Wedding Cake Killer (7 page)

Chapter 10

I
t wa
s all Phyllis could do not to rush out the front door to meet Eve.

Carolyn was on her feet, too. She said, “We need to tell her to run!”

“No!” Phyllis cried. “That’s the absolute worst thing she could do. That’ll just convince the investigators more than ever that she’s guilty!”

“Hang on, both of you,” Sam said. “Look at her. You want proof? There it is.”

The three of them stood in front of the picture window and watched as Eve got out of her car, walked around the front of it, and started along the walk toward the porch. She seemed perfectly calm, and as she looked up and saw the three of them there, she smiled brightly and waved.

“Good Lord,” Sam breathed. “She doesn’t know a thing about it yet.”

The expressions on their faces must have told Eve that something was wrong. Her step faltered a little, but then she came on. By the time she reached the porch, Phyllis had the door open, and Sam and Carolyn were standing right behind her.

“Oh, dear,” Eve said as she stepped into the house. “Something’s wrong, I can tell. What is it? What’s happened?”

“Eve,” Phyllis said miserably, not knowing how to begin, “there’s something you need to know . . .”

She didn’t get any further before Eve’s eyes suddenly widened in horror and she cried out, “Roy!”

There was nothing suspicious about that, Phyllis told herself. At their age, naturally the prospect of bad news would make someone who was married think immediately of their spouse.

Phyllis moved to Eve’s right side, Carolyn to the left. Phyllis linked her arm with Eve’s and said gently, “Let’s go into the living room—”

“No!” Eve cried. Tears were already running down her face. “Tell me! He’s dead, isn’t he? Roy’s dead?”

Phyllis swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sorry, Eve. I’m so sorry.”

Eve would have collapsed then if Phyllis and Carolyn hadn’t had ahold of her. She sagged in their grip and sobbed brokenly. Step by halting step, they managed to walk her into the living room and get her over to the sofa. They lowered her onto it and sat down on either side of her.

Phyllis looked up at Sam and asked, “Could you go make that phone call we were talking about?”

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

But it was too late for that bit of advice, Phyllis thought as Sam hurried out of the room to make the call in the kitchen. Eve’s world had already crumbled around her.

And it was about to get even worse.

A box of tissues sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Carolyn picked it up and pressed one of the tissues into Eve’s hand. Instinctively, Eve wiped her flowing eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” she managed to ask between sobs. “Was it his heart? Did he have a stroke? He has high b-blood pressure, you know, but he’s on m-medication for it . . .”

“It wasn’t his heart or a stroke,” Phyllis said. “Mike is the one who came here and told us about it. Jan Delaney found him at the bed-and-breakfast. He . . . he’d been murdered, Eve.”

Eve stared wide-eyed at her for several seconds, as if she couldn’t comprehend what Phyllis had just told her. Then she said, “You! This is all your fault!”

“Eve!” Carolyn exclaimed in horror as Phyllis recoiled from the accusation, just as she would have from a physical slap in the face. “How can you say something like that? Phyllis didn’t have anything to do with this. None of us did!”

“She did! She’s a jinx! She’s cursed! Think about all the murders. Did you ever know anybody who had anything to do with murder until people started dropping dead around her?”

Carolyn took hold of Eve’s shoulders and shook her a little. “Stop it! That’s not fair! Phyllis wasn’t to blame for any of those other deaths, and she didn’t have anything to do with this one, either.” Carolyn looked over at Phyllis. “Tell her, Phyllis. Tell her!”

But Phyllis could only sit there feeling stunned. Maybe Eve was right. Lord knew she had thought often enough that she was some sort of jinx. How else could she explain her involvement in several murders over the past few years? She was some sort of . . . of . . . murder magnet, she thought crazily.

Eve blotted at the streams of tears from her eyes and asked, “Do the police know who did it?”

“Not yet,” Carolyn admitted.

Eve nodded as if that confirmed everything she had just said. “So she’ll have to solve it. She’ll have to find the killer.”

“That’s what I told her,” Carolyn said. “Because—”

“B-because what?” Eve asked.

Carolyn didn’t answer, and it didn’t take long at all for the silence to become extremely uncomfortable.

“Oh, my God!” Eve said. “They think
I
did it! They think I killed Roy!”

That brought on a fresh round of wracking sobs. Phyllis shook off her own stunned feelings and leaned closer, trying to put an arm around Eve’s shoulders to comfort her.

Eve pulled away, though, and huddled instead against Carolyn’s formidable figure.

Phyllis told herself not to be offended by that or by anything Eve had said. Eve was in a terrible emotional state right now. Later, when some of the initial shock had worn off, she would be able to think straighter.

Sam came back into the living room, caught Phyllis’s eye, and said, “I got hold of that, uh, person on the phone, and she said she’d be right over.”

“Person?” Eve lifted her tear-streaked face. “What person?”

Sam hesitated, but when Phyllis nodded, he said, “Juliette Yorke.”

Phyllis could tell by the look on Eve’s face that her grief was mixed with confusion for a moment, but then the confusion cleared and was replaced by outrage.

“The lawyer? But that . . . that means they seriously think . . .”

“That’s right, dear,” Carolyn said. “The police think that you killed him.”

Phyllis wished that Carolyn hadn’t put it so bluntly, especially when Eve began to wail again. But it was hard to sugarcoat such news, and anyway, Eve had to know what the situation was sooner or later.

Sam went on, “Ms. Yorke said to tell all of you that if the cops show up again, not to say anything to them, especially you, Eve.”

“They really think that I . . . that I could ever . . .” Eve turned to look at Phyllis again. “Mike came here to
arrest
me?”

“No, no, of course not,” Phyllis said as she hastily shook her head. “They just want to talk to you; that’s all.”

“They want to interrogate you,” Carolyn put in. “Mike said you were a person of interest. Why, that’s the same thing as a suspect!”

Phyllis couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Carolyn,” she said, “you’re just making things worse—”

“No!” Eve said. “I want to know how bad things really are, and she’s telling me the truth! They think I did it! They think I killed my . . . my own husband . . .”

Her voice trailed away into sobs again as she leaned against Carolyn and shudder after shudder rolled through her body.

Phyllis stood up and rubbed her temples, where a dull headache had sprung up. She wasn’t doing any good here. She motioned with her head for Sam to join her and went out to the kitchen.

“What did you tell Juliette?” she asked quietly when they were alone.

“Just that Roy’s been murdered, the cops are lookin’ for Eve and want to talk to her, and that she’s here. Juliette said we did the right thing by callin’ her. She’ll go in to the sheriff’s department with her.”

Phyllis frowned. “I started to worry that it would look bad for Eve to bring a lawyer along when she turns herself in.”

“Like she’s guilty, you mean?”

“You know that’s the first thing everybody will think. If she’s not guilty, then why would she need a lawyer?”

“Anybody who’d think that doesn’t know anything about dealin’ with the cops,” Sam said. He shrugged. “Anyway, I figure it’s better to run that risk than take a chance on Eve sayin’ something that would get her in even more trouble.”

“But how is that even possible, if she didn’t do anything wrong? And you and I both know, Sam Fletcher, that she didn’t.”

“Yep,” Sam agreed. “We know that. The trick’s gonna be convincin’ the investigators of it.”

Phyllis turned toward the counter. “Well, I’m going to fix some coffee. I need to be doing
something
.”

When she had the coffee brewing, she and Sam went back up the hall to the living room. Eve wasn’t wailing now, but she was still sobbing quietly as she leaned against Carolyn’s shoulder. Phyllis didn’t say anything as she sat down in one of the armchairs. She wanted to be there if she could do anything for her friend, but she wasn’t going to force Eve to talk to her right now, not with the state of emotional turmoil Eve was in.

Phyllis had been sitting there only a few minutes when she saw an SUV pull up at the curb in front of the house. Juliette Yorke got out of the vehicle and came toward the house with long-legged strides.

Juliette was in her middle thirties, with fairly long brown hair that she usually kept pulled back in a ponytail, which was the case today. She must not have had to be in court, because she wore jeans and a quilted jacket over a dark red blouse. She had her briefcase with her, something no lawyer ever liked to be without.

Sam opened the door for her before she could ring the bell. Juliette gave him a brief smile as she stepped past him into the living room. She nodded to Phyllis as she took off her jacket.

“Let me get that for you,” Sam said. He took the jacket and hung it up in the hall closet.

“Eve,” Carolyn said, “Ms. Yorke’s here.”

Juliette sat down on Eve’s other side, where Phyllis had been sitting earlier, and placed her briefcase on the coffee table. She put a hand on Eve’s shoulder and said, “Mrs. Porter, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Please accept my condolences.”

“Th-thank you, dear,” Eve said. “Sam told you what h-happened?”

Juliette nodded. “As much as we know now. But we’re going to find out a lot more, I promise you that. We’re going to find out the truth, and we’re going to see justice done. But to do that . . . and I know it’s terribly hard right now . . . I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

“I . . . I know. I’ll tell you anything I can.”

Juliette reached over to the coffee table and opened her briefcase. She took out a small digital recorder and said, “It’s all right if I record our conversation?”

Eve swallowed and nodded. “Of course.”

Juliette switched on the recorder and said, “First interview with Mrs. Eve Porter.” She gave the date and time, then went on, “Mrs. Porter, I need to know everywhere you’ve been today.”

“Wait a minute,” Carolyn said. “You’re asking her for her
alibi
?”

“I’m trying to establish the facts of the case, Mrs. Wilbarger.” A steely tone came into Juliette’s voice. “It might be easier if I talked to Mrs. Porter in private.”

“That’s not necessary,” Phyllis said. “We won’t interfere, will we, Carolyn?”

“Of course not,” Carolyn said, but the irritation was easy to hear in her voice. “We just want what’s best for Eve.”

“Fine.” Juliette turned back to Eve. “Mrs. Porter, where have you been today?”

“Well, I . . . I’ve been out looking at houses,” Eve said. “You know, Roy and I have been trying to find a place to buy.”

“Do the two of you normally do this together?”

“Yes, but . . . Roy said he didn’t feel very well today . . . That’s why I thought it might have been his heart, or a stroke, when Phyllis told me . . . told me . . .”

Juliette took hold of Eve’s hand. “It’s all right,” she said in a steady, calming tone. “I know what a terrible thing this is to deal with. Just take a deep breath, and then we’ll go on.”

Eve nodded, took that deep breath, and a moment later she nodded.

“Roy didn’t feel well. I would have stayed to take care of him, but he said he didn’t like people fussing over him when he was sick, so I told him I’d take a look at some of the places we were considering. We printed out a list from a real estate website . . . it’s in the front seat of my car.”

“That’s good,” Juliette said. “Did you stop and talk to anyone at any of these houses?”

“No. I . . . I just drove around and looked at them . . .”

“Did you stop anywhere and buy anything? Gas for your car, or something at the grocery store?”

Phyllis knew why Juliette was asking that. Receipts would have the time of purchase printed on them.

Eve shook her head. “No, I just . . . drove around, like I said.”

Phyllis saw Juliette’s lips tighten slightly. If what Eve was saying was true, then she had no alibi, no way to prove that she hadn’t been at the house murdering Roy in some as-yet-unknown fashion. Of course, they didn’t know the time of death yet, Phyllis reminded herself. But from the sound of it, Eve had been out by herself for quite a while.

Juliette followed up on that same thought, asking, “When did you leave the bed-and-breakfast?”

“It was right after lunch. Twelve thirty, I suppose. Somewhere around there.”