A Fatal Romance

by June Shaw

  A massive wave of guilt concerning the Snellings’ deaths washed over me, taking me by surprise, making my footsteps falter. No, Eve and I didn’t kill either one of them. But maybe we could have done something to stop their demise. Had Father’s hint of my guilt caused this feeling? Adding it to Detective Wilet’s suggestion that confession was good for the soul made me consider that both of these discerning men might know much more about me than I knew about myself. Or that I was willing to admit.

  I didn’t see the seminarian inside the church and glanced around the back of the building again, but didn’t find anything that might help with the investigation. I did feel a strange sense of comfort from having the familiar penance and then reciting those prayers.

  Maybe I’d done a good thing. What next? My thoughts ran to my sister’s house, but I jerked them away. I needed to focus on clearing our names and discovering who killed Daria and maybe also her husband. In my truck, I aimed for Lillian’s place. If she was home, would she let me in? It was nearing suppertime for most people. She’d surely be angry if I bothered her while she was eating.

  Was she really having an affair with Zane? And if so, why would she admit it to me?

  A lyric from “Silver Bells” assured me I was alarmed. I wasn’t sure why until I scrambled through mental pictures and determined I was afraid of reaching the door of another woman I barely knew, ready to confront her, and instead finding her dead.

  Chapter 14

  “You? Forget it! Go away.” Lillian slammed the door in my face.

  I was never so happy to have that happen. It meant Lillian wasn’t dead. I rang her doorbell again. When she didn’t answer, I used the brass knocker to clack against her merlot-colored door.

  She yanked that door open. “Stop bothering me, or I’ll call the police. Get away from here.”

  Just what I needed. The police wanting me for something else. I shoved my foot in the doorway, cringing when she slammed the door against it. Pain shot back to the spurs in my heels. “Lillian, you saw me here when you argued with another woman, but you don’t know who I am or why I was here.”

  “I don’t want to know. Leave me alone.” She pushed against the door. The pressure sent aches up to my shoulder from my elbow I also used to block it.

  “I knew Daria and Zane Snelling.”

  She released pressure on the door. “And?” Her tight lips and chin softened a bit.

  “I know about your connection to them.” My next words came faster. “I’m not any kind of investigator. I’m just a regular person who cares. I care about what happened to the people who died. I don’t care about your relationship with either of them. That’s your business.”

  Her chest rose with her sigh. She wore a snug knit shirt, shorts, sandals, and her hair in a bun.

  “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  I touched her hand. She jerked it back.

  “I need to talk to you, Lillian. Please let me in.”

  Her stare appeared vacant, like she was seeing inside herself, trying to make a decision. I gave the door a gentle push. Taking a step back, she allowed me entry. “But just for a minute,” she warned.

  “Fine. That’s enough.” I slid past her into the den and sat on the edge of her tan leather sofa. Wooden blinds hung on windows. A local newscaster spoke from a television.

  “All right.” She didn’t sit.

  “I know you and Zane were having an affair.”

  Her firm stance faltered. She sank to the upholstered chair beside me. “I’m not saying that’s true.” But she looked curious, waiting.

  “And the woman who showed up and argued with you Saturday was having an affair with him, too. She was his sister-in-law.”

  Lillian stood, her narrow jaw set. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  “I’m not here to judge you. I didn’t know Zane or his wife, but I captured some of his ashes. They dropped in my jacket pocket at his funeral. I want to preserve them.”

  My hostess took a moment to consider my words. Lines of tension in her face relaxed. She sank back to the chair. “You have part of Zane? Where?”

  I sucked in a deep inhale. “I’m sorry to say a detective just took my jacket. I’ve been trying to take care of the ashes and didn’t want them stuck in a police station. I plan to get them back.”

  She lowered her head, then looked up to face me. “I was at the funeral. I ran toward him when she fell, but realized I couldn’t just scoop him up and take him with me, so I rushed out the side door before I burst out crying. I drove here and sobbed all day.”

  “You really cared about him. That woman who came here, she’s Daria’s sister, isn’t she?” I needed to keep her talking before she decided to quit.

  “That’s her older sister Kellie. Isn’t that horrible?”

  I nodded. Who was I, or Lillian for that matter, to decide? “And you knew he was seeing Kellie?”

  She hung her head. “Yes. I’ve been around. I know men often sleep with different women.” Lillian’s lips twisted. “Of course Daria was having an affair, too.”

  “What?” I straightened, shoulders high. “Is that true?”

  Her face scrunched up. “Sure. That’s why Zane was planning to leave her.”

  My head jerked. “Zane Snelling was going to leave his wife?” Was all of this information the truth, or just something he’d told this woman?

  “That’s why I think she killed him.”

  “You do?” Gratitude swelled in my chest. “So do I.”

  “Zane and I were talking on the phone. A lot of time they kept the speaker on ’cause he was a little hard of hearing, and he’d forget to change the setting or didn’t bother since he only called me from their house when she wasn’t there.”

  Smart choice.

  “So we were talking that day, and Daria walked in. She had told him she was going to the mall but probably changed her mind since she showed up home so early.”

  “And then what?” My breath went scant with this new information.

  “He told me he needed to go. She was back. Then he probably thought he hung up, but I heard them start arguing.”

  I leaned close, hands clasped. “About what?”

  “She’d heard us. She had gone in through the front of the house and heard him talking to me on the phone. That’s when she knew he was planning to leave her.” She shifted forward like she was ready to shove herself up. “I’ve told you enough.”

  I pushed my arm out, hand lifted as though telling her to stop. “And Daria went into a rage because he was seeing you?” My tone suggested I sided with her. I needed her to tell me more.

  “She yelled at him that she’d been involved with a lover long before he had other women—and she still had her man—and he was so much better than Zane ever was.” Lillian stopped. Her gaze dropped to the Aztec rug on her floor.

  “Lillian.” My calling her name got her to face me. The vacant look in her eyes suggested her thoughts remained elsewhere. “When you and Kellie argued, you said he had a fortune.”

  She drew her head back, and I sensed she was ready to snap shut like an oyster inside its hard shell. I rushed toward my point. “If he did, I’m not trying to find it. I don’t care about his money. I’m only trying to discover why he died. It’s really important to me.”

  She rubbed an index finger over the edge of her chair, looking down at first and then lifting her gaze toward me. “Zane told Daria he was going to leave her sorry ass stone dry without anything. He yelled that he was going to go cancel everything that was in both their names. First, that big insurance policy.”

  “Okay, good. And then what did Daria say?”

  Lillian sank back. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? He told his wife all those things, and she didn’t say anything back to him?”

  Gazing at that rug, she kept shaking her head. “I think that’s when he went outside, and she went after him. But I can’t prove it.” Lillian’s eye
s were misty when she faced me. “That afternoon, I found out he was dead.”

  We eyed each other. I was letting her feel her words, that the man she apparently cared very much about was forever gone.

  “I think she killed him,” I said quietly. “I believe she ran after him and shoved him, and he tripped and hit his head on a cypress tree or its roots. Then he either fell in the pond, or she pushed him.”

  She kept nodding. “That’s what I believe, too.”

  “You do?” My breath eased.

  Water rimmed the lower edge of her eyes. “She probably stood there and watched him drown.”

  Reaching out, I gripped her hand. “I am so sorry.”

  Eyes sad, she gazed into nothingness. Moments passed before she blinked and stood. “Daria knew Zane had gotten a fortune from his grandpa. But she didn’t know where he kept it.”

  I stood with her, hope welling inside. Maybe her information could somehow clear up some things surrounding the break-in at Eve’s and Daria’s death. “Do you know where he kept it?”

  “No.” She kept eye contact, and I believed her. “I was just interested in him.”

  “Oh, Lillian, I am so sorry. But your information should really help clear things up.” My body relaxed, my nostrils releasing a long, silent exhale.

  “I won’t tell any of this to police.”

  Disappointment dropped through me like a boulder off a cliff. How could I prove my innocence without her statements? Lillian’s eyes tightened to a squint. Her lips pressed into a line as her expression grew darker and mean. A touch of fear chased up my neck. Someone murdered Daria. Could that person be facing me now?

  I took a step back before noticing I’d done it and struggled to withhold the tune as she stepped toward me.

  “It’s time for you to go.” Her shoulder knocked against my arm when she swept past and yanked the front door open.

  “Thank you.” I dashed outside. Darkness swallowed the front yard. “If you think of anything else, call me, okay?”

  She slammed her door.

  I jumped into my truck and drove off. Then determined I hadn’t given her my phone number. Or even my name. I smiled, a real smile of satisfaction. She wouldn’t know where I lived or how to find me.

  Driving north, I yanked my cell phone out of my purse and punched in number two. I needed to tell Eve about everything I discovered.

  Wait. I snapped my phone shut. Dave was at her house. They had probably already eaten the food she’d prepared. She might have brought him into her studio, pointed to the canvas filled with massive splashes of bright colors, and announced, “That’s you—and me. It’s what I’ve been anticipating.”

  “That’s fine,” I said to convince myself and drove to Swamp Rat’s Diner. I would treat myself to a large meal surrounded by other people, not stuck inside my house alone eating leftovers or a ham and cracker sandwich.

  Swamp Rat’s resembled a gray tin shack squatting between thick cypress trees as though it needed to pee. Leaning a pinch to the right, the building gave diners the fear that if too many of them stepped inside, it might tip over. When Eve and I started our business, we offered to make repairs in exchange for a couple of gift certificates, but the owner said the shack wouldn’t fall or sink into the swamp. The leaning added to the charm and enticed some people to come in just to find out whether the building would stay upright.

  A picture of nutrias, the large swamp rats with two long yellow teeth that came over from Texas, took wall space outside the door. Reaching the screen door, everyone seemed to forget to worry and took pleasure in the aromas of fried and boiled seafood. I enjoyed those enticing scents while I walked inside and exchanged greetings with people. Immediately afterward, my phone rang.

  “Hey, you called?” Eve’s voice made my smile vanish.

  “I did, but I didn’t mean to.” And I didn’t want to hear about what she and Dave had planned.

  She giggled. “No, it’s okay,” she told someone.

  “I need to go,” I said, following a waitress to a table.

  “Please stay,” Eve said.

  I quit walking. “Why?”

  “Not you, Sunny.”

  I clicked off and sat at a table and accepted a menu then asked for a beer. I lifted my menu and stared at it so people wouldn’t try to talk to me and imagined what my sister meant. Had she been talking to Dave? Did he already want to leave her house?

  I wished I hadn’t hung up so soon. She would have kept talking to whoever was with her, and I would have gotten most of the story. I would eavesdrop, exactly like Lillian did with Zane and his wife.

  For now, I didn’t want to think of them. I wanted to think of Dave being at my sister’s house and her trying to keep him there to do something more than eat and him saying he wanted to go.

  With a smile, I ordered a seafood steak covered with a creamed crayfish sauce and sides of grilled asparagus and fried sweet potatoes. During the brief wait, I sipped my brew and mulled over what Lillian told me. My enthusiasm built since someone else confirmed what I believed. But if Lillian wouldn’t tell any of her story to police, what could I do with her information?

  I took immense pleasure in my cup of seafood gumbo appetizer and the well-seasoned entrée and veggies. I ordered a chocolate explosion dessert. My great meal satisfied, but I felt ready to explode myself from the rare treat.

  Heading toward Eve’s house to share information I’d discovered, I hoped I would not find a truck still parked out front.

  One of Eve’s neighbors was having a party. Cars filled the driveway two doors to the left of her house, and a number of other vehicles sat along the street. A couple of pricy models parked in front of Eve’s place. No truck sat in her driveway.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Dave might have gone over for supper, but he hadn’t stayed for dessert. I was ready to visit my sister but realized I harbored mixed purposes. Would I really be digging it in? I’d drive home and talk to her tomorrow.

  After I dressed for bed, I plopped in front of TV and mindlessly watched. Then slept better than I had in some time.

  In the morning, I still savored the thought that my sister hadn’t been able to get a man to stay for a romantic interlude. He wasn’t just any man. He made me smile and grow warm when I thought about him.

  Conflicting with my pleasant thoughts about what occurred at Eve’s house was the mental image of Daria running out her backdoor after her husband once he’d told her he was leaving. He was going to cancel everything in both their names. Daria probably confronted him again when he was near the pond in the area where Eve and I had worked. Maybe he reached our pavers first. Or she could have shoved him right before he reached them. His wife watched him die.

  Lillian had agreed with me about that but also frightened me. Possibly, she was the person who actually killed Zane after she learned he was also having an affair with Daria’s sister. Sure, she told me she’d known, and it hadn’t mattered, but should I believe her?

  Could Lillian have envisioned that scene near the pond because it really happened? Or instead of Daria going after Zane and shoving him, was it her?

  Daria supposedly went shopping at a mall. The nearest one would take an hour and a half for a round trip. A woman could spend many hours shopping there. I had no idea what Daria’s shopping habits had been. Suppose what she’d told the police was true? That she had shopped for a while, arrived home, and found him dead in their pond.

  My pulse sped. I needed to talk to my sister. She’d help me sort through the truth. I hopped in my truck, drove to her house, and rang the front doorbell. A minute passed with no sound inside. I rang the bell again. Still no answer. Possibly she wasn’t home. I could dig out my key and go in but preferred not to because I didn’t want to spook her since her break-in.

  Ready to go home, I tried the doorknob. Her door opened.

  “Eve,” I called and tensed, waiting for her new alarm to blast.


  Since I didn’t hear her, I dashed inside to the alarm’s keypad near the door, ready to punch in the four-number code she’d told me to make the noise stop.

  But the alarm wasn’t going to go off. I inspected the keypad. It hadn’t been set.

  “Eve,” I called. “Girl, I need to talk to you.” Stomping through her den, I prepared to chew her out for not setting the system. What good did it do for her to have one if she didn’t set it? Even if she was inside, there was a setting for that purpose. Being in the house was the best time to keep the darn thing set.

  I tromped toward bedrooms. Her bed was made, and her bathroom door stood open. “Eve,” I called, but nobody answered.

  Fear pricked the skin on my legs, my vocal cords starting to vibrate. Where was she?

  I ran down the hall and crossed the den toward her kitchen, calling her name. The studio room door stood open. I tiptoed in, fearing what I would find.

  Beyond the sliding glass door, my sister was walking across her patio from the left. She had probably turned off her alarm to go to her friendly neighbor’s house to borrow an egg or slice of bread.

  I smirked, happy to see her okay, unhappy I’d been so frightened. I would fuss at her about starting to set her new alarm. Eve was grinning. I wore a frown, ready to complain.

  Movement out on the right grabbed my attention.

  An arm swung up. A man’s hand held a pistol. Aimed at her.

  I trembled, fearing I was about to lose my last sister. “No!” I roared and flew across to the studio. I grabbed a can holding paintbrushes and threw it all against the glass door. Running to that sliding door, I slammed my fists against the glass, punched code numbers into the keypad beside it, and shoved the door open. I might not scare a killer, but a screaming alarm that would alert others would.