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

the scriptures. Katalina’s parents, in addition to the tragedy of losing their daughter, couldn’t take her home to Miami and bury her next to her brother, as they wished. Richard had refused, insisting she would be buried at Linwood Cemetery, the principal burial ground in the town of Weston. A handful of aunts, uncles, and cousins had come up for the funeral. Arnie Tillerson and his wife, Paula, stood stoically at the graveside. Katalina didn’t have a lot of friends, but the turnout would have pleased her.

A jaw muscle ticked. Eliot’s breath quickened as he placed both hands into his pockets. His chest just about split in half when Alicia placed a protective arm around Maxim. The boy sobbed inconsolably. His daughters flanked them on either side.

He suddenly became aware of someone behind him. He turned to find Detective James McBride’s attention anchored on him. Eliot’s blood ran cold, but he gave no outward reaction, returning his gaze to the committal service. The priest was wrapping up.

A loud moan escaped Mrs. Torres, Kat’s mother, who stood in the family row up front. She placed her hands on top of the coffin and caressed it as though letting her daughter know that she loved her, for the last time. The poor woman had now lost both her children, five years apart. No parent should have to witness the death of a child. It messed with the natural order of things, and it seemed that her agony was felt by everyone present as she wailed.

Eliot didn’t need to turn around again to feel the burning heat of McBride’s gaze on him. Eliot bit down hard on his lips. He couldn’t stick around any longer. He had no desire to watch Katalina being lowered into the ground. He didn’t want that to be the last image he would ever have of her.

“Leaving so soon?” McBride fell into step with Eliot on the winding path that led to the car.

He needed to be alone while he waited for Alicia and the girls. His tone sharp, he said, “Soon?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive. Will you be attending the reception afterward?”

“How is that relevant to your investigation?” Eliot’s head continued to throb. McBride’s presence exacerbated his irritation.

“Her death was unexpected. I can’t imagine how it must be for you, Mr. Gray. You and Mrs. DeLuca were close, yes?”

A strong breeze rustled the leaves of the majestic trees that flanked the cemetery. Eliot removed his sunglasses.

“I have already answered that question during the interview at my home.”

He sensed McBride was fishing or looking for confirmation on some piece of information. Eliot had no intention of confirming anything. But then he remembered Alicia’s bombshell. Richard knew about the affair. Had he said something to the detectives?

“Is Mrs. Gray aware that Mrs. DeLuca made multiple calls to your personal cell phone in the weeks leading up to her death?” McBride asked, casually.

Eliot halted. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, Detective.”

“I’m not implying anything. I ask questions. It’s part of my job.”

“Tillerson Brenner was a client of KTM Creative Edge. I helped her land the account. She called me from time to time to discuss strategy.”

“Sounds like you were a friend and ally.”

“Sure. If you want to look at it that way. She worked hard to make the agency successful. I lent a helping hand when I could.”

“How did Alicia feel about that?”

“Is this an interrogation, Detective McBride? In what capacity are you here? If you wish to express your condolences, that’s fine. Otherwise, I will assume that this is official police business, in which case, I have a right to have an attorney present.”

McBride held up his arms. “No need for that, Mr. Gray. This is just a friendly conversation. I’m not accusing you of anything. We expect the autopsy results any day now, and it will tell us how Mrs. DeLuca died. That’s what we all want, right?”

Eliot’s phone pinged. He removed it from his pocket and read the text.

Alicia: Where are you? We’re heading back to the car.

Eliot: Will meet up with you. Had an upset stomach.

He placed the phone back into his pocket and said, “This is a tough day for my family and me. We lost a friend unexpectedly and tragically. Please give us some privacy to mourn. At least for the day.”

“Sure, sure. No problem. I just have one question. It might be a bit embarrassing considering we’re at her funeral, but I must ask.”

“Ask away.”

“Did Mrs. DeLuca ever communicate with you inappropriately? Other than business or friendship, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?”

A flush appeared on McBride’s cheek. “When we looked at her phone records, there were several text messages to you of an intimate nature. Your responses were terse. I figured she developed feelings for you and that you were trying to let her down easy, seeing that both you and your wife were friends of hers and her husband.”

McBride wasn’t stupid, and he was now following the trail that would uncover the affair. Eliot was losing control of the situation. He was willing to bet that the issue wasn’t if and when Richard would reveal the affair to the investigators, but that he already had.

Richard DeLuca always came across as inscrutable. But the fact that he’d had his wife followed and knew of the affair and had said nothing signaled that he was a man with secrets. What else was he hiding, and what was he capable of?

“Katalina was a big flirt. Maybe I indulged her when I shouldn’t have. I think her husband knew about that proclivity. Flirting with other men, that is.”

“Oh, yeah?” McBride asked. “He must be a patient and understanding husband. I don’t know too many men who would tolerate such behavior.”

“I couldn’t tell you. Richard can be an enigma.”

McBride wrinkled his nose. A pensive look flittered across his face. He nodded slowly, then said, “I don’t want to take up any more of your time on such a tough day. Thanks for the chat, Mr.