Lighthouse Library Mystery 08 - Deadly Ever After

by Eva Gates

  He meant the comment as a compliment, but my skin crawled. There was something very creepy about Mr. Gordon Frankland. He winked at me.

  Yup. A creep. He knew it and he reveled in it.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and slapped it into Connor’s hand. “See you around, Mr. Mayor. We still have matters outstanding.”

  “You can make an appointment by calling my office during business hours.” Connor’s voice was cool.

  “I’ll do that. If I can get my lawyer’s attention for once. You might want to see to that, Millar. Have a nice dinner. Ladies.” He walked back to his table, where he appeared to be dining alone.

  The waiter brought our starters out of the kitchen and placed a steaming bowl of Outer Banks clam chowder, clear and full of clams, bacon, and potatoes, in front of me.

  “What did he mean with those cracks about his lawyer?” Dad asked Ricky. “Is something wrong?”

  “We’re not here to discuss work.” Evangeline took a vicious stab at the innocent lettuce on her plate. “Or that odious man. Ricky, what is he doing here? He didn’t follow us, did he?”

  “I doubt it,” Ricky said. “Frankland has a vacation home in Nags Head. Divides his time between here and Boston. He keeps a place in New York City too, I’ve been told.”

  “To the detriment of the citizens of all those places, I’m sure,” Connor muttered.

  Evangeline and Mom soon drifted into conversation about mutual friends and wives of their husbands’ partners, but I could tell that Gordon Frankland had upset Evangeline. She turned her chair slightly so she wasn’t facing directly toward his table, drank steadily, ate her salad without pleasure, chattered with forced cheerfulness, and when she wasn’t eating, talking, or drinking, chewed the lipstick off her lower lip. Uncle Amos and Connor discussed a proposed development that was splitting the town council, and Aunt Ellen wasn’t shy about expressing her opinion on the matter. Josie asked me about wedding plans, and I confessed we hadn’t made any yet.

  “You’re lucky my grandma Gloria isn’t on your side of the family,” Josie said. “Or she’d be here right quick, telling you what your plans are.”

  “She told me I’m now an honorary granddaughter of hers. You don’t think—”

  “Be afraid, Lucy, be very afraid.”

  “What’s Lucy to be afraid of?” Connor asked.

  “Interfering relatives,” Josie said.

  My mom was an excellent hostess, and invitations to her dinner parties were highly prized among her social set. She was able to engage fully in conversation with one person while listening to everything being said around the table. Her head whipped around now. “I am hardly interfering. I’m the mother of the bride, let me remind you. The second-most-important person at a wedding.”

  Evangeline stood up and left the table without a word.

  “What about me?” Connor asked. “Where do I rank?”

  Mom didn’t bother to answer. “I will, of course, let Lucy make all the decisions, but—”

  “We’re not talking about you, Mom. Josie’s grandma Gloria is the potentially interfering relative. I’m looking forward to hearing your suggestions.”

  “I liked Gloria,” my dad said. “She sure could get herself through a bottle of bourbon, and she knows the good stuff when she sees it.”

  “I thought her absolutely delightful,” Mom said. “Such charm. A true southern lady.”

  “As she reminds me at every opportunity,” Aunt Ellen said.

  I pushed my chair back. “If you’ll excuse me.” I headed for the ladies’ room. Several minutes ago, Ricky had risen from the table and gone to the bar inside the building, saying he didn’t want to bother the waiter. The sudden bout of thoughtfulness might have had something to do with the fact that the bartender tonight was young and female and very pretty.

  He wasn’t at the bar, and I headed down the hall. I was about to turn the corner into the corridor leading to the restrooms when Evangeline’s voice, low and angry, had me stopping in my tracks.

  “You’re not even trying to woo Lucy back.”

  Chapter Four

  “Give it up, will you, Mom,” Ricky said. “She’s not interested. She’s made her life here, and I say good for her. Lucy’s no fool.”

  “Maybe not, but you are. We need her now, more than ever. When Millar hears about—”

  “He won’t. We’ll fix it.”

  “He will, and you won’t fix it in time, Richard. Particularly not now that Millar’s cut back on his drinking and transferred that so-called secretary of his in an attempt to save his marriage. Blasted Suzanne.”

  “Now it’s Suzanne’s fault?”

  “It’s not my fault, and I’m not going to see this family go down because of it. Once you and Lucy are married and you’re Millar Richardson’s son-in-law, he’ll be reluctant to move against your father.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Mother.”

  “No, Richard, you are not listening to me!”

  I took two steps backward. The hostess was watching me. Her name’s Ruth, and I know her well because I eat at this restaurant all the time. I gave her a wink and said in a good loud voice, “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

  “Down that hall and on your right,” she bellowed.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  When I turned the corner, Ricky had disappeared and Evangeline was walking toward me with steps angry enough to shake the walls. When she saw me, she plastered on a smile that might have been formed out of concrete. “Such a delightful evening,” she cooed. “It reminds me of when you and my Ricky came to the club on your first dates. Such good times, weren’t they?”

  Like every girl wants to go to her parents’ county club with a new boyfriend. “Oh, yes. I remember. Do you remember the New Year’s Eve party where I couldn’t find Ricky at midnight for a kiss because he was in the kitchen with that waitress from Northeastern?”

  The concrete smile cracked. “That was a total misunderstanding. That so-called friend of yours who delighted in spreading that nasty rumor wanted Ricky for herself.”

  “She got him eventually, didn’t she? Although it didn’t last long, I hear.” I took a deep breath and spoke quickly before my courage failed me. “Evangeline, please go home. You and your family have been close to my family for many years, and I’m sorry it’s come to this, but you’re not wanted here.”

  A floorboard creaked behind the men’s room door. Ricky was listening. If I’d been at all inclined to consider going back to him, the fact that he wasn’t brave enough to come out and stand with me in defiance of his mother would have been enough to tell me he wasn’t the man for me.

  A footstep sounded behind me. “My daughter’s correct.” My mother had worked hard to get the Outer Banks out of her accent and speak as though she also had ancestors who came over on the Mayflower. At this moment her years of practice worked. Evangeline’s a good deal taller than Mom and I, but Mom peered down her nose at the other woman. “It would be for the best if you and Ricky left first thing in the morning.”

  Evangeline’s eyes flashed. “It’s what you want too, Suzanne—don’t try to deny it. We always intended our children would marry.”

  “So we did. I hoped they’d fall in love. That didn’t happen. It isn’t going to happen. My daughter will marry for love.” My mother put her arm around my waist.

  “Like Elizabeth Bennet,” I said.

  “Do I know her?” Evangeline said.

  “Apparently not,” I said.

  Evangeline looked at me. She looked at my mom. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Suzanne.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s up to you how this ends.”

  Evangeline gave us a final glare and walked down the hallway, her head high, her heels tapping on the floor.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said when Evangeline had disappeared.

  My mother sighed. “I feel sorry for her, in a way. Her world is changing and she doesn’t know how to cope.�
��

  “She can cope without me.”

  The men’s room door opened, and Ricky came out. He ducked his head and slithered past us.

  When he’d gone, I said, “Mom, is Evangeline closely involved in the business of the firm? I wouldn’t have thought … “

  “She’s always been more involved than I have. Which isn’t difficult, considering I know nothing that goes on there and I want to know nothing. But if Rich is in trouble and he’s dragging Ricky down with him, then I can easily assume Evangeline has made it her mission to know precisely what’s going on. She doesn’t care for surprises. Why do you ask?”

  “Just something she said to Ricky.”

  Mom and I waited a few minutes and then went back to our table, passing Ricky at the bar, where he was leaning toward the bartender. “What time do you get off work?” he asked as she handed him a fresh Scotch.

  Evangeline’s chair was empty.

  “Did something happen?” Dad asked. “You two were gone for a long time. Evangeline said she’d taken ill and would drive herself back to the hotel.”

  “Happen?” Mom said. “Nothing at all.” Our first-course plates had been cleared away and the main courses served. Mom picked up her fork. “This fish does look delicious.”

  Ricky didn’t rejoin us, and now that the Lewistons had left, the mood at our table lifted considerably, and I enjoyed the rest of my meal.

  “I thought this dinner was on Evangeline,” Dad said as he scraped the last of his key lime pie off his plate. “Just like her to take off, sticking me with the bill.”

  Connor and Uncle Amos both reached for their wallets. Dad waved them away. “Just kidding. It’s my pleasure to toast my beautiful daughter. Leaving suddenly isn’t like Evangeline at all, truth be told, but it’s certainly like her husband. And her son.” He glanced through the windows into the main room of the restaurant. Ricky had gone. “There are going to be some changes at Richardson Lewiston soon, Amos. My offer stands.”

  Uncle Amos chuckled. “You’re asking me to leave being the biggest fish in my two-person law firm to become a minnow swimming among the multiple sharp-toothed partners in the big tank that’s your corporate offices? I turned you down forty years ago, Millar. Nothing’s changed. Except us. Thinking of retirement yourself?”

  “I’d like to,” Dad said. “Think of it, I mean. Right now, the time’s not good.”

  “Anyone for a nightcap back at the hotel?” Mom asked.

  “Dad’s never been to the library,” I said. “Let’s go there for a drink. It’s lovely at night.”

  “Not for me,” Josie said. “Morning comes early.”

  For her, it sure did. Josie got up at four every morning to get started on the day’s baking. “I’m popping into the kitchen to say good-night to Jake.” My cousin rounded the table to give everyone hugs in turn. “ ’Night, all. I hope you come again soon, Aunt Suzanne, Uncle Millar.”

  “I believe we will,” Mom said.

  We gathered handbags and wraps and prepared to take our leave.

  “It’s been a long day for me too,” Uncle Amos said. “So I’ll pass on the drink. See you in the morning, before you leave?”

  “Sure,” Dad said.

  “I’ll get a lift with Connor,” I said. “I shouldn’t be driving tonight, and I can pick my car up in the morning before work.”

  “I came with Amos and Ellen,” Dad said, “and Suzanne with Lucy. Connor can drop us at the beach house on his way home.”

  My mother gave him a sharp jab to the ribs. “That won’t be necessary, Millar. Connor might not be going our way.”

  “Nags Head’s not that big,” Dad said. “Amos’s house isn’t far from the highway.”

  “We’ll call a cab,” Mom said.

  Dad looked as though he was about to argue, but then his face flushed and he avoided my eyes. “A cab. Right. We’ll call a cab. Good idea, Suzanne. We wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”

  Laughing, I linked one arm in Connor’s and one in Mom’s, and we led the way through the building. Aunt Ellen followed, and Dad and Amos brought up the rear. “Retirement’s starting to sound mighty good,” Dad said. “But it’s hard to get out of the saddle.”

  “Easier if you find a successor you can trust, like I did,” Amos said. “Then you can ease into it at your own pace.”

  “That’s my problem right there. Only one of my sons became a lawyer, and he’s wasting his time, as I keep telling him, teaching at law school. As for that Ricky …”

  “Speaking of Ricky,” Mom said. “Where do you suppose he got to?”

  No one was at the bar, and the bartender was idly polishing already sparkling glasses. The restaurant was almost empty.

  “Don’t know,” Dad said. “Don’t care. The boy can look after himself.”

  We passed the vacant hostess station and stepped out into the warm, humid air. Vehicles passed on the highway; an airplane flew high above. It was late, and only a handful of cars were parked under the strong lights of the restaurant’s big lot. Connor pulled his keys out of his pocket and pressed the fob, and the lights of his BMW flashed in greeting.

  Aunt Ellen gave Connor and me hugs good-night, and we all started to go our separate ways.

  A scream pierced the quiet of the night, stopping us in our tracks. “What the heck?” Connor said. We looked around, trying to figure out what direction the sound had come from. We heard it again. “Help!” a woman yelled. “Someone help!”

  Connor moved first, and I was right behind him. The screams were coming from the side of the restaurant in the direction of the kitchen door.

  “Ellen,” Uncle Amos yelled. “You and Suzanne stay here. Call nine-one-one.”

  The lights over the restaurant’s main entrance and the parking lot faded the moment we rounded the building. A single weak lamp above the kitchen door cast a warm pool in the encroaching darkness. Ahead of us the waters of the Sound lapped at the shore, and the lights in the distance were not enough to see by.

  I fumbled in my bag for my phone and hit the flashlight app. Connor had done the same, and we threw a circle of white light onto the shapes huddled near the kitchen door.

  Ruth, the hostess, her tight skirt riding high on her thin legs, was kneeling on the ground next to a body that was lying very still. She looked up, fixing her round, frightened eyes on mine. “He’s …” Her voice broke. “I found him like this. I think he’s dead.”

  “Help’s on the way,” Aunt Ellen said. Into her phone she added, “We need an ambulance here. Quickly.”

  “I told you to stay behind,” Uncle Amos said.

  Ellen didn’t reply, but my mom did. “We’re not standing out there all by ourselves. Suppose that cry had been a diversion?”

  Connor dropped to his haunches beside Ruth and reached for the body next to her. I held my flashlight high so he could see. Ruth started to stagger to her feet, and Uncle Amos helped her. When she was upright, my mom and Aunt Ellen surrounded her with soft murmurs. The kitchen door flew open and Jake’s tousled head popped out. “What’s going on out here? Amos, is that you? Connor?”

  “A man’s been hurt. We’ve called for help,” I said.

  “Mom? Dad?” Josie peered over Jake’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to be of some help, honey,” Amos said.

  “Is he okay?” Jake asked.

  “No,” Connor said. “No, he’s not. Tell them to hurry up, Ellen.”

  “Come with me, dear,” my mom said to the weeping hostess. “Let’s go inside and sit down. A cup of hot tea would be nice, Josie. With lots of sugar.”

  “I’ll get it,” my cousin said.

  “Add a splash of brandy,” Jake said.

  “We’ll go around by the front,” Mom said, in a voice that reminded me of the time I’d fallen out of the apple tree at my grandparents’ and broken my elbow. I never did tell Mom and Dad that I hadn’t fallen: my eldest brother pushed me, saying girls didn’t belong in trees.

 
; He and I never did get on.

  Mom and Aunt Ellen supported Ruth between them and walked slowly away, the two older women whispering softly.

  I turned my attention back to Connor and the body on the ground. It was that of a man, dressed in dark pressed trousers, a blue button-down shirt, and brown loafers. He lay on his back, staring up into the darkness, unblinking and unmoving. Something dark and wet covered the ground under his back, and I tried not to think of what that might be.

  Connor touched the side of the man’s neck, and I focused my light on the face. He was in late middle age, silver hair expensively cut, cheeks flabby, prominent nose crisscrossed with red lines of rosacea.

  There is something …

  My dad sucked in a breath and swore.

  “Millar?” Uncle Amos asked.

  “It’s Rich,” Dad said. “Richard Eric Lewiston Junior. My law partner.”

  Chapter Five

  Detective Sam Watson’s eyebrows rose when he saw me sitting at the big round table in the center of the main room in Jake’s restaurant, cradling a cup of excessively sugary tea in my hands. “When I got the call and it was not directing me to the Lighthouse Library, I dared hope you wouldn’t be involved, Lucy.”

  I shrugged. What could I say? Not only was I involved, but my family was also.

  “What does that mean?” Dad sputtered. “My daughter does not associate with common criminals.”

  “It’s okay, dear.” Mom patted his arm. “Lucy’s acquainted with Detective Watson. As am I.”

  Watson nodded. “Mrs. Richardson.”

  “Detective, so nice to see you again.” My mom is an accomplished liar. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

  The edges of his mouth might have turned up fractionally, but he hid it well and said, “Not at the moment, thank you.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve met my husband. Detective Sam Watson, Millar Richardson.”

  Dad got to his feet, and the two men shook hands as they eyed each other warily.

  My mom was “acquainted,” as she put it, with Detective Watson. Not long after I arrived, Mom came down to the Outer Banks to try to talk me into going home to Boston and found herself accused of killing a high school rival.