Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (feel good novels TXT) 📕

her body in his home. Should we proceed?” He looked at his partner, Detective Reid, Eve, and then to me.

“Please do,” Tristan said. He squeezed my hand.

“Uh, excuse me.” I raised my free hand like a schoolgirl. What was wrong with me?

“Yes, Monica?” Detective Ross said. I sensed Bob Clarke stirring in his chair.

“When did she... I mean... the lady, Silvia De Aguilar, when did she, you know... die?”

“We don’t have an exact time of death. The medical examiner noted that she received the blow to the head sometime on Wednesday afternoon. Apparently, she was left there, unable to move. She bled to death where Mr. Dumont found her.”

She bled to death. The image of her head resting in the large pool of blood flashed in my mind. I swallowed harder.

“Monica, are you okay?” Detective Reid asked.

“Hmm, I...” Aware of everyone’s eyes on me. “Wednesday afternoon, I drove by the house.” Was I really the one talking? Tristan let go of my hand, and the room grew still. “I drove by on my way back from the 40th Street parking. You know, the trails...” I had to stop and breathe; the walls were closing in on me.

“Go on,” Detective Reid said in a sweet voice I didn’t know she had.

“The gate was wide open... at the Dumonts’ house, I mean. For a moment I wondered if I’d left it open the previous day when I went to check the mail. But—but then I saw a car parked up the driveway by the front door. And... I’m pretty sure it was a silver Escalade.” Breathe, Monica, breathe. “I’m so sorry, Tristan.” I couldn’t look at him.

“Fiat, why didn’t you tell me?” Then to the detectives— “Angelique drives a silver Escalade.” —his voice disturbingly detached.

“Monica, you’re sure it was Mrs. Dumont?” Detective Ross asked.

“No, no. I only saw the car and thought maybe they were mad at me for letting a stranger come up to the house the day before and they wanted to check nothing was missing. I know it sounds stupid now, but...”

“You say ‘they were mad.’ Who do you mean?” The detective again.

“Oh, you know, both Angelique and her assistant, Lois Thomas. They drive the Escalade, so I don’t know who was at the house. Maybe both?” I waited for someone to stop me. No one did. “I had spoken to Angelique on the phone around eleven or so. She was at the ranch. It was after one o’clock when I drove by the house, she would have had to drive fast to make it to Phoenix in two, two and a half hours.” I conveniently left out my asking Brenda about Angelique’s whereabouts. I had just swallowed enough guilt in one serving to last me a lifetime and was undoubtedly not making Tristan feel better about any of this.

“Thanks, Monica, we can follow up on that,” Detective Ross said, looking at his partner.

She nodded.

“The Escalade. OnStar.” Tristan said. Both detectives nodded.

Then Eve/ Detective Reid slid a one-page letter toward Tristan. I assumed it to be the original because you could clearly see the folds. It looked like a very ordinary piece of printing paper. I recognized Silvia’s handwriting. And she must have used the same pen she had in her purse when I met her at the Dumonts’, the same color ink as the writing on back of the ripped business card. “Mr. Dumont, it’s a copy. You understand.” The detective said.

Oh, I was wrong.

“We can read it together.” Tristan said. He slid the paper closer to me, and we did.

THIRTEEN

DEAR SIR,

I’m Silvia Del Aguilar, and you don’t know me. I am writing to you about Angelique Chervais, now Angelique Dumont. I have known Angelique for many years, maybe eight because of my half-brother, Rogelio. Rogelio and Angelique were together for a long time. They did not stay where I live, but I knew of them and sometimes ran into them when visiting relatives in Mexico. They are not good people. Angelique is very mean and when she drinks gets meaner. Rogelio is mean all the time, and he steals from people. One time they had a big fight, and Angelique went back to France where she worked. Rogelio got into more troubles and ended up in a prison in Mexico. He is American, born in the United States like me. Angelique wanted to visit him. She couldn’t. I think she had no money; I don’t know. The next time, I saw her in Mexico with your father, a very nice, very sad man. Angelique was telling everyone she was marrying Mr. Philippe Dumont, and she will be very rich and will never work again. But Mr. Dumont is not well, he wants to go back home. He always speaks of his dearly deceased wife and of his son he misses so much. That is you, Mr. Tristan. Angelique became very angry and drank a lot. When Mr. Dumont got more ill, he needed to go to the hospital. Angelique put him in the car and told him she would drive him to a hospital she knew. That’s how the accident happened. Angelique Chervais was driving the car, not your father. She was drunk. They both ended up in the hospital and Angelique was all broken up, her bones I mean. Your dad, he died. She made up the story about getting married. In Mexico there is much corruption and even from prison Rogelio could do things. By the time you arrived, you were told Angelique was the poor sad bride-to-be and your dead father caused the accident. So you did all the things you were told your father would have done for Angelique. I wanted to contact you sooner, but I didn’t want to be mixed up with the lies and also was much afraid of what my half-brother would do to my family. So I said nothing. For that I was punished. My husband and my son died in a boat accident, and I am in