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

my radar at all for killing Rich,” I said, “even when we considered that it might have had something to do with what was happening at Richardson Lewiston. I’d been overly influenced, I fear, by The Hound of the Baskervilles. I kept coming back to the inheritance angle.”

“He wasn’t on anyone’s radar,” Watson assured me. “Until you figured it out.”

A woman came into the lighthouse. She was dressed in white coveralls, a hairnet, and white boots and carried a small case. “I need samples off the dog,” she said.

We looked at Fluffy, the hero of the hour, snoozing happily at my feet.

“She’s not as dangerous as she looks,” Connor said.

The woman didn’t laugh. I dropped to the floor next to Fluffy and rubbed her belly while the woman took swabs from her nails. I then scratched under Fluffy’s chin while tissue samples were taken from inside her cheek.

Evidence given, Fluffy returned to her nap.

When the police had left, I turned to Connor. “I’ll have to call Mom and let her know what’s going on.”

“Yup,” he said.

We were awoken early the next morning by a phone call from my dad. “You’re up early,” I said when I answered.

“Haven’t been to bed. Your mother called me after you spoke to her, and I knew I’d be hearing from the police soon. Which I have. I’ve been at the office all night, going through Rich’s papers, trying to sort out what will help the cops with the case against Stephen. I always knew I didn’t like the man. Never would have thought he was a killer, though. Your mother tells me he attacked you. Are you … okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad. The local equivalent of the Hound of the Baskervilles saved me.”

“Whatever that means. I’ve been checking up on Livingstone’s recent activities. I was able to tell the police he called in sick on Monday.”

“The day Rich died.”

“He was, it would seem, driving to Nags Head. He looked none too well, I’ve been told, when he came into the office late on Tuesday morning. Which would be because he hadn’t slept for days.”

“The drive from Boston to Nags Head takes about twelve hours each way, and that’s with no stops or traffic snarls. A lot to cover in two days.”

“On Tuesday afternoon, when I sent word that I wanted someone to go down to North Carolina to be with Evangeline, Livingstone was aggressive about putting himself forward.”

“That was a foolish thing to do. If he’d stayed in Boston, he could have kept himself out of the picture.”

“He couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on and thought he needed to keep an eye on things. More than one criminal’s been caught because they simply can’t stop themselves hanging around the police investigation. And because they’re nowhere near as clever as they think they are.” Dad chuckled. “Keeps us in business. This might sound harsh of me, but I’ve ordered Ricky to get back to Boston. Today. I want him on the first flight he can get. He needs to come clean, and fast, about what he did and did not know about what his father and Livingstone were up to. Your mother will accompany Evangeline and Rich’s body tomorrow.”

“That’s good of her.”

“You take care of yourself, honey.”

“I will, Dad.”

We hung up. “As long as we’re awake,” I said to Connor, “might as well get a start on the day.”

He reached for me. “As long as we’re awake …”

Fluffy had run to the door in agreement, and Charles had leapt off the bed and headed for his food bowl.

“Here she is now.”

Louise Jane came into the bakery, and I gave her a wave. She nodded before joining the line. A few minutes later, coffee in hand, she approached our table. “Big happenings last night at the lighthouse, I heard.”

“Big enough,” I said.

“They say Mrs. Lewiston’s dog brought down your attacker, Lucy.”

“Yes.”

“Seems hard to believe. A little thing like that against a grown man.”

“She—”

“I’ve told you many, many times, Lucy, that the spirits of the marsh are not to be trifled with. Haven’t I told her that, Connor?”

“More than once,” Connor agreed.

“Fluffy—”

“Fluffy,” she snorted. “Ridiculous name for a dog. Fluffy might have bitten the man, but we have to ask what made her do that. What forces beyond our understanding caused that miniature ball of fluff not to run away, as you’d expect, but to turn into a killer beast?”

“She didn’t—”

“When we’ve finished seeing the house and you’ve put in an offer, I have to get straight home. I have lot of research to do on paranormal influences on animals.”

“I don’t—”

“Aren’t you jumping the gun, Louise Jane?” Connor said. “We don’t know that we’ll be putting in an offer on anything.”

“You will,” she said, with typical Louise Jane confidence. “Ready to go?”

Connor downed the last mouthful of his coffee, stood up, and took his keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll drive,” Louise Jane said. “My uncle will meet us there.”

The front seat of Louise Jane’s rusty old van was covered in books, maps, and papers, so Connor and I climbed into the back. She threw the van into gear, and we lurched out of the parking lot.

“I feel like I’m being kidnapped,” I whispered to Connor. “Being driven through the streets with no idea of where my captors are taking me.”

“At least she didn’t put hoods over our heads.”

“I heard that,” Louise Jane said. “I want you to relax and enjoy the scenery.”

“I’m thoroughly acquainted with the scenery of Nags Head, thank you,” Connor said.

We drove south, heading in the direction of the lighthouse. Connor and I exchanged looks. Despite Louise Jane saying the property was “on the beach,” I’d expected to be going toward what passes as inland on this narrow spit of sand. Rather than taking the wide turn into Whalebone Junction, she continued straight onto South Old Oregon Inlet Road. Tall, colorful beach houses passed us on either side, and I could see the open ocean between the properties to our left. The road was perfectly