheeled out of the house and then loaded onto the ambulance.

Something caught in Alicia’s throat and lodged there, making speech impossible. Breathing became laborious. Time slowed to a crawl. More news vans pulled up. Reporters tripped over each other for the perfect spot on the lawn to broadcast the horrifying news. More neighbors arrived.

When Richard appeared at the front door and walked toward the ambulance, Alicia called out to him. It didn’t sound like her though. It sounded like someone who had contracted a serious case of laryngitis.

Richard approached her with an unnatural calm, or perhaps it was shock. “She’s gone, Alicia.”

CHAPTER 40

Everyone remembers where they were when events of stunning historical or personal significance happen. For Eliot, those events included the explosion of the Challenger Space Shuttle, right after take-off, when he was in the eighth grade; the fall of the Berlin Wall; the Boston Marathon bombing; the election of President Barack Obama; and September 11, 2001.

He had booked a flight on United Flight 93, the one that crashed into a field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. He had overslept, got a late start, and had arrived at the gate too late.

Now, two days later, the effects of the most significant tragedy in his life still lingered. Ice coated his skin. The horror of it whiplashed through his veins. Katalina was dead. The finality of it struggled to take root in his mind.

He sat next to Alicia in the family room, under the scrutiny of Detectives James McBride and Bill Sears from the Weston Police Detective Unit, who sat across from them. McBride resembled a college frat boy who had partied hard the night before, just rolled out of bed, and realized he had a major exam in an hour. He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt and rumpled khakis over his gangly frame. This was the man who’d be investigating her death.

“Why don’t we start with you, Mr. Gray?” McBride asked. “We’re interviewing friends, neighbors, and close acquaintances to help us with the investigation. Mrs. DeLuca was a friend of yours?”

“Yes. Richard and Katalina were friends of ours.”

“Care to elaborate? Is there anything you can tell us that would be helpful?”

“Such as?”

“Had she been agitated or anxious of late? Did Mrs. DeLuca mention being threatened or afraid?”

“Are you saying this is a homicide?” he asked.

He didn’t mean to blurt out the question. From Alicia’s account, and from the news reports, Richard had found a non-responsive Katalina on the kitchen floor. He’d checked for a pulse and found none. He’d called 9-1-1 and told the dispatcher that his wife was dead. The fact that detectives were asking these types of questions when the cause of death had not yet been determined seemed odd to Eliot. Then again, his specialty was corporate law, not criminal investigation.

“It’s too early in the investigation to make that determination.” Sears, with eyes alert, broad shoulders, and thinning hair, spoke for the first time.

“But you’re asking if she was threatened or in trouble, which could indicate her death was premeditated,” Eliot said.

McBride said, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As Detective Sears said, it’s too early to tell anything. All we’re doing at the moment is gathering information that could point us in the right direction as to how Mrs. DeLuca died.”

He knew what would come next. The alibi question. Where was he when Katalina took her last breath? He didn’t have a rock-solid alibi. And he couldn’t admit where he really was and what he was doing in that timeframe.

Eliot had learned that Brandon Carr, that loser kid who used and discarded his daughter, played Varsity Volleyball for the high school, so Eliot had cornered the boy after practice, that morning.

“Do you know who I am?” he’d asked in his most menacing tone. The bulging eyes and rasping breaths told Eliot that Brandon had no idea who he was but was smart enough to know that he should be afraid of him.

“I’m Eliot Gray, Marston’s dad. You disrespected my daughter. That makes me a very unhappy father. I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from my daughter. If you don’t, I’ll make sure your college career ends before it even begins. Are we clear?”

The little prick had caved like a cheap tent as he’d understood the implications of the threat. “I’m sorry… I promise, I won’t bother Marston ever again. I won’t go near her. Please, I don’t want any trouble,” he’d said, as he slowly backed away from Eliot before he turned on his heels and ran like his life depended on it.

Eliot shifted his thoughts back to the present when he caught McBride looking at him strangely. When Alicia had called late Tuesday morning to tell him that Katalina Torres DeLuca, the woman who wanted more than anything to usurp Alicia’s position in his life, had left home for the last time in a body bag, Eliot thought his wife had finally snapped, payback for the affair. But deep down, he knew that Alicia, even in her darkest moments over what he and Katalina had done, would never stoop so low. It was not in her nature to be vicious or vengeful. Then again, she’d aborted his child, so he wasn’t so sure he knew his wife anymore.

“When was the last time you saw Mrs. DeLuca?” McBride asked.

“A couple of weeks back. She and her family had dinner with us, here. The next day, I went to visit her at her office.”

“Why would you do that if you had dinner the