Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (smart books to read TXT) 📕

from the line of police tape that had been strung between the corner of the building and a fence post. An unadorned white van I knew to be the forensics vehicle was parked near the tape, as was the coroner’s van. A few people had gathered in the parking lot to watch the goings-on, and another officer kept them back. Beyond them, traffic continued to move steadily on the Croatan Highway.

“Detective!” a forensics officer called. “Something here you’ll want to see.”

“Give me a minute,” Watson said to us. He ducked under the crime scene tape and accepted a small, clear bag. From what I could see, it contained a single sheet of paper. Watson took his reading glasses out of his jacket pocket, studied the paper, nodded once, handed it back, and put his glasses away. He said a few words to the watching officers and then rejoined us.

“What was that?” I asked casually.

He didn’t answer but indicated that we could get into the car.

“Not the first time I’ve ridden in a police car,” Mom said as she settled her skirts under her in the back seat. “I do hope it’s the last.”

“At least you’re not being taken in for questioning this time,” I said.

“You didn’t ask me for my alibi, Detective,” Mom said. “Unlike the unfortunate events of the last time we met, tonight I was with my daughter, my husband, my sister, her husband, my daughter’s fiancé, my—”

“We get the point, Mom,” I said.

“Simply ensuring everything is clear, dear,” she said. “Nice to see you again, Butch. We didn’t get a chance to chat at Lucy’s party. I hope all is well with you.”

“It is. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Tell me about Richard Lewiston, father and son,” Watson said.

It wasn’t far to the Ocean Side Hotel, but that didn’t matter, as we didn’t have all that much to tell. Both men lived in Boston and were lawyers at Richardson Lewiston. Richard the Third was the only child of Richard the Second and Evangeline née Walker, and he was not married. Richardson Lewiston was a corporate firm and, as far as Mom and I knew (which wasn’t much), they didn’t do work for the mob or other underground figures. Mom saw Evangeline and Rich regularly at social events and company gatherings, but if he’d had a secret life, she didn’t know about it. I thought about the encounter earlier with the company client, Gordon Frankland, and how he’d implied there was trouble in the firm, and I recalled Ricky and Evangeline’s whispered conversation in the hallway, but I didn’t say anything. That was hearsay. It would be up to my dad to fill the police in on the situation at the firm. If he didn’t want to, I’d give him a nudge. Keeping secrets from Detective Watson never worked out well.

Butch parked the cruiser at the bottom of the steps leading to the front doors of the Ocean Side Hotel. The valet trotted toward us, but Butch waved him away.

“Do you have Mrs. Lewiston’s phone number and that of her son?” Watson asked my mom.

“I have hers, but not his.”

“Give her a call. Tell her you need to speak to her and are coming up to her room, if she’s there. If she’s not, ask her where she is. Don’t tell her what this is about, and tell her to invite her son to join us.”

Mom made the call. “Evangeline! Dear! It’s Suzanne.” Her voice was so unnaturally high-pitched that Evangeline would immediately know something was wrong. I laid my hand on Mom’s arm and gave her a slight shake of the head. She took a breath before continuing. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, dear. Are you in your room?”

Evangeline said something, and Mom replied, “I know it’s late, but it is important. Thank you. We’ll be right there. Oh, can you ask Ricky to join us?” She hung up. “Room two twenty-two. She’s calling Ricky.”

We got out of the car and climbed the steps into the hotel. It was ten thirty and the restaurant was almost empty, but the lobby bar was busy. I glanced in as we passed, but I didn’t see Ricky.

Mom knocked, and from inside the room we heard a dog start to bark. “Shush,” Evangeline said. She opened the door a crack, using her right foot to keep Fluffy inside. She was still wearing the dress she’d had on at dinner but had taken the jacket, the jewelry, and her shoes off. She didn’t bother to smile at Mom and me, and she blinked when she saw the two men standing behind us. Sam Watson might have been casually dressed in chinos and a beige shirt, but he always looked as though he had COP tattooed across his forehead. Butch, six foot five, two hundred or so pounds, was a formidable presence in his dark uniform, even if he wasn’t trying to be.

“What on earth? Suzanne, what’s the meaning of this?”

“I’m Detective Sam Watson of the Nags Head Police. Are you Mrs. Evangeline Lewiston?”

“I am, but I don’t understand.”

“May we come in?”

Good manners took over, and Evangeline stepped back. She leaned over and grabbed Fluffy by the collar before the little dog could attack the invaders. “Be quiet!”

Fluffy ignored her and kept barking. Evangeline scooped her up.

Watson gave Mom a nod, and she got the message. “Why don’t you sit down, Evangeline, dear. But first, maybe you could put the dog in the other room.”

Room 222 was a suite. I glanced around me, trying not to be too obvious about it. Evangeline’s gold jacket had been tossed onto the neatly made king-sized bed in the other room. The bed was draped in a blue-and-gold duvet and piled high with matching pillows. The drapes, made of similar fabric, were closed. In the main room, an iPad lay open on the desk, the screen black. The big-screen TV hanging on the wall played a costume drama— women in big skirts and men in